Psychosis or Transcendence?

To the left is my version of Fritjof Capra's famous 'Cosmic Dancer'.

Click to enlarge.

The original 'Cosmic Dancer' by Capra has a dancing Shiva surrounded by cosmic particles and lit up cosmic particle streaks.

Instead of Shiva, I have portrayed supermodel Cindy Crawford as the Cosmic Dancer here. Much more appealing to the eye. ;-)

This version of the cosmic dancer was made by me using a playboy photo of Cindy Crawford and Adobe Photoshop. Its my first attempt at photomanipulation.

Fritjof Capra is the author of the cult book, 'The Tao of Physics' which compares the parallels between mysticism and modern physics. A book inspired by none other than Werner Heisenberg, one of the fathers of quantum physics.

On Page 360 of The Tao of Physics, Capra writes on Werner Heisenberg's role in his project:

Heisenberg's book 'Physics and Philosophy', his classic account of the history and philosophy of quantum physics, exerted an enormous influence on me when I first read it as a young student. The book has remained my companion during my studies and my work as a physicist, and today I can see that it was Heisenberg who planted the seed of The Tao of Physics. I was fortunate to meet Heisenberg in the early 70s. I had several long discussions with him, and when I finished The Tao of Physics I went through the manuscript with him, chapter by chapter. It was Heisenberg's personal support and inspiration that carried me through those difficult years, when I went out on a limb to develop a radically new idea.

i.e. Werner Heisenberg, one of the fathers of quantum physics, endorses mysticism---something that is not about 'rational thinking', but about 'feelings and meditative awareness'.

In the introduction to The Tao of Physics, Capra writes:

Five years ago[1969], I had a beautiful experience which set me on a road that has led to the writing of this book. I was sitting by the ocean one late summer afternoon watching the waves rolling in and feeling the rhythm of my breathing when I suddenly became aware of my whole environment as being engaged in a gigantic cosmic dance. Being a physicist, I knew that sand, rocks, water and air around me were made of vibrating molecules and atoms, and that these consisted of particles which interacted with one another by creating and destroying other particles. I knew also that the Earth's atmosphere was continually bombarded by showers of 'cosmic rays', particles of high energy undergoing multiple collisions as they penetrated the air. All this was familiar to me through my research in high-energy physics, but until that moment I had only experienced it through graphs, diagrams, and mathematical theories. As I sat on that beach, my former experiences came to light; I 'saw' cascades of energy coming down from outer space, in which particles were created and destroyed in rhythmic pulses; I 'saw' the atoms of the elements, and those of my body participating in this cosmic dance of energy; I felt its rhythm and I 'heard' its sound, and at that moment I knew that this was the Dance of Shiva, the Lord of Dancers worshipped by the Hindus.

I had gone through a long training in theoretical physics and had done several years of research. At the same time, I had become very interested in eastern mysticism and had begun to see the parallels to modern physics. I was particularly attracted to the puzzling aspects of Zen which reminded me of the puzzles in quantum theory. At first, however, relating the two was a purely intellectual exercise. To overcome the gap between rational analytical thinking and the meditative experience of mystical truth, was, and still is, very difficult for me.

They [readers of this book] will find that eastern mysticism provides a consistent and beautiful philosophical framework which can accommodate our most advanced theories of the physical world. Mysticism is an experience that cannot be learned from books.

What Capra describes in the above passage is a 'satori' or a state of sudden, temporary illumination of the mind. When higher mental faculties open up suddenly (if only temporarily), a vision that can (sometimes) be translated into a work like The Tao of Physics, is 'seen'.

The reader must have noticed that Capra writes he "saw" the atoms......"heard" the sound of energy dancing. He writes this way because he is not talking about literal seeing or hearing. This is a reference to the opening up of the mind. Or Consciousness expansion. OR...STEPPING BEYOND THOUGHT, INTO THE REALM OF DIRECT EXPERIENCE WITH REALITY.

In my post on 'beliefs', I have written:

"All of us have direct experiences with higher truths, but most of us dismiss them as vague feelings or temporary mental dysfunction.....but there are some who don't....not saying 'hallucinations' are not mental dysfunction---what I am saying is not all 'alleged hallucinations' are mental dysfunction. Some may be visions. Satori."

In Capra's case, it was a genuine satori that inspired him to write The Tao of Physics.

An experience with satori is not a 'rational' phenomenon. It is not psychosis either. It is transcendence.

The Tao of Physics is full of examples of how mystics gather information. It is pretty direct about how mystics realise higher truths by transcending the known world. Werner Heisenberg endorsed it all. And I doubt Werner Heisenberg was deluded or insane.

*** A short note on satori: My understanding of satori is that it is a sudden & temporary illumination of the mind. As compared to Enlightenment, which is sudden and permanent.

Questioning the absolute validity of the Intellect

In the following passage from his book 'A New Earth' , Eckhart Tolle questions the absolute validity of the intellect:
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The greater part of most people's thinking is involuntary, automatic, and repetitive. It is no more than a kind of mental static and fulfils no real purpose. Strictly speaking, you don't think: thinking happens to you. The statement 'I think' implies volition. It implies you have a say in the matter, that there is choice involved on your part. For most people, this not yet the case. 'I think' is just as false as the statement 'I digest' or 'I circulate my blood'. Digestion happens, circulation happens, thinking happens.

The first glimpse of awareness came to me when I was a first-year student at the University of London. I would take the tube (subway) twice a week to go to the university library, usually around nine O' clock in the morning, toward the end of the rush hour. One time a woman in her early thirties sat opposite me. I had seen her before a few times on that train. One could not help but notice her. Although the train was full, the seats on either side of her were unoccupied, the reason being, no doubt, that she appeared to be quite insane. She looked extremely tense and talked to herself incessantly in a loud and angry voice. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she was totally unaware, it seemed, of other people or her surroundings. Her head was facing downward and slightly to the left, as if she were addressing someone sitting in the empty seat next to her. Although I don't remember the precise content, her monologue went something like this: "And then she said to me….. so I said to her you are a liar how dare you accuse me of …. when you are the one who has always taken advantage of me I trusted you and you betrayed my trust…" There was the angry tone in her voice of someone who has been wronged, who needs to defend her position lest she become annihilated.

As the train approached Tottenham Court Road Station, she stood up and walked toward the door with still no break in the stream of words coming out of her mouth. That was my stop too, so I got off behind her. At street level, she began to walk toward Bedford Square, still engaged in her imaginary dialogue, still angrily accusing and asserting her position. My curiosity aroused, I decided to follow her as long as she was walking in the same general direction I had to go in. Although engrossed in her imaginary dialogue, she seemed to know where she was going. Soon we were within sight of the imposing structure of Senate House, a 1930s high-rise, the university's central administrative building and library. I was shocked. Was it possible that we were going to the same place? Yes, that's where she was heading. Was she a teacher, a student, an office worker, a librarian? May be she was some psychologist's research project. I never knew the answer. I walked twenty steps behind her, and by the time I entered the building (which ironically was the location of the headquarters of the "Mind Police" in the film version of George Orwell's novel, 1984), she had already been swallowed up by one of the elevators.

I was somewhat taken aback by what I had just witnessed. A mature first-year student at twenty-five, I saw myself as an intellectual in the making, and I was convinced that all the answers to the dilemmas of human existence could be found through the intellect, that is to say, by thinking. I didn't realize yet that thinking without awareness is the main dilemma of human existence. I looked upon the professors as sages who had all the answers and upon the university as the temple of knowledge. How could an insane person like her be part of this?

I was still thinking about her when I was in the men's room prior to entering the library. As I was washing my hands, I thought: I hope I don't end up like her. The man next to me looked briefly in my direction, and I suddenly was shocked when I realized that I hadn't just thought those words, but mumbled them aloud. "Oh my God, I'm already like her," I thought. Wasn't my mind as incessantly active as hers? There were only minor differences between us. The predominant underlying emotion behind her thinking seemed to be anger. In my case, it was mostly anxiety. She thought out loud. I thought mostly in my head. If she was mad, then everyone was mad, including myself. There were differences in degree only.

For a moment, I was able to stand back from my own mind and see it from a deeper perspective, as it were. There was a brief shift from thinking to awareness. I was still in the men's room, but alone now, looking at my face in the mirror. At that moment of detachment from my mind, I laughed out loud. It may have sounded insane, but it was the laughter of sanity, the laughter of the big-bellied Buddha. "Life isn't as serious as my mind makes it out to be." That's what the laughter seemed to be saying. But it was only a glimpse, very quickly to be forgotten. I would spend the next three years in anxiety and depression, completely identified with my mind. I had to get close to a suicide before awareness returned, and then it was much more than a glimpse. I became free of compulsive thinking and of the false, mind-made I.

The above incident not only gave me a first glimpse of awareness, it also planted the first doubt as to the absolute validity of the human intellect. A few months later, something tragic happened that made my doubt grow. On a Monday morning, we arrived for a lecture to be given by a professor whose mind I admired greatly, only to be told that sadly he had committed suicide sometime during the weekend by shooting himself. I was stunned. He was a highly respected teacher and seemed to have all the answers.

However, I could as yet see no alternative to the cultivation of thought. I didn't realize yet that thinking is only a tiny aspect of the consciousness that we are, nor did I know anything about the ego, let alone being able to detect it within myself.

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