Quest Magazine

Printed in the Winter 2015 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Kinney, Jay."Playing Those Mind Games: The Psychedelic Revolution Reconsidered" Quest 103.1 (Winter 2015): pg. 20-23.

By Jay Kinney

The 60s, as an era, have become so mythologized that it is sometimes difficult for those of us who lived through that decade to separate our own genuine memories from the clich's promulgated by advertising, the media, and nostalgia in general. For example, neither I nor anyone I knew who had long hair at the time thought of ourselves as hippies. That was a media term applied by outsiders looking for a snappy label.

"Sex, Drugs, and Rock-n-Roll" is often used to summarize the 60s, but that leaves much out of the picture. The civil rights movement, the antiwar movement, and the widespread interest in Eastern spirituality were all prominent features of the era as well.

However, there is always some truth in every clich', and drugs were certainly something that many of us explored at the time. Not just any drugs, mind you, but specifically psychoactive drugs that promised "expanded consciousness," "God consciousness," "altered states," and "mind-blowing experiences." These mostly boiled down to LSD (familiarly known as acid), mescaline, psilocybin, and in a milder vein, marijuana.

Looking back now from what was then the distant future, it is somewhat difficult to decipher exactly what all the hoopla was about. The most popular rock band in the world, the Beatles, dropped acid, grew their hair long, and very briefly hitched their wagon to the Maharishi's movement for Transcendental Meditation. Harvard professors Timothy Leary and Richard Alpert (later known as Ram Dass) propagandized for acid as an aid to mystical experiences and as a means to deprogram oneself from mainstream culture. Aldous Huxley's Doors of Perception cast its vote for psychedelics as a valid path to expanded consciousness. And in 1968, Tom Wolfe's "new journalism" tour de force The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test turned Ken Kesey and friends into countercultural heroes with its chronicle of their madcap journey around the country spreading psychedelicized zaniness to the masses.

Among those of us opposed to the boring and oppressive status quo (at least as we saw it), the prospect of swallowing a little pill and being thrust into an encounter with a deeper reality hidden beneath the everyday surface was very intriguing.

There was also a certain "I dare you" dynamic at work. Were we strong enough to have all our run-of the-mill cultural assumptions suddenly pulled from beneath us, to be replaced by fleeting cosmic insights that we hoped to grab, remember, and covertly smuggle back into our everyday lives? This was a challenge that few of us were inclined to ignore. So we plunged right in, inviting cosmic revelations and coping with what were sometimes disappointing results.

I like to think that this was a sincerely held spiritual hunger for an experience of connection with the cosmos at large. At least in my circle of friends, it was not mere thrill-seeking or a casual "what the hell" leap into the unknown. Dropping acid together was a sacramental act (though we didn't call it that), with us hoping for a cleansing of our lenses of perception or at least a sense of renewal and reinvigorated wonder. In opening ourselves to each other, we hoped for an enhanced sense of intimacy. The Beatles sang "All you need is love," and we were testing the premise. Orgies were not had. Instead we were just a bunch of college-age kids trying to cram as much experience into each moment as we could.

Did acid deliver? That's a hard question to answer. First, there was the knotty matter of quality control. Given that acid was illegal, buying LSD from dubious underground sources meant that you never knew whether your dose was pure, adulterated, or totally bogus. Was the acid mixed with speed (amphetamines) or strychnine? Why am I grinding my teeth?

Acid was a subjective jack-in-the-box, with no two trips alike, and no consistency of results. What we were getting from dubious sources was probably as far afield as you could get from the pharmaceutically pure LSD that Leary and Alpert experimented with at Harvard. Were we even ingesting LSD at all? I wouldn't swear to it.

All that said, I had a few acid trips that were truly inspiring, a couple that were depressing, a few that were ho-hum, and some that were fun. Sadly, I did not break through into a new reality, did not achieve Godhead, did not magically reorganize my life into a cosmically aligned juggernaut and, I'm happy to say, did not run head first into a brick wall of repressed psychological fears, angers, or other upsetting emotions. If I did experience some anxiety while tripping, I kept my mind focused on "All you need is love," and that seemed to calm the waves.

Oddly enough, the two- to three-year period of my main psychoactive experimentation coincided with my membership in the Theosophical Society. During my college years, I became intrigued with esoteric teachings, partly because of ingesting Ram Dass's influential spiritual guide Be Here Now, and partly because of reading Theosophical writings about higher planes, chakras, and clairvoyance. Some exponents of psychedelics implied that these drugs could provide a personal experience of such things. The TS for its part discouraged drugs as a spiritual path, but my attitude was "How would they know if they've never done them?"

What I didn't stop to consider was that the two most touted effects of psychedelics"”strikingly beautiful visual hallucinations and insights into a deeper reality"”were at cross purposes. Hallucinations are by definition illusory; enthralling perhaps or artistically inspiring, but certainly no gateway to the Real.

Scholars of mysticism such as Henry Corbin could speak of an "imaginal realm" wherein contemplative meditation"”the creative imaginations of mystics"”could enable you to encounter the spirits of saints, angels, or prophets. But this high-toned conceptual model was no less at the mercy of an ambiguous subjectivity than was an acid hallucination.

The human psyche (and its material analogue, the brain) is capable of an astonishing range of conscious and unconscious manifestations, some of them life-changing, to be sure. But what meaning is ascribed to them involves, more often than not, a leap of faith or a preconceived set of assumptions.

As luck would have it, powerful "visuals," as we called them, largely eluded me, with one notable exception. Usually, at most, I experienced an enhanced (but not distorted) coloring of the world around me and a deepened sense of the life force at work. Trees in particular could assert a living presence, especially as a light breeze rustled their leaves.

The exception to the rule was during one trip when I closed my eyes for an extended period and was bombarded with eidetic images in full color, one after another in close succession. These exhibited a common aesthetic characterized by certain color combinations, a crispness of forms, and an underlying harmony. I likened them to a visual equivalent of Beatles music as produced by George Martin. Afterwards, I had no specific memory of any one image, but the aesthetic charge remained with me and powered much of my art for the next decade or two. This was an unexpected gift from the depths of my unconscious ”and luckily a benign one ”but I was disinclined to attribute it to divine intervention.

One friend of mine was not so lucky. Seized with the impulse for relentless inner exploration, he dropped acid numerous times to the point that the threshold between his imagination and external reality was breached. Intrigued with Alice Bailey's channelings, he became convinced that he was picking up messages from the Masters via shortwave radio. I, along with other friends, tried to persuade him that this was likely not the case, but he would not be dissuaded and eventually was diagnosed as schizophrenic and institutionalized. (I wrote about this in "Some Comments on Theosophy and the Society," The American Theosophist, November 1973, 366-67.)

The lesson I learned from my friend's tragic folly was that one should tread very gently in venturing into  the inner realms either through drugs or esoteric teachings, and that a combination of the two could just make matters worse.

However, to dismiss the effects of psychedelics as mere hallucinations is to fail to grapple with the epistemological issues that they raise. To begin with, it is exceedingly difficult to identify a "normal" baseline consciousness that is free of any mind-altering influences. Is someone with, say, clinical depression (but drug-free) really seeing the world more accurately than someone taking Prozac? Or vice versa? Is the alertness engendered by a good cup of coffee not to be trusted? A full Thanksgiving meal can be as mind-altering as a sleeping pill, while extended aerobics can trigger endorphic bliss.

Neuroscience is inclined to view individual human consciousness as a fluctuating field pushed and pulled by influences internal and external. Chanting or meditation involving mantras or repeated prayers can induce a trance state similar to that produced by some drugs, with similar neurological causes for both. Some Catholic saints induced mystical states through self-flagellation,  while Emanuel Swedenborg's intercourse with spirits and visions of heaven may have been courtesy of a sustained diet of coffee, bread, and milk.

And these are just instances of waking consciousness. Once we introduce dreams or nightmares or liminal hypnogogic states into the mix, the ambiguity increases exponentially. Few will dispute that a dream can be just as emotionally affecting as a movie, and without the latter's enormous budget. One is seemingly self-generated, while the other is the product of the intricate coordination of hundreds of people. But in either instance, one's consciousness is altered by the experience.

Personally speaking, one of the most meaningful encounters in my life was within a lucid dream, resulting in what the Sufis call a state of fana' or ego-disappearance. (Not to worry, my ego soon reappeared. Just ask my wife.) As is often the case with such things, it was unclear whether this event was "merely" a dream or an astral encounter or something else entirely. Was it purely generated by my own unconscious or the result of "external" stimulation? No drugs were involved, but I'd argue that the meaningful impact would have been similar, even if there had been.

In short, as simple and satisfying as it might be to dismiss psychedelic experiences as delusional and meaningless, one cannot really do so without tossing out other extraordinary non-drug-influenced experiences that similarly challenge our complacent sense of normality.

All that said, there is much to criticize about the psychedelic revolution of the '60s and '70s. Timothy Leary in particular rapidly devolved from a serious psychological researcher into a carnival sideshow barker inviting one and all into his tent of promised wonders. "Tune in, turn on, and drop out" and "You can be anything you want to be, this time around" were catchy mottos aimed at the growing youth culture, urging kids half his age to abandon humdrum career tracks for carefree lives as would-be gypsies and communards. Very little of that panned out well.

The early emphasis on "set and setting" (which boiled down to carefully choosing one's environment for an acid trip and approaching it with an appropriately relaxed and open mindset) got lost somewhere along the way, perhaps because of the influence of Kesey's Merry Pranksters, who threw caution to the wind and reveled in getting hundreds of brave souls tripping together and seeing what transpired. This soon became institutionalized as standard operating procedure for rock concerts across the continent, perhaps most famously symbolized by the hundreds of thousands of stoned and tripping youths at Woodstock's festival of rain and mud. Taking a page from Tim Leary's playbook, erstwhile yippies Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin tried to conjure up "Woodstock Nation" as a mighty countercultural force, but the '60s were on their way out and the "Me Decade" soon arrived.

Leary's vision of kids reprogramming themselves with LSD likely did not include the Manson Family's approach, which culminated in their creepy crawling around Beverly Hills propagating murder and mayhem. None of this was necessarily inherent in the use of psychedelics, but it was perhaps inherent in portraying the drugs as a one-size-fits-all mind-expanding panacea. Clearly, some minds were not meant for expanding.

For my part, after perhaps two dozen trips over the course of three years, I largely drew my psychedelic explorations to a close. I was now living in unforgiving urban settings (notably New York) and it didn't take too many ill-conceived outings to decide that tripping while riding the subway back and forth to shows at the Fillmore East was not a successful strategy for a pleasant evening.

Moreover, as someone whose main motivation for dropping acid was to see what I could "learn" from the experience, it began to dawn on me that I seemed to be learning the same lesson over and over.

As I was coming down and feeling sweaty and exhausted, I'd take a nice hot shower and resolve to work on myself and become a better me. If this was an entirely appropriate plan of action for a twenty-one-year old, it was not a message that required dropping acid repeatedly to get. I figured I'd quit while I was ahead, before I began to be strangely attracted to scanning shortwave radio for messages from the Masters.

My interest in mysticism and esoteric teachings persisted, but their pursuit seemed better served by steady incremental study rather than by sudden plunges into psychological thickets. Epistemological ambiguity remained a constant companion"”what did I really know from my own experiences, not just from someone else's say-so?

In due course I realized that I truly "knew" very little that wasn't open to multiple explanations. I came to see belief systems as frameworks to explore, not as all-or-nothing choices. There might be virtues in every system, but there were distortions and drawbacks as well. Which is not to say that I floated above it all, looking down from some ostensibly objective vantage point. Far from it. I practiced the ability to provisionally suspend disbelief while working with a particular system. Seeing the world through its eyes, I aimed for a sincerity of practice free of dogmatic certainty. While it would be tidy to attribute this capacity to my psychedelic days, it probably had as much to do with my reading William James's Varieties of Religious Experience or with my intuitive agreement with the Theosophical tenet "There is no religion higher than truth."

Meanwhile, others' psychoactive explorations continued. In many cases, the old standby drugs such as acid were superseded by newer chemical concoctions hovering at the edge of legality. As chronicled in his Center of the Cyclone, John Lilly thoroughly immersed himself in ketamine use, which either brought him into contact with an alien civilization or triggered a delusional psychosis"”exactly which was not clear from a safe distance. Terence and Dennis McKenna found that taking ayahuasca in the Amazon jungle similarly brought UFOs into the picture. Other researchers bounced from MDMA to MDA to DMT to toad venom. These reportedly brought encounters with Self-Transforming Elf Machines (or STEMs) that were integrated in some fashion into the understructure of the universe. These were certainly intriguing developments, but were they really helpful? I could understand the fascination. They seemed to be interactions with a radical Other that was somehow both external and internal. But I already had my hands full with my ongoing epistemological ambiguities and I saw no need to introduce elves or aliens into the puzzle. According to some Sufis, jinns and other beings of the Unseen lived among us in a parallel dimension or plane, but they were notorious tricksters and you trafficked with them at considerable risk. Thanks, but no thanks.

Ever since humans first unknowingly ate a magic mushroom or ergot-moldy bread or any number of naturally occurring psychoactive substances, people have known that a shift in consciousness is just a bite away.

For the adventurous among us, this has been an opportunity to push the envelope of consciousness: What lies beyond my usual mental ruts and assumptions? Who or what might I encounter as I fly through inner space? Who exactly are you and I? Are we both part of the same cosmic One or are we separate entities seeking an elusive union?

For the more cautious among us who are just trying to get by and who understandably don't wish to overturn our mental applecarts at the drop of a hat, we'rem satisfied to stick to fewer questions, skip the psychedelics, and just deal with the car's muffler coming loose.

I feel the tug of both tendencies and don't praise one over the other. As tempting as it may be to set a hard-and-fast rule and say yea or nay, there are just too many variables to each individual, drug, and situation to allow for a final judgment.

Imre Vallyon, a spiritual teacher and author of Heaven and Hells of the Mind, has opined that psychedelics puncture the etheric body, allowing the astral world to flood in. (See his comment in the "Drugs and the Path" symposium, Gnosis magazine 26 [Winter 1993], 22.) Maybe so, but I still consider the jury out as to whether there is such a thing as the etheric body or the astral world in the first place. I've had experiences that could conceivably affirm the existence of both, but epistemological ambiguity suggests that an equally valid explanation for certain effects could be that psychedelics simply stir up one's unconscious, with unpredictable results.

I don't regret having taken psychedelics when I was younger, but I also have zero desire to try them again at this late date. Whether this is an indication of a hardwon wisdom or of a lack of curiosity and daring, it is hard to say. Probably both. I think I'll just cut to the chase and go take a nice hot shower and resolve to be a better me.

A 1993 issue of Gnosis was devoted to the theme "Psychedelics and the Path." For more information, visit lumen.org.

JAY KINNEY was founder and publisher of Gnosis magazine, published from 1985 to 1999. He is also the author of The Masonic Myth (Harper Collins), which has been translated into five languages. His article "Shhh! It's a Secret: Grappling with the Puzzle of Freemasonrywith the Puzzle of Freemasonry" appeared in Quest, Summer 2013.

Printed in the Winter 2015 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Sender, Pablo."Drugs and Spirituality: An Occult Perspective" Quest 103.1 (Winter 2015): pg. 16-19.

By Pablo Sender

Ours is a time when pleasure and amusement seem to be the new god. In fact, according to Michael J. Wolf in his 2003 book The Entertainment Economy, entertainment has become the driving wheel of the global economy. The cause for this is not new. Nineteenth-century philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer argued that there must be something wrong with our very existence, because we are not happy with simply being. We are in a condition of eternal frustration, continually striving to find satisfaction. This search has led humanity to try different avenues: religion, knowledge, power, wealth, fame, pleasure—and drugs. 

In our culture psychoactive drugs are used by some people for recreation, as a source of pleasure, or as a means of escaping reality. But there are also those who, whether they are fully aware of it or not, hope to find something deeper—something that can fall into the category of spirituality.

Most spiritual teachers have said that the way to attain real happiness is not by external achievements but by changing our lives, that is, by altering our perception of, and reaction to, the world. But this is quite difficult, as anybody who has tried it can attest. It is not surprising, then, that, since “magical pills” are available to alter our states of consciousness at any time and with no effort on our part, some people claim that drugs are a valid means towards spiritual experience.

This claim seems to be supported by the fact that some of the experiences induced by psychoactive drugs resemble some of the mystical states traditionally attained by means of purification, meditation, prayer, and devotion. And yet most spiritual traditions, including Theosophy, discourage or even forbid the use of drugs.

Admittedly, the shamanic traditions are a notable exception. But according to Theosophical teachings, they derive from the religions of a previous evolutionary cycle called the Fourth Root Race. At that time, the physical and psychic constitution of human beings was coarser, and drugs affected them in a different way than  they do our more sensitive forms (Leadbeater, Talks :33–34).

Since most religions rarely state clearly why they are against the use of drugs, all a practitioner can do is either accept or reject this blanket statement. But here a unique feature of the Theosophical teachings becomes crucial—its ability to explain many spiritual phenomena in a more or less scientific manner. This is due to the rich history of occultists and clairvoyants within the Theosophical Society, a number of whom are regarded as among the most influential in recent times, such as H.P. Blavatsky, Annie Besant, C.W. Leadbeater, Geoffrey Hodson, and Dora Kunz.

The Psychedelic Experience

The experiences generated by the use of psychedelic drugs have generally been interpreted in two alternative ways—as hallucinations or as spiritual experience.

For mainstream science, there is only one objective world—the one perceived by our senses. By this view, the psychedelic experience can be nothing but a hallucination produced by altering the chemical environment of the neurons.

The Theosophical view disagrees with this conclusion, stating that the cosmos has a nonphysical side that is as real and objective as the material one. Thus many of the experiences undergone under the influence of drugs can be the result of opening the doors of perception to some aspect of reality that is usually beyond the reach of the physical senses.

This, however, does not mean that these experiences are spiritual. Blavatsky stated that the nonphysical aspect of reality consists of several dimensions or planes that vary in their degree of materiality. Generally speaking, we could say that there are three planes of perception “above” the physical that are of a psychic nature; and three more above these, which are, properly speaking, spiritual. By the psychic dimensions, we mean realms in which a person exists in a nonphysical state, but is still affected by ignorance, a sense of separateness, and self-centeredness. It is only when consciousness works in the spiritual dimensions that it is really free from all these limitations, and the person
expresses qualities such as peace, wisdom, love, and compassion.

Which of these planes becomes available to our perception under the influence of drugs? According to Mme. Blavatsky, it is the one immediately above the physical, generally called the “astral plane” (Blavatsky, Collected Writings, 12:662). She defined this dimension as follows:

The astral region [is] the Psychic World of super-sensuous perceptions and of deceptive sights . . . No blossom plucked in those regions has ever yet been brought to earth without its serpent coiled around the stem. It is the world of the Great Illusion. (Blavatsky, Voice of the Silence, 75–76; emphasis here and in other quotes is in the original)

“Super-sensuous” perception on the astral plane   is quite different from normal awareness. As a result, when a person first gets in touch with this dimension, there is a sort of “perceptive shock” that is frequently interpreted as a mystical experience. Colors and forms, space and time, identity and personal boundaries—these are all different from the ones we are used to and may dazzle the inexperienced mind.

This bewilderment need not be permanent. Those who develop the ability to freely open their consciousness to the astral plane without the artificial aid of substances can experience it in a more continuous way. These people eventually adjust themselves to this new dimension, and sooner or later this perception starts to feel normal. Then it can be observed that there was no lasting mystical transformation, but only an extension of the field of personal experience.

Blavatsky regards this realm with skepticism. Not only does she deem it a plane of illusion, but she also writes in The Voice of the Silence that it is “dangerous in its perfidious beauty.” She warns: “Beware, Lanoo [disciple], lest dazzled by illusive radiance thy Soul should linger and be caught in its deceptive light” (Blavatsky, Voice of the Silence, 8).

Why is the astral plane regarded this way? C.W.  Leadbeater wrote:

[Drugs] bring again into the physical consciousness indiscriminate  impressions from the astral world. These come generally from the lower part of the plane, in which are aggregated all the astral matter and all the elemental essence concerned with exciting the lower passions and impulses. Sometimes they come from slightly higher regions of sensuous delight . . . but these are scarcely better than the others. (Leadbeater, Talks, 2:34)

The astral plane is basically sensuous in nature. Its lower part is the realm of passions and desires, and stimulates the animal nature in us. It also can bring quite terrifying experiences. But the higher aspect of this world is alluring, being far more beautiful and pleasant than the physical one. So what would be wrong with experiencing this level of the astral plane?

When spiritual seekers become aware of this delightful plane, they are in danger of getting caught in this world and abandoning any higher search. For this reason, Christian mysticism interpreted such perceptions, which frequently occur to mystics, as temptations put in their way by Satan to lead them astray.

The perception of astral realities will eventually come to those who are pursuing a spiritual discipline. But this in and of itself does not constitute a spiritual experience. In fact, opening oneself to this perception prematurely and artificially is an unnecessary risk for those who are seeking to tread the spiritual path. True spiritual realities are beyond the realm of sensual stimulation, whether physical or astral. In her article “Sham Asceticism,” Mme. Blavatsky remarked:

A Sadhu [religious ascetic] who uses ganja and sooka—intoxicant drugs—is but a sham ascetic. Instead of leading his followers to Moksha [liberation], he does but drag them along with himself into the ditch, notwithstanding his walking and sleeping on spikes. A pretty business that, for a religious teacher! (Blavatsky, Collected Works, 4:351)

The drugs known in India as ganja and sooka (or sukha) are derived from cannabis (marijuana). In the West there has been a long debate about whether this substance is harmful or not. Marijuana has been banned mainly on the grounds that it is a gateway to harder drugs. But this argument, being ambiguous and difficult to prove, is losing strength, and this substance is being legalized in some parts of the world, including some states in the U.S. Today it is often regarded as a “soft” or relatively harmless drug.

But modern science is restricted in its ability to experiment systematically on human subjects. Even the experiments that have been conducted on these matters are highly limited in their implications. After all, it is impossible to put a group of people in exactly the same conditions for, say, twenty years, administering drugs to some of them but not to others and then comparing the effects. Moreover, science has no capacity to assess the influence of drugs on the hidden aspect of human beings. This can only be done by those who are versed in the occult science and have developed the appropriate means of observation.

Thus Mahatma Koot Hoomi, one of Blavatsky’s teachers, seems to differ with the view of marijuana as a harmless drug. Discussing how blind credulity kills the possibility of developing intelligence, he mentions “the old creeds and superstitions which suffocate in their poisonous embrace like the Mexican weed nigh all mankind” (Chin, 39).

Geoffrey Hodson also believed that the idea of marijuana as being “soft” is erroneous:

From my clairvoyant researches Marijuana . . . is not just a gateway drug leading on to something worse and more harmful, but it is in and of itself destructive to the mechanism of consciousness, especially if used extensively. In my opinion it would be a great pity if any encouragement was given by legalizing it. (See Keidan, “Mature Answers,” for all quotations from Hodson in this article.)

As we are going to see, the use of drugs is denounced  in Theosophical literature not because of blind prejudice or a moralistic attitude, but based on the “scientific knowledge” derived from clairvoyant investigations by highly trained individuals.

Admittedly, these reports do not attempt to distinguish the effects of one drug from those of another. Most likely this is because none of the clairvoyants did systematic observations to study the specific effects of different drugs. It is also possible that even very different drugs have similar effects in these areas. In fact, as we will see, on occasions the clairvoyants describe similar effects even for alcohol, which is quite different from psychedelic drugs, marijuana, and narcotics.

Effects on the Brain

Blavatsky observed that “the habitual use of hashish, opium, and similar drugs” are “destructive to the development of the inner powers” (Blavatsky, Key to Theosophy, 262). The reason for this may be connected to two glands in the brain—the pineal and the pituitary, which are directly related to so-called “altered” states of consciousness.

According to Blavatsky, psychic vision is caused by the “molecular motion” of the pituitary gland. When artificially stimulated, it “gives rise to hallucinations” (Blavatsky, Collected Writings, 12:698).

She identifies the pineal gland with the “third eye,” which, she says, “is the chief and foremost organ of spirituality in the human brain.” The occult activity of this gland “gives spiritual clairvoyance” and can take the soul “to the highest planes of perception” (Blavatsky, Collected Writings, 12:619, 698; “Dialogue,” 409).

One of the effects of drugs (and to a lesser extent, of alcohol) is the overstimulation of these glands so that they can be artificially open to the perception of subtler planes. But this is a forceful method that eventually damages them. This is why HPB wrote to the members of the Esoteric Section of the Theosophical Society:

The use of wine  spirits, liquors of any kind, or any narcotic or intoxicating drug, is strictly prohibited. If indulged in, all progress is hindered, and the efforts of teacher and pupil alike are rendered useless. All such substances have a directly pernicious action upon the brain, and especially upon the “third eye,” or pineal gland . . . They prevent absolutely the development of the third eye, called in the East “the Eye of Siva.” (Blavatsky, Collected Writings, 12:496)

Geoffrey Hodson observed a similar effect:

Continued use, in fact sometimes even a single dose of a drug like LSD can permanently damage the delicate mechanism of consciousness in the brain, especially relating to the brain’s switchboard of the thalamus and hypothalamus along with the pineal and pituitary glands, and by so doing prevent any real spiritual progress from proceeding in that lifetime.

Similarly, Dora Kunz, codeveloper of the energy healing technique known as Therapeutic Touch, observed “a disturbance in the relationship between the thyroid, the adrenals, the pituitary gland, and the hypothalamic region” in drug-addicted patients (Karagulla and Kunz, 150).

When the organs that bridge the gap between the brain and the spiritual nature are permanently damaged, the waking consciousness becomes isolated from its true source. This can produce a lack of spiritual feelings and aspirations, an absence of any sense of responsibility, a self-centered attitude, depression, and anxiety.

In discussing any of the ill effects of the use of drugs we must keep in mind that the degree of the consequences will depend on how much our nature is affected. Sometimes the damage is small and can be repaired. In more extreme cases it can be permanent. Although generally speaking the more a person uses drugs the worse the consequences tend to be, the extent of the effects will be different in each one.

Effects on the Etheric Web and the Chakras

Between the physical and the astral bodies there is a  layer of etheric matter, which, while allowing the vitality (prana) and the spiritual influences to come down into the body, keeps the forces and entities of the astral plane outside the field of waking consciousness. This, as Leadbeater explains, is an important protection for those who are not ready to deal with this challenging world:

But for this merciful provision the ordinary man, who knows nothing about all these things and is entirely unprepared to meet them, could at any moment be brought by any astral entity under the influence of forces to cope with which would be entirely beyond his strength. He would  be liable to constant obsession by any being on the astral plane who desired to seize upon his vehicles [of consciousness]. (Leadbeater, Chakras, 77)

This “etheric web” may be harmed in several ways. One kind of damage is produced by the excessive use of alcohol and tobacco and the consumption of drugs, and it is due to the chemical nature of these substances. Again, in Leadbeater’s words:

Certain drugs and drinks—notably alcohol and all the narcotics, including tobacco—contain matter which on breaking up volatilizes, and some of it passes from the physical plane to the astral . . . When this takes place in the body of man these constituents rush out through the chakras in the opposite direction to that for which they are intended, and in doing this repeatedly they seriously injure and finally destroy the delicate web.

These substances may produce two different effects according to an individual’s constitution. They may burn away the web, leaving “the door open to all sorts of irregular forces and evil influences,” or they may produce “a kind of ossification of the web, so that instead of having too much coming through from one plane to the other, we have very little of any kind coming through”
(Leadbeater, Chakras, 77–78).

The first result produces people oversensitive to nonphysical influences. They are excessively affected by the emotions and thoughts present in their environment. In more extreme cases, they are prone to obsession by astral entities, even without being aware of it. The second effect makes a person insensitive, even to spiritual influences. The external manifestation of this is similar to the one described for the damage of the pineal gland.

Hodson, having worked in the field of energy healing, frequently dealt with the ill effects of different types of harmful practice. His observations corroborate those of Leadbeater, at least in regard to the first kind of effect described above. Referring to the etheric web as a “shield,” Hodson said:

When illicit drugs are ingested there is a tendency to break down this shield enabling negative influences from the astral world to enter the aura, especially through the chakras which are the psychic sense organs. These problems can range from hallucinations and delusions to a fullscale obsession by a human or sub-human entity. If the process of abuse has occurred to an advanced degree—no amount of repair that I am able to do will help.

Regarding the chakras, research developed in the 1960s with Shafica Karagulla, M.D., on drug addicts, led Dora Kunz to observe:

The most outstanding finding in these cases of drug addiction was the dysrhythmia in both the core and the petals of the etheric solar plexus chakra, which affected the whole etheric body. . . . Furthermore, there was a definite decrease of [the chakra’s] brightness . . . and the leakage [of vitality] there made the patients feel permanently tired. (Karagulla and Kunz, 150)

She also observed that “the effects of narcotics such as morphine and heroin begin at the etheric  level and then reach the physical.” Although opiates are useful in medicine, she says that their continued use adversely affects the chakras. In these cases, “the direction of movement within the chakras is reversed by the drug, and it is this that causes the addiction. In turn, this  physiological change in the chakras produces a condition of fear and anxiety in the patient” (Kunz and Karagulla, 151).

Effects on the Higher Consciousness

In his book Kundalini, the late international president of the Theosophical Society George S. Arundale stated: “All narcotics, drugs, stimulants, clog the system and interpose a deadening miasma between the individual and all larger consciousness” (Arundale, 14).

Although this statement is not very specific about the nature of this “deadening miasma,” the words chosen seem to point to an effect that takes place at the level of the subtler nature, rather than merely on the physical body and its etheric counterpart. In fact, in her  investigations on addicts, Dora Kunz observed that they were also affected in their astral (or emotional) bodies: “At the astral level, the solar plexus chakra was greatly disturbed in addicts, with an erratic emotional pattern and periodic lack of energy” (Karagulla and Kunz, 150).

Finally, the ill effects possibly affect even higher principles than the astral body, as can be gathered from this statement by Leadbeater: “The taking of opium or cocaine . . . from the occult point of view it is entirely ruinous and fatal to progress . . . Nearly all drugs produce a deleterious effect upon the higher vehicles, and they are therefore
to be avoided as much as possible” (Leadbeater, Hidden Side of Things, 358–59).

Final Words

Speaking of the points explored in this article, Geoffrey Hodson said:

This has led [my wife] Sandra and I to severely warn people: if you want spiritual experience get it by the safe means of meditation. Unfortunately, for many young people they want instantaneous results and therefore continue to experiment with drugs—a very serious mistake!

Warning against psychoactive drugs may make us unpopular among certain people interested in spirituality. But then the Theosophical Society has a history of upholding truths that were unpopular at the time, such as the ideal of universal brotherhood, the connection between science and spirituality, the wisdom of ancient cultures, and others.

Free will can be intelligently exercised only when one has enough information to make a conscious choice between alternative courses of action. It is the opinion of this author that our organization can render a great service to humanity by making this knowledge available.                                                         

Sources

Blavatsky, H.P. Collected Writings. Edited by Boris de Zirkoff. Fifteen vols. Wheaton: Theosophical Publishing House, 1977–91.
———. “Dialogue on the Mysteries of the After-Life.” Lucifer 3:17 (Feb. 1889), 407–16.
———. The Key to Theosophy. London: Theosophical Publishing House, [1987].
———. The Voice of the Silence. Adyar: Theosophical Publishing House, 1992.
Chin, Vicente Hao, Jr., ed. The Mahatma Letters to A.P. Sinnett. Quezon City, Philippines: Theosophical Publishing House, 1993.
Karagulla, Shafica, and Dora Kunz. The Chakras and the Human Energy Fields. Wheaton: Theosophical Publishing House, 1989.
Keidan, Bill. “Mature Answers”; http://www.geoffreyhodson.com/Mature-Answers.html.
Leadbeater, C.W. Talks on the Path of Occultism. Three volumes. Adyar: Theosophical Publishing House, 1980.
Wolf, Michael J. The Entertainment Economy: How Mega-Media Forces Are Transforming Our Lives. New York: Crown Business, 2003.

PABLO SENDER has given Theosophical lectures, seminars, and classes in India, Europe, and several countries in the Americas. He has published two books in Spanish and a number of articles in English and Spanish in several Theosophical journals. They can be found on his Web site, www.pablosender.com.

Printed in the Winter 2015 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Abbasova, Parvin."Altered States of Consciousness" Quest 103.1 (Winter 2015): pg. 24-26.

The first time I learned about altered states of consciousness (ASCs) from official medicine was in my last year of medical school. We had just started our cycle of lectures on psychiatry and psychotherapy. Professor X seemed to be boring, and as the lecture didn't promise much, I was about to start reading my favorite book on yoga. But surprisingly, he opened with a story about a patient who had come to his practice after being treated by an Altai shaman with long-distance hypnosis, a method that enables a practitioner to hypnotize a patient without being physically present. Needless to say, he captured the attention of the audience. He went on to discuss street hypnosis (often used by gypsies), trance and trancelike states, meditation, and even clairvoyance. This was the first time anyone in our university had spoken about such unusual and controversial subjects. By that time I had already studied yoga long enough to know about the five states of mind described by the sage Vyasa in his commentary on the Yoga Sutras, as well as the states of consciousness described as svapna, jagrat, sushupti, and turiya, which correspond to the states of waking, dreaming, dreamless sleep, and pure consciousness respectively. But the thought of actually researching and scientifically explaining this ancient knowledge was a turning point for me, and it led me to choose psychiatry as my specialty.

Today, as in ancient times, people are fascinated by the possibility of altering the "normal" state of consciousness. Modern science and philosophy agree, acknowledging that ASCs are a special type of mental phenomenon. They have also come to realize that it is not possible to draw a solid line between normal or base states and ASCs: not only is there no agreed-upon definition of "normal" in these circumstances, but there are an innumerable variety of ways in which psychic processes work in individuals.

Nevertheless, scientists have come up with classifications of altered states, and many of these have proved helpful for our understanding of this difficult subject.

First, ASCs vary in depth, form, and content. They can include a wide spectrum of psychic phenomena from rapid sleep to deep hypnosis and from hallucinations to psychosis.

Second, the causes of ASCs can be physiological (deep breathing, childbirth), psychological (stress), pathological (delirium, schizophrenia), and even intellectual (as we see from the use of the koan in Zen Buddhism). ASCs can also be caused by chemical substances such as LSD and marijuana.

Third, the alteration between normal and altered states can be spontaneous (road hypnosis), induced by lack of external stimuli (isolation) or by sensory overload hypnotherapy), or self-induced (meditation, self-hypnosis).

ASCs are a basic human need. And, yes, you have experienced them to a certain degree. Have you ever caught yourself zoning out in a bus, not remembering the stations that you have passed or the people that sat next to you? This is considered to be an instance of spontaneous trance. Some researchers have called it an introverted state of consciousness, as opposed to the extraverted basic state. In the introverted state the attention is turned inward, and the psyche processes information that has been generated within itself rather than coming in from the outside world. As described by psychologist Charles Tart, "this condition of my mind feels radically different from some other condition, rather than just an extension of it" (emphasis Tart's).

Other scientists, psychiatrists, and psychologists have tried to shed some light on this gray area of our lives. Among the most famous is Dr. Stanislav Grof, who studied expanded states of consciousness first using LSD and later using holotropic breathwork, which, according to Grof's Web site, "combines accelerated breathing with evocative music in a special set and setting" to engender ASCs. Grof has divided these states into four distinct categories:

Sensory and somatic: consisting of experiences including hallucinations or visualizing images or geometrical patterns. Subjects undergo a variety of sensations, such as numbness of the hands, tingling, and cold or heat. They may spontaneously assume certain postures or even dance. Some report feeling energy blocked or flowing in the body.

Biographical and individual unconscious: As in traditional psychotherapy, this is the level of repressed memories, unresolved problems, and traumas. The interaction with the unconscious is more on a level of awareness and experience than of intellectualization or remembering.

Perinatal: Reliving the birth process and the trauma associated with it.

Transpersonal: This includes, but is not limited to, remembering past lives, identification with other forms of life such as animals (totems), uniting with Universal Mind, and out-of-body experiences.

One of the most important and revolutionary studies in this area was conducted by Dr. A. Kasamatsu and Dr. T. Hirai in 1990. On one occasion they monitored a group of Buddhist monks on a seventy-two-hour pilgrimage to a mountain. The monks were not allowed to speak, drink, or eat. They were exposed to cold weather. After forty-eight hours, the monks started seeing visions of ancestors and feeling their presence.

The purpose of the study was to investigate how sensory deprivation affects the brain. The scientists found that deprivation increases amounts of serotonin"”a hormone that is responsible for sleep, arousal level, and emotion. The highest amounts were in the frontal cortex and hypothalamus, producing visions.

On another occasion the scientists investigated the psychophysiological effects of meditation among Zen Buddhists using electroencephalography (EEG), which measures electrical activity in different areas of the brain. EEGs were recorded continuously before, during, and after Zen meditation. The following results were obtained:

Alpha waves were observed within fifty seconds after the monks began meditation. This occurred whether or not their eyes were open. Alpha waves are generated in the brain when we are relaxed, usually with closed eyes, but are awake and not tired. This state is used widely in biofeedback training, as there is evidence that it helps to overcome phobias and anxiety and calms hyperactive children. During the Zen meditation, these alpha waves followed a specific pattern. After they appeared, their amplitude increased, then decreased, followed by the rhythmical theta train (a period of activity of theta waves).

Theta rhythm is not fully understood by science, but there are two types. The first one, the hippocampal, can be observed in most animals and humans, whereas the other, the cortical type, is specific to humans only. The cortical theta rhythm is often recorded in young children. In adults it is a sign of meditation, drowsiness, or sleep (but not deep sleep). It can also indicate a transition from sleep as well as a quiet wakeful state. Zen masters generated theta rhythms faster than their disciples.

In this process, the left hemisphere of the brain was the first one to become active; then the right one came to dominate; finally, at the deepest state of meditation, the activity of both hemispheres decreased. At this state the subject gains access to problems and ideas rooted in the unconscious, as well as transpersonal problems, and is able to work on them.

After meditation, the general activity of the cortex was higher, while the activity of the limbic system decreased. This means that the individual has heightened awareness and perception, along with a lowered emotional response to both external and internal stimuli. This is called "skilled response."

These studies have proved what Buddhists and yogis have known for thousands of years: ASCs achieved through meditation, pranayama (controlled breathing), or asanas (yogic body postures) change the way the mind functions (on both physiological and biochemical levels) and are ultimately the way to remove suffering (that is, emotional response to pain or trauma).

Let us now look at the subtle changes that occur during ASCs. Certain techniques are aimed toward specific issues, whereas others produce generalized effects. I will take yoga as an example, although similar effects are produced during meditation, chanting, and even tribal dance. In my clairvoyant investigations over the years, I have noticed energetic changes in the  auras of yoga students during the asana practice and pranayama, but most importantly during savasana (the "corpse pose," taken as a final form of relaxation). The practice of asana activates the chakras and nadis (energy channels). At this point, anything that blocks the flow of energy can be removed, restoring the natural order. Pranayama and bandhas (energy locks) raise energy up the sushumna, or central spinal channel. Nadi shodhan pranayama (alternate nostril breathing) synchronizes the operation of the two hemispheres, decreasing the activity of the emotions. Finally, savasana induces a state of trance in which the rhythm of vibration and the pulsations of aura become harmonious. Mental images  are not generated (although they can be picked up from higher planes). All these things give the yogi a sense of deep relaxation of body and mind.

Lately there have been debates about the effects of psychedelic drugs, marijuana in particular, on consciousness. Proponents of the drug are trying to prove that it produces a relaxation that is necessary to relieve everyday stress. Pseudo-yogis and certain religious sects claim that the use of this substance is essential for uniting with the Divine. From my own psychiatric and clairvoyant experience, however, I would say that the truth is obvious: laziness and weakness lie at the root of such speculations. This claim can be confirmed by reading the clairvoyant observations by Dora Kunz, past president of the Theosophical Society, of people  using alcohol and drugs.

People who are not able to develop spiritual discipline and practice are always looking for an easier way. I would include workshops for breathwork, hypnosis, and trance dance in the same category. Because facilitators of these programs use ancient yogic techniques out of context in response to Western culture's demands for fast results in a short time, they cause addiction to the modality or substance and create a dependence on the therapist or instructor. Especially if the spiritual vision of the therapist is clouded or insufficiently developed, there is more risk than benefit from producing ASCs in these ways.

ASCs are very helpful in personal evolution. But they were never meant to be an escape from the problems of everyday reality, as they have become today. Buddhism, yoga, and other ancient spiritual schools     have never considered it acceptable to run away from the hardship of the world. Nor was kundalini raised in weekend workshops. Independent, centered, devoted practice has always been central to spiritual growth. Agreeing with Annie Besant, I would suggest thinking about this question: "If you can't face the challenges of the outer world, how can you expect to face the dangers on the path of inner evolution?"

PYARVIN ABBASOVA, M.D., was born and raised in Siberia. She is a psychiatrist and yoga teacher, and has been a member of the Theosophical Society since 2009. She has been a longtime volunteer at Pumpkin Hollow Retreat Center, where she is currently a resident. 

Printed in the Winter 2015 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Smoley, Richard."BEYOND THE BRAIN - An Interview with Eben Alexander" Quest 103.1 (Winter 2015): pg. 10-15.

By Richard Smoley

Today the intellectual world is facing an insurrection. It has nothing to do with politics or economics. It is about worldviews. Contemporary intellectual thought is hidebound by a materialistic view of the universe that automatically shuts out anything of the "spiritual," or, God forbid, "mystical." More and more evidence is coming to light that refutes this narrow view of reality. And more and more intellectuals are standing up against it.

Eben Alexander is one of the most famous examples. An American neurosurgeon, in 2008, he fell into a coma during a case of severe meningitis and at a time when, from the conventional point of view, he should have had no consciousness whatsoever—he had a profound and inspiring vision of worlds beyond this one.

Alexander describes this journey in the best-selling Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon's Journey into the Afterlife. The book sent a shock through the country, and gained Alexander's book a place on the cover of Newsweek as well as the usual attempts at debunking. Since then he has traveled and given lectures to many audiences. His latest book, The Map of Heaven: How Science, Religion, and Ordinary People Are Proving the Afterlife, coauthored with my good friend and Quest contributor Ptolemy Tompkins, was published in November 2014.

In July 2014, at the invitation of the Theosophical Society, Alexander spoke to an audience of some 450 people in Glen Ellyn, Illinois, and later addressed the TS's Summer National Convention. He also did the following interview. Karen Newell was also present. She is his associate in Sacred Acoustics, a company that creates audio meditations
combining various kinds of sound to stimulate higher states of consciousness.

Richard Smoley: Perhaps you could start by telling us a little bit about your journey.

Eben Alexander: I've spent more than twenty years in academic neurosurgery and thought I had some idea of how brain-mind consciousness worked. I fully logged into the reductive materialistic mindset of neuroscience of the twentieth century, which that says there is something about the neurons of the brain and their firing that gives you consciousness. Even though nobody had a clue of how that worked, I thought we just needed to study it more and figure it out.

That's why my illness, which came on in November 2008, was so revolutionary to my thinking. I had to go back and question everything I ever thought I knew about reality. I had a very severe case of bacterial meningitis. Only in looking back, months and months later, did I start to realize what a perfect model for human death meningitis is, especially the severe form that I had: it basically dissolves the neocortex.

Modern neuroscience says that that neocortex—the whole outer surface of the brain—is the part that gives rise to all the details of conscious experience. As this disease wipes out your neocortex, what is the next step? It would have been very clear to me as a neuroscientist that the next step is nothingness. Any doctor who knows anything about gram-negative bacterial meningitis and the details of my illness would realize that people don't go in that state and come back with hallucinations, dreams, or exotic stories—they come back with nothing. In fact the reality is they usually don't come back at all. Just the opposite happened, and that part was a mind-bender.

The extraordinary odyssey that I went through, and that I describe in my book Proof of Heaven, should not have happened at all, according to all the modern notions saying that the brain creates consciousness. And yet I was left with this absolutely astonishing ultra-real experience and an odyssey that seemed to go on for months or years, although it fit within seven earth days.

To me that was the central mystery. How is it that when you destroy the neocortex, you actually take the blinders off and allow consciousness of a far richer and more real and comprehensive knowing to come into existence? That was what drove me to come to some explanation.

Smoley: How do you now view that relation between brain and mind?

Alexander: Before the coma, as a neuroscientist who felt that the brain creates consciousness, I paid no attention to near-death experiences, because I would have said that they're a flickering of a dying brain.

But they're far more than that. In fact, they are not created by a dying brain at all, they're linked to a much more substantial, conscious, eternal spiritual being. Near-death experiencers have been telling us for decades about a reality that is much more real than this one. So has the afterlife literature going back thousands of years.

I give talks around the world about all this. And I'll have people who come up to me who know nothing about any of this literature but who share with me their own stunning personal stories of near-death experiences, after-death communications, past-life memories in children, and reincarnation stories. There's just no way to pretend that it's some mass hysteria, that it's all some trick of the brain. This is something far more profound.

So I've come to realize that consciousness, soul, or spirit is the thing that truly exists at the core of all that is. Before my coma I would have been tempted to try and tell you that, as conventional scientific teaching says, the brain, the chemistry, the biology creates an illusion of reality, an illusion of free will. In fact that is absolutely backwards. What truly exists is consciousness, soul, or spirit.

Even modern physics is in a headlong rush to tell us that there is no material to the material world. It's vibrating strings of energy and higher-dimensional space-time. And it is consciousness that is essential to emerging reality. The only thing we know exists is our own consciousness. But we're so immersed in this consciousness that it's very difficult to separate ourselves from it.

Any possible model, or any kind of scientific explanation of the nature of reality, must begin with  a far more robust explanation of what consciousness is, because it is not created by the brain. The brain is a reducing valve or filter. That idea was gaining in popularity in the late nineteenth century with very brilliant thinkers—William James, Carl Jung, Frederic Myers—and yet it lost its attraction during the heyday of the twentieth century, when science got sucked into purely materialistic explanations.

Smoley: So what is consciousness?

Alexander: Consciousness, I would say, at its core level, is the observer, the awareness. We're so consumed with this worship of the ego, the self, the linguistic brain, and rational thought that we lose sight of the fact that our own consciousness is actually something far deeper and more mysterious. It is that awareness part of us, the part that knows of its own existence and of the existence of a universe.

The little voice in my head, that linguistic human brain, which is so tightly tied to rational thought and also to ego and self, can make a request, state an intention, offer up some gratitude, but there is far greater wisdom as one gets deeper and deeper into consciousness. This is something that meditators, Tibetan monks, those who have been deeply into consciousness study over millennia have been trying to tell us. And yet only now is science beginning to recognize that deep within consciousness itself, we can find the evidence that we can be linked to something far, far greater than we are told by that minuscule view that the brain creates consciousness. In fact, when you realize it works the other way around, we can come in touch through deep meditation with consciousness. We come to realize consciousness is not local.

Before my coma I was a conventional neuroscientist who believed that we can only know things through our physical senses. Since then I've come to realize that things like telepathy, precognition, neardeath experiences, after-death communications, pastlife memories in children, the tremendous scientific literature on reincarnation are proving to us that consciousness is not local.

It's important to understand nonlocal consciousness. In the scientific community, I steer people to that wonderful book from the University of Virginia, Irreducible Mind: Toward a Psychology for the Twenty-First Century, by Edward Kelly. It's 800 pages of hard-core scientific data and analysis showing very clearly that the brain does not create consciousness. As I said earlier, it's more of a reducing valve or a filter. This helps us to understand that mystery of quantum mechanics, which was proving, a hundred years ago, that consciousness is fundamental in the existence of any part of reality emergent in this universe . Consciousness is filtered in through the brain; it is not created by the brain.

Smoley: You say that the materialistic model of the brain and mind is being increasingly challenged within science itself. Do you see much evidence of this, particularly in psychology and neurology?

Alexander: A number of respected scientists around the world, some of whom have their training in psychiatry, some in psychology, are realizing that the "hard problem" of consciousness is the most vexing conundrum known to all of human thought. This is saying that, in spite of the increasing devotion of study to the brain, no neuroscientist on earth can offer the first sentence about how the physical brain might create consciousness.

A lot of the neuroscientists who study this problem realize that the more we know about the physical brain, the more we realize it's not the creator of consciousness. It's very clearly related to consciousness, but again it's more of a reducing valve or filter.

Often colleagues will challenge me and say, "Wait a minute! You're saying this whole mystery of being deep in your coma as your brain was being destroyed by bacterial meningitis actually was the blinders coming off—when your awareness was getting more crisp and real." They say that makes no sense.

I would reply by pointing out two commonly observed clinical phenomena. Neurologists and neuroscientists are aware of some of these examples. One is "terminal lucidity," which I point out in my book Proof of Heaven. Often when they get closer to death, elderly and demented patients can have these oases of very clear thinking, memory, interaction, great clarity of thought that completely defies any kind of explanation.

The other commonly observed phenomena have to do with what is called the idiot savant or acquired savant syndrome, where some kind of brain damage, like a stroke or head trauma, uncovers some oasis of superhuman mental functioning. These savant syndromes are very, very common. I had many of them when I was active in neurosurgery. I would see where people would have some kind of brain damage, and it actually uncovered this incredible superhuman ability—of memory, calculation, ability to graphically represent things, musical creativity—that emerged out of nowhere.

Wilder Penfield, probably one of the most renowned neuroscientists of the twentieth century, probably still holds the record for electrical stimulation of the brain in awake patients—tens of thousands of episodes in his work on epilepsy. He worked in Montreal, and he wrote a book in 1975 called Mystery of the Mind: A Critical Study of Consciousness and the Human Brain. In the book, he gets clearly into his conclusions that never once, in all those tens of thousands of stimulations, did he uncover an event that seemed to be a free-will event of conscious experience. The patients always felt like they were puppets on a string, no matter what the memory, experience, whatever they went through—they always knew it was something "triggered." Never once was there anything that resembled a free-will type event.

To Penfield it was very clear. To me, the evidence for this is completely consistent with my journey as described in Proof of Heaven and my conclusions and understandings about consciousness. If you're trying to find free will and consciousness, or soul, or spirit, they're just not created in the brain at all. In fact, the brain is basically shackles. That's essentially what near-death experiences have been trying to tell us for millennia. Mystics who have had similar spiritually transformative experiences have been trying to put it out there that in fact, when we're freed up from shackles of the physical brain and released from that illusion of here and now, we actually come into a much higher knowing. 

Smoley: My understanding of most near-death experiences is that they are overwhelmingly positive. But there are some negative experiences, where people encounter hells or devils or demons. How does this fit it with your picture? 

Alexander: When you look at a large number of NDEs, say somewhere around 95"“98 percent of them seem to be very positive, very loving. This can be quite independent of the circumstances around the demise of a given patient. They often are shown beautiful scenes of unconditional love, love of an infinitely powerful spiritual being, often messages conveyed by  the souls and spirits of departed loved ones that are very positive and loving.

As for the experiences that are negative: those  who have read the book Proof of Heaven realize that I started out in a very dark, foreboding, underground realm, which I call the earthworm's eye view. If I had come back from my near-death experience having only been to the earthworm's eye view, I probably would have had what people describe as a hellish near-death experience.

Talking with other near-death experiencers and reviewing thousands of near-death cases, I believe that in many ways the hellish ones are incomplete. They are not going in with the power and the oomph to blast through to those higher realms. To me it was very clear that unconditional love has tremendous power—to heal at all levels, to heal the individual soul, to heal soul groups, to heal all of humanity, to heal all of life on earth, to heal all of consciousness existent in this material universe.

There can be dark forces, but by knowing that connection to the divine, the infinite power and love of that divine, we are able to bring that light and love into any realm we exist in. That includes this material realm; that includes the lower spiritual realms, including that earthworm's eye view.

In my journey, as I describe in Proof of Heaven, I would cycle through and ascend through higher and higher levels through a gateway realm with a beautiful idyllic valley, butterfly wings, and angelic choirs, with lots of spiritual beauty, but with earthlike features. I would then ascend to higher and higher realms all the way to the core: infinite inky blackness, but filled to overflowing with the divine, that power of unconditional love in its healing capacity and also the brilliant light of that orb, brighter than a million stars. I knew that completely outside of our duality. 

But then I would tumble back into that earthworm's eye view. And very quickly in that journey I came to realize the importance of sound, music, vibration, which is part of the work I do now with Sacred Acoustics, with Karen Newell: using sound to enhance these abilities of our souls to transcend. That's why the work of Sacred Acoustics has so much to do with meditation and getting into deep meditative states.

All of that is coming to realize that love has infinite power to heal. And I came to see in my journey that this is not a battle between good and evil, where they are  equal and counterbalanced and maybe good and love will win out or maybe evil and darkness. Evil and darkness are the absence of that love and that light. By remembering our divine connection to that oneness and to the infinite healing power of that creative source, we can bring that light and that love into any aspect of the material realm and the lower spiritual realms.

Smoley: Could you say more about your work with Sacred Acoustics? What do you recommend for people who want to have a sense of that unconditional love while being connected with this earthly realm?

Alexander: You don't have to die, or almost die, to get this. As a conscious being, you have all the tools you need to go within consciousness to come to see much deeper truth. I recommend meditation, Centering Prayer—sometimes it comes to us as a gift of desperation through the hardships of life, because in fact those hardships and difficulties, even illness or injury, are often a beautiful gift. That is often how we get a revelation about our deep connectedness with each other and with the divine.

About two years after my coma, I was introduced to the Monroe Institute and the work of Robert Monroe, who wrote three wonderful books on his journeys. He was a pretty straight-laced guy who ended up having spontaneous out-of-body experiences. Over four decades he came to realize that you can use sound—specifically slight differences in the frequency of sound presented to the two ears—to do some very interesting things with consciousness. I was attracted to it two years or so after my coma, when people approached me who knew a bit about hemispheric synchronization, brain entrainment, what Monroe called hemi-sync. And they suggested to me that maybe I could revisit some of the realms that I had experienced in coma, when my neocortex was being ravaged by the meningitis. But I could do it in a reversible fashion by using two differential frequencies to the two ears.

There's a particular circuit in the brain that is a very accurate timing circuit. That circuit is right next door to a circuit in the brain stem that modern neuroscience would tell you (with our very primitive notions about consciousness) seems be an ignition system for all of consciousness. My idea was that with this synchronization of electrical activity to the hemispheres using differential sound inputs to the two ears, I might synchronize the electrical activity. This would take away the information processing aspect of the neocortex and allow my consciousness to be set free, just as it was when meningitis was destroying my neocortex.

This is the work that I now do in conjunction with Sacred Acoustics; those that are interested should visit sacredacoustics.com. It has to do with a sophisticated use of patterning of these sound inputs to the two ears to enable consciousness to be set free.

Smoley: Which spiritual figures have you found most inspiring?

Alexander: I grew up in a Methodist church in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. My father was very influential in my life, and he had a very strong religious belief in his own right. He had grown up in eastern Tennessee during the Depression. He had been a combat surgeon in the Pacific during the Second World War, and then he went on to head up a neurosurgery training program. So he was very scientific, but also deeply religious and truly spiritual. And I had grown up trying to follow, as best I could, in his footsteps.

Of course, being a child of the '60s and '70s, I realized that science is the pathway to truth. And as much as I wanted to believe what I was taught in my Methodist church, through those years of working in academic neurosurgery, I found it more and more difficult to explain the survival of consciousness after the death of the brain and the body. As I said earlier, I bought into the modern twentieth-century neuroscientific view that the brain creates consciousness. And that, of course, means that it's birth, death, and nothing more, and none of us has free will, and consciousness is an illusion.

My coma journey showed me that every bit of that is false. As I started to study more and more about NDEs and was led into the afterlife literature and into the writings of mystics and prophets going back thousands of years, what struck me was their similarity: they all converge on a much deeper truth. It turns out that the linguistic brain is in many ways our enemy in trying to come to a much deeper understanding. We can actually communicate in deeper ways, too, that have to do with a much purer form of consciousness. This is why I'm such a tremendous fan of meditation and encourage people to develop a daily practice of meditation.

The more I started giving talks about my experience, the more I started hearing back from Kabbalists, from Christian mystics, Sufis, Buddhists, Hindus, and atheists who had a very deep spiritual awareness through some experience. They were all talking about the same thing.

Smoley: Is there anything you'd like to add?

Alexander: A central message in Proof of Heaven is that consciousness at the core of all existence. I think the most important aspect of that lesson, which is brought back by so many near-death experiencers and other spiritual journeyers, is that we are all eternal spiritual beings, and in fact our very consciousness is a direct link to the infinitely loving creative source at the core of all being. As so many who have had these experiences will tell you, that unconditional love is infinitely healing. It's important for all of us to realize that we're eternal, spiritual beings, that we come back in multiple reincarnations in our ascendance toward that oneness, and that we're all in this together.  Consciousness binds us all, not just as humans, not just as all life on earth—all of conscious life throughout the universe.

My journey showed me that the human brain and mind will never have a theory of everything. We can never possibly understand the grand workings of this universe in its greatest sense, the workings of that great creator. Never! But the journey is absolutely wonderful beyond description, and that is what we are all a part of, and we are all doing it as eternal spiritual beings bound together as one.

Any frictions between schools of religious thought, frictions between science, philosophy, and religion and spirituality, are false boundaries that have to do with the linguistic brain trying to define and to limit. Whereas we really have to take a top-down approach. We can all do that by exploring our consciousness through prayer and meditation.