The Benefits of Meditation: Rediscovering the Real You

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We all have ideas about what meditation is. It means many things to different people—a tool, a religious path, a lifestyle. At its root, there is a sense of gathering, of bringing together and focusing the resources of attention on the present moment. Meditation practice brings this awareness to a narrow or broad focus, along with a certain gentleness and care, to reduce our reactivity to life events. As we become proficient in the skill, the spotlight of attention falls on either simple or complex targets. A major focus is our own mind and its helter-skelter motifs, replete with uncertainty, randomness, and emotional pain. At some point, we attend to that which holds all objects of attention—awareness itself.

We practice these skills to relax, for health reasons, or to explore spiritual matters. How we meditate varies, either sitting, lying down, walking, chanting, dancing, or carrying on with our life. Each mode and approach offer valuable experiences and important insights. Mindfulness, qi jong, yoga, mantras, TM, prayer, progressive relaxation, Dzogchen, Zen, Sufi dancing are all part of what one imagines when the word is mentioned. Because there are so many styles and variations, the practice of meditation, and what might be its outcome, seems complex, confusing, and unnecessarily complicated.

As a psychological and health improvement practice, the consistent routine of meditation reduces stress, anxiety, memory loss, negative emotions, and pain, while improving heart rate, concentration, sleep, emotional health, patience, tolerance, imagination and creativity. These positive outcomes fuel the growing interest. As it assumes a spiritual orientation and lifestyle, meditation becomes especially intricate. An aspiration in this approach is to reconcile with an initial unity we experienced as children. Limitless paths exist to such unity, involving concepts of God, Buddha-nature, the Source, enlightenment, kensho, satori, wakefulness, realization, etc. and innumerable methods and techniques to help us get there. Just like the act of driving remains the same regardless of the vehicle you use, despite the hundreds of variations, styles, and gadgets associated with driving, meditation from a spiritual perspective remains straightforward. At its most basic, it concerns mental and spiritual health, and the rediscovery of the real you.

I would argue there are only three absolutely necessary actions needed to practice meditation, everything else is optional.

  1. Be present-moment centered and focused on: “Who is present?”
  2. Stop identifying with mind and body
  3. Trust and surrender to the non-conceptual awareness that arises.

Regardless of your particular method and technique, consistently practicing meditation as an act of love towards yourself and others, whether as a secular or spiritual intention, will help you develop and fine-tune the following unique traits:

Stillness: More than the absence of movement, stillness is an attitude that “life is perfect as it is” or more prosaically that “life is what it is.” It is the reality which is in front of us — a single outcome out of a set of infinite possibilities given the history and circumstances of each moment — and which we accept and have no need to change.

No-mind: This comes from a Buddhist martial arts term, Mushin, that translates literally as no-mind. It refers to a mind that is not fixed or occupied by thought or emotion and open to everything. An unencumbered mind that lacks self-centeredness and flows unimpeded from moment to moment. Also associated with the term “beginner’s mind” and “compassionate mind.”

Flow: Overlaps with the idea of “no-mind.” It is the sense of being completely immersed and absorbed in an activity or task, in which we lose a sense of space and time. The psychologist Mihály Csikszentmihályi described it as when “The ego falls away. Time flies. Every action, movement, and thought follows inevitably from the previous one, like playing jazz. Your whole being is involved, and you’re using your skills to the utmost.”

Clarity: A comprehensive way of viewing life, with a clearness of perception, thinking, and intentionality. This is seeing ourselves, the context of our life, our goals and intentions holistically. It is opening our mind to the Infinite and recognizing that like a wave on the ocean we express that ultimate Reality.

Situational Awareness: Right Mindfulness (from Buddha’s Eightfold Path). It means being aware of our thoughts, actions, and intentions in that moment with a gentle and caring attitude. Or as David Brooks has described it: a feel for the unique contours of the situation. An intuitive awareness of when to follow and when to break the rules. A feel for the flow of events, a special sensitivity, not necessarily conscious, for how fast to move and what decisions to take that will prevent a bad outcome. A sensitivity that flows from experience, historical knowledge, humility in the face of uncertainty, and having led a reflective and interesting life.

Joy: More than an emotion of delight, joy is a state of being and cherishing of the moment, feeling fulfilled, lacking nothing, and being content. A feeling that pervades your entire body, mind, and spirit.

Empathy, love, and compassion: This is our sense of responsibility for others. We feel what they feel and are moved to help relieve their suffering. These are the motivators and bonds that form a true intimacy with others.

Trust and lack of fear: As fears subside, the reality of something greater than ourselves increases and trust in its benevolence grows. It is a non-conceptual awareness that carries a sense of vitality, intelligence, and love.

Openness, curiosity and creativity: As fears subside, the innate nature of our original mind comes to the foreground: An inner and outer boundless field of awareness that is open, active, adaptable, dynamic, inquisitive, and creative.

Wisdom: The wisdom of our open and creative mind is available to respond intuitively, spontaneously, and appropriately in any circumstance that we encounter, without the need to conceptualize and rationalize. It transcends intellectual/conceptual knowing.

Overcoming the Limits of Science

Posted on by japineda
from Krisis and Praxis

Retirement came early for me in 2018 after a 30-year career in scientific research because of the limits I encountered following that approach. As I’ve written in my 2020 autobiography Piercing the Clouds, it became increasingly obvious that science could not provide me with answers to the burning, ultimate questions I had; questions about reality, consciousness, the mind, etc. (see My Unease with Science).

Trying to find answers, I convinced myself that knowledge could flow from other sources—such as first person or noetic experiences. Noetic means inner wisdom, direct knowing, intuition, or implicit understanding. It is a way of knowing beyond our traditional senses. Scientists often deride this approach as subjective, religious, even mystical. Their reasoning is that it lacks verifiability since by definition only one person can access such knowledge. And verifiability is the sine qua non of science—otherwise, how can one trust the results? It was, therefore, with a tremendous apprehension that I left academia to pursue such alternative approaches.

Even as this new direction bears fruit, there have been moments in which I’ve questioned the sanity of my decision. I still lack confidence in my own insights, and original thoughts lack truthfulness and validity until someone else confirms them. Hence, it was with a great deal of surprise and relief that I read the latest version of The New Scientist magazine (Jan 2023). Its discussion of the limits of knowledge instantly crystallized the fuzzy thoughts I had that led to my retirement. The coverage validated my decision to leave and motivated me to compose this essay as a summary of the arguments. The intention is to give a clear description, while providing a grounding of support for others’ questioning of the matter.

The first major problem encountered in terms of the limits of knowledge is that, from a scientific perspective, we must first be able to identify, define, and quantify the object of study. This does not prevent its investigation, but makes the process difficult, if not impossible. Quantum mechanics shows that the underlying nature of reality is probabilistic and inherently unknowable. This implies there is a hard limit to our understanding of it. Hence, we know of a handful of subjects that even the laws of nature tell us we can never study scientifically. While such a list is not exhaustive, it gives a sense of where we cannot go:

  • The inside of a black hole
  • Going beyond the edges of the expanding universe
  • Knowledge of the quantum world
  • The origin of life
  • The inner workings of the human soul
  • Consciousness
  • The supernatural 

Part of this limitation involves what scientists have termed “the limit of horizons.” Just like the horizon on a clear day represents a fundamental limit on how far we can see, imposed by the curvature of the earth, the origins of the universe and of life on earth are subject to a type of horizon. For about 300,000 years following the Big Bang, scientists theorize that the environment was so hot and dense that electrons, proton, neutrons, and even photons combined. Then, in what has been called “recombination” the universe cooled enough allowing charged particles to combine to form basic elements like hydrogen. This meant that photons, which have no charge, could no longer combine with other particles and were free to roam, allowing us the ability to “visualize” objects. For now, we cannot visualize the universe prior to recombination—a major constraint. Likewise, biologists can trace all species to a single organism. This last universal common ancestor (LUCA) gave root to all life on earth. Unfortunately, it’s the end of the trail since we cannot study what came before it. Thus, it represents a kind of horizon limiting scientific investigation of the origin of life.

Another major limitation to a scientific exploration is the complexity of nature, its objects, and their relationships. Weather prediction, understanding how a disease spreads, the way proteins fold, and how the brain works are so complex that we can only study tiny parts at a time. Super computers and artificial intelligence are approaches that have helped push the limits created by such complexity. At some point, however, these tools will “understand” but humans won’t—a limit we may have already crossed (see The Evolution of Multidimensionality).

A final limitation is that the tools we have to study nature and its complexities are inadequate. From language to describe the dynamics, to the mathematics that quantifies it, to logic and the science of the formal principles of reasoning, these either don’t exist or are insufficient. Mathematics, for example, has to make assumptions about reality—and its validity rests on such assumptions. Are we sure we are using the right assumptions? Kurt Gödel’s incompleteness theorem states that if you have a consistent mathematical system (i.e., a set of axioms with no contradictions) in which you can do a certain amount of arithmetic, then there are statements in that system which are unprovable using only that system’s axioms. The mathematics is incomplete, and it is, therefore, impossible to prove everything. This problem reminds me of an Emily Dickinson poem on nature which asserts that, “Nature is what we know—Yet have no art to say—”

Given these and other limitations of science, what can overcome them? First is to recognize there are alternative paths to knowledge. Whether we focus on what we consider emotions or knowledge of the heart, action and selfless service, or faith, meditation, noetic, and religious experiences, what we learn from these alternative approaches is that we can indeed capture distinct aspects and dimensions of the same reality. These approaches provide access to unique forms of knowledge which may be indescribable, but an experience that we can still try to communicate to others.

Happy Holidays!

Posted on by japineda 
Season Greetings

May you embrace and 
be attuned to life
During this holiday season!
May you find this jewel
In silence and stillness.
There is no need to create,
For it already exists,
There is no need to move,
For you are already there,
There is no need to do,
Except for the joy of being.

Happy Holidays 
Merry Christmas
Buon Natale
Fröhliche Weihnachten
Happy Hanukkah
Blessed Kwanzaa

and

A Flourishing New Year!

The Evolution of Multidimensionality

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Scientists root the concept of dimensions in the idea of describing space. However, the scientific sense of space as an “extended” void with dimensions did not arise until well into the 17th century; not until Galileo and Descartes made space the cornerstone of modern physics as something physical with a geometry. By the end of the 17th century, Isaac Newton had expanded the vision to encompass the entire universe, which now became a potentially infinite three-dimensional vacuum.

Interestingly, it was the work of artists several hundred years earlier that foresaw and likely undergirded this scientific breakthrough. In the 14th to 16th centuries, Giotto, Paolo Uccello and Piero della Francesca developed the techniques of what came to be known as perspective—a style originally termed “geometric figuring.” By exploring geometric principles, these painters gradually learned how to draw images of objects in three-dimensional space. By doing so, they reprogrammed European minds to see space in a Euclidean fashion.

Descartes’ contribution was to make images of mathematical relations and formalize the concept of a “dimension.” He did it in terms of a rectangular grid marked with an x and y axis, and a coordinate system. The Cartesian plane is a two-dimensional space because we need only two coordinates to identify any point within it. With this framework, Descartes linked geometric shapes and equations. Thus, we can describe a circle with a radius of 1 by the equation x2 + y2 =1. Later, this framework became the basis for the calculus developed by Isaac Newton and G W Leibniz.

How does this concept of space affect our lived experience? Imagine living in a Cartesian two-dimensional world in which you are only aware of length and width. You see two objects approach each other at tremendous speed in this flat-plane world. The inevitable outcome will be a crash, you think. When nothing happens and the two objects appear to pass through each other untouched and continue on the other side, you think—it’s a miracle!

The Cartesian plane makes it easy to imagine adding another axis (x, y, z), which now allows us the ability to describe the surface of a sphere (x2 + y2 + z2 = 1) and thus describe forms in three-dimensional space.

Imagine that you are now seeing the same two objects coming towards each other, but able to see them in three dimensions, not only length and width, but also depth. You see the two objects, which are planes, approach each other at tremendous speed. But because you can see that one is significantly above the other, you know they are safe. It is patently obvious and definitely not a miracle there is no crash. All because you can see into this third dimension.

In 1905, an unknown physicist named Albert Einstein published a paper describing the real world as a four-dimensional setting. In his “special theory of relativity,” Einstein added time to the three classical dimensions of space. Scientists mathematically accommodated this new idea easily since all one has to do is add a new “time” coordinate axis within the Cartesian framework.

Events in our world seem to occur in four dimensions (length, width, depth, and time) and we can see into all of them. Hence, when the same two objects, which we recognize as planes, approach each other at tremendous speed and at the same height, there would be a crash, except the two planes are flying in the same space but at different times. Again, it is obvious there is no crash because of our ability to perceive differences in time. This ability, to see in four dimensions, makes interactions between objects appear natural and obvious, whereas for those seeing in fewer dimensions, they would seem miraculous or paradoxical.

Einstein’s Theory of General Relativity says we live in four dimensions. String Theory, developed in the 1960s, in contrast, says it’s at least 10. In 1919, Theodor Kaluza discovered that adding a fifth dimension to Einstein’s equations could account for the interactions of both electromagnetism and gravity, the fundamental forces that govern how objects or particles interact. The problem was that, unlike the previous four, this fifth dimension did not relate directly to our sensory experience. It was just there in the mathematics. More recently, String Theory scientists have shown that an additional five dimensions account for weak and strong nuclear forces, the two additional fundamental forces of nature. Thus, with 10 dimensions, String Theory can account for ALL the fundamental forces and ALL their interactions. Unfortunately, we have no way of relating our lived experience to this mathematical multidimensional accountability.

We look out at our complex world and try to figure out why accidents happen? Why do young people die? What makes voters attracted to certain ideas? Why do we fall in love with this person and not that one? Why does only one person survive a plane crash? From our human perspective, these are difficult to answer and even incomprehensible questions because we don’t have full insight into the dimensions at work creating the dynamics of these interactions. If we did, it would be as obvious as the sun rising every morning.

Today we know physical interactions result from information exchanged by fundamental particles known as bosons, and mathematically accounted for in 4-D space by Einstein’s equations. Experiments with bosons, however, suggest there may be forms of matter and energy vital to the cosmos that are not yet known to science. There may, in fact, be additional fundamental forces of nature and distinct dimensions of information.

Indeed, different exchanges of information mediate human interactions. These involve intangible dimensions of unity, beauty, sociality, persistence, love, entanglement, etc. Information in these dimensions affects social interactions and relates more directly to our life. Imagine, for example, two individuals running at each other at full speed and crashing. Without contextual information, how do you understand the action? Is it two angry opponents on a battlefield trying to kill one another? Or, is it two players on opposite teams tackling one another in a game of American football? Knowing the intangible dimensions of the interaction and the information provided gives us an obvious answer.

Preliminary attempts by psychologist Sarah Hoppler and her colleagues (2022) give us hope that a combination of factors can describe social encounters. These researchers have identified six dimensions (actor, partner, relation, activities, context, and evaluation) with three levels of abstraction, based on how people describe their social interactions. They have shown their approach to depict and account for all conceivable sorts of situations in social interactions, irrespective of whether described abstractly or in great detail.

It might be useful, therefore, to ask whether there are limits to our comprehension of additional dimensions of information? Science tells us that physical dimensions may be so tiny and fleeting that we currently can’t detect them. However, in terms of intangible sources of the human experience, we may not be as helpless. We can sense and intentionally improve some of these dimensions (love, sociality, persistence); others we sense and learn to appreciate (beauty, unity); but a vast majority are, for now, still beyond our comprehension (entanglement).

We are still discovering, evolving, and quantifying the full capacity of our human experience. If we accept Pierre Teilhard de Chardin’s statement that “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience,” then the voyage of discovery of our multidimensional nature is unlimited and ought to be infinitely enjoyable.

What Is Genius?

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Leonardo da Vinci — Albert Einstein

We define genius as original and exceptional insight while performing some art or endeavor that surpasses expectations, sets new standards for future works, establishes better methods of operation, or remains outside the capabilities of competitors. Prior to doing some background reading on the subject, I assumed that at such heights of intelligence, there is little room for fallibility, errors, flubs, mistakes, wrong guesses, etc. I discovered this was wrong, and it made me reconsider what genius really means. It’s not what we’ve been told by mythmakers.

Let’s consider two well-known and uncontested cases of genius, Leonardo da Vinci and Albert Einstein. For many of us, they represent the epitome of creativity in arts and science and a full-flowering of the human potential. Leonardo da Vinci is the embodiment of the Renaissance man. He was a painter, artist, engineer, architect, scientist, inventor, cartographer, anatomist, botanist, and writer. His active imagination conceptualized the tank, the helicopter, the flying machine, the parachute, and the self-powered vehicle. He was a man far ahead of his time and many of his visionary inventions became real only centuries later.

As an engineer, Leonardo sensed more than most how the design of machines informed by mathematical laws of physics is better than relying just on practice. He was the first to design separate interchangeable components deployed in a variety of complex devices. And no one drew machines with more attention to detail and reality. His insatiable curiosity about nature undergirded his efforts to devise flying machines. He sought not only to imitate flying birds, but to understand and apply the principles of flight to endow man with the ability to fly on his own. His genius lay in his mastery of engineering principles, design, and natural law.

Walter Isaacson, author of “Leonardo da Vinci,” describes how Leonardo integrated science with his artistic genius. “Leonardo spent many pages in his notebook dissecting the human face to figure out every muscle and nerve that touched the lips. On one of those pages you see a faint sketch at the top of the beginning of the smile of the Mona Lisa. Leonardo kept that painting from 1503, when he started it, to his deathbed in 1519, trying to get every aspect exactly right in layer after layer. During that period, he dissected the human eye on cadavers and could understand that the center of the retina sees detail, but the edges see shadows and shapes better. If you look directly at the Mona Lisa smile, the corners of the lips turn downward slightly, but shadows and light make it seem like it’s turning upwards. As you move your eyes across her face, the smile flickers on and off.”

While one can sense the inexhaustible work, energy, curiosity, and creative drive behind Leonardo’s genius, the stories insinuate his creativity unfolded naturally, perfectly, and inevitably. But, much of this reality is mixed with mythology since Leonardo created an endless succession of untested contraptions, unpublished studies, and unfinished artworks. There was no inevitability to his creations. There was a lot of fudge work and many, many steps before the final product. It would appear his genius rested on having an active and creative mind. What motivated such a mind? Undoubtedly, it depended on several personality attributes, but foremost among these was curiosity, his defining trait. Everything seemed to interest Leonardo. Maybe genius is simply an unrelenting curiosity that in its wake happens unexpectedly upon original, novel, and unique insights. The genius is that all that preparation and work allows one to recognize those marvelous coincidences.

Like da Vinci, Albert Einstein reached the pinnacle of admiration in the modern era as the iconic symbol of genius. His most famous equation is E = mc2. Einstein, however, doubted how important this was and dismissed notions it might one day be at the heart of an alternative energy source. In 1934, he declared that “there is not the slightest indication” that atomic energy will ever be possible. Today his equation is at the heart of over 400 nuclear power stations, which are about to become the world’s leading source of non-carbon-based energy.

Einstein thought his biggest mistake was refusing to believe his equations that predicted the expansion of the Universe. While some astronomers favored the notion that many objects in the sky were actually “island universes” located well outside the Milky Way, most astronomers of his time thought that the Milky Way represented the full extent of the Universe. Einstein sided with this erroneous view, and when he applied his General Relativity theory to the entire universe, he had to add a special type of fudge factor into his equations, a cosmological constant, to make it static and eternal. Unfortunately, later evidence showed that, in fact, the Universe was and is still expanding equally and uniformly in all directions on large cosmic scales. In the 1930s, Einstein referred to his introduction of the cosmological constant to keep the Universe static as his “greatest blunder.”

Today we know that Einstein actually missed out on predicting something even bigger: the existence of dark energy. In the mid-1990s, 40 years after Einstein’s death, astronomers showed his misplaced faith on his beautiful equations. Studies of exploding stars in distant galaxies revealed the Universe isn’t just expanding, it’s expanding at an ever-faster rate. The cause for this is a force stronger than gravity, but acting in the opposite direction—and with no obvious origin. This is the mysterious dark energy. Einstein’s theory can accommodate it, but at the price of reintroducing the same ugly fudge-factor Einstein loathed. Most theorists believe dark energy has its origins in the quantum laws of the sub-atomic world, which allow even apparently empty space to be seething with energy. Einstein’s antipathy for quantum theory made it unlikely he would have incorporated it into his most cherished work.

In fact, Einstein had to be dragged kicking and screaming to the idea that the Universe began in a Big Bang. After learning from the Belgian mathematician Georges Lemaître that General Relativity (GR) predicts the creation of the Universe, he dismissively replied: “Your calculations are correct, but your physics is abominable.” It’s easy to see why he believed this since the GR equations go haywire at the moment of the Big Bang, giving literally infinite results. What’s needed is something extra to bring the theory back under control. Theorists now believe they know what that something extra is—and, regrettably for Einstein, it’s the very thing he couldn’t accept: quantum theory. Recent calculations by theorists in the US and Europe have shown that combining GR with quantum theory results in a theory of ‘quantum gravity’ that gives insights not only into the Big Bang but also what came before it.

Although Einstein played a major role in developing quantum theory, he became increasingly suspicious of its fuzzy, ‘probabilistic’ view of particles, which seemed to prevent even their position and speed being known with complete precision. He summed up his view by saying, “God does not throw dice.” But today, most physicists believe Einstein was wrong. Throughout his career, Einstein had an almost religious belief in the fundamental unity of the Universe, and spent decades searching for the one true Theory of Everything (ToE), which would describe the Universe and everything in it. His failure did not deter others, and over half a century after his death, the quest for the ToE continues. The bad news is that there may be at least 10,500 ToEs, and no obvious way of deciding between them. There’s now a growing suspicion that the whole idea of just one true ToE may be a mistake—and that Einstein was naïve to spend his life looking for it.

These brief highlights of Albert Einstein’s miscues and false steps in his theorizing, amidst the many times he proved to be right, reinforce what my argument about genius is. It is not a natural, perfectly linear, and inevitable unfolding that occurs in the mind of one person. Rather, it reflects circuitous thinking, hard work, and an unrelenting drive that makes mistake after mistake. Yet, somewhere along this messy path, this creativity and uncompromising drive falls upon and discovers, perhaps unexpectedly, a heretofore unknown jewel of creation.

Unless special circumstances occur, such as injuries or neglect, most children embody the driving curiosity and energy of genius. My argument is that everyone is born with equal potential to realize such a trait. While it is unimpeded in an Einstein or da Vinci, it is blocked, obstructed, unencouraged, derailed in the vast majority of us. It is up to our society at large to identify these reasons and avoid this human misfortune. As Walter Bowman Russell, an American Renaissance man in his own right, put it in 1946, “Mediocrity is self-inflicted; genius is self-bestowed. The choice is yours.” 

A Content-Addicted Culture

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We live in an exceedingly rich information culture. Indeed, the amount of information exceeds the capacity of our individual brains to process it by orders of magnitude. Not only is factual-based scientific information being collected at prodigious rates, but the amount of non-factual disinformation created by our culture matches its rate. Reality-based information and its imaginary counterpart are apparently not sufficient content providers, for we are now considering developing a metaverse—a universe of infinite made-up possibilities. While human imagination is a source of all these creative outbursts, problems occur when there are no boundaries to its unconstrained nature, no checks on counterfactual thinking, no testing to see whether ideas are true. When we think up stuff and assume it is real, it creates the singular psychological basis for human suffering. Humans have known this insight for thousands of years and yet we march on, like a devastating tsunami obliterating everything on its path or like lemmings on our way to our own destruction.

The driving energy behind this is a mind that lives in scarcity, that is constantly dissatisfied, always searching for more to fill a bottomless emptiness. It is this unfulfilled emptiness that makes us addicted to information, to the content of what our mind can experience. For, while we attend to this content, it prevents us from looking at the core of this emptiness. Such a possibility seems too frightening to consider and so we develop more and more content to distract us. The American social scientist Herbert Simon wrote: “The wealth of information means a dearth of something else—a scarcity of whatever information consumes. What information consumes is rather obvious: it consumes the attention of its recipients.”

Human attention comes in short supply, and when the information it consumes overwhelms it, there is nothing left to attend to our unfulfilled nature. The only antidote to this devastating tsunami of human experience is to become quieter and more intentional. A time of silence occurs when we stop furiously examining the content of our conscious mind. What we discover when we turn from noise to silence is that what we feared, the emptiness we felt, is not really the bogey man we envisioned, but a unique source of nourishment unlike anything ever experienced. We briefly touch what Christ called “the living water” or others refer to as the “I AM.” Silence is one of the few remaining ways we express a widespread, shared experience of sacredness.

The more we drink from this silent emptiness, this living water, the less dissatisfied we become, the less we are interested in the content of our consciousness. Instead, we become more interested in that which contains it all: consciousness itself. We lose our addiction to information, and at the very end of such a process, we identify with the silence itself, which, in fact, contains everything.

The Human Spiritual Experience

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“We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience.” – Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

What if mystics and spiritual masters are right about us being spiritual beings having a human experience? Is there anything in what we know about the brain and its development that may be more associated with such an idea than with the standard materialist explanation? I interpret a 2021 meta-analysis of brain connectivity by Edde and colleagues as evidence that we should not easily dismiss these types of alternative explanations.

A set of biological rules or algorithms govern brain connectivity changes during normal development, maturation, and aging and, forming and shaping the macroscopic architecture of the brain’s wiring network or connectome. The standard model, shown in the Figure below, predicts that as we develop prenatally and during the first few years, local neural connections form first, followed by more global connections. This initial growth occurs in parallel with synaptogenesis, where macroscopic connectome formation and transformation reflects an initial overgrowth and subsequent elimination of cortico-cortical fibers. For most of the middle period of development, we see a plateau in the process and a strengthening of these connections. As we reach old age, the prediction is that things reverse, with global connections losing strength and finally local connections being affected. This inversion of the developmental process during aging accords with the developmental models of neuroanatomy for which the latest matured regions are the first to deteriorate. The graph below illustrates this inverted U-function of brain connectivity during a lifetime.

Mostly, studies of the human connectome support this standard model. The quirk in Edde’s recent analysis is the unexpected observation that it is local networks that begin losing strength in aging, while global networks maintain or even increase. The implication is that we lose focused, specialized functions with aging, but maintain or strengthen global, integrative functions. If we are preparing for death, why would this be taking place?

For a potential explanation, let us turn to a simplified spiritual model of development that closely matches these new observations (see Figure below). Initially, an understanding of our true nature (the spiritual path) provides the insight that ego development, while natural, interferes with knowledge of who we really are. We gain insight that we form highly local and specialized functions early in order to protect our fragile sense of being. These processes strengthen during adolescence and early adulthood (ego development). Time and further insights (e.g., identifying exclusively with this ego) during middle age propel us to embark on a process described as ego-death or at least diminishment. We seek to undo the local and highly functional networks that arose during ego development. The outcome of this effort is a switch in perspective, which many term realization. This basically describes a switch from identification with ego-based processes to a sense of the larger unity of which we are part. Realization can occur at any time in development, but usually after some effort in reducing ego-based thinking. Realization means a major strengthening of the global networks associated with the unity experience. This is more in concert with the proposal that “in the fifth decade of life (that is, after a person turns 40), the brain starts to undergo a radical “rewiring” that results in diverse networks becoming more integrated and connected over the ensuing decades, with accompanying effects on cognition.”

Why do we have diminished memory function as we age? While clinical disorders such as dementia exacerbate this condition, the natural trend in aging is for a reduced capability. Why? Perhaps the materialist models are wrong and what we are seeing, as supported by Edde et al., is a reduction in localized functioning, while strengthening of the global unity functions. For me, this preparation to join this larger unity in death would seem like a better explanation for what is happening in aging. This is in contrast to the idea that “the networking changes likely result from the brain reorganizing itself to function as well as it can with dwindling resources and aging ‘hardware.’”

Human Interconnectedness: Billiard Balls or Gooey Chocolate?

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Most of us are quite aware of how connected we are. This awareness has produced several ways to think about, describe, or view this connectivity. The ideas run the gamut from highly interconnected to loosely so. The extent to which the internet has made us aware of these relationships, with more people and more information from around the world, it has become front of mind. Since how we think about nature structures our reality of it, it seems necessary to reconsider how we might view our connections to others.

Many people view these interactions from the perspective that we are more like billiard balls that inevitably come in contact with other billiard balls as we run around the world doing our thing. It recalls the classic view of the structure of reality at the atomic level. That matter comprises extremely tiny particles called atoms originated about 2500 years ago by Democritus, a Greek philosopher. However, the idea was forgotten for approximately 2000 years. Then, at the beginning of the 19th century, the English chemist John Dalton brought back Democritus’ ancient idea of the atom. Dalton thought atoms were the smallest particles of matter and envisioned them as solid, hard spheres, like billiard balls. Currently, matter as energy, electron clouds, or probability waves have replaced the old billiard ball model of matter.

Yet, the classic notion of matter has affected our conceptualization of human interactions. We view the inevitable result of human billiard balls making contact and colliding as producing change, but namely to redirect or reorient our own trajectory. If the impact is great, it may cause emotions to engage and the interactions can rise to another level. Even at this level, we think that our internal environment remains unchanged, except perhaps for a brief flash of exasperation, anger, or resentment.

As the collisions become greater and more pronounced, we may acknowledge that the changes stay with us for a while, perhaps even a lifetime. The accepted modern paradigm to describe this dynamic is what I characterize as independent arising. Each of us is seen as an independent agent, a billiard ball, exerting control over what we experience. Thus, what we feel and how we respond depends on our own mind, allowing itself to experience and determine our actions. There is a level of autonomy, control, and agency we attribute to our behavior.

This model, however, is incomplete and does not explain all of human behavior. Therefore, it is time to recognize alternative explanations. One of these is that we may be more like balls of gooey chocolate when we encounter and collide with others. When we do, we leave a trace—sometimes messy, sometimes not. Therefore, it isn’t unusual to hear someone say, “I needed a shower after meeting that person.” The psychic residue of our interactions can affect our internal being, our psyche and spirit, and can be difficult to wash off. I characterize this as dependent arising.

A sophisticated description of this idea is the doctrine of dependent arising, which stands at the heart of Buddhist doctrine. It describes the principle of conditionality or the links that arise between experiences. My simple understanding of this doctrine is that these links and our experience of those links arise dependent on every other circumstance we encounter. They arise because we have a body, emotional reactivity, perceive incoming sensory information, conceptualize such information, and develop a conscious awareness of these experiences. Or, to put it in more modern terms, we are born with a body whose function is to create connections and links between experiences, add emotional valence, and reflect on them.

Martin Luther King Jr. captured the point I want to emphasize about our deep interconnectedness in what he expressed about injustice. He said, “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.” The concept of interbeing introduced by Thich Nhat Hanh also reflects our deep interconnectedness, where everything relies on everything else in order to manifest. Likewise, biologists describe how our human bodies are shared, rented, and occupied by countless other tiny organisms, without whom we couldn’t “move a muscle, drum a finger, or think a thought.” Indeed, our body is comprised of trillions of bacteria, viruses, and other such organisms. Without them, we wouldn’t be able to operate, think, feel, or speak. In fact, the analogy applies to the entire planet, which can be conceived as one giant breathing entity, with all its working parts connected in symbiosis.

We are not separate entities or exist independently, but are a continuation of one another, as Thich Nhat Hanh has argued. This garment of symbiotic mutuality that we represent gives a different perspective on what it means to be in a relationship with others. It thus calls for a rethinking of how much agency, control, and independence we actually have and to structure our spiritual path accordingly. By spiritual I mean a recognition of the validity and impact of our deep interconnectedness.