Deep peace on the running wave to you
Deep peace on the flowing air to you
Deep peace on the quiet earth to you
Deep peace of the shining stars to you
Deep peace on the gentle night to you
Moon and stars pour their healing light on you
Deep peace to you
—Traditional Gaelic blessing
Assisted by the therapist and a trained nurse, the man, a psychiatrist in his mid-thirties, was guided into an altered state, where he moved slowly but profoundly into a world that existed in the deepest recesses of his consciousness. At first he did not notice any great perceptual or emotional changes, only subtle physical symptoms that made him think he might be getting the flu. He experienced malaise, chills, a strange and unpleasant taste in his mouth, slight nausea, and intestinal discomfort. Waves of mild tremors and twitches rippled through various muscles of his body, and he began to sweat.
He grew impatient, convinced that nothing was happening and disturbed that he had apparently caught a flu bug. Perhaps, he reasoned, he had chosen the wrong time to do this work since he seemed to be coming down with an illness. He decided to close his eyes and more carefully observe what was happening to him.
The instant he closed his eyes, he felt himself move into a totally different and deeper level of consciousness, a level that was entirely new to him. He had the odd sensation of shrinking in size, his head considerably larger than the rest of his body and extremities. And then he realized that what he had at first feared might be the flu coming on had now become a whole complex of toxic insults on him—not as an adult but as a fetus! He felt himself suspended in a liquid that contained some harmful substances that were coming into his body through the umbilical cord, and he was certain all these were noxious and hostile. He could taste the offending substances, a strange combination of iodine and decomposing blood or stale bouillon.
As all this was happening, the adult part of him, the part that had been medically trained and had always prided itself in its disciplined scientific perspective, observed the fetus from an objective distance. The medical scientist in him knew that the toxic attacks in this highly vulnerable stage of his life were coming from his mother’s body. Occasionally he was able to distinguish one of these noxious substances from another—now it seemed to be spices or some other food ingredients not appropriate for a fetus, another time elements of cigarette smoke his mother must have inhaled, and yet another time a touch of alcohol. He also became aware of his mother’s emotions—a sort of chemical essence of her anxiety at one moment, anger the next, feelings about the pregnancy at another time, and even sexual arousal.
The idea that a functioning consciousness could exist in a fetus was in conflict with everything he had been taught in medical school. But even more than that, the possibility that he could be aware of subtle nuances in the interactions between himself and his mother during this period of his life astonished him. Still, he could not deny the concrete nature of these experiences. All of it presented the scientist in him with a very serious conflict; everything he was experiencing went against everything he “knew.” Then a solution to the conflict presented itself to him and everything became very clear: It was necessary to revise his present scientific beliefs—something that he knew had happened many times to others in the course of history—rather than to question the relevance of his own experience.
After a period of considerable struggle, he gave up his analytical thinking and accepted all that was happening to him. His flu symptoms and indigestion vanished. It seemed now that he was connecting with the memories of the undisturbed periods of his intrauterine life. His visual field was clearing and brightening and he was becoming increasingly ecstatic. It was as if multiple layers of thick, dirty cobwebs were being magically stripped away and dissolved. The scenery before him opened up and he found himself enveloped in brilliant light and energy that streamed in subtle vibrations through his entire being.
On one level, he was still a fetus experiencing the ultimate perfection and bliss of a good womb or of a newborn fusing with the nourishing, life-giving breast. On another level, he became the entire universe. He was witnessing the spectacle of the macrocosm, with countless pulsating galaxies. Sometimes he stood outside, watching these things as a spectator; at other times he became them. These radiant and breathtaking cosmic vistas were intertwined with experiences of an equally miraculous microcosm—a dance of atoms and molecules, then the emergence of the biochemical world and the unfolding of the origins of life and individual cells. He felt that for the first time in his life he was experiencing the universe for what it really is—an unfathomable mystery, a divine play of energy.
This rich and complex experience lasted for what seemed an eternity. He found himself vacillating between experiencing himself in the state of a distressed, sickened fetus and the state of blissful and serene intrauterine existence. At times, noxious influences took the form of archetypal demons or malevolent creatures from a fairy tale world. He began receiving a flood of insights concerning the reasons children are so fascinated by mythic stories and their characters. Some of these insights were of a much broader relevance. The yearning for a state of total fulfillment, such as that which can be experienced in a good womb or in a mystical rapture, appeared to be the ultimate motivating force of every human being. He saw this theme of yearning expressed in the unfolding of the fairy tales toward a happy ending. He saw it in the revolutionary’s dream of a Utopian future. He saw it in the artist’s drive for acceptance and acclamation. And he saw it in ambitions for possessions, status, and fame. It became very clear to him that here was the answer to humanity’s most fundamental dilemma. The craving and need behind these drives could never be satisfied by even the most spectacular achievements in the external world. The only way the yearning could be satisfied was to reconnect with this place in one’s own unconscious. He suddenly understood the message of so many spiritual teachers that the only revolution that can work is the inner transformation of every human being.
During episodes when he was reliving positive memories of his fetal existence, he experienced feelings of oneness with all the universe. Here was the Tao, the Beyond that is Within, and the Tat tvam asi (Thou art That) of the Upanishads. He lost his sense of individuality. His ego dissolved and he became all of existence. Sometimes this experience was intangible and without content; sometimes it was accompanied by many beautiful visions—archetypal images of Paradise, the ultimate cornucopia, the golden age, or virginal nature. He became fish swimming in crystal-clear waters, butterflies floating in mountain meadows, and seagulls swooping down to skim the surface of the ocean. He became ocean, animals, plants, clouds—sometimes one, sometimes another, sometimes all of them at the same time.
Nothing concrete happened after that except that he began feeling at one with nature and the universe, bathed in golden light that was slowly decreasing in intensity. He gave up this experience and returned to his everyday state of consciousness reluctantly. As he did so, he felt certain that something extremely important had happened to him and that he would never again be quite the same. He reached a new feeling of harmony and self-acceptance, along with a global understanding of existence that he could not find words to describe.
For hours after this experience he felt absolutely convinced that he was composed of pure energy and spirit, finding it difficult to fully accept his old beliefs in his physical existence. Late in the evening of that day, he had the profound sense of being healed and whole, coming back into a perfectly functioning body.
For the psychiatrist who experienced all this, more questions than answers came forth in the months ahead. It might have been easy to dismiss much of what he had experienced if his experience had only been intellectual. Intellectual understanding could have come from books or films. But something more than this had occurred. More than anything else his experiences had been sensual—extraordinary physical sensations, filled with feelings of strange textures, the light and the dark of life. He had felt the sickness caused by the toxins that had bombarded him in the womb, and then the inexplicable clearing.
Granted, some information about this realm might have come from books he had read or films he had seen, but what was the source of his minutely detailed sensations? How could he have known the feelings of the fetal period of his life? Clearly, his consciousness was providing him with amazingly detailed, complex, and concrete information that he had never dreamed possible. He had felt the oneness with the universe, the Tao. He had experienced the dissolution of his ego and a merging with all of existence. But if all this was true, he had to abandon what he had believed up to that point, that our minds could only provide us with the memories of events we had experienced first-hand in the period following our births.
How do I know so much about the questions that went through this psychiatrist’s mind? I know because the experiences described above are my own. Yet, I have also found that these experiences are neither unique nor unusual in deep consciousness research. On the contrary, my own narrative represents a particular set of human experiences that has appeared in many hundreds of similar sessions of other people I have witnessed over the past thirty years.
Biological and Psychological Features of BPM I
The central features of this matrix, as well as the images that flow from it, reflect the natural symbiosis that exists between the mother and child during this period of our lives. It is important to remember that during this time we are so intimately connected with the mother, both biologically and emotionally, that we are almost like an organ in her body. During the periods of undisturbed intrauterine life, the conditions for the baby are close to ideal. The oxygen and nutrients needed for growth are continuously supplied by the placenta, which also disposes of all the waste products. The fetus is protected from loud noises and concussions by the amniotic fluid, and the mother’s body and the temperature in the womb is kept relatively steady. There is security, protection, and instant, effortless gratification of all needs.
This picture of life in the womb might look very wonderful and rosy, but it is not consistently so. In the best situations, optimal conditions are disturbed only rarely and for short duration. For example, the mother might occasionally eat foods that cause the fetus distress, have an alcoholic drink, or smoke a cigarette. She might spend some time in a very noisy environment or cause the baby and herself some discomfort by driving in a car on a bumpy road. Like anybody else, she might catch a cold or a flu. Added to this, sexual activity, especially in the later months of pregnancy, may also be experienced at some level by the fetus.
In the worst situations, life in the womb can be exceedingly uncomfortable. The infant’s existence might be affected by the mother’s suffering a serious infection, an endocrinal or metabolic disease, or severe toxicosis. We can even talk about “toxic emotions,” such as intense anxiety, tension, or violent outbursts of anger. The quality of pregnancy can be influenced by work stress, chronic intoxications, addiction, or by the cruel treatment of the mother. The situation can be so bad that spontaneous miscarriage is imminent. In deep experiential work, people have even discovered well-kept family secrets, such as the fact that they were unwanted and that the mother had tried to abort them in the earliest stages of their lives.
In modern obstetrics our negative experiences during the fetal period are considered important only from a physical point of view, that is, only as a potential source of biological damage to the body. If there are effects on the psychological development of the child, it is held that these came about only as the result of some organic impairment of the brain. However, experiences described by people who are able to re-experience this level in non-ordinary states of consciousness leave little doubt that the child’s consciousness may be affected by a wide range of noxious influences even in the earliest stages of the embryonal life. If this is the case, we would have to assume that just as there is a “good” or “bad breast,” so there is also a “good” or “bad womb.” In this respect, positive experiences in the womb seem to play a role in the child’s development that is at least as important as a positive nursing experience.
During non-ordinary states of consciousness, many people report their intrauterine experiences in extremely vivid terms. They experience themselves as very small, with a characteristically large head in relationship to their body. They can feel the surrounding amniotic fluid and sometimes even the presence of the umbilical cord. If one connects with the periods of fetal life where there were no disturbances, the experiences are associated with a blissful state of consciousness where there is no sense of duality between subject and object. It is an “oceanic” state without any boundaries where we do not differentiate between ourselves and the maternal organism or ourselves and the external world.
This fetal experience can develop in several different directions. The oceanic aspect of embryonal life can foster an identification with various aquatic life forms such as whales, dolphins, fish, jelly-fish, or even kelp. The sense of being without boundaries that we experience in the womb can also mediate a sense of being “at one” with the cosmos. One may identify with interstellar space, various celestial bodies, an entire galaxy, or the universe in its totality. Some people also identify with the experience of astronauts floating weightlessly in space, attached to the “mother ship” with the life-giving umbilical pipeline.
The fact that a good womb fulfills the fetus’s needs unconditionally is the basis for symbolism such as the endless bounties of “Mother Nature”—an entity that is beautiful, safe, and nourishing. When we are reliving fetal experiences in non-ordinary states, those experiences can suddenly change into gorgeous sceneries portraying luscious tropical islands, fruit-bearing orchards, fields of ripening corn, or the opulent vegetable gardens of the Andean terraces. Another possibility is that the fetal experience opens into the archetypal realms of the collective unconscious and instead of the heavens of the astronomers or the nature of the biologists we encounter celestial realms and Gardens of Paradise from the mythologies of a variety of the world’s cultures. The symbolism of BPM I thus weaves together, in an intimate and logical way, various fetal, oceanic, cosmic, natural, paradisean, and celestial elements.
The State of Ecstasy and Cosmic Unity
The experiences of BPM I typically have strong mystical overtones; they feel sacred or holy. More precise, perhaps, would be the term numinous, which C. G. Jung used to avoid religious jargon. When we have experiences of this kind, we feel that we have encountered dimensions of reality that belong to a superior order. There is an important spiritual aspect of BPM I, often described as a profound feeling of cosmic unity and ecstasy, closely associated with experiences we might have in a good womb—peace, tranquillity, serenity, joy, and bliss. Our everyday perceptions of space and time seem to fade away and we become “pure being.” Language fails to convey the essence of this state, prompting most to remark only that it is “indescribable” or “ineffable.”
Descriptions of cosmic unity are often filled with paradoxes that violate Aristotelian logic. For example, in everyday life, we assume that things we encounter cannot simultaneously be themselves and not be themselves, or that they cannot be something other than what they are. “A” cannot be “non-A” or “B.” Yet, an experience of cosmic unity might be “without content, yet embracing all there is.” Or we might feel that we are “without ego” at the same time that our consciousness has expanded to include the entire universe. We can feel humbled and awed by our own insignificance, yet simultaneously have a sense of enormous achievement and importance, sometimes to the extent of identifying ourselves with God. We can perceive ourselves as existing and yet not existing and see all material objects as being empty while emptiness itself appears filled with form.
In this state of cosmic unity, we feel that we have direct, immediate, and unlimited access to knowledge and wisdom of universal significance. This usually does not mean concrete information with technical details that could be practically applied; rather, it involves complex revelatory insights into the nature of existence. These are typically accompanied by a sense of certainty that this knowledge is ultimately more relevant and “real” than the perceptions and beliefs we share in everyday life. The ancient Indian Upanishads talk about this profound insight into the ultimate secrets of existence as “knowing That, the knowledge of which gives the knowledge of everything.”
The rapture associated with BPM I can be referred to as “oceanic ecstasy.” Later in this book, in the section on BPM III, we will encounter a very different form of rapture associated with the death-rebirth process. I have coined for it the term volcanic ecstasy. It is wild, Dionysian, with seemingly insatiable amounts of explosive energy and a strong drive toward hectic activity. In contrast, the oceanic energy of BPM I could be called Apollonian; it involves a peaceful melting of all boundaries, along with serenity, and tranquillity. With our eyes closed and the rest of the world shut out, it manifests as an independent inner experience that has the features I have already described. When we open our eyes, it changes into a sense of merging, or “becoming one with” everything that we perceive around us.
In the oceanic state, the world appears to manifest indescribable radiance and beauty. The need for reasoning is dramatically reduced and the universe becomes “a mystery to be experienced, not a riddle to be solved.” It becomes virtually impossible to find anything negative about existence; everything seems absolutely perfect. This sense of perfection has a built-in contradiction, one that Ram Dass once captured very succinctly by a statement he had heard from his Himalayan guru: “The world is absolutely perfect, including your own dissatisfaction with it, and everything you are trying to do to change it.” While experiencing the oceanic ecstasy, the entire world appears as a friendly place where we can safely and securely assume a childlike, passive-dependent attitude. In this state, evil seems ephemeral, irrelevant, or even non-existent.
The feelings of oceanic ecstasy are closely related to Abraham Maslow’s “peak experience.” He characterized it as: feeling whole, unified, and integrated; effortless and at ease; completely yourself; utilizing your capacities to the fullest; free of blocks, inhibitions, and fears; spontaneous and expressive; in the here and now; being pure psyche and spirit; with no wants and needs; simultaneously childlike and mature; and graced in a way that is beyond words. While my observations of oceanic ecstasy grew primarily out of the experiences encountered in regressive experiential work, Maslow’s descriptions reflect his study of spontaneous peak experiences in adult life. The strong parallels between these two areas suggest that the roots of some of our most powerful motivating forces reach much further back in our lives than psychologists originally considered possible.
The Agonies of the “Bad Womb”
So far we have explored the complex symbolism that is associated with the “good womb” or undisturbed intrauterine experiences. Prenatal disturbances have their own distinct experiential characteristics; unless they are extreme, such as imminent miscarriage, attempted abortion, or severe toxic states, their symptoms are relatively subtle. They can usually be easily differentiated from the more dramatic unpleasant manifestations associated with the birth process, such as images of wars, sadomasochistic scenes, feelings of suffocation, agonizing pains and pressures, violent shaking, and spastic contractions of large muscles. Since most of the intrauterine assaults are based on chemical changes, the predominant themes are polluted or dangerous nature, poisoning, and insidious evil influences.
The clear oceanic atmosphere can become dark, murky, and ominous and may seem to be filled with hidden aquatic dangers. Some of these dangers might seem to be grotesque creatures of nature, others creepy, treacherous, and malevolent demonic presences. One can identify with fish and other aquatic life forms threatened by industrial pollution of rivers and oceans or chicken embryos before hatching threatened by their own waste products. Similarly, the vision of a star-filled sky, characteristic for good womb experiences, can suddenly become blurred with an ugly film or fog. The visual disturbances resemble distorted pictures of malfunctioning television sets.
Scenes of industrial waste polluting the air, chemical warfare, toxic dumps, as well as identification with prisoners dying in the gas chambers of concentration camps, belong to typical experiences of the bad womb. One can also sense the almost tangible presence of malevolent entities, extraterrestrial influences, and astrological fields. The dissolution of boundaries that creates a sense of mystical union with the world during undisturbed episodes of intrauterine life now becomes responsible for a sense of confusion and being threatened. We may feel open and vulnerable to evil attacks; in the extreme this experience leads to paranoid distortion in our perceptions of the world.
Gateway to the Transpersonal Experience
As we saw in the narrative that opened this chapter, the prenatal world of BPM I often serves as a gateway into the transpersonal domain of the psyche, which we will be describing in detail later. While identifying with either the good or bad womb experiences we can also experience specific transpersonal phenomena that share emotions and physical sensations with these states. Sometimes these experiences can reach far back in time, portraying episodes from the lives of our human or animal ancestors; there also may be karmic sequences and flashbacks from other periods of human history. At other times, we may transcend the boundaries that make us feel separate from the rest of the world and have a sense of merging with other people, groups of people, animals and plants, or even inorganic processes.
Of special interest among these experiences are powerful encounters with various archetypal beings, particularly blissful and wrathful deities. The states of oceanic ecstasy are often accompanied by visions of bliss-bestowing deities, such as the Earth Mother Goddess and various other Great Mother Goddesses, the Buddha, Apollo, and others. As mentioned above, intrauterine disturbances are often experienced in conjunction with demons from different cultures. In advanced experiential work, participants have often had revelations that brought about an integration of good womb and bad womb experiences with dramatic insights that allowed them to see the purpose of all deities in the cosmic order.
The integration of good and bad womb experiences can be illustrated through an excerpt from a session in which one man, Ben, while reliving episodes from his intrauterine life, reported encounters with archetypal beings. These experiences led him to some remarkable insights into the deities and demons of the Indian and Tibetan pantheon. He suddenly saw a striking relationship between the state of the Buddha sitting on a lotus in deep meditation and that of an embryo in a good womb. The peace, tranquillity, and satisfaction of the Buddha, although not identical with the embryonal bliss, seemed to share with it some important characteristics, as if it were its “higher octave.” The demons surrounding the Buddha and potentially threatening his peace, as depicted in Indian and Tibetan paintings, appeared to Ben as also representing the disturbances associated with BPM I.
Ben was able to distinguish among the demons two different kinds: bloodthirsty, openly aggressive, ferocious demons with fangs, daggers and spears symbolized the pains and dangers of the biological birth process; creepy, insidious, and treacherous ones represented noxious influences of the intrauterine life. On a different level, Ben also experienced what he was convinced were memories from his past incarnations. It seemed to him that elements of his “bad karma” had entered his life in the form of embryonal disturbances, the trauma of birth, and negative experiences associated with nursing. He saw the experiences of the “bad womb,” of the trauma of birth, and the “bad breast,” as points of transformation through which the karmic influences were entering his present life.1
The psychological and spiritual aspects of BPM I are typically accompanied by characteristic physical symptoms. While good womb experiences convey a deep sense of health and physiological well-being, the reliving of intrauterine traumas involves a variety of unpleasant physical manifestations. The most common of these are symptoms that resemble a bad cold or flu—muscular pains and aches, chills, fine tremors, and a sense of general malaise. Equally frequent are symptoms that we associate with a hangover, such as headache, nausea, intestinal rumblings, and gas. This may be accompanied by an unpleasant taste in the mouth that people describe variously as decomposed blood, iodine, metallic flavor, or simply “poison.” In our efforts to validate these experiences, we frequently discover that during pregnancy the mother was ill, had poor dietary habits, worked or lived in toxic environments, or was a habitual user of alcohol or other drugs.
Where Adult and Perinatal Experiences Merge
In addition to all the above aspects, BPM I also has very interesting associations with memories from postnatal life. The positive aspects of this matrix represent a natural basis for recording all experiences of satisfaction from our lives (positive COEX systems). During systematic experiential work, people often discover deep connections between the oceanic ecstasy of BPM I and memories of happy periods of infancy and childhood, such as carefree and joyful play with peers or harmonious episodes from family life. Satisfying romances and love relationships with intense emotional and sexual gratification also become associated with positive fetal periods. In deep experiential work, people frequently compare the oceanic ecstasy of a good womb with certain forms of rapture that we can experience as adults.
Many experiences associated with this matrix can be triggered by natural scenery of great beauty, such as the splendor of a gorgeous sunrise or sunset, the peaceful majesty of the ocean, the breath-taking grandeur of a snow-capped mountain range, or the mystique of the northern lights. Similarly, pondering the unfathomable mystery of the star-filled sky, standing beside a giant Sequoia tree thousands of years old, or witnessing the exotic beauty of tropical islands can evoke feelings that are very close to BPM I. Similar states of mind can also be initiated by human creations of unusual aesthetic and artistic value, such as inspired music, great paintings, or spectacular architecture of an ancient palace, cathedral, or pyramid. Images such as these often spontaneously emerge in sessions governed by the first perinatal matrix. While positive experiences in our adult life can bring us in touch with the memories of the good womb, negative experiences are capable of putting us in touch with intrauterine distress. Here, for example, we might find the experiences of gastrointestinal discomfort of food poisoning or a hangover, or the malaise associated with a viral infection. Polluted air and water, as well as ingestion of various forms of intoxicants, are additional factors. Indirectly, images of spoiled and contaminated nature, industrial dumps, and junkyards, can have the same effect. Experiences of scuba diving represent a very powerful reminder of the situation in the womb. The innocent beauty of a coral reef with thousands of colorful tropical fish can reawaken the feelings of the oceanic ecstasy of the womb. In the same way, diving in murky and polluted water and encounters with undersea dangers can re-create the psychological situation in the bad womb. Judged from this perspective, we have certainly succeeded in the last few decades to shift the entire biosphere of our planet considerably in the direction of the bad womb.
A New Phase Begins
Whatever the experiences in the womb, the time arrives when this situation must come to an end. The fetus must undergo the phenomenal transition from a symbiotic aquatic organism to an entirely different form of existence. Even with the smoothest deliveries, this has to be viewed as a major ordeal, a true heroic journey, associated with considerable emotional and physical challenges. As the delivery begins, the child’s universe within the womb is severely disturbed. The first signs of this disturbance are fairly subtle, coming in the form of hormonal influences. However, they become increasingly dramatic and mechanical with the onset of uterine contractions. The fetus begins to experience intense physical discomfort and a situation of extreme emergency. With the early signals of the beginning of the birth process, the fetal consciousness is introduced to an entirely new set of experiences quite different from what it has known up to this time. These are the experiences that are associated with BPM II—the loss of the amniotic universe and the engagement in the birth process. This phase of the early drama of life is the subject of the next chapter.