Chapter 20
Returning to Mystical Experience
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MYSTICAL (English, eighteenth century [origin: formed as “mystic”; see “-ical”]): (1) Having an unseen, unknown, or mysterious origin, character, or influence; of hidden or esoteric meaning. (2) Chiefly Christian church. Having a spiritual character or significance that transcends human understanding. (b) Designating or pertaining to the branch of theology relating to direct communion of the soul with God. Also, of, pertaining to, or characteristic of mystics; relating to or of the nature of mysticism.—Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, 6th ed., s.v. “mystical”
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I wish I could leave you, dear reader, with final, absolutely certain and wonderful answers to all our questions about science and spirituality, the ultimate meaning of life, and what to do about it—but I don’t know these answers. I do believe in (the possibility of) progress, though, and that each of us individually, as well as collectively, can learn enough to enrich our lives, to make them more fulfilling and interesting, and to move slowly ahead in knowledge. I hope I’ve aroused your curiosity, as well as provided an interesting look at this area of science and spirituality, and I want to end by circling back to a most interesting and vital experience or knowing that’s potentially available to us.
In the introduction, we looked at Richard Maurice Bucke’s 1872 Cosmic Consciousness experience and asked some questions about it, questions that are of vital importance for human life. Here’s his experience again (Bucke 1961, 7–8):
It was in the early spring at the beginning of his thirty-sixth year. He and two friends had spent the evening reading Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, Browning, and especially Whitman. They parted at midnight, and he had a long drive in a hansom (it was in an English city). His mind, deeply under the influences of the ideas, images, and emotions called up by the reading and talk of the evening, was calm and peaceful. He was in a state of quiet, almost passive enjoyment. All at once, without warning of any kind, he found himself wrapped around, as it were, by a flame-colored cloud. For an instant he thought of fire, some sudden conflagration in the great city; the next he knew that the light was within himself. Directly afterwards came upon him a sense of exultation, of immense joyousness, accompanied or immediately followed by an intellectual illumination quite impossible to describe. Into his brain streamed one momentary lightning flash of the Brahmic Splendor which has ever since lightened his life; upon his heart fell one drop of Brahmic Bliss, leaving thenceforward for always an aftertaste of heaven. Among other things he did not come to believe, he saw and knew that the Cosmos is not dead matter but a living Presence, that the soul of man is immortal, that the universe is so built and ordered that without any peradventure, all things work together for the good of each and all, that the foundation principle of the world is what we call love and that the happiness of everyone is, in the long run, absolutely certain. He claims that he learned more within the few seconds during which the illumination lasted than in previous months or even years of study and that he learned much that no study could ever have taught.
The illumination itself continued not more than a few moments, but its effects proved ineffaceable; it was impossible for him ever to forget what he at that time saw and knew; neither did he, or could he, ever doubt the truth of what was then presented to his mind.
I presented this account as data, as a conscientious report of an experience of a fellow human being. Essential science, proper science, begins with data, theorizes about it—“what does it mean?”—and comes back to data to check on the usefulness of theories. Does my theory usefully predict and account for new data? Data is supreme.
The theoretical explanation of Bucke’s spiritual experience from the viewpoint of materialistic scientism is quite straightforward: psychiatrist or not, there was something wrong with him. His brain malfunctioned in some way and gave him a deep conviction of the truth of things, which is obviously false. We have no souls, we’re not immortal, there’s no inherent meaning in the universe, much less all things working together for the good of each and all, and so on. Bucke’s account doesn’t really deserve the name of data; it’s nonsense and it and similar reports can be disregarded.
Essential science, proper science, as opposed to scientism, doesn’t cavalierly throw out data just because it makes no “sense” in terms of the theories we’re intellectually (and emotionally) attached to. If the data is reliable—comes from trustworthy sources and shows consistency—it must be worked with.
So was Bucke just having some sort of odd brain stroke, a unique and peculiar malfunction? Or was his Cosmic Consciousness experience at least a basic possibility of human experience, regardless of how we want to assess its value in telling us about the nature of reality?
Let’s jump ahead more than a century to a life-changing experience of my friend and colleague Allan Smith. In 1976 Allan was a young physician and anesthesiologist, devoting himself to research. He had a secure university position, had already won a national prize for his research, and had a brilliant career ahead of him. An atheist, he had no interest in religious or spiritual matters and certainly had never heard of Richard Maurice Bucke or Cosmic Consciousness. Like many California professionals in the 1970s, he had occasionally tried marijuana, without ever experiencing anything like a “mystical experience,” and had never tried more-powerful, psychedelic drugs. And yet, here’s what “spontaneously” happened to him (Smith and Tart 1998, 97–98)(55):
My Cosmic Consciousness event [he later learned the classical name for this experience] occurred unexpectedly while I was alone one evening and was watching a particularly beautiful sunset. I was sitting in an easy chair placed next to floor-to-ceiling windows that faced northwest. The sun was above the horizon and was partially veiled by scattered clouds, so that it was not uncomfortably bright. I had not used any marijuana for about a week previously. On the previous evening I probably had wine with dinner; I do not remember the quantity, but two glasses would have been typical. Thus, we would not have expected any residual drug effects.
The Cosmic Consciousness experience began with some mild tingling in the perineal area, the region between the genitals and anus. The feeling was unusual but was neither particularly pleasant nor unpleasant. After the initial few minutes, I either ceased to notice the tingling or did not remember it.
I then noticed that the level of light in the room as well as that of the sky outside seemed to be increasing slowly. The light seemed to be coming from everywhere, not only from the waning sun. In fact, the sun itself did not give off a strong glare. The light gave the air a bright, thickened quality that slightly obscured perception rather than sharpened it. It soon became extremely bright, but the light was not in the least unpleasant. Along with the light came an alteration in mood. I began to feel very good, then still better, then elated. While this was happening, the passage of time seemed to become slower and slower. The brightness, mood elevation, and time slowing all progressed together. It is difficult to estimate the time period over which these changes occurred, since the sense of time was itself affected. However, there was a feeling of continuous change, rather than a discrete jump or jumps to a new state. Eventually, the sense of time passing stopped entirely. It is difficult to describe this feeling, but perhaps it would be better to say that there was no time, or no sense of time. Only the present moment existed.
My elation proceeded to an ecstatic state, the intensity of which I had never even imagined could be possible. The white light around me merged with the reddish light of the sunset to become one all enveloping, intense undifferentiated light field. Perception of other things faded. Again, the changes seemed to be continuous. At this point, I merged with the light. and everything, including myself, became one unified whole. There was no separation between myself and the rest of the universe. In fact, to say that there was a universe, a self, or any “thing” would be misleading—it would be an equally correct description to say that there was “nothing” as to say that there was “everything.” To say that subject merged with object might be almost adequate as a description of the entrance into Cosmic Consciousness, but during Cosmic Consciousness there was neither “subject” nor “object.” All words or discursive thinking had stopped and there was no sense of an “observer” to comment or to categorize what was “happening.” In fact, there were no discrete events to “happen,” just a timeless, unitary state of being.
Cosmic Consciousness is impossible to describe, partly because describing involves words, and the state is one in which there were no words. My attempts at description here originated from reflecting on Cosmic Consciousness soon after it had passed and while there was still some “taste” of the event remaining.
Perhaps the most significant element of Cosmic Consciousness was the absolute knowingness that it involves. This knowingness is a deep understanding that occurs without words. I was certain that the universe was one whole and that it was benign and loving at its ground. Bucke’s experience was similar. He knew, “…that the universe is so built and ordered that without any peradventure, all things work together for the good of each and all, that the foundation principle of the world is what we call love and that the happiness of every one is, in the long run, absolutely certain” (8). The benign nature and ground of being, with which I was united, was God.
However, there is little relation between my experience of God as ground of being and the anthropomorphic God of the Bible. That God is separate from the world and has many human characteristics. “He” demonstrates love, anger, and vengeance, makes demands, gives rewards, punishes, forgives, etc. God as experienced in Cosmic Consciousness is the very ground or “beingness” of the universe and has no human characteristics in the usual sense of the word. The universe could no more be separate from God than my body could be separate from its cells. Moreover, the only emotion that I would associate with God is love, but it would be more accurate to say that God is love than God is loving. Again, even characterizing God as love and the ground of being is only a metaphor, but it is the best that I can do to describe an indescribable experience.
The knowingness of Cosmic Consciousness permanently convinced me about the true nature of the universe. However, it did not answer many of the questions that (quite rightly) seem so important to us in our usual state of consciousness. From the perspective of Cosmic Consciousness, questions like, “What is the purpose of life?” or “Is there an afterlife?” are not answered because they are not relevant. That is, during Cosmic Consciousness ontologic questions are fully answered by one’s state of being, and verbal questions are not to the point.
Eventually, the Cosmic Consciousness faded. The time changes, light, and mood elevation passed off. When I was able to think again, the sun had set and I estimate that the event must have lasted about twenty minutes. Immediately following return to usual consciousness, I cried uncontrollably for about a half hour. I cried both for joy and for sadness, because I knew that my life would never be the same.
Reflecting on the long-term effects of his Cosmic Consciousness experience, Allan writes (Smith and Tart 1998, 101–02):
Cosmic Consciousness had a major impact on the course of my life. I had received a national prize for my research and had a grant funded for five years, but any interest I had in becoming a famous academician evaporated. My research seemed more like an interesting puzzle than work of immense importance to the world. I left my secure and successful university faculty position and supported myself as a part-time freelance clinician. I needed time to explore spirituality and to integrate the Cosmic Consciousness experience into my life. Those explorations included theology, psychology, mysticism, Eastern religion, parapsychology, consciousness studies, and holistic health. Eventually, I earned a MA in Consciousness Studies and another in Theology. Since Cosmic Consciousness, I have not had a “career” in the usual sense of the word.
One important aftereffect of Cosmic Consciousness that I soon discovered was the ability to create a subtle shift in consciousness. By quieting myself within, my inner mental chatter almost stopped, and I became calm and present centered. Perception of the world and myself were both especially clear. The world seemed benign and “right” with everything as it was “supposed to be.” There was a great sense of inner peace. As the years passed since Cosmic Consciousness, my ability to attain this state at will has diminished. When it does occur, it seems less profound than previously. I am personally very sad at this loss.
Cosmic Consciousness did not make me into an instant saint or enlightened being. I still occasionally lose my temper, worry, judge people, and need ego support. But from the time immediately following Cosmic Consciousness, there were lasting personality changes. My general anxiety level was considerably reduced and remains low. I do not (usually) strive at living but truly enjoy it. When I do “lose it,” there is a subtle way in which I can mentally “step back” and see the real significance (or lack thereof) of whatever disturbed me. I have not been able to return to Cosmic Consciousness, although I have a real longing to do so. However, I can usually recall enough of the experience to know that the world is benign and that my ordinary consciousness phenomenal experience can only hint at the true nature of reality.
The Cosmic Consciousness experience occurred in 1976. I did not make any notes until about a month later. Unfortunately, those original notes are lost. Even so, I feel quite confident that my memory of the essential aspects of Cosmic Consciousness is accurate. There are several reasons for this belief. (1) The Cosmic Consciousness experience was the most powerful event of my life, and such a momentous experience is not possible to forget. (2) From the early weeks afterwards, I compared my experience to published accounts of Cosmic Consciousness. The comparisons constitute an independent way to stabilize the memory. (3) I frequently review the experience as a technique to achieve inner peace. (4) My remembered accounts are similar to the accounts reported in the literature. In addition, many other Cosmic Consciousness experiencers have reported that their experiences have remained fresh after the passage of many years (James 1925, Bucke 1961). We cannot claim that memory is infallible, and the long period between the events and the report is unfortunate. However, we do believe it very likely that the above phenomenal report has not been significantly distorted by the passage of time. Furthermore, my belief that my memory is accurate is data: Cosmic Consciousness produces that feeling.
Besides the beauty of Smith’s account, I was impressed, on first hearing it, with its close parallels to Bucke’s account when Smith had, back in 1976, never heard of Bucke or anything like it. It is similar to the way NDEs seem to have some kind of archetypal reality, because there’s so much core similarity in them among people from different cultures and religions. Thus the NDE didn’t seem accountable for a simple hallucination based on a person’s religious upbringing. Similarly the parallels between Bucke’s and Allan Smith’s accounts, a century and massive cultural change apart, as well as similar accounts by others, impress me: Cosmic Consciousness is an archetypal human potentiality, regardless of how we otherwise interpret it. I think it’s time we applied essential science to studying things like Cosmic Consciousness: what is its nature, how can it be induced, what kinds of effects does it have on people’s lives, how can the experience be healthfully integrated into ordinary life, and so on. That’s how science and spirituality will aid each other in ways that will benefit us all!
Our main concern in this book has been the useless and unnecessary suffering caused by personally internalized scientistic models of humanity that completely reject the spiritual, that see us as nothing but meat computers in a meaningless material universe. I’ve argued that rigorously using the same scientific method, essential science, that has led to such great success in understanding and engineering the material world, leads us to a picture of humans having a nonmaterial, spiritual aspect to our reality. I’m proud to be both a scientist and a spiritual seeker. If you’re a scientist, I hope you can be both scientist and spiritual seeker. If you’re not a scientist by profession but, like most moderns, value real scientific method over scientism, I hope you, too, can be both “scientist” and “spiritual seeker.”
When we first looked at Bucke’s experience, I raised some questions. What if…:
• (BL)…Bucke’s (and Smith’s) experience is literally true?
• …the cosmos is indeed not dead matter but a living presence?
• …we have souls that are immortal?
• …the universe is so built and ordered that, without any peradventure, in spite of all the apparent evil in the world, all things work together for the good of each and all?
• …the foundation principle of the world is what we call love?
• …and the happiness of every one of us is, in the long run, absolutely certain?
My best guesses at this stage of my knowledge—remember, I have no absolute truths to give, just my best judgments—about them is as follows.
What if Bucke’s (and Smith’s) experience is literally true? As to the literal truth of Bucke’s and Smith’s experiences, well, I try to never take anything literally, as if the particular description given of something were the best possible, absolutely true description of its reality. I place a high value on these descriptions—Bucke and Smith are intelligent people doing their best to describe what happened to them—but we’re all creatures of our times, our culture, our beliefs, our hopes and fears, and the limits of our language. Indeed I think a lot of the unnecessary suffering of our world comes from people who take the descriptions of spiritual experiences and insights by the founders of various religions as the literal truth, instead of those founders’ sincere attempts to express things as well as they could. But those founders were also creatures of their times, their cultures, their beliefs, their hopes and fears, and the limits of their languages.
In spite of the need to stay open minded, be aware of my own biases, and consider alternatives, I do believe that Bucke and Smith are somehow expressing important truths.
What if the cosmos is indeed not dead matter but a living presence? As a human being, I don’t feel arrogant enough to make any final judgments about the whole cosmos being alive, but given that with present knowledge, we can’t put any limits on psi phenomena, maybe. That is, we have no evidence that any information about reality is not available to our psychic faculties, and that supports the idea that perhaps life and consciousness do indeed pervade much or all of reality.
What if we have souls that are immortal? Immortality suggests eternity, and I don’t know about eternity, but, as we’ve looked at in chapters 12 through 16, there’s strong evidence that some aspects of our human minds may survive death.
What if the universe is so built and ordered that, without any peradventure, in spite of all the apparent evil in the world, all things work together for the good of each and all? I hope so! But I don’t know, and I’m not sure how you would scientifically test this as a human being. This might be one of the ideas that would be better investigated by some state-specific sciences (Tart 1972, 1998a) of the future.
What if the foundation principle of the world is what we call love? And what if the happiness of every one of us is, in the long run, absolutely certain? Again, I hope so! And while the absolute truth or falseness of these last three ideas may not be open to any clear test, even in more highly developed sciences of the future, there are certainly practical, psychological, and sociological consequences of believing in these ideas that can be studied. After all, how will you live your life and affect others if, on the one hand, you think that life is a meaningless accident and we die anyway, rather than that love is the primary factor in the universe, and aligning yourself with it and expressing it is your main function in life?
There’s so much more information I want to share, but it will have to wait for another book or my online writing (http://blog.paradigm-sys.com/)