I would like to update you on the success of the publicity campaign for my new book (Controlling Mental Chaos: Harnessing the Power of the Creative Mind, Rowman & Littlefield, 2023). I have been quite busy doing interviews and disseminating the ideas through blog posts in widely-read websites.
While all of this is wonderful, I am really interested in further promoting the ideas expressed since they are timely, given our unending mental confusion and the current state of the world. To that end, I would like to ask you a big favor. Would you help me promote these ideas by forwarding at least one of these articles to family, friends, or others in your social group?
It is the holiday season so this can be a thoughtful gift and may be helpful to someone in the grips of mental chaos.
My deep appreciation for your help.
May you have a wonderful season and may your mind run between wisdom and love.
My passion at this point in life is to share my professional and spiritual insights with others. This podcast is one such attempt. Here is where you can find it:
In my creative endeavors, I try to explore how true seeing, hearing, feeling, and thinking can quiet the overactive mind and how this allows silence to become the fountain of creative thought. From such silence, I’ve experienced the emergence of a new perception and awareness. This awareness of unity is infused with intrinsic joy, love, and empathy towards others, and filled with a deep and uncompromising dedication to what is true and real.
Professionally, I am Professor Emeritus of Cognitive Science, Neuroscience, and Psychiatry at the University of California, San Diego. Having joined the Department of Cognitive Science at UCSD as a founding faculty member in 1989, I remained for the rest of my 28-year academic career. My hope is that my work impacted and inspired generations of undergraduate and graduate students to take on hard questions in the neurobiology of the human mind.
I have authored many widely cited papers in animal and human cognitive and systems neuroscience and edited one academic book (Mirror Neuron Systems: The Role of Mirroring Processes in Social Cognition). This book is a collection of research on the functional significance of mirror neurons, which includes my work on autism. It is one of the most cited and downloaded books in the field.
For the last twenty years, I became interested in spiritual matters as a bridge to a fuller understanding of the mind. This led me to explore Zen Buddhism, train with a master teacher, and develop my creative side. This led to the publication of two books of poetry (Quieting of a Mind and Dawning of a New Mind) focusing on mind-brain relationships with an emphasis on spirituality, mysticism, environmentalism, and social activism. Most recently, I published the story of my journey and the bridging of science and spirituality (Piercing the Cloud: Encountering the Real Me).
Image from Clayton, J.N. (2017). Science and Theology, May 19, By DGE?
For many of us, faith implies the belief in a Deity and powers that emanate from such a being. We conceive of such beliefs as beyond the reach of the intellect, and see science and faith, like oil and water, as not mixing very well. This creates a mindset in which we judge scientists as incapable or unwilling to express faith, and those who express faith as unable to understand the scientific viewpoint. Valid or not, many reasons have led to this unusual, unhelpful, and twisted logic. In an attempt to bring these two polar opposite views into synchrony, I describe a perspective on the path from skepticism to wonder and back that may provide a small beginning.
What is “truth?” How we arrive at that answer creates a multitude of feelings, thoughts, and approaches. Most of us, at the dawn of the 21st century, reflect the thinking which conceives of truth based on faith in opposition to that based on science. Science is a unique method requiring proof to an almost legalistic level, i.e., overwhelming circumstantial evidence that is beyond a reasonable doubt. We arrive at this type of truth by gathering data from what we experience. We then generate a best-guess explaining the accumulated evidence, test this hypothesis, and recalibrate the explanation based on the feedback. This is a painstaking, time-consuming, third-person, communal perspective. History has validated the worthiness of this approach, such as when evaluating pre-scientific explanations of diseases. For millennia, we considered disorders the work of unseen forces, evil spirits, or the devil. Applying the scientific method, scientists discovered that biological phenomena, including bacteria and viruses, and psychological events such as stress, were better explanations for these dynamics.
In contrast to science, faith is the willingness to accept things unexperienced. It rests on an individualized, first-person feeling based on trust and conviction, and less on evidence or proof. It is an extrasensory set of feelings and ideas in an individual, regardless of how others may react. I cannot, for example, convince others with data or reasoning that I experience God every day because, right or wrong, this is a private, individualized, and exclusive experience. It becomes more communal only when others experience similar things.
The paradox inherent in this science-faith discussion arises from theology and philosophy, namely the idea of the transcendence and immanence of God. This dichotomy reflects a pair of truths which appear to contradict each other. Imagine a continuum. At one end is the notion that God is separable from His creation. Or to put a theological spin on it, “God is transcendent and not imminent.” He created things, but those things do not define Him. He is beyond them. However, to believe in God’s transcendence and to neglect His immanence is to fall into the belief of a Supreme being and creator who does not intervene in the universe. At the other end of this continuum is the notion that nature expresses the Divine. God is nature. Or, to put it another way, “He is imminent (in nature).” But to believe in His immanence and to neglect His transcendence is to fall into the belief that reality is identical to divinity. Interestingly, modern Christian theology falls somewhere along this continuum. It argues that God is both transcendent and imminent, although imminent in only a few circumstances, such as the incarnation of Christ, the Bible, expressed love and caring. But He is not imminent in nature, pain, or inappropriate behavior.
Scholars have argued that the influence of Greek philosophy had a vast impact on early Christian theology and on the transcendence-imminence of God. It saw the world of physical objects as an inferior reality. Because of this influence, any human experience of God, which is physical and inferior to the spirit, would only be a poor mirage of the true perfection of the godhead (Crotty, 1982). The result of such thinking was an emphasis on the transcendent over the immanent God. Several scholars tried to reject these Greek ideas. Aristotle, and later Dietrich Bonhoeffer, believed that God is “out there” with ordinary life. Bonhoeffer’s “God is everywhere” concept, however, morphed into “God is not here” for everything with God meant nothing is God. Logical reasoning, such as this, unfortunately, never seems to get anywhere.
During the Middle Ages, particularly the 12th and 13th century, the precursor of the scientific method was Scholasticism. Its distinguishing characteristics were inclusion of the teachings of Christian faith in pursuing truth. The goal of this approach was more about uncovering the wonder in nature by refining the questions posed, rather than expecting a conclusive answer. The result was an understanding that forces existed beyond the intellect but which harnessed a unique understanding. Such insightful thinking morphed into one that focused more on the answers than on the wonderment surrounding the answers. This gave birth to scientism and the prevalent method of science used today. While we have learned much from this modern approach, we have lost that most valuable part of life—an appreciation of the mystery and wonder that surrounds our “answers.”
Reconnecting wonder to God’s creation paradoxically resolves the science-faith conundrum. Science becomes the study of creation, wonder and all, and faith reflects communion with this wonder. This is the uneasy answer most organized religion and organized science ought to seek. Not a return to classic Scholasticism, but a new scholasticism suited to modern sensibilities and intellectual needs. It is an uneasy answer because history shows that we have and will continue to find scientific explanations for what was once the domain of the Divine. Yet, scientists grow skeptical that the scientific method can provide answers to all problems. And those mysteries that remain, e.g., death, love, and guilt, appear to be the most fundamental ones. Hence, we cannot continue to ignore the wonder of creation, or we will not gain true insight.
I have argued in a previous blog that science and faith-based knowledge are two distinct strategies to know the world. Our brains synchronize these two approaches. Rather than using them as opposing strategies, they are complementary, facilitating and enriching each another. True faith results from questioning. Faith stripped of skepticism is brittle and breaks easily. We must confront and wrestle with paradoxes—not just believe them unquestionably. It is the wrestling that produces insight, grace, and enlightenment. Along with wonder, we need to regain the willingness to face these contradictions and the false certainty they create.
Radiant Human aura photography by Christina Lonsdale. Photo courtesy of Radiant Human/the Whitney Museum of American Art.
In medicine, the term aura refers to a perceptual disturbance experienced by someone suffering from epilepsy or migraine. This is not, however, what I want to talk about today. Rather, the focus of this essay is on the psychic aura. As a boomer wading through the 1960s and 70s, I associated the term “aura” with spirituality and the visible energies around a person. But I had thought little about such things for the past 40 years. That is until I read Michael Crichton’s short story “Cactus Teachings” in his book Travels during this past Christmas holiday. It was a book given to me by my brother-in-law, Roger, who had enjoyed it and found Crichton’s stories resonant with what he heard in my poetry.
Crichton is a Harvard-trained doctor who gave up the practice of medicine to write. And he has produced some of the most popular and iconic stories of the past half-century, including Andromeda Strain, Jurassic Park, and The Terminal Man. I admire and respect him as a scientist, medicine man, and writer. I was, therefore, fascinated to read that in the 1980s, he had encountered and learned the art of seeing auras. He did this as part of a two-week experience in personal growth, meditation, and psychic healing. His experience intrigued me and triggered my old curiosity regarding auras. Suddenly, the topic became top-of-mind.
As part of my daily walks and hikes, I began trying to visualize auric energies around those I encountered. Unexpectedly and delightfully, even though I had to convince myself they were there, I experienced subtle light rings right away. I caught glimpses of greens and blues initially. The experience reminded me of a faded but partial rainbow around the head of some people. I saw auras around animals and trees, although these were more monochromatic and usually just a simple light band around the object. I observed nothing around non-biological objects such as cars or cement telephone poles. Nor could I detect the bands surrounding people on television or on my computer screen. But an eye blink, saccade, or attentional blink, and the faint tracings would disappear.
As I continued the practice, things changed quickly and significantly. I perceived more colors, typically yellow, green, violent, and blue bands of light. It was easier to see these bands with the sun over my shoulder. And if I successfully held the view of the aura constant for more than a second, the energy bands intensified and got brighter. Unexpectedly, I began observing light bands around non-organic things and faint traces of them on television figures. Everything seemed surrounded by an aura, if only I made the effort to see it. I was unprepared for this experience and didn’t know what to make of it.
On one of my outings, I noted that bicyclists racing down a hill seemed to extend the auric field slightly, both in front and behind them. The colors were more pronounced in the front than in the receding stream of air. It was then I realized that one explanation for this phenomenon might be the simple experience of light being refracted by particles surrounding our bodies, including water molecules.
I had purposely avoided reading the scientific literature until this point. When I started reading journal articles, I found that there were no real scientific studies because scientists deem the phenomenon not replicable. Neurologists contend people perceive auras because of defects within the brain itself because of epilepsy, migraines, synesthesia, or the influence of psychedelic drugs, such as LSD. However, when tested appropriately, researchers could not verify the findings related to the psychic aura. Hence, studies done under laboratory conditions have shown that this experience is best explained as either a visual illusion, or an afterimage.
Yet, those with no known clinical abnormalities or drug use, like Michael Crichton and I, cannot deny our experiences. There are several potential explanations. First, scientific tests may be incorrect. As an example, one test used to prove the unreliability of the phenomenon is to have someone stand (or not) behind a screen that blocks the body. The screen does not block the space around the body, and thus a person being tested ought to perceive the aura when someone is behind the screen. Researchers testing individuals claiming to detect auras beforehand found they could not correctly identify auras without knowing if someone was actually standing behind the screen. A second explanation is, of course, that the phenomenon is the product of imagination processes and therefore uniquely individualized.
There are problems with these hypotheses. First, the type of test described may be inappropriate because the auric phenomenon may depend on lateral inhibition in the visual system, which would require viewing of a body. If the body is not present to provide the contrast, there is no lateral inhibition and no aura. Lateral inhibition is something that happens because of how cells in the retina and other visual regions connect. So, when one cell is excited and fires action potentials, it turns off or provides inhibition to its surrounding neighbors. This lateral inhibition explains a well-known visual illusion phenomenon known as Mach bands, named after their discoverer, the physicist Ernst Mach (1838–1916). Mach bands reflect the exaggerated contrast between edges produced by the anatomy of lateral inhibition, by triggering edge-detection in the human visual system. Hence, a simple and testable explanation for auras is that lateral inhibition, combined with light refraction by particles surrounding our bodies, creates edge enhancement and rainbow-like experiences.
A rainbow requires water droplets or small particles floating in the air. The sun must be behind you and the clouds cleared away for the rainbow to appear. When sunlight strikes a water droplet, it refracts, and changes the direction of light because of the surface of the water. The light continues into the drop and reflects from the back of the drop to the front. When the beam hits the front, it refracts again. The water drops act like prisms to separate the light into its different wavelengths and as the color spectrum we experience in a rainbow. Science has shown that clouds of water droplets and other small particles surround our bodies. These can perform a similar light-refractory function and voila—a rainbow-like aura is visible.
Auras are a subtle visual experience. They may indeed require imagination to see. This may be why we need time to learn how to perceive this natural and wonderful phenomenon. On the other hand, photography can capture auric differences, so it can not be entirely imagination. The question I want to leave you with is: If science can explain psychic auras, are they any less fascinating?
Science is under increasing assault by President Trump and his administration. In his most recent decisions to take the malaria drug hydroxychloroquine as a prophylactic for covid-19 and not to wear a mask in enclosed spaces, the President is refuting his own CDC recommendations. This is a pattern of anti-science, anti-medicine, and anti-intellectualism that has characterized this administration from the start. It is a reckless and dangerous stance, and something every scientist and health provider should oppose.
I trained as a scientist. And got a first-hand appreciation for the potential of this discipline to cut through the thicket of opinions, assumptions, hopes, and magical thinking to bring us closer to the truth. I am convinced that science and the scientific method are humanity’s most sophisticated and impactful responses to the world of uncertainty in which we live. Science serves as an efficient way to resolve many of the questions our minds generate.
It works by verifying informed guesses against evidence and using the results as feedback to improve the guesswork. This scientific method involves systematic observation, experimentation, inductive and deductive reasoning, hypothesis testing, theory construction, reductionist and integrative approaches. These are all intellectual achievements of the highest order. They are the jewels of the human intellect, the right and indispensable tools to penetrate the thicket of the unknown.
Using such means, scientists have cured devastating diseases. Their investigations have increased human longevity. They have advanced farming to feed a growing race. And they have raised the standard of living for practically everyone in the planet. These are a few of the many triumphs brought about by science and its methodical approach. Such successes have provided it with an imprimatur of integrity and established an implied understanding that this is a trustworthy discipline.
If asked, most thoughtful people would agree that science, as a process for approaching truth, should be required teaching to our children. It is worth giving it the consideration it has earned. And it deserves defending as critical for the health and well-being of the world at large.
As a neuroscientist, I also realize there are diverse forms of obtaining knowledge, including faith-based methods, intuition, and other ways that complement the objective, scientific approach. Scientists must be modest enough to recognize the limits of the intellectual approach. For one, science cannot deal with ultimate questions; It does not make moral or aesthetic judgments; It is not self-directed since it doesn’t tell us how to best use scientific knowledge; And it doesn’t draw inferences concerning paranormal explanations. When scientists dismiss these domains, and even worse belittle them, they place science at variance with other ways of acquiring knowledge.
Interestingly, our brains use these contrasting styles of thinking, of intelligence, and original ways of knowing. Linear and nonlinear, intellectual and intuitive approaches integrate seamlessly in our mind according to the needs and demands confronted. It’s a lesson that should instruct us when assessing whether to accept science over faith-based evidence or vice versa. President Trump and his allies promote the use of faith-based, magical thinking, and intuition as the primary basis for decision making. They oppose science and intellectual thinking and by doing so create a conflict that isn’t real. The key is to know when, where and under what circumstances to apply such contrasting modes of thinking. That is the sign of a wiser mind.
In my attempt to understand the mind beyond metaphors, I began exploring other alternatives in addition to science. One path led me into meditation and the spiritual realm. At some point in the 20 years of this exploration, the boundary between science and spirituality gave way. What became obvious at that point was that the thing I was searching for and trying to understand (mind, consciousness, God, Buddha-nature, enlightenment) was in fact the world I inhabited. I recognized my true nature in the life around me. And this new world stared at me as it had always been staring me in the face. This realization, as anyone who experiences it will tell you, is both funny (Is this a joke?) and infinitely “enlightening.” Funny because it seems so obvious in retrospect. Infinitely enlightening because it is but the beginning of our real journey of discovery.
The most immediate change I experienced was a lessening in my need to achieve in terms of my career and professional goals. The self-evident purpose of my life wasn’t to achieve anything per se but to enjoy my beingness. Having studied to be a scientist, I had convinced myself that achievement drove my work. Accolades, grants, publications, and other aspects of research appeared to define the importance of who and what I was. Now, that discernment was reversed. I saw scientific knowledge for the sake of knowledge and as having its own unique beauty without the need to make anything out of it. Everything else became secondary.
Along with this experience, I sensed a developing confidence. I knew this realization was not a temporary state or another creation of the mind that would be soon forgotten. It was a real awakening to and appreciation of life. I developed a sensitivity to the “sacredness” of all things. Sacredness in the sense of appreciating the beauty and uniqueness of everything, while appreciating their role in the larger unity of which I was part. Since that recognition, quiet moments and meditation have become my engagement and appreciation of this new sensibility. These changes in perspective and awareness do not mean I am no longer interested in doing my job, attend baseball games, make friends, or make love. Rather, it’s the motivation for doing these things that’s changed. The doing to achieve a goal is no longer important, just the doing is enough. Thus, an intrinsic joy in being human and doing normal things came to the forefront and was very satisfying. The experience reflected a natural flow, without the anxiety I had felt previously.
I also sense a paradox in all of this. The desire to know the unknown motivated my paths in both science and spirituality. But the closer I got to understanding the true nature of being, the self-centered motivation to know and to do faded and disappeared. Replaced instead by an intense desire to let whatever exists unfold without interference. Further, I learned to be content without having to do anything to garner such contentment. Since childhood, I have had an inner drive giving me the energy to excel and outdo others. It has motivated my desire to learn and explore science, but also facilitated my dissatisfaction, anxieties, discontent and fears. In my old skin, I felt guilty at not being productive. Following my realization, that driving energy still exists, but the sense of movement or needing to move and to do does not. I am calm, yet still motivated to learn and explore, but do not experience the anxieties and fears that accompanied my earlier life. I am not guilty resting. Instead, I am energized by rest and relaxation, by not-doing. As I write this I recognize how “normal” this all sounds, which is the whole point. Recognizing who we truly are, both the small swirl in the stream of consciousness and the stream itself, is as normal as normal gets.
There are several reasons for starting a blog. First, as a scientist, I want to share ideas and observations as they relate to brain and mind. Second, I want to share my writing, which to date involves an autobiography, books of poetry, and a prescriptive nonfiction book on the anxious, monkey mind. Organizing my life on paper to complete the autobiography was satisfying, for the process allowed me to detect patterns in a life, which like all lives make a messy set of data points. Searching for patterns in this immense array of events is why I went into scientific research as a career. Second, as a teacher, I want to help others. I see in my writing an opportunity to share the personal, scientific, and spiritual lessons learned over a lifetime. I hope you enjoy these offerings.
I am Professor of Cognitive Science, Neuroscience, and Psychiatry at the University of California, San Diego. I retired from academic work in 2018. For 28 years, I directed the Cognitive Neuroscience Laboratory where I explored the relationship between mind and brain. I am the author of many widely cited papers in animal and human cognitive and systems neuroscience. But I am more than an academic. I have been interested in spiritual matters for over twenty years and have been writing poetry for a good part of my life. Here is my greeting to the world:
May you be attuned to life. May you find it in the silence and stillness of your being. There is no need to move, for you are already there. There is no need to create, for it already exists. There is no need to do, except for the joy of being.
