Recently, I have been thinking a lot about the opposition between western science and alternative spiritual practices — whether those be the various karmic realms of buddhism or the vibrational energy of plants in the shamanic traditions or so many other belief systems that are not readily understood by western science.
I should add a preliminary caveat that I am in no way an expert in these alternative practices. In truth, these alternative beliefs are only “alternative” given today’s prevailing paradigms. The notions of energy and connection that transcend the physical world have been mainstays in mythology and belief since the beginning of human civilizations. So I approach this topic with humility, attempting to convey my current understanding but recognizing the depth of comprehension of others far outmeasures my own.
With my own limitations acknowledged, I want to share about a recent conversation in which I was talking to my brother about the non-linearity of space and time. As I began to talk, I could feel the compulsion to couch my explanations within Western science. It felt like I was taking a risk, just on the edge of being seen as naively anti-scientific. Relenting to this pressure, I began my explanation with some background on the double-slit experiment (essentially evidence in which an electron can behave like a particle or like a wave, depending on whether it is observed: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Double-slit_experiment). After hearing my summary of this western study of quantum mechanics, he was far more receptive to hearing my claims about the potential oddities of our reality. But what if I hadn’t started that way? What if I had just started by saying that I was pondering the existence of concurrent realms in which part of my spirit could exist? He’d likely start to see me as a little “out there” or “woo woo” — both typical western phrases to invalidate that which the scientific paradigm has not proven. If I didn’t have years of credibility built up, he might even decide that I wasn’t someone that he wanted to associate with.
Even now, as I write I feel a strong compulsion to justify my exploration of alternate paradigms with a cross-reference to western science. For instance, the notion of quantum entanglement — that two electrons can become linked and have immediate effect on each other despite being infinite distances apart — hints at the potential for non-linearity of time. The increasing recognition that our “minds” can be understood as energy flow (some electrical, some chemical, and perhaps some energies we don’t comprehend) would further suggest the possibility that these energies might relate with the energy of plants in synergistic ways, and that the way that we open ourselves to the experience – how we shape and arrange our own energy – might have drastic effects on the ways that we take in the energy of others (humans, plants, animals, on and on).
A more “out-there” take would suggest that the imagination is not “imaginary” but actually comprises connection with different realities and time periods. Perhaps when we experience trauma, part of us actually is caught in that time period. Energetically, there is a portion of our being that is stuck in that moment, unintegrated with the larger self. Or as a more positive example, when we imagine ourselves in a place that affords safety and comfort, or recollect a cherished memory, perhaps part of us really does exist there. After all, if the brain is just energy flow, then when some of our energy is directed to envisioning this reality, who is to say that this doesn’t constitute a form of reality. The idea is even more interesting when one considers that the focus we direct to these places can actually alter those memories and can lead to shifts in the way we experience them in our current “reality” (as western science would claim it). For instance, by doing work around past traumas, we can begin to shift the way we view and experience those memories; we can even write new stories and identify alternate endings; we can gain power over abusers; we can find love and compassion for unseen parts of ourselves.
This all bears out in neuroscience. The neural networks that we activate all become stronger. By reflecting on past experiences, we can shift how these networks are connected and integrated within the brain. Perhaps this increased strengthening of a neural network is not just a material change in our present reality, but actually suggests increased clarity and resonance with that alternate realm/time. Perhaps when we re-process traumas, we are actually bringing some of our being into the past and re-writing those stories so that our present self reaps the benefits of this past healing.
Again, notice how I felt compelled to lead off with neuroscience. If I just wrote the clause, “increased clarity and resonance with that alternate realm/time”, few would keep reading. In fact, I doubt I would have kept reading ten years ago. But there is so much that I (and humans more generally) don’t yet understand about the way this universe works. Who is really to say that the buddhist or shamanic belief in non-linear space and time are really “crazy” ideas?
As I feel into these possibilities, I must admit that the world seems to open up. Suddenly, the world around me, the plants I encounter, the faces I greet, the music I absorb, all of it takes on more resonance. I feel my body begin to vibrate more in my routine encounters. Western science might cite the emotion of “awe” as the pathway for this experience (https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/understanding-awe/201704/the-emerging-science-awe-and-its-benefits). In a way, it is a state of awe — but to me, the more important quality is a sense of connectedness. I am no longer alone in the world. I am connected with all that I encounter, with all those who came before me and all those who will come after (and I look forward to writing more about how non-linearity of time may imply that those who came before and will come after are actually present in this moment).
I first shared this post with a friend, and she said it felt like something was missing, she wondered where my heart was, how these ideas made me feel. I agree. I went back and wrote the previous paragraph and want to write more in response to this reflection. This idea is not just something that is contained within the ivory tower of my mind; when I truly feel this, I vibrate. My body buzzes with lightness and energy.
Last night, I participated in an imaginal therapy session in which I worked with the theme of accountability, and felt into the fears of both sides. As I closed my eyes, I could see myself caught on a thin slice of territory, teetering between a realm of apathetic hedonism – an opium den in which people sprawled out with little progress or motion, indulging in the pacifying power of pleasures – and on the other side, I saw a world of sterile rigidity – a psych hospital with people walking around mechanically in straight jackets, all life and spontaneity lost to the structured confines of this environment. Where could I find balance between these two worlds? Where did I exist? As I envisioned these places, where was I? Certainly, my physical body was still in my friend’s house, but my mind? I was far, far away from the busy arterial street in Seattle on which he lives. Lost in this world, I felt imbalanced, struggling to find a position that allowed for structure and pleasure. I felt caught, sandwiched between two extremes that frightened me.
I’ll write more about the resolution in a future blog post. But I want to leave you there, asking the question, “is this world just some fake imagination?”
The feelings didn’t feel fake. The questions certainly haunted me. And the later learnings continue with me as I write this. Perhaps these are just creations of neurons in my brain — or maybe these realms are real in ways we don’t comprehend. Do you need western science to validate it before you’d consider that which can’t easily be explained?