Scientists and Mystics
SCIENCE AND SPIRITUALITY:
This paper presented by Dr. J.S.R.L.Narayana Moorty at the Krishnamurti Centennial Conference held at Miami University, Oxford, Ohio, U.S.A., May 18-21, 1995, discusses some issues commonly raised in regard to the relationship between science and spirituality. In particular, the issue of the apparent similarities (or symmetry) between statements made by scientists and those made by mystics concerning the unity of existence (or of the universe). The author argues that the positions of the scientists and those of the mystics are not comparable, and proposes that the very premise that the mystic or the scientist has any sort of experience or knowledge of a state of unity, especially when seen in the light of the teachings of U.G. Krishnamurti, a contemporary teacher, is questionable.
Extracts:
Religion, of which spirituality is considered an essential trait, has in the past come into conflict with some of the theories and conclusions of science. Three major areas of conflict are: the time of creation, the manner of creation, and the constitution of the human being, particularly with regard to the question of whether there is anything in the human being, such as the soul, which survives the death of his physical body.
Ren‚e Weber, in her Dialogues with Sages and Scientists, maintains that both the scientist and the mystic seek unity in the universe or reality. "A parallel principle derives both science and mysticism -- the assumption that unity lies at the heart of our world and that it can be discovered and experienced by man." (Weber, p.13). While the scientist, according to her, approaches the question of unity through his scientific method and reasoning, the mystic approaches it through self-knowledge. While the methodology of science is quantitative and mathematical, the methodology of mysticism is meditational. (Weber, p.8). Weber admits, however, that there are other differences between science and mysticism: scientific method is cognitive and analytical; it studies the universe piecemeal. It claims its results to be objective and value free. (Weber, p.8). The mystic's unity is experiential -- it is union with the infinite (for instance, the "Thou art that" of the Upanishads). (Weber, p.9). While the scientist seeks to unify, he leaves himself out of this "equation" (Weber, p.10), in spite of the fact that in quantum mechanics the observer and the observed are "admitted to constitute a unit." According to Weber, the scientific community has not yet caught up with the full meaning of this declaration. (Weber, p.10).
Particularly in physics, the search for the `singularity' before time, as in the physical theories of Stephen Hawking, is an expression of this search for unity, just as the `super- implicate' order in David Bohm is another such expression. Professor Bohm claims that the quantum mechanical field theory implies some such notion as his super-implicate order. (In Weber, pp.34, 37). In his view, the relationship between what he calls the super-implicate order(1) and what he calls the implicate order is similar to the relationship between consciousness and matter.
Bohm clearly gives the idea that thought is incapable of grasping the ultimate origins of the universe, because previous scientists (like Poincar‚ or Einstein) didn't know what the source of their mathematics was, and therefore they called it mysterious. (In Weber p.147). It is Bohm's view that, inasmuch as he is studying the mathematical order of the universe, and inasmuch as mathematics is meaning and meaning is a property of consciousness, the scientist is ultimately, like the mystic, studying consciousness. "In some ways the pure mathematician is going into one of the aspects of consciousness." (In Weber, p.149). He says that although the scientist is "inspired by the experience of matter, nevertheless once it has entered consciousness he is trying to find something that goes on in consciousness which has an order of its own." (In Weber, p.149).
Hawking also thinks that "time and space and everything else are really in us. They are just mathematical models that we've made to describe the universe." Consequently, Hawking says that the distinction between studying nature and merely our models of nature is not a meaningful distinction.
According to Weber, the mystic, on the other hand, is engaged in "splitting his self- centered ego and the three-dimensional thinker that sustains it."(Weber, p.11). He, "in changing himself, changes the subtle matter within in some radical way for which no scientific explanation is at present adequate." (Weber, p.12). For the mystic, a theory cannot comprehend reality, for it puts limits on the unbounded. (Weber, p.14). The questions of the why's and the wherefore's of the universe lead, for the mystic, to the idea that the universe originates in consciousness.(Weber, p.15). "Subtle matter gives birth to and governs dense matter, but all matter forms a continuum. ... At its most subtle and inward point (if there is such an end point) matter and consciousness become indistinguishable." (Weber, p.15). Professor Weber thinks that this subtle matter can be "approached through non-ordinary states of consciousness" as experienced, for instance, in Tibetan Buddhism (Weber, p. 15). "A traditional meditation in Tibetan Buddhism enables the meditator to experience the unity of space, matter, and consciousness." (Weber, p.16).
, the physicist is merely studying himself (i..e, the mathematical models in his mind, rather than reality itself), it is clear that in some fashion the study does not and in principle cannot include the scientists themselves. It's not just that theoretical physics, as Weber claims, has not yet somehow come to understand the implications of quantum mechanics. It is not even that, as the "Copenhagen Interpretation" of quantum mechanics states, we do not actually study reality, but only our interpretation of reality. It's just that no matter what theory a physicist arrives at, it must, as a theory, preclude the person of the scientist as part of the unity. A theory is a thought, and as a thought, it must preclude the thinker. It is precisely this separation that the mystic is trying to transcend.
It is true that in some sense both the scientist and the mystic do seek unity. Perhaps the very search for understanding is born out of a sense of separation which is caused by one's thought processes, and which presents, in one's consciousness, the clear separation between oneself as the observer and the world (including oneself, inasmuch as one is aware of oneself as a being in the world) as the observed . But there is a fundamental difference in the approaches: the scientist is not satisfied with a mere `experience' of unity, whatever that experience may consist of, but seeks a unification in theory. The mystic, on the contrary, is sure that no theory will ever result in a unifying experience. Furthermore, when the mystic does `experience' such a unity, the quest for unity will no longer be there. Not only the quest is gone, but the seeker is gone in a very fundamental sense. It is in this context that U.G.'s teachings have relevance.
U.G. says there cannot be any `experience' of unity or union with reality. According to him, a claim to any experience presupposes not only an awareness of the experience as an object, but also a recognition of it as an experience. And these conditions are enough to destroy any possibility of there being a unity, let alone an experience of unity, because any recognition implies a duality or division between the subject and the object. How can there be an experience of unity where there is a subject left out of the object of experience?
Is it possible that there is indeed an experience of unity, but when the experience occurs, there is no awareness of it, yet it could be recalled as such sometime later? U.G. denies that such a possibility exists, because, in order for there to be a memory of an experience, there has to have been an initial experience (or knowledge) with an awareness which implies a subject-object distinction. In other words, he denies that it is possible to have an experience without a subject- object distinction; were it possible to have such an experience, he denies that we could have a memory of it. When there is no such distinction (as should be the case with the so-called experience of unity), there can be no recognition of that state, and therefore the state does not constitute an experience, and for that reason there can be no memory of it later.
Nevertheless, when U.G. describes his own process of `death'(4) or a`thoughtless' state, he admits that there must be in that state some awareness of what was going on, or he would not be able to talk about it. This admission leads us to wonder whether, after all, U.G. is not concurring with scientists like Sheldrake and Bohm in their assertion that consciousness is the ultimate reality and is the `unity' of the universe. U.G.'s admission would be somewhat akin to that of the scientists in another sense also, namely, that it is somewhat speculative (although perhaps not to him), for in the awareness of his own thoughtless state there must be some thought operating (according to his own admission, or else he would not be able to report about it), and his statement about consciousness being everywhere would, therefore, also be somewhat speculative. He may have superior knowledge (to that which we have) in this matter, but, to us, his statements expressing such knowledge must, like the statements of the scientists, sound speculative.
Is it possible, then, that when the mystic talks about the experience of unity (say, his experience of Brahman or of Emptiness) that there is just a unity of consciousness (let us say, just awareness) without any awareness of that awareness. In other words, is it possible that, although in the mystic the continuity of consciousness is broken up in such a way that there is no self (the continuity of consciousness or experience or memory is what creates the self), there is still a physiological lingering or trace of a previous experience? And is it possible that, although there might not be any explicit subject-object distinction at the time of experience, a memory of it becomes possible later because the physiological trace is translated at that later moment as a memory experience, and as a consequence, one recognizes and names the experience (albeit calling it nameless)? It may well be that the experience now is remembered as one of formless emptiness or of energy or of ecstasy. In any case, it would be remembered as being free from any of the delineations of ordinary experience.
Sheldrake argues that just because we do not know of any memory without the brain, it does not follow that there cannot be any memory outside the brain. For all we know, the brain can act as a conduit through which memory (or consciousness) manifests itself, much like the antenna and the wiring in a radio act as conduits for the electromagnetic waves to be manifested as sound. Thus, just as the radio signal can exist (in the form of electromagnetic waves) outside the radio with its antenna and wiring, memory can exist outside the brain.
UG on his experiences - There are no persons, and no space within to create a self. What is left after the continuity of thought is blown away, is one disjointed, independent, series of interactions. What happens in the environment around me, happens in here. There is no division. When the armor you are wearing around is stripped away, you find an extraordinary sensitivity of the senses that respond to the phases of the moon, the passage of the seasons, and the movements of the other planets. There is simply no isolated, separate, existence of its own here, only the throb of life, like a jellyfish. ...It [the death process] defies description. But I can mention that in this death state, the ordinary breath stops entirely and the body is able to `breathe' through other physiological means. Among the many doctors I have discussed this strange phenomena with, only Dr. Laboyer, an expert in childbirth, gave me a sort of explanation. He says that newborn babies have a similar way of breathing. This is probably what the original word pranayama meant. This body goes through the death process on a daily basis, so often, in fact, that every time it renews itself it is a given a longer lease. When, one day, it cannot renew itself, it is finished and carted off to the ash heap. ....After the breath and heartbeat come to almost a complete stop, somehow the body begins to`come back'. The corpse-like appearance of the body--the stiffness, coldness and ash covering--begin to disappear. The body warms up and begins to move and the metabolism, including the pulse, picks up. If you, out of scientific curiosity, wish to test me, I am not interested. I am simply making a statement, not selling a product. When the separative thought structure dies, these glands and nervous plexi take over the functioning of the organism. It is a painful process, for the hold of thought over the glands and plexi is strong and has to be `burnt' off. This can be experienced by an individual. The burning or `ionization` needs energy and space to take place. For this reason the limits of the body are reached, with energy lashing out in all directions. The body's containment of that energy in its limited form brings pain, even though there is no experiencer of pain there. This painful death process is something nobody--not even the most ardent religious practitioners and yogis--wants. It is a very painful thing. it is not the result of will, but is the result of a fortuitous concourse of atoms.
Scientists in the field of evolution now think that the present breed of humans we have on this planet probably evolved out of a degenerated species. The mutation that carried on the self-consciousness must have taken place in a degenerate species. That is why we have messed everything up. It is anybody's guess as to whether anyone can change the whole thing.(MM, p.148).
The way U.G. functions is as a natural living organism, without the `stranglehold' of thought--he functions efficiently, from moment to moment, without any urge to be or do anything other than what he is doing at that moment. He explains how, in him, there is chaos and order simultaneously in every moment of attention; how his visual perception is two- dimensional; how one picture of whatever is occurring is replaced by another, totally disconnected picture as soon as some other thing in the environment captures his attention; how there is no connecting link between one event and another; how music can be mere `noise'; how, as an occasion demands, all the knowledge relevant to it is brought to bear upon it, and when the need is gone, then he is back to the `meaningless' or thoughtless state.
"For those who believe there is such a thing as rebirth, there is rebirth; and for those who do not believe in it, there is no such thing. However, `Objectively speaking' there is no rebirth -- for what is there to be born again?"
"All chronic disease is genetic" -- here he seems to believe in some kind of physiological karma -- there is nothing you can do about it, except bear with it and, if necessary, temporarily palliate it.
To experience pain you have to link one (momentary) sensation with another through memory and thought. Pain is necessary to the healing process -- if you let it be, the body will find its way of absorbing or integrating it.
The body never dies; it is only recycled -- our (non-existent) self is the only thing that dies. If left alone without the influence of thought, the body functions most sensitively, efficiently and absolutely peacefully.
We don't want to be free from our problems, for to be free from them is to put an end to ourselves.
In ME (p. 46), U.G. describes his state as a state of `not knowing'; knowledge only comes into the picture when there is a demand for it. Once the demand is met, then he is back again in the state of not knowing. On the very next page (p. 47), speaking of the "tremendous peace that is always there within, that is your natural state," he says, "...This is volcanic in its nature: it's bubbling all the time - the energy, the life - that is its quality." Then, U.G. asks, "You may ask how I know. I don't know. Life is aware of itself, if we can put it that way - it is conscious of itself." Nowadays, U.G. would express the thought somewhat differently by saying, "Knowing and not knowing exist in the same `frame'."
I think that when a person is freed from the `stranglehold' of thought, in some sense the person (or the subject) does not exist as a continuing entity any longer. Not that the entity ever really existed before -- only the illusion of it was there. Now that the illusion is not there, knowledge operates for a moment, answers the demands of the situation, and immediately and automatically slips back into the background.(5) When U.G. answers his audience's questions, he responds in words. His audience tends to make sense and meaning out of these words and is tempted to apply the same rules of logic that are normally applied to discourse. But as there is no `person' in someone like U.G., there is no division (or sense of separation) within him; and whatever `unity' is there is expressing itself without the normal logic of `consciousness' or `experience'. Even U.G.'s responses to our questions have no meaning for him. It is not that they are meaningless. There is no consciousness of `separation' or of anything (or anyone) as being separate from himself. Hence, it would not be appropriate to call statements of U.G. expressions of `knowledge', at least in the ordinary sense of knowing. Words, meanings, music, sounds, objects, etc., appear for a moment and then in the next moment (or `in the same frame') recede into the background and become mere noise, two dimensional space, irritations or `blobs'. We, however, `interpret' the sounds coming from U.G. as meaningful and try to apply truth values to the statements coming from him. But, for U.G., these ideas do not have `meaning', or truth or falsehood.
I think the answer to these questions lies in the epistemological challenge (See page 8 above) U.G. poses to both the mystic and the scientist. If the critique he makes of both mysticism and science is extended to his own statements, it is true that we are led to some puzzles. But then, what if the above is the only possible way a man who lives in an undivided state lives, and traditional mystics did not always realize its implications?(6) Although U.G.'s utterances make no `sense' to U.G. (it is not that they are nonsense either), his audience cannot help but try to make sense out of them, for they are using the activity of making sense as part of the project of making their selves, in the sense that they relate his statements to some project (epistemological, spiritual or some other personal project) in their lives. U.G., on the other hand, can operate in this world without having to fall into the dichotomy of sense and nonsense. To us, he appears to be a man like any other man, living, and carrying on in this world. U.G., however, has no sense of who he is. He has no concept or image of himself, and hence even the question of whether he is alive or not-alive does not arise for him. He may momentarily answer our questions with counter-sounds or utterances. The problem of making sense, attributing truth and falsehood, or looking for the facts `behind' the words, is our problem, not his.
This paper presented by Dr. J.S.R.L.Narayana Moorty at the Krishnamurti Centennial Conference held at Miami University, Oxford, Ohio, U.S.A., May 18-21, 1995, discusses some issues commonly raised in regard to the relationship between science and spirituality. In particular, the issue of the apparent similarities (or symmetry) between statements made by scientists and those made by mystics concerning the unity of existence (or of the universe). The author argues that the positions of the scientists and those of the mystics are not comparable, and proposes that the very premise that the mystic or the scientist has any sort of experience or knowledge of a state of unity, especially when seen in the light of the teachings of U.G. Krishnamurti, a contemporary teacher, is questionable.
Extracts:
Religion, of which spirituality is considered an essential trait, has in the past come into conflict with some of the theories and conclusions of science. Three major areas of conflict are: the time of creation, the manner of creation, and the constitution of the human being, particularly with regard to the question of whether there is anything in the human being, such as the soul, which survives the death of his physical body.
Ren‚e Weber, in her Dialogues with Sages and Scientists, maintains that both the scientist and the mystic seek unity in the universe or reality. "A parallel principle derives both science and mysticism -- the assumption that unity lies at the heart of our world and that it can be discovered and experienced by man." (Weber, p.13). While the scientist, according to her, approaches the question of unity through his scientific method and reasoning, the mystic approaches it through self-knowledge. While the methodology of science is quantitative and mathematical, the methodology of mysticism is meditational. (Weber, p.8). Weber admits, however, that there are other differences between science and mysticism: scientific method is cognitive and analytical; it studies the universe piecemeal. It claims its results to be objective and value free. (Weber, p.8). The mystic's unity is experiential -- it is union with the infinite (for instance, the "Thou art that" of the Upanishads). (Weber, p.9). While the scientist seeks to unify, he leaves himself out of this "equation" (Weber, p.10), in spite of the fact that in quantum mechanics the observer and the observed are "admitted to constitute a unit." According to Weber, the scientific community has not yet caught up with the full meaning of this declaration. (Weber, p.10).
Particularly in physics, the search for the `singularity' before time, as in the physical theories of Stephen Hawking, is an expression of this search for unity, just as the `super- implicate' order in David Bohm is another such expression. Professor Bohm claims that the quantum mechanical field theory implies some such notion as his super-implicate order. (In Weber, pp.34, 37). In his view, the relationship between what he calls the super-implicate order(1) and what he calls the implicate order is similar to the relationship between consciousness and matter.
Bohm clearly gives the idea that thought is incapable of grasping the ultimate origins of the universe, because previous scientists (like Poincar‚ or Einstein) didn't know what the source of their mathematics was, and therefore they called it mysterious. (In Weber p.147). It is Bohm's view that, inasmuch as he is studying the mathematical order of the universe, and inasmuch as mathematics is meaning and meaning is a property of consciousness, the scientist is ultimately, like the mystic, studying consciousness. "In some ways the pure mathematician is going into one of the aspects of consciousness." (In Weber, p.149). He says that although the scientist is "inspired by the experience of matter, nevertheless once it has entered consciousness he is trying to find something that goes on in consciousness which has an order of its own." (In Weber, p.149).
Hawking also thinks that "time and space and everything else are really in us. They are just mathematical models that we've made to describe the universe." Consequently, Hawking says that the distinction between studying nature and merely our models of nature is not a meaningful distinction.
According to Weber, the mystic, on the other hand, is engaged in "splitting his self- centered ego and the three-dimensional thinker that sustains it."(Weber, p.11). He, "in changing himself, changes the subtle matter within in some radical way for which no scientific explanation is at present adequate." (Weber, p.12). For the mystic, a theory cannot comprehend reality, for it puts limits on the unbounded. (Weber, p.14). The questions of the why's and the wherefore's of the universe lead, for the mystic, to the idea that the universe originates in consciousness.(Weber, p.15). "Subtle matter gives birth to and governs dense matter, but all matter forms a continuum. ... At its most subtle and inward point (if there is such an end point) matter and consciousness become indistinguishable." (Weber, p.15). Professor Weber thinks that this subtle matter can be "approached through non-ordinary states of consciousness" as experienced, for instance, in Tibetan Buddhism (Weber, p. 15). "A traditional meditation in Tibetan Buddhism enables the meditator to experience the unity of space, matter, and consciousness." (Weber, p.16).
, the physicist is merely studying himself (i..e, the mathematical models in his mind, rather than reality itself), it is clear that in some fashion the study does not and in principle cannot include the scientists themselves. It's not just that theoretical physics, as Weber claims, has not yet somehow come to understand the implications of quantum mechanics. It is not even that, as the "Copenhagen Interpretation" of quantum mechanics states, we do not actually study reality, but only our interpretation of reality. It's just that no matter what theory a physicist arrives at, it must, as a theory, preclude the person of the scientist as part of the unity. A theory is a thought, and as a thought, it must preclude the thinker. It is precisely this separation that the mystic is trying to transcend.
It is true that in some sense both the scientist and the mystic do seek unity. Perhaps the very search for understanding is born out of a sense of separation which is caused by one's thought processes, and which presents, in one's consciousness, the clear separation between oneself as the observer and the world (including oneself, inasmuch as one is aware of oneself as a being in the world) as the observed . But there is a fundamental difference in the approaches: the scientist is not satisfied with a mere `experience' of unity, whatever that experience may consist of, but seeks a unification in theory. The mystic, on the contrary, is sure that no theory will ever result in a unifying experience. Furthermore, when the mystic does `experience' such a unity, the quest for unity will no longer be there. Not only the quest is gone, but the seeker is gone in a very fundamental sense. It is in this context that U.G.'s teachings have relevance.
U.G. says there cannot be any `experience' of unity or union with reality. According to him, a claim to any experience presupposes not only an awareness of the experience as an object, but also a recognition of it as an experience. And these conditions are enough to destroy any possibility of there being a unity, let alone an experience of unity, because any recognition implies a duality or division between the subject and the object. How can there be an experience of unity where there is a subject left out of the object of experience?
Is it possible that there is indeed an experience of unity, but when the experience occurs, there is no awareness of it, yet it could be recalled as such sometime later? U.G. denies that such a possibility exists, because, in order for there to be a memory of an experience, there has to have been an initial experience (or knowledge) with an awareness which implies a subject-object distinction. In other words, he denies that it is possible to have an experience without a subject- object distinction; were it possible to have such an experience, he denies that we could have a memory of it. When there is no such distinction (as should be the case with the so-called experience of unity), there can be no recognition of that state, and therefore the state does not constitute an experience, and for that reason there can be no memory of it later.
Nevertheless, when U.G. describes his own process of `death'(4) or a`thoughtless' state, he admits that there must be in that state some awareness of what was going on, or he would not be able to talk about it. This admission leads us to wonder whether, after all, U.G. is not concurring with scientists like Sheldrake and Bohm in their assertion that consciousness is the ultimate reality and is the `unity' of the universe. U.G.'s admission would be somewhat akin to that of the scientists in another sense also, namely, that it is somewhat speculative (although perhaps not to him), for in the awareness of his own thoughtless state there must be some thought operating (according to his own admission, or else he would not be able to report about it), and his statement about consciousness being everywhere would, therefore, also be somewhat speculative. He may have superior knowledge (to that which we have) in this matter, but, to us, his statements expressing such knowledge must, like the statements of the scientists, sound speculative.
Is it possible, then, that when the mystic talks about the experience of unity (say, his experience of Brahman or of Emptiness) that there is just a unity of consciousness (let us say, just awareness) without any awareness of that awareness. In other words, is it possible that, although in the mystic the continuity of consciousness is broken up in such a way that there is no self (the continuity of consciousness or experience or memory is what creates the self), there is still a physiological lingering or trace of a previous experience? And is it possible that, although there might not be any explicit subject-object distinction at the time of experience, a memory of it becomes possible later because the physiological trace is translated at that later moment as a memory experience, and as a consequence, one recognizes and names the experience (albeit calling it nameless)? It may well be that the experience now is remembered as one of formless emptiness or of energy or of ecstasy. In any case, it would be remembered as being free from any of the delineations of ordinary experience.
Sheldrake argues that just because we do not know of any memory without the brain, it does not follow that there cannot be any memory outside the brain. For all we know, the brain can act as a conduit through which memory (or consciousness) manifests itself, much like the antenna and the wiring in a radio act as conduits for the electromagnetic waves to be manifested as sound. Thus, just as the radio signal can exist (in the form of electromagnetic waves) outside the radio with its antenna and wiring, memory can exist outside the brain.
UG on his experiences - There are no persons, and no space within to create a self. What is left after the continuity of thought is blown away, is one disjointed, independent, series of interactions. What happens in the environment around me, happens in here. There is no division. When the armor you are wearing around is stripped away, you find an extraordinary sensitivity of the senses that respond to the phases of the moon, the passage of the seasons, and the movements of the other planets. There is simply no isolated, separate, existence of its own here, only the throb of life, like a jellyfish. ...It [the death process] defies description. But I can mention that in this death state, the ordinary breath stops entirely and the body is able to `breathe' through other physiological means. Among the many doctors I have discussed this strange phenomena with, only Dr. Laboyer, an expert in childbirth, gave me a sort of explanation. He says that newborn babies have a similar way of breathing. This is probably what the original word pranayama meant. This body goes through the death process on a daily basis, so often, in fact, that every time it renews itself it is a given a longer lease. When, one day, it cannot renew itself, it is finished and carted off to the ash heap. ....After the breath and heartbeat come to almost a complete stop, somehow the body begins to`come back'. The corpse-like appearance of the body--the stiffness, coldness and ash covering--begin to disappear. The body warms up and begins to move and the metabolism, including the pulse, picks up. If you, out of scientific curiosity, wish to test me, I am not interested. I am simply making a statement, not selling a product. When the separative thought structure dies, these glands and nervous plexi take over the functioning of the organism. It is a painful process, for the hold of thought over the glands and plexi is strong and has to be `burnt' off. This can be experienced by an individual. The burning or `ionization` needs energy and space to take place. For this reason the limits of the body are reached, with energy lashing out in all directions. The body's containment of that energy in its limited form brings pain, even though there is no experiencer of pain there. This painful death process is something nobody--not even the most ardent religious practitioners and yogis--wants. It is a very painful thing. it is not the result of will, but is the result of a fortuitous concourse of atoms.
Scientists in the field of evolution now think that the present breed of humans we have on this planet probably evolved out of a degenerated species. The mutation that carried on the self-consciousness must have taken place in a degenerate species. That is why we have messed everything up. It is anybody's guess as to whether anyone can change the whole thing.(MM, p.148).
The way U.G. functions is as a natural living organism, without the `stranglehold' of thought--he functions efficiently, from moment to moment, without any urge to be or do anything other than what he is doing at that moment. He explains how, in him, there is chaos and order simultaneously in every moment of attention; how his visual perception is two- dimensional; how one picture of whatever is occurring is replaced by another, totally disconnected picture as soon as some other thing in the environment captures his attention; how there is no connecting link between one event and another; how music can be mere `noise'; how, as an occasion demands, all the knowledge relevant to it is brought to bear upon it, and when the need is gone, then he is back to the `meaningless' or thoughtless state.
"For those who believe there is such a thing as rebirth, there is rebirth; and for those who do not believe in it, there is no such thing. However, `Objectively speaking' there is no rebirth -- for what is there to be born again?"
"All chronic disease is genetic" -- here he seems to believe in some kind of physiological karma -- there is nothing you can do about it, except bear with it and, if necessary, temporarily palliate it.
To experience pain you have to link one (momentary) sensation with another through memory and thought. Pain is necessary to the healing process -- if you let it be, the body will find its way of absorbing or integrating it.
The body never dies; it is only recycled -- our (non-existent) self is the only thing that dies. If left alone without the influence of thought, the body functions most sensitively, efficiently and absolutely peacefully.
We don't want to be free from our problems, for to be free from them is to put an end to ourselves.
In ME (p. 46), U.G. describes his state as a state of `not knowing'; knowledge only comes into the picture when there is a demand for it. Once the demand is met, then he is back again in the state of not knowing. On the very next page (p. 47), speaking of the "tremendous peace that is always there within, that is your natural state," he says, "...This is volcanic in its nature: it's bubbling all the time - the energy, the life - that is its quality." Then, U.G. asks, "You may ask how I know. I don't know. Life is aware of itself, if we can put it that way - it is conscious of itself." Nowadays, U.G. would express the thought somewhat differently by saying, "Knowing and not knowing exist in the same `frame'."
I think that when a person is freed from the `stranglehold' of thought, in some sense the person (or the subject) does not exist as a continuing entity any longer. Not that the entity ever really existed before -- only the illusion of it was there. Now that the illusion is not there, knowledge operates for a moment, answers the demands of the situation, and immediately and automatically slips back into the background.(5) When U.G. answers his audience's questions, he responds in words. His audience tends to make sense and meaning out of these words and is tempted to apply the same rules of logic that are normally applied to discourse. But as there is no `person' in someone like U.G., there is no division (or sense of separation) within him; and whatever `unity' is there is expressing itself without the normal logic of `consciousness' or `experience'. Even U.G.'s responses to our questions have no meaning for him. It is not that they are meaningless. There is no consciousness of `separation' or of anything (or anyone) as being separate from himself. Hence, it would not be appropriate to call statements of U.G. expressions of `knowledge', at least in the ordinary sense of knowing. Words, meanings, music, sounds, objects, etc., appear for a moment and then in the next moment (or `in the same frame') recede into the background and become mere noise, two dimensional space, irritations or `blobs'. We, however, `interpret' the sounds coming from U.G. as meaningful and try to apply truth values to the statements coming from him. But, for U.G., these ideas do not have `meaning', or truth or falsehood.
I think the answer to these questions lies in the epistemological challenge (See page 8 above) U.G. poses to both the mystic and the scientist. If the critique he makes of both mysticism and science is extended to his own statements, it is true that we are led to some puzzles. But then, what if the above is the only possible way a man who lives in an undivided state lives, and traditional mystics did not always realize its implications?(6) Although U.G.'s utterances make no `sense' to U.G. (it is not that they are nonsense either), his audience cannot help but try to make sense out of them, for they are using the activity of making sense as part of the project of making their selves, in the sense that they relate his statements to some project (epistemological, spiritual or some other personal project) in their lives. U.G., on the other hand, can operate in this world without having to fall into the dichotomy of sense and nonsense. To us, he appears to be a man like any other man, living, and carrying on in this world. U.G., however, has no sense of who he is. He has no concept or image of himself, and hence even the question of whether he is alive or not-alive does not arise for him. He may momentarily answer our questions with counter-sounds or utterances. The problem of making sense, attributing truth and falsehood, or looking for the facts `behind' the words, is our problem, not his.
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