Henry	Stapp,	a	theoretical	physicist	from	Berkeley;	Jeffrey	Schwartz,	a
neuropsychiatrist	at	UCLA;	and	Mario	Beauregard,	a	psychologist	from	the
University	of	Montreal,	have	crossed	disciplines	to	formulate	a	workable
theory	of	“quantum	mind”	that	may	revolutionize	how	mind	and	brain	relate
to	each	other. Central	to	their	theory	is	“neuroplasticity,”	the	notion	that	brain
cells	are	open	to	change,	flexibly	responding	to	will	and	intention. They	acknowledge,	to	begin	with,	the	usual	scientific	explanation	that
“the	mind	is	what	the	brain	does,”	but	there	are	many	flaws	in	such	an
explanation,	as	we	have	seen. They	propose,	therefore,	that	exactly	the
opposite	is	true. Mind	is	the	controller	of	the	brain. In	
their
	view,	the	mind	is
like	an	electron	cloud	surrounding	the	nucleus	of	an	atom. Until	an	observer
appears,	electrons	have	no	physical	identity	in	the	world;	there	is	only	the
amorphous	cloud. In	the	same	way,	imagine	that	there	is	a	cloud	of
possibilities	open	to	the	brain	at	every	moment	(consisting	of	words,
memories,	ideas,	and	images	it	could	choose	from). When	the	mind	gives	a
signal,	one	of	these	possibilities	coalesces	from	the	cloud	and	becomes	a
thought	in	the	brain,	just	as	an	energy	wave	collapses	into	an	electron. Like
the	quantum	field	generating	real	particles	from	virtual	ones,	the	mind
generates	real	brain	activity	from	virtual	activity. What	makes	this	reversal	important	is	that	it	fits	the	facts. Neurologists
have	verified	that	a	mere	intention	or	purposeful	act	of	will	alters	the	brain. Stroke	victims,	for	example,	can	force	themselves,	with	the	aid	of	a	therapist,
to	use	only	their	right	hand	if	paralysis	has	occurred	on	that	side	of	the	body. Willing	themselves	day	after	day	to	favor	the	affected	part,	they	can	gradually
cause	the	damaged	sites	in	the	brain	to	heal. Similar	results	have	been	found
with	aging. Older	people	who	have	begun	to	show	signs	of	senile	dementia
such	as	memory	loss	can	slow	down	and	even	reverse	their	symptoms	by
exercising	their	brains	(one	software	manufacturer	has	even	brought	out	a
“brain	gym,”	a	program	that	looks	like	a	video	game	but	in	fact	consists	of
exercises	that	strengthen	specific	areas	of	the	brain). Children	born	with
cerebral	palsy	have	recently	regained	use	of	their	paralyzed	limbs	through
similar	therapies	in	which	the	unaffected	arm,	for	example,	was	kept	in	a
sling,	forcing	the	child	to	use	the	paralyzed	arm;	in	time,	the	brain	healed
itself. It	showed	neuroplasticity.Putting	mind	before	brain	may	have	many	far-reaching	consequences	in
medical	therapies. For	example,	patients	suffering	from	obsessive-compulsive
disorder	(OCD)	are	routinely	treated	with	psychotropic	drugs	like	Prozac. Symptoms	improve,	and	physical	evidence	for	that	can	be	found	through
brain	scans;	the	parts	of	the	brain	that	malfunction	in	OCD	start	to	become
more	normal	on	the	drug. But
	obsessive-compulsive	patients	sometimes	seek
relief	through	talk	therapy	instead. These	patients	frequently	improve,	yet
only	recently	did	anyone	examine	their	brains	with	MRIs	and	PET	scans,	and
what	they	discovered	is	startling:	the	same	impaired	regions	that	become
more	normal	with	Prozac	also	become	more	normal	with	talk	therapy. (
Jeffrey	Schwartz	is	an	expert	in	OCD	and	based	the	new	theory	in	part	on
such	brain	scans.) In	other	words,	the	process	of	reflection	and	insight	through	therapy
changed	the	patients’	brain	cells. This	is	exactly	what	was	predicted	by	the
new	theory	of	quantum	mind. But	the	answer	was	there	all	along. The	mind
has	always	been	able	to	change	the	brain. If	a	person	suddenly	loses	a	loved
one	or	is	fired	from	his	job,	sudden	severe	depression	often	follows. Depression	is	rooted	in	abnormal	uptake	of	the	brain	chemical	serotonin. This
physcial	imbalance	is	what	antidepressants	are	typically	designed	to	correct. Yet	when	someone	loses	a	loved	one	or	gets	fired,	isn’t	it	obvious	that	the
chemical	imbalance	came	about	after	the	bad	news? Reacting	to	bad	news	is	a
mental	event. Indeed,	the	entire	world	we	inhabit	of	words	and	thoughts
creates	infinite	brain	changes	in	all	of	us	every	moment. If	mind	comes	before	brain,	then	what	if	mind	belongs	to	all	of	us? I	can
say	“my	brain,”	but	I	can’t	say	“my	quantum	field.”	There	is	growing
evidence	that	in	fact	we	do	share	the	same	mind	field. This	would	go	far	to
support	the	existence	of	heavens	and	hells,	Bardo	and	Akashic	memory,
extending	far	beyond	the	brain. To	begin	with,	we	need	to	examine	the	kinds
of	ideas	that	people	share	as	a	group. The	brain	belongs	to	“me,”	but	if	ideas
belong	to	“us,”	then	we	are	participating	together	in	a	field,	sometimes	quite
mysteriously. The	Brain	Beyond	Boundaries
The	human	brain	processes	only	a	fraction	of	the	information	available	to	it. By	some	estimates	the	brain	receives	6	billion	bits	of	data	
per
	second	(such	as
sound	vibrations,	photons,	X-ray	and	gamma	radiation,	electromagnetic	static,
and	various	chemical	and	electrical	signals	from	the	immediate	environment),
a	floodtide	that	gets	squeezed	into	the	trickle	of	experience	we	actually	notice
and	respond	to. But	what	we	notice	isn’t	the	same	as	what	we	know. For
example,	some	so-called	idiot	savants	with	very	low	IQs	can	instantaneously
compute	long	strings	of	numbers,	tell	the	day	of	the	week	that	any	date	fallson	in	the	future,	remember	every	detail	of	their	past,	or	learn	difficult
languages	with	incredible	fluency. (One	savant	mastered	Finnish,	Arabic,	and
Mandarin	at	a	young	age,	and	only	afterward	did	his	caregivers	realize	he	had
been	learning	these	languages	on	his	own	despite	the	fact	that	he’d	held	the
books	upside	down.) Such	savants	often	lack	even	the	most	basic	capacity	in
other	areas. One	well-documented	type	of	savant	is	able	to	perform	music	or
paint	pictures	with	extraordinary	facility	but	cannot	calculate	change	from	a
purchase,	or	tie	their	shoes	without	help. When	sudden	artistic	abilities	began	to	appear	in	a	small	percentage	of
normal	people	who	suffer	from	brain	tumors	and	other	neurological	disorders,
researchers	looked	at	the	brains	of	savants	and	discovered	that	they,	too,
displayed	brain	abnormalities,	particularly	in	the	right	temporal	lobe. To	my
knowledge,	the	current	explanation	for	“savant	syndrome”	now	centers	on
such	physical	abnormalities. Thus	it	seems	that	when	the	brain’s	filtering
system	is	impaired,	reality	expands	in	some	areas	while	it	contracts	in	others. All	kinds	of	abilities	may	inexplicably	exceed	the	norm. Joseph	Chilton
Pearce,	a	specialist	in	child	development,	writes	about	the	savant	syndrome	in
his	book	
The	Biology	of	Transcendence
. He	makes	several	striking	points. The	first	is	that	most	children	with	savant	syndrome	don’t	perform	on	their
own	but	respond	when	asked. The	second	is	that	they	are	not	especially
interested	in	the	wider	area	of	their	extraordinary	ability. If	you	sit	down	and
ask	a	savant	what	day	of	the	week	March	12,	2163,	falls	on,	it’s	like	talking	to
a	machine. The	child	
goes
	inward	for	a	few	seconds,	then	pops	up	with	the
answer,	but	might	have	little	interest	in	simple	math. A	calendar	savant	might
not	be	able	to	multiply	12	by	12. The	normal	brain	filters	out	information	for	good	reason—it	takes	narrow
experience	to	form	a	self,	a	separate	person	with	limited	beliefs,	goals,
memories,	likes,	and	dislikes. We	deliberately	reject	huge	portions	of
information,	but	a	damaged	brain	is	exposed	to	everything	through	its
inability	to	select	and	filter. Pearce	is	particularly	intrigued	by	how	an
“automobile	savant”	could	take	one	look	at	a	parking	lot	and	tell	you	the
make,	model,	and	year	of	every	car	in	it	without	being	able	to	read. How	does
he	know	this	without	reading	magazines	that	feature	the	latest	models,
including	European	models	that	had	received	no	publicity	in	the	United
States? It	seems	as	if	these	savant	children	are	accessing	the	mind	field. Genius	is	another	way	to	access	the	field	beyond	normal	abilities. Musical
prodigies	like	Mozart	can	see	whole	symphony	scores	in	their	heads. One
such	prodigy	now	enrolled	in	the	Juilliard	program	for	composers	has	been
able	to	switch	between	four	channels	of	music	in	his	head	since	early
childhood;	when	asked	to	write	a	new	sonata	for	violin,	he	simply	turned	to
the	appropriate	channel	and	took	dictation. A	direct	link	to	the	field	of
information	seems	possible,	then,	and	we	move	closer	to	the	possibility	thatthe	brain	is	the	receiver	of	mind,	not	its	creator. This	is	important	to	the	afterlife	because	upon	dying	we	have	no	brain	but
do	desire	to	keep	our	minds. If	the	Vedic	seers	are	right,	the	human	brain
connects	us	to	infinite	consciousness. The	fact	that	we	shut	out	so	much	of	the
mind	field	doesn’t	mean	we	have	to. Aboriginal	peoples	don’t	access	higher
math,	scientific	reasoning,	or	advanced	musical	harmonies,	but	if	a	baby	were
taken	from	a	New	Guinea	jungle	tribe	and	placed	in	the	right	learning
environment,	its	mind	contains	the	potential	for	all	these	skills. Indeed,	only
in	this	decade	are	certain	tribes	moving	out	of	the	jungles	of	New	Guinea	
into
surrounding	cities,	and	as	they	do,	they	make	the	transition	from	a	culture	that
never	discovered	metal-working	to	one	where	they	can	drive	a	car. Why	don’t	we	access	more	of	the	mind	field	ourselves? In	fact,	we	do. The	brain	adapts	to	the	field	at	will. If	you	intend	to	learn	Chinese	ideograms,
of	which	there	are	thousands,	you	can	apply	yourself,	and	gradually	a	system
of	meaningless	ink	strokes	will	be	transformed	into	a	meaningful	area	of
knowledge. Once	mastered,	the	Chinese	language	becomes	part	of	you;	it
becomes	second	nature,	and	you	can	proceed	to	use	it	for	creative	purposes. In	essence	you	have	accessed	the	mind	field	and	willed	your	own	evolution. You	have	made	a	leap	nearly	as	significant	as	when	Paleolithic	man
discovered	that	meaningless	vocal	noises	could	be	transformed	into	spoken
language. Intelligence	and	meaning	aren’t	only	“in	here”	as	a	subjective	creation	of
the	brain	or	“out	there”	as	a	freestanding	object. The	give-and-take	by	which
the	brain	creates	meaning	is	also	how	it	creates	the	world	and	creates	itself. All	these	processes	actually	belong	to	one	process,	the	self	“curving	back	onto
itself	to	create	again	and	again,”	as	Lord	Krishna	says. The	field	is	innately
creative. It	formed	the	human	brain,	which	is	so	receptive	that	it	took	the	next
leap	and	learned	to	create	new	thoughts,	abilities,	and	memories	on	its	own. Our	brains	are	still	acting	out	the	total	activity	of	the	cosmos,	but	we	happen
to	claim	that	“I	am	thinking”	when	it’s	just	as	true	to	say	“the	mind	field	is
thinking	through	me.”
Memes	and	the	Behavior	of	Beliefs
There’s	another	kind	of	filtering	that	limits	how	much	of	the	mind	field	we
can	perceive. This	has	to	do	with	creating	beliefs	and	then	accepting	them	as
real. A	belief	is	an	idea	we	hold	on	to. For	example,	if	you	believe	that	God	is
good,	that	women	are	mysterious,	or	that	life	is	unfair,	you	have	taken
generations	of	shared	experience	and	
reduced
	it	to	one	conclusion. The
conclusion	may	be	right	or	wrong;	that’s	not	important	for	the	moment. Beliefs	hold	us	together	as	a	society. Such	shared	beliefs	give	us	a	clue	about
how	mind	might	exist	outside	the	body.We	all	carry	in	our	minds	a	large	database	of	information	that	we	consider
fundamental. This	database	holds	everything	important	that	we	believe	about
the	world. It	is	our	worldview. We	depend	upon	it	to	survive	for	even	a	short
time. Beliefs	evolve	over	the	centuries,	and	therefore	some	researchers	look
upon	beliefs	as	being	like	“virtual	genes,”	that	become	fixed	characteristics	of
the	brain. These	mental	genes	were	named	“memes”	by	the	British
evolutionist	Richard	Dawkins,	who	founded	a	new	field	overnight	that	has
proliferated	considerably	since	then. A	meme	is	often	compared	to	a	virus	that	spreads	from	person	to	person
until	an	entire	society	gets	infected. It	wouldn’t	be	beneficial	to	our	species	to
become	infected	by	everything. If	we	were	actually	open	to	all	new	ideas,	we
would	not	be	able	to	maintain	a	coherent	view	of	the	world. Imagine	changing
your	view	of	the	opposite	sex,	for	example,	every	time	you	met	a	new	person. In	order	to	evolve,	human	beings	had	to	make	sure	that	they	accepted	only
“good”	memes—ideas	that	promoted	a	coherent,	reliable	worldview—and
rejected	“bad”	memes,	ideas	that	moved	the	mind	in	the	opposite	direction. The	basic	fact	that	we	can	track	the	spread	of	beliefs	the	way	we	track	the
spread	of	avian	flu	provides	us	with	another	clue	to	the	nature	of	the	mind
field:	it	is	dynamic,	shared,	evolving,	and	powerful. It	is	capable	of
“infecting”	us	with	good	or	bad	beliefs	without	the	individual	actually	going
through	any	experience	at	all. Thus	societies	fight	and	die	defending	a	God
few	have	personally	experienced. Nietzsche	was	foreshadowing	memes	when
he	said	that	a	mistaken	idea	“grows	from	generation	unto	generation,	merely
because	people	believe	in	it,	until	it	gradually	grows	to	be	a	part	of	
the
	thing
and	turns	into	its	very	body. What	at	first	was	appearance	becomes	in	the	end,
almost	invariably,	the	essence,	and	is	effective	as	such.”
Creating	a	Worldview
The	Vedic	rishis	said	that	anything	we	experience	in	the	Akashic	field	was
created	by	our	own	consciousness. Memes	offer	evidence	of	this,	as	a	means
to	create	the	worldview	that	we	then	believe	in. There	may	not	be	much
incentive	to	adapt	to	new	ideas	on	our	own,	but	when	two	worldviews	clash,
as	Western	culture	is	clashing	with	radical	Islam,	the	pressure	to	cling	to	one
worldview	or	the	other	against	outside	threat	is	inescapable. Our	very	survival
is	said	to	depend	upon	it. (I	am	reminded	of	a	CNN	interview	with	a	right-
wing	Christian	operative	from	Indiana	who	said,	“As	long	as	liberals	and
atheists	despise	us,	we	will	never	go	away.”)
Two	people	with	different	worldviews	can	see	the	same	fact	and	give
totally	divergent	interpretations	of	it,	because	no	fact	or	event	is	perceived	by
itself. Walking	down	the	street,	I	may	pass	a	woman	with	bright	red	lipstick,	a
faint	whiff	of	wine	on	her	breath	from	a	lunch	at	a	restaurant,	and	no	hat	onher	head. In	my	worldview,	none	of	these	facts	triggers	any	particular	emotion
or	judgment,	so	this	is	a	neutral	encounter	that	barely	registers	on	me. Therefore	you	might	assume	that	nothing	happened	in	my	brain. Yet,	as	meme
theory	points	out,	a	great	deal	happened	tacitly. The	sight	of	this	woman
entered	my	brain	as	raw	data	along	the	optic	nerve,	but	I	couldn’t	actually
“see”	her	until	that	data	passed	through	my	worldview. Imagine	a	series	of
filters	marked	“memory,”	“beliefs,	“associations,”	and	“judgments.”	Each
filter	alters	the	raw	data	in	some	way,	invisibly	and	instantaneously. Should	a	person	with	a	different	worldview	encounter	the	same	woman,
he	would	“see”	her	through	his	filters. If	he	happened	to	be	
a
	traditional
Muslim	or	a	Victorian	or	a	medieval	monk,	all	the	innocuous	features	that
entered	my	brain—the	lipstick,	the	smell	of	alcohol,	the	absence	of	a	hat—
might	cause	a	violent	reaction	in	his	brain,	and	generate	considerable	stress. A	worldview	provides	fixed	grooves	for	behavior,	which	is	dangerous,
unfortunately,	much	of	the	time. Traits	like	racism	and	warmaking	persist	as
automatic	reflexes. Anatomically	the	human	nervous	system	is	divided	into
two	parts:	the	somatic	and	autonomic	nervous	systems. All	information	in	the
body	that	you	are	conscious	of	comes	from	the	somatic	nervous	system;	all
information	that	you	are	unconscious	of	comes	from	the	autonomic	nervous
system. Memes	occupy	a	fascinating	middle	ground,	a	shadowland. When
you	can’t	get	a	catchy	song	out	of	your	head—one	classic	example	of	meme
behavior—you	are	totally	conscious	of	the	tune	but	unconscious	of	why	you
can’t	get	rid	of	it. This	is	precisely	what	the	Bhagavad-Gita	means	by	the	binding	effect	of
karma. You	may	be	completely	aware	that	you	have	a	certain	trait,	such	as
being	stingy,	irritable,	easily	flattered,	or	self-important,	but	you	cannot	say
why	that	trait	sticks	to	you,	however	much	you	dislike	it. Worldviews	are	built	of	symbols	that	fulfill	a	need. Take	any	charming
thing	in	the	environment—say,	the	late	Princess	Diana. For	her	to	stay	in	your
mind	and	persist	there	longer	than	a	few	moments,	she	must	be	significant	to
you. That	is,	she	is	a	sign	for	something	you	recognize,	and	I	would	add
something	you	value	and	desire. On	a	global	scale	Princess	Diana	symbolized
beauty,	innocence,	vulnerability,	motherhood,	prestige,	sexuality,	and	more. Like	all	the	best	memes,	her	negative	side	was	also	powerfully	symbolic. At
various	stages	she	represented	disability,	illness,	social	liability,	addiction,
naïveté,	wantonness,	infidelity,	and	masochism. By	whatever	name	we	give	them,	memes	are	the	way	we	give	
meaning
	to
experience. They	package	meaning	into	the	building	block	of	reality. Insofar
as	we	are	creators	of	reality,	we	use	these	symbolic	building	blocks	as	our	raw
material. I	find	this	whole	field	of	meme	theory	exciting	because	among	those
scientists	who	cannot	stomach	the	notion	of	inherent	consciousness,	the
parallel	notion	of	memes	is	gaining	considerable	credibility. A	gap	is	closing.The	Vedic	rishis	had	their	own	model	for	what	happens	in	the	mind	field. Thought	forms	that	grip	us	are	
samskaras
,	impressions	made	on	the	nervous
system	by	past	experience. A	young	child	frightened	when	his	mother
forgetfully	left	him	in	a	department	store	might	carry	that	impression,	or
samskara,	for	life. Such	impressions	do	not	have	to	be	negative—a	first	kiss
can,	and	usually	does,	form	a	lasting	samskara. The	concept	of	samskara	goes
beyond	memes	because	it	applies	to	all	mental	experience. Whether	they	are
sensations,	desires,	or	ideas,	impressions	can	go	as	deep	into	the	field	as	the
soul. They	constitute	the	qualities	of	the	self	that	give	each	of	us	an	identity
we	recognize	as	“me.”
Samskaras	can	be	dismantled	or	changed	only	by	affecting	the	right	level
of	the	mind. A	change	at	the	subtlest	level	is	the	most	powerful. J.
Krishnamurti	put	it	beautifully	when	he	said	that	“the	highest	form	of	human
intelligence	is	to	observe	yourself	without	judgment.”	That	is,	if	you	can
stand	aside	from	how	your	beliefs	are	behaving,	how	various	impulses	of
desire	and	repulsion	are	pulling	at	you,	how	the	“stored	consciousness”	of
memory	makes	you	see	the	world,	you	can	witness	the	field	itself. This	is	true
enlightenment. In	many	spiritual	traditions,	such	as	Buddhism,	the	key	seems
to	be	stillness,	detaching	oneself	from	the	internal	dialogue	whose	stream	of
ideas	and	impulses	comes	from	the	past. Witnessing	allows	us	to	see	and
understand	with	an	intelligence	that	is	holistic,	without	a	win-or-lose
orientation. This	gives	us	a	chance	to	experience	the	mind	field,	or	what	we
popularly	call	“having	an	open	mind.”
Can	We	Open	the	Mind? Ultimately,	dying	will	carry	each	of	us	into	the	mind	field,	which	we	will
experience	directly. Yet	our	beliefs,	being	stored	consciousness,	will	follow
us. The	issue	of	an	open	mind	bears	directly	upon	how	much	baggage	we’ll
have	to	carry. I’m	reminded	of	a	question	posed	by	Krishnamurti. When
someone	commented	that	it	was	good	to	have	an	open	mind,	he	asked,	“Is
there	such	a	thing	as	an	open	mind?”	This	was	a	typically	ambiguous	reply,
but	if	the	mind	is	trapped	by	either	memes	or	samskaras,	it	cannot	be	open,
because	of	secondhand	beliefs,	opinions,	judgments,	and	other	mental
“viruses.”	Or	is	there	some	kind	of	new	experience	entirely	beyond	the	realm
of	ingrained	beliefs	and	karmic	impressions? The	most	profound	of	contradictions	is	that	to	reach	enlightenment,	which
is	free	from	past	impressions,	you	have	no	choice	but	to	use	your	brain,	and
the	brain	is	mired	in	its	habit	of	filtering,	choosing,	preferring,	rejecting,	etc. Krishnamurti	stated	this	elegantly	when	he	asked,	“Can	a	fragmented	mind
ever	experience	wholeness?”	The	answer	is	that	it	cannot,	but	all	any	of	us	are
equipped	with	is	a	fragmented	mind. A	mind	made	up	of	memes	andsamskaras. Asserting	that	you	have	an	open	mind	while	someone	else’s	mind
is	closed,	or	claiming	that	you	experience	reality	instead	of	illusion,	seems
like	a	reasonable	statement,	but	in	Krishnamurti’s	terms—which	are	pure
Vedanta—it	is	impossible	to	do	things	like	“trying	to	be	more	open”	or
“trying	to	get	more	real.”	You	are	simply	fighting	with	your	own	divided	self. So	what	is	the	way	out	of	this	paradox? There	is	a	way	to	approach	the
tricky	business	of	opening	your	mind. 1. Know	that	you	are	going	to	identify	with	your	worldview	at	every	stage
of	personal	growth. 2. Accept	that	these	identifications	are	temporary. You	will	never	be	truly
yourself	until	you	reach	unity. 3. Be	willing	to	change	your	identity	every	day. Take	a	flexible	attitude. Don’t	defend	an	“I”	that	you	know	is	just	temporary. 4. Allow	your	ability	to	quietly	observe	without	judgment	to	replace	the
ingrained	ideas	you	reach	for	automatically. 5. When	you	have	the	impulse	to	struggle,	use	that	as	an	immediate	signal
to	let	go. Open	a	space	for	a	new	answer	to	unfold	on	its	own. 6. When	you	can’t	let	go,	forgive	yourself	and	move	on. 7. Use	every	opportunity	to	tell	yourself	that	all	viewpoints	are	valid,
every	experience	valuable,	every	insight	a	moment	of	freedom. These	steps	cultivate	an	open	mind	by	exposing	you	to	the	mind	field
itself,	witnessing	without	judgment. They	will	orient	you	to	the	possibility
that	you	can	be	redefined	continuously. In	other	words,	give	your	allegiance
to	transformation	rather	than	defending	the	status	quo. Now	you	are	ready	to
disassemble	your	worldview. You	are	ready	to	stop	having	a	stake	in	the
world	limited	to	the	narrow	confines	of	I,	me,	and	mine. The	ego-defended
worldview	you	want	to	dismantle	is	organized	in	three	layers:
1
. Energy
2
. Beliefs
3
. Structure
These	three	layers	apply	both	to	the	whole	and	to	its	parts. They	are
inescapably	intertwined	because	the	field	itself	contains	all	three. This	means
that	a	tree	or	a	cloud	is	nothing	but	energy,	information,	and	structure. Your
personality	is	composed	of	the	same	three	elements,	and	so	is	every
experience	in	your	worldview. Energy:
	When	an	experience	gets	stuck	in	your	head,	you	are	holding	on	to
its	energy. Every	experience	has	its	own	energy	pattern,	which	is	reflected	inthe	brain	as	memory,	emotion,	sensation,	etc. When	you	decide	to	recall
something	from	your	childhood,	what	comes	to	mind? Visual	images,	names
and	faces,	all	kinds	of	emotions,	physical	details,	associations,	various
sensations. All	of	these	exist	at	the	level	of	energy. Without	the
electromagnetic	field	vibrating	in	a	certain	way,	specific	experiences	couldn’t
exist. This	stuck	energy	is	cleared	in	many	ways:	through	dreams,	insight,
imagination,	emotional	release,	deep	recollection,	confession,	prayer,
atonement,	meditation,	love,	etc. Beliefs:
	Beliefs	take	us	to	a	subtler	level	of	the	mind. Beliefs	allow	one
experience	but	forbid	another	to	enter. They	are	like	judges	deciding	whether
an	experience	is	positive	or	negative,	right	or	wrong,	desirable	or	undesirable. The	universe	is	doing	a	continuous	dance	with	your	beliefs. What	you	believe
is	reinforced	by	what	you	experience,	but	what	you	experience	also	alters
what	you	believe. Anyone	who	has	wrestled	with	the	question	“Does	he	(or
she)	love	me?”	knows	what	it	feels	like	to	have	tiny	things	like	a	glance	or	a
casual	word	or	an	unreturned	phone	call	confirm	or	destroy	your	belief	in
being	loved. Beliefs	are	cleared	by	being	aware	of	the	sticky	quality	they	possess. Beliefs	aren’t	static;	they	result	in	behavior. So	when	you	watch	your	own
behavior,	you	are	seeing	your	beliefs	at	play. If	a	poor	black	homeless	person
asks	you	for	a	handout	at	night	and	your	response	is	to	say	nothing	and	walk
away,	consider	all	the	beliefs	that	could	be	at	work:	“Black	is	dangerous,	the
night	is	fearful,	strangers	can’t	be	trusted,	any	response	will	get	me	entangled,
poor	people	are	lazy	or	crazy	or	weak,	to	associate	with	them	means	I	will	be
one	of	them	one	day.”	When	you	stop	defending	the	behavior	of	your	beliefs,
they	become	less	sticky. You	regain	freedom	to	think	and	believe	in	a	new
way. Structure:
	Structure	is	the	foundation	of	the	personality. It	includes	your
vision	of	life,	your	purpose	for	being	here,	your	deepest	goals,	your	view	of
physical	existence,	and	your	attitude	toward	pleasure	and	pain. These
profound	things	are	overlooked	because	people	are	too	overwhelmed—and
too	convinced—by	their	beliefs	and	energies. Only	after	you	start	clearing
energy	and	beliefs	can	you	look	at	the	“Why?”	that	is	at	the	bottom	of	your
participation	in	Maya,	or	external	appearance. Why	are	you	alive? What	is
your	overall	purpose? To	what	higher	values	have	you	offered	your
allegiance? These	are	structural	questions,	and	when	you	can	see	them	clearly,
they	bring	their	own	answers. Structure	isn’t	cleared	the	way	stuck	energy	is,	and	it	can’t	be	challenged
the	way	beliefs	can	be. Structure	is	your	vehicle	for	this	lifetime. It’s	the	boatyou	use	to	sail	across	the	ocean	of	space	and	time. Without	it	you	would	have
no	identity	at	all;	you	would	be	a	cloud	of	energy	without	a	center. All	you
can	do	with	your	structure	is	to	“witness”	it. In	that	moment	of	witnessing,
you	reduce	the	“I”	to	its	first	principles. In	other	words,	you	stand	at	the
threshold	where	the	person	meets	the	soul. This	is	an	enormously	liberating
moment	of	recognition. When	you	build	any	new	structure	in	your	mind—for	example,	deciding
to	see	your	life	in	spiritual	terms	or	learning	parenting	skills	after	a	baby	is
born	or	replacing	the	perspective	of	a	victim	with	the	perspective	of	someone
who’s	in	control—you	are	choosing	to	evolve. You	are	taking	advantage	of
certain	subtle	qualities	that	pertain	to	mental	structures	as	revealed	by	the
rishis:
Structures	in	the	mind	organize	energy	so	that	it	serves	the	highest
purpose. They	interface	this	lifetime	with	universal	experience. They	open	you	to	the	higher	self	and	its	transmissions. They	expose	you	to	the	force	of	evolution. To	the	extent	that	you	are	working	on	the	three	levels	of	energy,	beliefs,
and	structure,	you	are	connecting	yourself	to	the	field	directly	and
consciously,	which	is	how	an	open	mind	is	achieved. How	can	you	tell	that
your	work	has	paid	off	and	you	have	gained	an	open	mind? You	know
yourself	as	wholeness	once	and	for	all.15
T
HE
	M
ECHANICS	OF
	C
REATION
AS	MUCH	AS
	we	try	to	explain	it,	what	happens	when	we	die	remains	a	miracle. We	move	from	one	world	to	another,	we	shed	our	old	identity	to	experience	“I
am,”	the	identity	of	the	soul,	and	we	assemble	the	ingredients	of	a	completely
unique	life	in	our	next	body. Science	supports	the	claim	that	the	field	is
capable	of	creative	leaps	and	endless	transformation. An	oxygen	atom,	if	it
could	tell	its	own	story,	would	feel	that	a	miracle	has	occurred	when	it	bonds
with	hydrogen	to	form	water. Its	old	identity	was	gaseous,	its	new	one	is
liquid. Its	old	world	was	in	the	atmosphere,	its	new	one	is	in	oceans,	rivers,
and	clouds. And	what	if	this	water	molecule	happens	to	become	part	of	the
human	brain? Would	oxygen	suddenly	experience	being	conscious? This	question	is	the	final,	most	mysterious	leap	we	have	to	explain. Oxygen,	like	every	other	atom	in	the	brain,	participates	in	consciousness	as	it
courses	through	every	neuron. Yet	to	say	that	oxygen	itself	is	conscious	goes
too	far. So	how	did	consciousness	creep	in	somewhere	between	oxygen	atoms
and	the	cerebral	cortex? This	is	crucial	in	determining	whether	or	not
consciousness	survives	death. As	I’ve	already	argued,	the	answer	doesn’t	lie
in	the	brain. The	brain	is	an	inert	object	formed	of	organic	chemicals. Those
chemicals	can	be	broken	down	into	
more
	basic	molecules	and	atoms. Those
atoms	can	be	broken	down	into	subatomic	particles,	which	can	in	turn	be
broken	down	into	energy	waves	that	have	their	source	in	an	invisible	field. Taking	these	steps	one	at	a	time,	we	get	
further	away
	from	consciousness
rather	than	closer. The	brain	is	aware,	but	we	cannot	say	that	energy	waves
are	aware,	even	though	the	brain	is	ultimately	nothing	but	energy. To	solve
this	enigma,	materialists	argue	that	consciousness	has	no	reality	in	itself;	it	is
just	a	trick	of	the	brain. Does	this	mean	that	if	we	could	download	a	person’s
complete	memory	into	a	supercomputer,	we	would	achieve	life	after	death? Would	the	living	self	continue	to	feel	intact,	experiencing	the	world	just	as
before	but	from	inside	a	machine? This	is	a	perfect	example	of	how	we	can	be	victimized	by	our	own
explanations. Awareness	can’t	be	found	in	information. The	fact	that	a	billion
zeros	and	ones	are	loaded	into	a	computer	won’t	make	it	conscious	unless
each	zero	and	one	is	conscious	already,	which	leads	to	the	absurd	conclusion
that	the	numbers	printed	in	a	math	textbook	are	thinking	about	themselves.You	cannot	explain	consciousness	at	any	level	of	nature	without	running	into
the	same	contradiction. So	do	we	have	to	give	up	on	scientific	explanations	or
is	science	ready	for	insights	that	will	force	it	to	explain	Nature	differently? Creative	Leaps
One	property	we	cherish	in	ourselves	is	the	ability	to	create	something	new. We	come	by	this	honestly. The	appearance	of	life	on	Earth	depended	on	the
sudden	ability	of	a	molecule,	DNA,	to	replicate	itself. No	molecule	before	it
had	ever	done	that. We	can	explain	the	evolution	of	the	universe	entirely	in
terms	of	such	creative	leaps,	or	“emergent	properties.”	Before	oxygen	and
hydrogen	could	discover	how	to	become	water,	the	cosmos	had	to	create
atoms,	which	
weren’t
	present	at	the	Big	Bang,	and	atoms	had	to	turn	into
gases,	solids,	metals,	organic	molecules,	and	so	on. None	of	these	events	were
simple	combinations	like	pouring	sugar	into	water. The	sugar	may	disappear,
but	if	you	evaporate	the	water	you	find	that	the	sugar	has	remained	intact. There’s	no	new	property	in	sugar	water	that	wasn’t	already	present	in	the	two
components	when	they	were	separate. An	emergent	property,	on	the	other	hand,	is	a	creative	leap	that	produces
something	out	of	nothing. In	spiritual	terms	the	cycle	of	birth	and	rebirth	is	a
workshop	for	making	creative	leaps	of	the	soul. The	natural	and	the
supernatural	are	not	doing	different	things	but	are	involved	in	transformation
on	separate	levels. At	the	moment	of	death	the	ingredients	of	your	old	body
and	old	identity	disappear. Your	DNA	and	everything	it	created	devolve	back
to	their	simple	component	parts. Your	memories	dissolve	back	into	raw
information. None	of	this	raw	material	is	simply	recombined	to	produce	a
slightly	altered	person. To	produce	a	new	body	capable	of	making	new
memories,	the	person	who	emerges	must	be	new. You	do	not	acquire	a	new
soul,	because	the	soul	doesn’t	have	content. It’s	not	“you”	but	the	center
around	which	“you”	coalesces,	time	after	time. It’s	your	zero	point. I	was	recently	reminded	of	just	how	uncanny	this	transformation	is. I
know	a	couple	from	Italy	who	suffered	a	terrible	family	tragedy	two	years	ago
when	their	teenage	son,	Enrico,	killed	himself. He	had	gotten	drunk	with
some	friends,	one	of	whom	started	playing	with	his	father’s	handgun. It	went
off	and	Enrico	was	killed. His	family	was	devastated,	all	the	more	when	it
was	suggested	but	never	proved	that	their	son	had	shot	himself	playing
Russian	roulette. A	week	after	he	died	his	mother	went	into	his	bedroom. She	had	the
impulse	to	pray	for	her	son,	and	as	she	knelt	by	his	bed	she	heard	a	noise. A
remote-control	toy	car	of	Enrico’s	had	fallen	off	the	shelf	for	
no
	apparent
reason. It	began	to	run	around	the	floor,	and	the	mother	removed	its	batteries. Still	it	continued	to	run. This	strange	phenomenon	lasted	three	days,	she	toldme. It	was	witnessed	by	the	entire	family,	and	Enrico’s	older	sister,	the	one	he
was	closest	to,	insisted	that	her	brother	was	operating	the	car. She	asked	it
questions,	as	one	would	a	Ouija	board,	and	the	car	would	go	left	or	right	to
signal	yes	or	no. Months	later	Enrico’s	father	happened	to	be	in	India,	and	he	went	to	a
jyotishi
,	or	astrologer. Certain	jyotishis	do	not	cast	your	chart	but	consult
already	written	charts,	many	dating	back	centuries,	that	apply	to	the	person
who	comes	for	a	reading. (This	decision	is	made	according	to	the	time	a
person	appears	and	by	matching	certain	personal	data	with	charts	that	the
astrologer	has	on	hand.) This	was	true	of	my	friend,	who	was	told	the
following	story:	In	his	previous	lifetime	he	had	lived	on	the	west	coast	of
India. He	was	desperate	to	have	a	son,	but	unfortunately	his	wife	was	barren. The	couple	adopted	a	baby	boy	when	suddenly	she	became	pregnant	and	in
time	delivered	a	boy	of	their	own. After	the	biological	son’s	birth,	the	father	began	to	ignore	the	adopted	boy
and	abuse	him. Tormented	by	this,	the	boy	committed	suicide	at	exactly	the
same	age	as	Enrico. The	astrologer	told	my	friend	that	there	was	a	connection
here. The	former	son	was	reborn	as	Enrico,	and	he	committed	suicide	again	to
show	his	father	what	it	was	like	to	lose	a	real	son. Naturally,	my	friend	was
quite	shaken	to	hear	this,	but	when	he	met	me	some	months	later,	he	said	that
the	final	result	was	a	sense	of	peace. He	had	come	to	terms	with	Enrico’s
tragic	death	and	understood	the	karma	behind	it. I	have	no	idea	how	many	readers	will	scoff	at	this	tale	and	how	many	will
consider	it	uncanny	but	possibly	true. To	me,	it	says	a	great	deal	about	how
mysteriously	life	and	death	are	woven	together. They	are	two	aspects	of	the
same	creative	act. Our	brains	are	set	up	
to
	operate	in	time	and	space. We	do
not	witness	the	mechanics	of	creation	outside	that	framework. But	the	life	you
are	experiencing	now,	the	one	that	preceded	it,	and	the	one	that	will	follow
didn’t	appear	out	of	nowhere. They	appeared	through	a	continuous,	evolving
consciousness—the	real	you. There	is	a	gap	between	lifetimes	that	we	cannot
observe,	yet	your	soul	keeps	track	of	you	as	you	enter	the	gap	and	reemerge. Consciousness	doesn’t	lose	track	of	itself;	the	zero	point	of	the	soul	is	just	as
capable	of	correlating	events	across	time	and	space	as	the	Zero	Point	Field	is. In	this	story	father	and	son	remained	joined	across	the	gap	between	birth
and	death. They	unconsciously	recognized	each	other,	they	carried	out	a
common	purpose,	and	they	worked	out	karma	together—all	these	things
defied	death. At	the	same	time	their	physical	bodies,	their	private	memories,
and	their	sense	of	identity	were	transient—these	didn’t	survive	death. Nature
is	built	from	the	same	intricate	relationships. The	oxygen	atoms	locked	in	a
water	molecule	or	in	your	brain	are	still	themselves,	but	they	have	learned	to
relate	in	a	totally	new	way,	making	it	seem	as	if	each	separate	atom	has
vanished—that	is	to	say,	died. I	can’t	emphasize	enough	that	if	science	cannotexplain	the	emergence	of	wetness	from	dryness,	it	cannot	explain	the
emergence	of	consciousness	in	the	brain. True	creative	leaps	are	always
inexplicable	and	therefore	miraculous. The	Source	of	Everything
What	science	should	do	is	hold	the	miracle	under	a	microscope	to	get	closer
to	where	creation	occurs. There	are	faint	physical	traces	to	be	followed	down
to	a	very	subtle	level. It	has	long	been	known	that	the	brain,	and	the	body	as	a
whole,	is	surrounded	by	a	very	weak	electromagnetic	field. With	the	proper
photographic	emulsion,	this	field	can	be	seen	to	glow;	the	minuscule	electric
charge	given	off	by	
neurons
	as	they	fire	is	also	measurable. If	being	conscious
creates	an	energy	field,	can	an	energy	field	display	consciousness? You	would
think	that	since	the	brain	depends	on	electrical	signals,	it	would	be	affected	by
the	murky	soup	of	radio,	television,	microwave,	and	many	other
electromagnetic	emissions	that	surround	us. Apparently	this	isn’t	true. Parapsychology	researchers	have	gone	so	far	as	to	isolate	subjects	with
psychic	abilities	in	Faraday	cages	that	block	all	electromagnetic	energy
without	altering	their	abilities	to	see	at	a	distance	or	exhibit	other	psychic
phenomena. The	case	of	“remote	viewing”	is	especially	intriguing	because	so
much	credible	work	has	been	done	in	this	field. Many	experiments	have	been	conducted	in	remote	viewing,	commonly
called	clairvoyance,	but	one	of	the	most	notable	took	place	at	Stanford
University,	where	scientists	built	a	machine	called	a	SQUID,	or
superconducting	quantum	interference	device. It’s	enough	for	us	to	know	that
this	device,	which	measures	the	activity	of	subatomic	particles,	specifically
quarks,	is	very	well	shielded	from	all	outside	magnetic	forces. This	shielding
begins	with	layers	of	copper	and	aluminum,	but	to	fully	ensure	that	no	outside
force	can	affect	the	mechanism,	exotic	metals	wrap	the	inner	core. In	1972	a	SQUID	was	installed	in	the	basement	of	a	laboratory	at
Stanford,	apparently	doing	nothing	except	tracing	out	the	same	hill-and-valley
S-curve	on	a	length	of	graph	paper. This	curve	represented	the	constant
magnetic	field	of	the	Earth;	if	a	quark	passed	through	the	field	the	machine
would	register	it	with	changes	in	the	pattern	being	drawn. A	young	laser
physicist	named	Hal	Puthoff	(later	to	become	a	noted	quantum	theorist)
decided	that	aside	from	its	main	use,	the	SQUID	would	make	a	perfect	test	of
psychic	powers. Very	few	people,	including	the	scientists	at	Sanford,	knew
the	inner	workings	of	the	machine. A	letter	Puthoff	wrote	in	search	of	a	psychic	who	would	take	up	the
challenge	drew	a	response	from	Ingo	Swann,	a	New	York	artist	
with
	psychic
abilities. Swann	was	flown	to	California	without	being	told	in	advance	about
either	the	test	or	the	SQUID. When	he	first	saw	it,	he	seemed	a	bit	put	off. Buthe	agreed	to	“look”	inside	the	machine,	and	as	he	did,	the	S-curve	on	the
graph	paper	changed	pattern—something	it	almost	never	did—only	to	go
back	to	its	normal	functioning	as	soon	as	Swann	stopped	paying	attention	to
it. A	startled	Puthoff	asked	him	to	repeat	this,	so	for	forty-five	seconds
Swann	concentrated	upon	seeing	the	inside	of	the	machine,	and	for	exactly
that	interval	the	recording	device	drew	a	new	pattern,	a	long	plateau	on	the
paper	instead	of	hills	and	valleys. Swann	then	drew	a	sketch	of	what	he	saw
as	the	inner	workings	of	the	SQUID,	and	when	these	were	checked	with	an
expert,	they	perfectly	matched	the	actual	construction. Swann	was	vague
about	how	he	had	changed	the	magnetic	input	that	the	machine	was	built	to
measure. It	turned	out	that	if	he	merely	thought	about	the	SQUID,	not	trying
to	change	it	at	all,	the	recording	device	showed	alterations	in	the	surrounding
magnetic	field. P
EOPLE	WHO	ARE
	skeptical	of	psychic	abilities	ignore	countless	studies
demonstrating	that	ordinary	thought	can	actually	affect	the	world. This	is
particularly	important	if	mind	is	a	field. I	once	participated	in	a	controlled
experiment	in	which	a	subject	sitting	in	an	isolated	room	(the	sender)	would
intermittently	look	at	a	visual	image,	while	I	(the	receiver)	would	press	a
button	every	time	I	sensed	that	this	was	happening. My	accuracy,	like	most
people’s,	was	far	above	average. (The	British	biologist	Rupert	Sheldrake,	who
more	than	anyone	has	tried	to	explain	how	mind	extends	beyond	the	body,	has
done	similar	experiments. He	has	tested,	for	example,	whether	we	can
actually	sense	when	someone	is	staring	at	us	behind	our	backs. Those
experiments	have	shown	a	greater	than	random	outcome	as	well.) In	a	long	series	of	experiments	in	the	Sixties,	an	FBI	expert	named	Cleve
Backster	hooked	plants	up	to	polygraphs,	knowing	that	lie	detectors	work	by
measuring	changes	of	moisture	on	the	skin	surface. In	his	own	words,	here’s
what	happened	next. Then	at	thirteen	minutes,	fifty-five	seconds	chart	time,	the
imagery	entered	my	mind	of	burning	the	leaf	I	was	testing. I
didn’t	verbalize,	I	didn’t	touch	the	plant,	I	didn’t	touch	the
equipment. The	only	new	thing	that	could	have	been	a	stimulus
for	the	plant	was	the	mental	image. Yet	the	plant	went	wild. The	pen	jumped	right	off	the	top	of	the	chart. This	first	startling	observation	in	February	1966	led	to	a	host	of	follow-
ups	as	Backster	measured	responses	to	cigarette	smoke,	negative	thoughts,
and	strong	emotions;	it	turned	out	that	houseplants	register	how	people	feel
around	them. The	most	remarkable	finding,	perhaps,	was	that	if	Backsterhooked	up	a	pair	of	plants	and	injured	one	plant	in	a	separate	room,	the	other
plant	registered	the	same	disturbance	in	electrical	activity	as	if	it	had	been
injured	itself. The	polygraph	needle	jumped	even	though	the	two	plants	had
no	physical	connection,	and	it	kept	jumping	even	when	the	plants	were
separated	by	a	greater	distance. One	can’t	help	but	be	reminded	of	the	various
studies	in	which	identical	twins	sense	what	is	happening	to	each	other	at	a
distance,	to	the	point	that	one	particular	twin	knew	the	instant	his	brother	was
electrocuted	climbing	a	telephone	pole	and	testified	to	actually	feeling	the
pain	himself. Are	human	twins	paired	through	the	same	complementarity	that
bonds	electrons	in	deep	space? To	say	that	consciousness	is	a	field	creates	only	the	outline	of	a	proof. Nobody	has	accounted	for	the	gap,	and	without	that,	consciousness	remains
totally	mysterious;	in	fact,	so	do	fields. The	gap	is	the	empty	space	between
events;	it	contains	nothing	but	itself,	and	
yet
	it	seems	that	everything	comes
out	of	it. When	we	look	at	DNA	we	are	told	by	geneticists	that	life	emerges
not	from	the	bits	of	amino	acids	strung	on	the	double	helix,	but	from	the
space	between	them. These	spaces	are	little	understood,	but	they	play	a
mysterious	role	in	the	sequence	of	genes. In	physical	terms	the	DNA	of
gorillas	and	humans	differs	by	less	than	1%;	the	gaps	between	visible	matter
create	the	unbridgeable	gulf	between	gorillas	and	humans. In	the	gap	the
source	of	consciousness	must	be	revealed. Sat	Chit	Ananda
The	Vedic	rishis	followed	the	mind	into	the	gap	and	declared	that	three	primal
qualities	were	the	foundation	of	existence:	
Sat	Chit	Ananda
. These	are	usually
translated	as	a	single	phrase,	“eternal	bliss	consciousness,”	or	individually	as
Sat	(existence,	truth,	reality)	Chit	(mind,	awareness)	Ananda	(bliss). But	these
definitions	don’t	help	us	much,	since	they	assume	an	understanding	of	what
we	mean	in	English	by	reality,	truth,	bliss,	and	existence. These	are	far	from
settled. If	you	say,	“It	was	blissful	going	to	Aruba	for	Christmas. It	changed
my	whole	reality,”	your	words	have	meaning	in	everyday	life,	but	they
haven’t	described	Sat	Chit	Ananda. If	we	unfold	what	the	rishis	meant,	they	were	referring	to	an	experience,
which	can	be	summarized	as	follows:	Every	thought	you	have,	as	well	as
every	object	you	see	in	the	world,	is	a	vibration	of	the	universe—the	Sanskrit
term	is	
shubda
. Shubda	creates	light,	sound,	touch,	taste,	and	every	other
quality. In	dreams	you	can	also	see,	hear,	touch,	taste,	and	smell,	but	those
vibrations	are	subtler. They	don’t	have	the	same	feeling	as	concrete	reality. When	you	go	beyond	the	subtle	qualities	of	the	mind,	shubda	becomes	so
faint	that	the	mind	loses	all	experience	of	an	outside	reality,	even	shadowy
wisps	of	memory. Eventually	it	experiences	only	itself,	and	there	aren’t	anyvibrations	at	all. You	are	at	the	source. The	threshold	of	the	source	is	silence. But	you	must	step	over	the
threshold	into	the	room	where	reality	is	born. There	you	find	that	the	raw
materials	are	threefold. Creation	springs	from	existence	(Sat),	consciousness
(Chit),	and	the	potential	for	vibrations	to	arise	(Ananda). These	three	are	the
most	real	things	in	the	universe	because	everything	else	that	we	call	real
comes	from	them. It’s	this	experience	of	the	source,	a	state	beginning	beyond	silence,	that
the	Vedic	rishis	considered	the	field	of	all	fields—what	physicists	call	the
ground	state	or	vacuum	state. Being	pregnant	with	every	possible	flicker	of
energy	in	the	universe,	the	vacuum	state	still	isn’t	Sat	Chit	Ananda. It	has	no
mind,	no	bliss. It	cannot	be	experienced	subjectively. By	leaving	these	factors
out,	physics	leaves	out	the	physicist,	who	pretends	that	he	isn’t	part	of	the
field. John	Wheeler,	an	eminent	Princeton	physicist,	decades	ago	pointed	out
this	flaw:	as	we	make	models	of	the	universe,	he	said,	we	act	like	someone
with	his	nose	pressed	against	the	window	of	a	bakery,	looking	at	everything
on	display	from	the	outside. But	there	is	no	window	separating	the	observer
from	the	universe;	we	are	not	outside	what	we	see. Wheeler’s	suggestion	that	we	must	find	a	science	that	combines
subjectivity	and	objectivity	has	been	meagerly	pursued,	because	science
remains	stubbornly	objective,	and	it	can	afford	to	be	when	conducting
isolated	experiments. Ultimately,	however,	there	is	a	limit	that	cannot	be
crossed,	and	we	are	quite	close	to	it. We	can	face	the	limit	of	knowledge	in	a
simple	problem	like	prayer. By	now	the	public	is	well	aware	that	research	on	prayer	has	validated	that
it	works. In	a	typical	experiment	volunteers,	usually	from	church	groups,	are
asked	to	pray	for	sick	people	in	the	hospital. They	do	not	visit	the	person	and
often	have	only	a	number	rather	than	a	name	to	go	by. The	prayer	isn’t
specific;	they	are	asked	simply	to	pray	for	God’s	help. The	results	of	such
experiments	have	
been
	startlingly	positive. In	the	best-known	one,	conducted
at	Duke	University	in	North	Carolina,	patients	who	were	prayed	for	recovered
faster	and	with	fewer	side	effects	than	those	not	prayed	for. Here	we	have	one
more	demonstration	that	we	are	all	connected	by	the	same	field	of
consciousness. The	properties	of	the	field	operate	here	and	now:
The	field	works	as	a	whole. It	correlates	distant	events	instantly. It	remembers	all	events. It	exists	beyond	time	and	space. It	creates	entirely	within	itself. Its	creation	grows	and	expands	in	an	evolutionary	direction. It	is	conscious.The	Vedic	rishis	began	with	these	qualities	as	their	first	principles;	in	that
regard	they	were	wiser	than	we	are,	with	our	reluctance	to	admit
consciousness	unless	we	are	forced	to	at	the	far	limits	of	a	difficult	scientific
issue. The	field	of	consciousness	is	primary	to	every	phenomenon	in	Nature
because	of	the	gap	that	exists	between	every	electron,	every	thought,	every
instant	in	time. The	gap	is	the	reference	point,	the	stillness	at	the	heart	of
creation,	where	the	universe	correlates	all	events. Has	science	proved	that	the	rishis	were	right? I	think	the	most	we	can	say
—and	it	is	a	lot—is	that	science	and	the	rishis	are	consistent	with	each	other. They	come	from	different	worlds	but	see	with	the	same	vision—almost. Science	is	still	burdened	by	spiritual	materialism,	the	belief	that	any
explanation	of	God,	the	soul,	or	the	afterlife	is	valid	only	if	matter	contains
the	secret. This	is	like	saying	we	can’t	understand	jazz	until	we	diagram	the
atoms	in	Louis	Armstrong’s	trumpet. In	the	end,	a	book	on	the	afterlife	cannot	fully	reconcile	us	with	the
inevitability	of	death. It	can	only	lead	the	way	to	finding	personal	comfort	on
your	own. You	and	I	are	unique	people	and	therefore	very	different. I	may	be
consoled	by	a	vision	of	eternity	that	is	foreign	or	even	frightening	to	you. I
may	mourn	my	aging	body	more	than	you,	or	less. We	each	have	our	own
personal	view	of	God. Yet	we	are	bound	together	in	the	field	of
consciousness,	and	we	do	the	same	work	there. We	need	to	see	that	we	are	all	entangled	in	the	same	reality. Isolation	has
been	outmoded	on	every	front,	from	ecology	to	the	Internet. We	need	to
remember	our	common	source. The	human	spirit	is	degraded	when	we
confine	ourselves	to	the	span	of	a	lifetime	and	the	enclosure	of	a	physical
body. We	are	mind	and	spirit	first,	and	that	places	our	home	beyond	the	stars. Knowing	that	I	will	return	to	the	field	one	day	to	find	my	source	provides
me	with	immeasurable	confidence	in	the	purpose	of	life. As	fervently	as	any
devout	believer,	I	have	faith	in	this	vision. My	faith	is	renewed	every	time	I
have	a	moment	of	witnessing,	in	which	I	can	touch	the	silence	of	my	own
being. Then	I	lose	all	fear	of	death—indeed,	I	touch	death	right	now,	and
gladly. Tagore	said	it	so	movingly:
When	I	was	born	and	saw	the	light
I	was	no	stranger	in	this	world
Something	inscrutable,	shapeless,	and	without	words
Appeared	in	the	form	of	my	mother
. So	when	I	die,	the	same	unknown	will	appear	again
As	ever	known	to	me
,
And	because	I	love	this	life
I	will	love	death	as	well
.Without	death	there	can	be	no	present	moment,	for	the	last	moment	has	to
die	to	make	the	next	one	possible. There	can	be	no	
present
	love,	for	the	last
emotion	has	to	die	to	make	a	new	one	possible. There	can	be	no	present	life,
for	the	old	cells	in	my	body	have	to	die	to	make	new	tissue	possible. This	is
the	miracle	of	creation,	which	in	every	second	is	one	thing:	life	and	death
joined	in	an	eternal	dance. It	would	be	a	catastrophe	to	exclude	death	from	the
dance. That	would	guarantee	a	universe	with	no	chance	for	renewal. Fortunately,	creation	wasn’t	set	up	that	way. We	live	in	an	endlessly	re-
created	universe. On	the	other	side	of	our	fears	and	doubts,	our	deepest	prayer
should	not	be	for	life,	which	we	have	in	abundance. It	should	be	a	prayer	to
lead	the	cosmic	dance,	for	then	the	angels	and	gods	themselves	will	have
someone	to	follow.E
PILOGUE
M
AHA
	S
AMADHI
THE	MONSOON	RAINS
	swept	down	from	the	mountain	overnight. Ramana	could
hear	it	in	his	sleep	like	warm	dull	thunder	on	the	roof,	or	the	knocking	of	the
gods. It	was	loud	enough	to	make	him	restless	but	not	to	wake	him	up
completely. He	had	dim	thoughts	of	closing	the	window	by	his	bed. He
remembered	the	small	hole	in	the	roof	that	needed	a	bucket	underneath	to
catch	the	drip. Yet	for	some	reason	he	couldn’t	feel	rain	splashing	from	the
windowsill	and	heard	no	dripping	sound. Strange
,	he	thought	drowsily. The	dull	thunder	continued,	hour	after	hour. Too	many	hours. Ramana
opened	his	eyes,	flicking	his	gaze	to	the	windowsill	and	the	place	under	the
hole	in	the	roof. Both	were	dry. Where	was	the	water? Why	was	it	still
thundering? Then	he	knew. It	
was
	the	gods	knocking. Death	had	come	like	the
monsoons,	the	season	of	year	Ramana	loved	the	best. He	wasn’t	surprised	that
he	could	still	feel	his	body	or	that	the	room	was	intact. His	old	master,	who
had	died	sixty	years	ago,	told	him	how	things	would	be. Sixty	years? Could
that	be	right? Suddenly	Ramana	couldn’t	remember	how	old	he	was	himself. Seventy-five,	eighty? This	confusion	triggered	a	change. His	body	began	to
feel	lighter,	as	if	age	were	slipping	
away
. He	was	rising,	the	whole	room	was
rising,	in	fact,	and	the	dull	thunder	began	to	fade. Ramana	wondered	if	he	was	about	to	disappear,	but	the	world	saved	him
the	trouble	by	disappearing	first. He	had	never	much	believed	in	the	world,	so
this	didn’t	surprise	him. For	one	last	moment	he	was	still	in	bed,	looking	out
the	window	at	a	sky	that	turned	from	blue	to	a	soft	white,	and	then	there	was
only	whiteness	and	no	room. He	looked	down,	and	his	body	was	gone	too. It
had	slipped	away	so	easily	that	he	was	reminded	of	something	his	master	had
told	him:	“The	body	is	like	a	cloak. For	the	enlightened,	dying	is	like	letting
the	cloak	fall	to	the	floor. For	the	unenlightened,	it	is	like	ripping	off	a	cloak
that	is	sewn	on.”
What	would	slip	away	next? Ramana	could	still	pose	mental	questions,	so
his	mind	hadn’t	left	him. He	saw	himself	as	a	boy	of	twelve,	when	he	first
met	his	master,	who	lived	in	the	same	forest	retreat	that	became	his	after	the
master	died. The	old	man	sitting	in	lotus	position	on	a	worn	deerskin	had	said,
“Do	you	want	to	learn	from	me?”	The	boy	nodded. “Is	it	because	your	parentsthink	it	would	be	a	good	thing?”	The	boy	nodded	again. Then	the	master
waved	his	hand,	sending	Ramana’s	parents	out	of	the	room. When	they	were	alone,	the	master	said,	“Come	to	me	when	it’s	your
desire,	not	that	of	your	parents.”
“Why?”	Ramana	asked. “My	parents	only	want	what’s	good	for	me.”
“That’s	not	enough,”	the	master	replied. “You	can’t	be	with	me	and
remain	like	ordinary	people. Ordinary	people	need	the	support	of	family,	or
they	would	die	of	loneliness. They	need	the	support	of	society,	or	they	would
have	no	friends	or	spouse. They	need	the	support	of	their	bodies,	or	they
would	starve. And	most	of	all,	they	need	the	support	of	their	minds,	or	they
would	go	crazy.”
“I	don’t	see	why	you’re	telling	me	this,”	said	the	boy. “Because	if	you	lose	family,	friends,	your	body,	and	your	mind—all	of
which	you	must—I	don’t	want	you	to	die. I	want	you	to	be	free.”
The	boy	didn’t	come	back	for	ten	years,	and	even	then	the	master	laughed
and	said	he	had	been	quick	about	it. “After	what	I	told	you,	most	people
would	stay	away	forever.”	During	his	period	as	a	disciple	Ramana	had	found
the	teaching	difficult. He	often	stumbled	but	never	fell. Everything	his	master
foretold	came	true. The	time	came	when	the	disciple	no	longer	needed	the
support	of	his	family. But	this	wasn’t	a	loss,	because	he	now	saw	them	with
great	compassion. He	didn’t	need	the	support	of	society,	but	this	wasn’t	a	loss,
because	he	saw	himself	as	part	of	all	humanity. He	didn’t	need	the	support	of
his	physical	body,	but	this	wasn’t	a	loss,	because	his	body	took	care	of	itself
better	when	he	stopped	worrying	about	it. The	one	thing	Ramana	never	quite	gave	up	was	the	support	of	his	mind. “Ah,	you	fear	that	without	a	mind	you	will	die,”	his	master	said	patiently. Ramana	adopted	the	same	patience. He	learned	to	go	inward	in	
samadhi
	to
experience	silence,	and	over	the	years	this	became	home	to	him,	a	place	free
of	the	constant	activity	of	the	mind. On	the	day	his	master	died,	Ramana	knelt	by	his	bed	and	wept. “So	you
imagine	that	I	am	leaving	you,”	his	master	whispered. “Your	mind	still	has
you	in	its	spell.”	He	said	this	affectionately,	not	in	reproof,	and	that	consoled
Ramana. An	hour	later	his	master	went	into	the	deepest	of	all	silences,	
maha
samadhi
. Ramana	could	remember	all	these	things	now	that	he	too	had	died. He
looked	around. There	was	no	one	to	greet	him,	no	family,	not	even	his	master. For	a	second	a	shiver	of	fear	gripped	him,	then	it	faded,	and	with	it	the	power
to	think. Ramana	didn’t	even	get	to	think,	
There	goes	my	mind
. He	slipped
effortlessly	to	where	mind	was	no	longer	needed. There	was	no	whiteness
around	him	anymore,	but	even	this	perception	lasted	for	only	an	instant,
because	there	was	no	darkness,	either. When	his	mind	slipped	away,	it	took
light	and	dark	with	it.Now	he	was	enveloped	in	silence,	which	came	as	an	indescribable	relief. Like	thieves	in	the	night,	whole	worlds	wanted	to	enter	him	and	take	his
silence	away. But	all	they	could	do	was	glance	off	him	ever	so	lightly,	like
feathers	off	a	rock. He	was	impenetrable	now. There	was	no	universe	and	no
God,	no	divine	presence,	no	love. He	lingered	like	that,	in	the	womb	of	the	timeless,	for	a	while. Then
Ramana	felt	a	soft	breath,	and	it	beckoned	him	back. He	was	stirring	to	life
again. Not	because	he	wanted	to	live	on	earth,	for	that	would	have	been	a
thought. The	breath	was	its	own	reason. There	was	a	split	second	when	he
could	choose	not	to	return. Eternal	peace	was	just	as	possible	as	another
lifetime. Only	then	did	he	realize	that	he	was	free	at	last. Human	life	could	be	his
again,	only	now	he	also	would	have	eternal	peace,	the	two	together. Ramana
smiled	to	himself,	if	one	can	say	that	the	cosmos	smiles. The	breathing	grew
louder. He	relaxed	and	let	it	carry	him	downward	back	to	earth. One	breath,
then	another,	always	louder,	until	it	became	like	the	monsoons	drifting	down
the	mountain,	or	the	knocking	of	the	gods. He	couldn’t	see	what	family	he
would	be	born	into,	but	Ramana	knew	his	new	purpose:	to	show	these
dreaming	humans,	whom	he	loved	so	much,	how	to	wake	up.READING	NOTES
There	will	never	be	a	definitive	book	on	the	afterlife,	which	I	think	is	good,
because	no	single	book	will	ever	convince	skeptics	or	console	everyone	who
has	wondered	what	happens	after	death. What	might	change	society’s	fear	and
doubt	is	a	rising	tide	of	evidence. Below	I	have	listed	every	book	and	Web
site	that	helped	me	write	this	book. They	constitute	a	mountain	of	evidence
that	life	continues	after	death;	more	important,	each	one	is	a	symptom	of
rising	consciousness. Too	long	has	death	been	a	mysterious	subject. The	best	I
can	hope	for	is	to	shed	a	little	light	into	that	darkness,	but	I	couldn’t	have
done	it	without	the	countless	other	people	trying	to	shed	the	same	light. Chapter	1:	Death	at	the	Door
We	have	entered	a	new	era	in	research	where	the	Internet	has	become	as
valuable	as	standard	book	references. Besides	Googling	any	general	topic
(e.g.,	ghosts,	near-death	experiences,	heaven)	at	
www.google.com
,	one	can
turn	to	the	ever-expanding	online	encyclopedia	at	
www.wikipedia.com
. The
only	flaw	with	Web	references	is	that	they	tend	to	be	overwhelming	in
number	but	sometimes	shallow	in	coverage. The
	great	virtue	of	online
referencing	is	that	the	reader	can	go	deeper	than	the	author	on	any	particular
topic	with	the	push	of	a	button. I	touched	only	briefly	on	the	physical	changes	caused	by	death. Sherwin
B.	Nuland	won	a	National	Book	Award	on	the	subject	with	
How	We	Die:
Reflections	on	Life’s	Final	Chapter
	(Knopf,	1994). Nuland,	a	senior	Yale
physician,	goes	into	clinical	detail	about	the	biology	of	the	dying	process,
covering	heart	disease,	cancer,	Alzheimer’s,	and	AIDS,	among	other	topics,	in
his	exploration	of	how	every	person’s	death	is	as	unique	as	his	life. Spiritual	experiences	also	cause	physical	changes,	making	them	just	as
real,	if	you	are	a	materialist,	as	the	changes	caused	by	death. An	early	popular
book	on	the	subject	is	Nona	Coxhead,	
Mindpower
	(Penguin,	1976),	which
emphasizes	research	into	ESP	and	other	areas	of	parapsychology. For	a
contemporary	study	of	how	current	breakthroughs	in	brain	science	are
changing	our	view	of	consciousness,	I	turned	to	Joseph	Chilton	Pearce,	
The
Biology	of	Transcendence:	A	Blueprint	for	the	Human	Spirit
	(Park	Street
Press,	2002),	which	is	refreshingly	humane	and	far-ranging. Pearce	writes	for
the	general	reader	and	intersperses	neurology	with	intriguing	anecdotes. I	have	tried	to	be	as	nontechnical	as	possible	when	discussing	the	vast
philosophical	system	known	as	Vedanta. Readers	who	want	to	go	back	to	thesource	should	begin	with	
The	Concise	Yoga	Vasistha
	(State	University	of	New
York	Press,	1984),	in	a	clear	and	readable	translation	by	Swami
Venkatesananda. This	great	work	describes	the	education	of	Lord	Rama,	an
incarnation	of	God	in	human	form,	at	the	feet	of	an	immortal	rishi,	Vasistha,
who	tells	his	young	pupil	all	the	Vedantic	knowledge	about	death,
reincarnation,	and	the	projection	of	all	worlds	from	the	Self. I’ve	kept	this
book	at	my	side	for	many	years. T
EXT	NOTE:
p.	25
	Modern	attempts	to	weigh	the	soul	at	the	moment	of	death	are	discussed
online	at	
http://www.snopes.com/religion/soulweight.asp
. Chapter	2:	The	Cure	for	Dying
The	story	of	the	Tibetan	delog	Dawa	Drolma	is	recounted	by	her	son
Chagdud	Tulku	in	his	introduction	to	her	book,	
Delog:	Journey	into	Realms
Beyond	Death
	(Padma	Publishing,	1995). This	is	the	best	entry	into	personal
experiences	of	the	Bardo	that	I’ve	found. The	classic	work	on	death	and	dying
in	the	Tibetan	tradition	is	the	now-famous	Tibetan	Book	of	the	Dead. It	may
strike	many	Westerners	as	too	exotic	and	detailed	in	its	Buddhist	ritualism,
which	is	the	product	of	many	centuries	of	religious	practice. More	accessible
is	Sogyal	Rinpoche,	
The	Tibetan	Book	of	Living	and	Dying
(HarperSanFrancisco,	1993),	which	covers	the	same	ground. Near-death	experiences	were	introduced	to	the	public	in	the	1970s	through
several	bestsellers,	one	of	them	being	the	immensely	popular	
Life	After	Life
by	Raymond	Moody	(Mockingbird	Books,	1975),	a	quick	read	that	still
retains	the	excitement	of	a	physician	who	has	just	discovered	a	remarkable
phenomenon. Since	then	the	literature	on	NDEs	has	grown	enormously. A
great	deal	of	it	is	summarized	and	updated	on	a	Web	site,	
www.near-
death.com
. This	site	gives	details	of	some	of	the	most	prominent	and	widely
publicized	experiences,	but	it	branches	much	further	into	almost	every	aspect
of	death	and	the	afterlife. The	near-death	experiences	of	children	are	particularly	fascinating
because	they	are	considered	to	be	innocent,	unbiased	witnesses. Of	the	several
books	on	the	subject,	I	turned	to	another	physician’s	book,	Melvin	Morse,
Closer	to	the	Light:	Learning	from	the	Near-Death	Experiences	of	Children
(Ivy	Books,	1990). Dr.	Morse	has	several	other	titles	in	the	near-death	field. Another	notable	writer	is	P.	M.	H.	Atwater;	
the
	book	of	hers	I	read	was
Beyond	the	Light:	The	Mysteries	and	Revelations	of	Near-Death	Experiences
(Avon	Books,	1994). The	mainstay	of	such	books,	of	which	there	are	dozens,
are	real-life	stories	told	firsthand	by	those	who	have	come	back	fromclinically	dying. The	best	clinical	study	on	NDEs	was	conducted	in	Holland	by	Dr.	Pim
van	Lommel. It	is	well	described	in	Mary	Roach,	
Spook:	Science	Tackles	the
Afterlife
	(W.	W.	Norton,	2005),	a	book	told	from	the	perspective	of	a	bemused
journalist. An	even	more	detailed	account,	told	without	the	bemusement,	can
be	found	online	at	
www.odemagazine.com/article.php?aID=4207&l=en
. T
EXT	NOTES:
p.	37
	The	percentage	of	Americans	who	tell	pollsters	they’ve	had	a	near-death
experience	is	cited	in	the	online	article	“Religious	Interpretations	of	Near-
Death	Experiences”	by	David	San	Filippo:	
http://www.lutz-
sanfilippo.com/library/counseling/lsfnde.html
. The	doctoral	essay
contains	many	other	academic	references	to	the	NDE	phenomenon	as
well. p.	38
	The	story	of	the	historical	delog	Lingza	Chokyi	is	told	at
http://www.inference.phy.cam.ac.uk/mackay/info-theory/course.html
. p.	42
	“Science	isn’t	about	knowing	the	mind	of	God	…”	is	quoted	from	“What
Was	God	Thinking? Science	Can’t	Tell”	by	Eric	Cornell	(
Time
,	Nov.	14,
2005,	p.	100). p.	43
	“At	that	moment	these	people	are	not	only	conscious	…”	is	quoted	from
an	online	interview	with	van	Lommel	at
http://www.odemagazine.com/article.php?aID=4207&l=en
. Chapter	3:	Death	Grants	Three	Wishes
Religious	belief	is	a	vast	topic,	but	for	a	thumbnail	sketch	of	where	religion	is
headed	in	modern	America,	I	consulted	a	leading	poll,	
The	Next	American
Spirituality:	Finding	God	in	the	Twenty-First	Century
,	by	George	
Gallup
	Jr.
(Cook	Communications,	2000). The	Gallup	organization	is	dedicated	to
documenting	the	actual	beliefs	of	every	faith	around	the	globe,	which	is
especially	needed	in	the	Islamic	world,	where	reliable	data	has	been	scarce,
even	in	recent	years. You	can	do	your	own	browsing	of	opinions	across	the
board	on	Google,	entering	topic	phrases	like	“church	attendance”	or	“believe
they	will	go	to	heaven.”
T
EXT	NOTE:
p.	49
	Figures	about	church	attendance	in	the	United	States	come	from	an
online	article:	
http://www.religioustolerance.org/rel_rate.htm
. Chapter	4:	Escaping	the	NooseI	didn’t	rely	on	any	specific	book	for	the	Christian	conception	of	heaven,	but
for	official	theological	answers	I	consulted	
The	Catholic	Encyclopedia
,	which
“proposes	to	give	its	readers	full	and	authoritative	information	on	the	entire
cycle	of	Catholic	interests,	action	and	doctrine.”	The	home	page	for	the
encyclopedia	is	
http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/
. I	did	not	explore	the
thicket	of	contrasting	beliefs	stemming	from	Protestant	theology,	although	as
always	there	were	many	helpful	articles	at	Wikipedia. For	anyone	who	wants	to	browse	the	religious	landscape,	the	easiest	way
to	begin	is	to	take	a	question	like	“Where	is	heaven?”	or	“What	is	heaven
like?”	and	enter	it	at	Google—innumerable	results	crop	up. One	can	browse
the	beliefs	of	various	denominations	online	at
http://www.religioustolerance.org/heav_hel.htm
. The	vagaries	of	the	Old	Testament	God,	with	his	many	faces	and	changes
of	mood,	are	thoroughly	covered	in	Jack	Miles,	
God:	A	Biography
	(Vintage,
1996). The	book	is	nonreligious,	treating	the	Old	Testament	as	source
material	in	the	life	of	a	fascinating,	captious,	mercurial	person	who	happens
to	be	God. When	I	contend	that	Jesus	often	sounds	like	a	Vedic	rishi,	I	have	in	mind
the	Book	of	Thomas	and	other	Gnostic	gospels. The	fascinating	history	of
how	these	seminal	Christian	writings	came	to	be	unearthed	accidentally	by	a
wandering	Egyptian	shepherd	in	1945,	and	their	subsequent	suppression	by
the	Church,	is	told	best	by	Elaine	Pagels	in	
The	Gnostic	Gospels
	(Vintage,
1989). Hers	is	one	of	those	exceptional	books	on	religion	that	hugely
influence	public	opinion;	it	came	as	a	revelation	that	the	Christian	tradition
had	an	early,	authentic	mystical	tradition	that	allowed	women	full	status	and
told	an	alternate	Christ	story	that	doesn’t	end	with	suffering	and	dying	on	the
cross. For	anyone	who	wishes	to	read	every	single	word	attributed	to	Christ	in
any	gospel,	official	or	unofficial,	an	invaluable	source	is	Ricky	Alan	Mayotte,
The	Complete	Jesus
	(Steerforth	Press,	1997). It	is	usefully	arranged	by	topics,
such	as	Commandments,	Parables,	Jesus	Speaking	About	Himself,	etc. Chapter	5:	The	Path	to	Hell
One	of	the	major	points	I	emphasize	throughout	this	book	is	that	the	afterlife
is	still	evolving,	as	it	must	since	life	as	a	whole	is	always	evolving. This	is
true	of	hell,	too,	as	described	in	Alice	K.	Turner,	
The	History	of	Hell
	(Harvest,
1995),	a	readable	survey	compiled	by	a	freelance	journalist. Similar	surveys
on	both	heaven	and	hell	have	appeared	regularly,	but	a	more	in-depth
reference	is	Elaine	Pagels,	
The	Origin	of	Satan
	(Vintage,	1996). Her	approach
is	to	trace	Satan,	not	as	a	real	personage	but	as	a	concept	whose	basis	can	be
found	in	anthropology,	psychology,	and	literary	analysis.
Life_After_Death_by_Deepak_Chopra.txt
Summarize the following text section accurately and concisely. Maintain specific details and numerical information, and use anti-repetition mechanisms:

        Henry	Stapp,	a	theoretical	physicist	from	Berkeley;	Jeffrey	Schwartz,	a
neuropsychiatrist	at	UCLA;	and	Mario	Beauregard,	a	psychologist	from	the
University	of	Montreal,	have	crossed	disciplines	to	formulate	a	workable
theory	of	“quantum	mind”	that	may	revolutionize	how	mind	and	brain	relate
to	each	other. Central	to	their	theory	is	“neuroplasticity,”	the	notion	that	brain
cells	are	open	to	change,	flexibly	responding	to	will	and	intention. They	acknowledge,	to	begin	with,	the	usual	scientific	explanation	that
“the	mind	is	what	the	brain	does,”	but	there	are	many	flaws	in	such	an
explanation,	as	we	have	seen. They	propose,	therefore,	that	exactly	the
opposite	is	true. Mind	is	the	controller	of	the	brain. In	
their
	view,	the	mind	is
like	an	electron	cloud	surrounding	the	nucleus	of	an	atom. Until	an	observer
appears,	electrons	have	no	physical	identity	in	the	world;	there	is	only	the
amorphous	cloud. In	the	same	way,	imagine	that	there	is	a	cloud	of
possibilities	open	to	the	brain	at	every	moment	(consisting	of	words,
memories,	ideas,	and	images	it	could	choose	from). When	the	mind	gives	a
signal,	one	of	these	possibilities	coalesces	from	the	cloud	and	becomes	a
thought	in	the	brain,	just	as	an	energy	wave	collapses	into	an	electron. Like
the	quantum	field	generating	real	particles	from	virtual	ones,	the	mind
generates	real	brain	activity	from	virtual	activity. What	makes	this	reversal	important	is	that	it	fits	the	facts. Neurologists
have	verified	that	a	mere	intention	or	purposeful	act	of	will	alters	the	brain. Stroke	victims,	for	example,	can	force	themselves,	with	the	aid	of	a	therapist,
to	use	only	their	right	hand	if	paralysis	has	occurred	on	that	side	of	the	body. Willing	themselves	day	after	day	to	favor	the	affected	part,	they	can	gradually
cause	the	damaged	sites	in	the	brain	to	heal. Similar	results	have	been	found
with	aging. Older	people	who	have	begun	to	show	signs	of	senile	dementia
such	as	memory	loss	can	slow	down	and	even	reverse	their	symptoms	by
exercising	their	brains	(one	software	manufacturer	has	even	brought	out	a
“brain	gym,”	a	program	that	looks	like	a	video	game	but	in	fact	consists	of
exercises	that	strengthen	specific	areas	of	the	brain). Children	born	with
cerebral	palsy	have	recently	regained	use	of	their	paralyzed	limbs	through
similar	therapies	in	which	the	unaffected	arm,	for	example,	was	kept	in	a
sling,	forcing	the	child	to	use	the	paralyzed	arm;	in	time,	the	brain	healed
itself. It	showed	neuroplasticity. Putting	mind	before	brain	may	have	many	far-reaching	consequences	in
medical	therapies. For	example,	patients	suffering	from	obsessive-compulsive
disorder	(OCD)	are	routinely	treated	with	psychotropic	drugs	like	Prozac. Symptoms	improve,	and	physical	evidence	for	that	can	be	found	through
brain	scans;	the	parts	of	the	brain	that	malfunction	in	OCD	start	to	become
more	normal	on	the	drug. But
	obsessive-compulsive	patients	sometimes	seek
relief	through	talk	therapy	instead. These	patients	frequently	improve,	yet
only	recently	did	anyone	examine	their	brains	with	MRIs	and	PET	scans,	and
what	they	discovered	is	startling:	the	same	impaired	regions	that	become
more	normal	with	Prozac	also	become	more	normal	with	talk	therapy. (
Jeffrey	Schwartz	is	an	expert	in	OCD	and	based	the	new	theory	in	part	on
such	brain	scans. ) In	other	words,	the	process	of	reflection	and	insight	through	therapy
changed	the	patients’	brain	cells. This	is	exactly	what	was	predicted	by	the
new	theory	of	quantum	mind. But	the	answer	was	there	all	along. The	mind
has	always	been	able	to	change	the	brain. If	a	person	suddenly	loses	a	loved
one	or	is	fired	from	his	job,	sudden	severe	depression	often	follows. Depression	is	rooted	in	abnormal	uptake	of	the	brain	chemical	serotonin. This
physcial	imbalance	is	what	antidepressants	are	typically	designed	to	correct. Yet	when	someone	loses	a	loved	one	or	gets	fired,	isn’t	it	obvious	that	the
chemical	imbalance	came	about	after	the	bad	news. Reacting	to	bad	news	is	a
mental	event. Indeed,	the	entire	world	we	inhabit	of	words	and	thoughts
creates	infinite	brain	changes	in	all	of	us	every	moment. If	mind	comes	before	brain,	then	what	if	mind	belongs	to	all	of	us. I	can
say	“my	brain,”	but	I	can’t	say	“my	quantum	field. ”	There	is	growing
evidence	that	in	fact	we	do	share	the	same	mind	field. This	would	go	far	to
support	the	existence	of	heavens	and	hells,	Bardo	and	Akashic	memory,
extending	far	beyond	the	brain. To	begin	with,	we	need	to	examine	the	kinds
of	ideas	that	people	share	as	a	group. The	brain	belongs	to	“me,”	but	if	ideas
belong	to	“us,”	then	we	are	participating	together	in	a	field,	sometimes	quite
mysteriously. The	Brain	Beyond	Boundaries
The	human	brain	processes	only	a	fraction	of	the	information	available	to	it. By	some	estimates	the	brain	receives	6	billion	bits	of	data	
per
	second	(such	as
sound	vibrations,	photons,	X-ray	and	gamma	radiation,	electromagnetic	static,
and	various	chemical	and	electrical	signals	from	the	immediate	environment),
a	floodtide	that	gets	squeezed	into	the	trickle	of	experience	we	actually	notice
and	respond	to. But	what	we	notice	isn’t	the	same	as	what	we	know. For
example,	some	so-called	idiot	savants	with	very	low	IQs	can	instantaneously
compute	long	strings	of	numbers,	tell	the	day	of	the	week	that	any	date	fallson	in	the	future,	remember	every	detail	of	their	past,	or	learn	difficult
languages	with	incredible	fluency. (One	savant	mastered	Finnish,	Arabic,	and
Mandarin	at	a	young	age,	and	only	afterward	did	his	caregivers	realize	he	had
been	learning	these	languages	on	his	own	despite	the	fact	that	he’d	held	the
books	upside	down. ) Such	savants	often	lack	even	the	most	basic	capacity	in
other	areas. One	well-documented	type	of	savant	is	able	to	perform	music	or
paint	pictures	with	extraordinary	facility	but	cannot	calculate	change	from	a
purchase,	or	tie	their	shoes	without	help. When	sudden	artistic	abilities	began	to	appear	in	a	small	percentage	of
normal	people	who	suffer	from	brain	tumors	and	other	neurological	disorders,
researchers	looked	at	the	brains	of	savants	and	discovered	that	they,	too,
displayed	brain	abnormalities,	particularly	in	the	right	temporal	lobe. To	my
knowledge,	the	current	explanation	for	“savant	syndrome”	now	centers	on
such	physical	abnormalities. Thus	it	seems	that	when	the	brain’s	filtering
system	is	impaired,	reality	expands	in	some	areas	while	it	contracts	in	others. All	kinds	of	abilities	may	inexplicably	exceed	the	norm. Joseph	Chilton
Pearce,	a	specialist	in	child	development,	writes	about	the	savant	syndrome	in
his	book	
The	Biology	of	Transcendence. He	makes	several	striking	points. The	first	is	that	most	children	with	savant	syndrome	don’t	perform	on	their
own	but	respond	when	asked. The	second	is	that	they	are	not	especially
interested	in	the	wider	area	of	their	extraordinary	ability. If	you	sit	down	and
ask	a	savant	what	day	of	the	week	March	12,	2163,	falls	on,	it’s	like	talking	to
a	machine. The	child	
goes
	inward	for	a	few	seconds,	then	pops	up	with	the
answer,	but	might	have	little	interest	in	simple	math. A	calendar	savant	might
not	be	able	to	multiply	12	by	12. The	normal	brain	filters	out	information	for	good	reason—it	takes	narrow
experience	to	form	a	self,	a	separate	person	with	limited	beliefs,	goals,
memories,	likes,	and	dislikes. We	deliberately	reject	huge	portions	of
information,	but	a	damaged	brain	is	exposed	to	everything	through	its
inability	to	select	and	filter. Pearce	is	particularly	intrigued	by	how	an
“automobile	savant”	could	take	one	look	at	a	parking	lot	and	tell	you	the
make,	model,	and	year	of	every	car	in	it	without	being	able	to	read. How	does
he	know	this	without	reading	magazines	that	feature	the	latest	models,
including	European	models	that	had	received	no	publicity	in	the	United
States. It	seems	as	if	these	savant	children	are	accessing	the	mind	field. Genius	is	another	way	to	access	the	field	beyond	normal	abilities. Musical
prodigies	like	Mozart	can	see	whole	symphony	scores	in	their	heads. One
such	prodigy	now	enrolled	in	the	Juilliard	program	for	composers	has	been
able	to	switch	between	four	channels	of	music	in	his	head	since	early
childhood;	when	asked	to	write	a	new	sonata	for	violin,	he	simply	turned	to
the	appropriate	channel	and	took	dictation. A	direct	link	to	the	field	of
information	seems	possible,	then,	and	we	move	closer	to	the	possibility	thatthe	brain	is	the	receiver	of	mind,	not	its	creator. This	is	important	to	the	afterlife	because	upon	dying	we	have	no	brain	but
do	desire	to	keep	our	minds. If	the	Vedic	seers	are	right,	the	human	brain
connects	us	to	infinite	consciousness. The	fact	that	we	shut	out	so	much	of	the
mind	field	doesn’t	mean	we	have	to. Aboriginal	peoples	don’t	access	higher
math,	scientific	reasoning,	or	advanced	musical	harmonies,	but	if	a	baby	were
taken	from	a	New	Guinea	jungle	tribe	and	placed	in	the	right	learning
environment,	its	mind	contains	the	potential	for	all	these	skills. Indeed,	only
in	this	decade	are	certain	tribes	moving	out	of	the	jungles	of	New	Guinea	
into
surrounding	cities,	and	as	they	do,	they	make	the	transition	from	a	culture	that
never	discovered	metal-working	to	one	where	they	can	drive	a	car. Why	don’t	we	access	more	of	the	mind	field	ourselves. In	fact,	we	do. The	brain	adapts	to	the	field	at	will. If	you	intend	to	learn	Chinese	ideograms,
of	which	there	are	thousands,	you	can	apply	yourself,	and	gradually	a	system
of	meaningless	ink	strokes	will	be	transformed	into	a	meaningful	area	of
knowledge. Once	mastered,	the	Chinese	language	becomes	part	of	you;	it
becomes	second	nature,	and	you	can	proceed	to	use	it	for	creative	purposes. In	essence	you	have	accessed	the	mind	field	and	willed	your	own	evolution. You	have	made	a	leap	nearly	as	significant	as	when	Paleolithic	man
discovered	that	meaningless	vocal	noises	could	be	transformed	into	spoken
language. Intelligence	and	meaning	aren’t	only	“in	here”	as	a	subjective	creation	of
the	brain	or	“out	there”	as	a	freestanding	object. The	give-and-take	by	which
the	brain	creates	meaning	is	also	how	it	creates	the	world	and	creates	itself. All	these	processes	actually	belong	to	one	process,	the	self	“curving	back	onto
itself	to	create	again	and	again,”	as	Lord	Krishna	says. The	field	is	innately
creative. It	formed	the	human	brain,	which	is	so	receptive	that	it	took	the	next
leap	and	learned	to	create	new	thoughts,	abilities,	and	memories	on	its	own. Our	brains	are	still	acting	out	the	total	activity	of	the	cosmos,	but	we	happen
to	claim	that	“I	am	thinking”	when	it’s	just	as	true	to	say	“the	mind	field	is
thinking	through	me. ”
Memes	and	the	Behavior	of	Beliefs
There’s	another	kind	of	filtering	that	limits	how	much	of	the	mind	field	we
can	perceive. This	has	to	do	with	creating	beliefs	and	then	accepting	them	as
real. A	belief	is	an	idea	we	hold	on	to. For	example,	if	you	believe	that	God	is
good,	that	women	are	mysterious,	or	that	life	is	unfair,	you	have	taken
generations	of	shared	experience	and	
reduced
	it	to	one	conclusion. The
conclusion	may	be	right	or	wrong;	that’s	not	important	for	the	moment. Beliefs	hold	us	together	as	a	society. Such	shared	beliefs	give	us	a	clue	about
how	mind	might	exist	outside	the	body. We	all	carry	in	our	minds	a	large	database	of	information	that	we	consider
fundamental. This	database	holds	everything	important	that	we	believe	about
the	world. It	is	our	worldview. We	depend	upon	it	to	survive	for	even	a	short
time. Beliefs	evolve	over	the	centuries,	and	therefore	some	researchers	look
upon	beliefs	as	being	like	“virtual	genes,”	that	become	fixed	characteristics	of
the	brain. These	mental	genes	were	named	“memes”	by	the	British
evolutionist	Richard	Dawkins,	who	founded	a	new	field	overnight	that	has
proliferated	considerably	since	then. A	meme	is	often	compared	to	a	virus	that	spreads	from	person	to	person
until	an	entire	society	gets	infected. It	wouldn’t	be	beneficial	to	our	species	to
become	infected	by	everything. If	we	were	actually	open	to	all	new	ideas,	we
would	not	be	able	to	maintain	a	coherent	view	of	the	world. Imagine	changing
your	view	of	the	opposite	sex,	for	example,	every	time	you	met	a	new	person. In	order	to	evolve,	human	beings	had	to	make	sure	that	they	accepted	only
“good”	memes—ideas	that	promoted	a	coherent,	reliable	worldview—and
rejected	“bad”	memes,	ideas	that	moved	the	mind	in	the	opposite	direction. The	basic	fact	that	we	can	track	the	spread	of	beliefs	the	way	we	track	the
spread	of	avian	flu	provides	us	with	another	clue	to	the	nature	of	the	mind
field:	it	is	dynamic,	shared,	evolving,	and	powerful. It	is	capable	of
“infecting”	us	with	good	or	bad	beliefs	without	the	individual	actually	going
through	any	experience	at	all. Thus	societies	fight	and	die	defending	a	God
few	have	personally	experienced. Nietzsche	was	foreshadowing	memes	when
he	said	that	a	mistaken	idea	“grows	from	generation	unto	generation,	merely
because	people	believe	in	it,	until	it	gradually	grows	to	be	a	part	of	
the
	thing
and	turns	into	its	very	body. What	at	first	was	appearance	becomes	in	the	end,
almost	invariably,	the	essence,	and	is	effective	as	such. ”
Creating	a	Worldview
The	Vedic	rishis	said	that	anything	we	experience	in	the	Akashic	field	was
created	by	our	own	consciousness. Memes	offer	evidence	of	this,	as	a	means
to	create	the	worldview	that	we	then	believe	in. There	may	not	be	much
incentive	to	adapt	to	new	ideas	on	our	own,	but	when	two	worldviews	clash,
as	Western	culture	is	clashing	with	radical	Islam,	the	pressure	to	cling	to	one
worldview	or	the	other	against	outside	threat	is	inescapable. Our	very	survival
is	said	to	depend	upon	it. (I	am	reminded	of	a	CNN	interview	with	a	right-
wing	Christian	operative	from	Indiana	who	said,	“As	long	as	liberals	and
atheists	despise	us,	we	will	never	go	away. ”)
Two	people	with	different	worldviews	can	see	the	same	fact	and	give
totally	divergent	interpretations	of	it,	because	no	fact	or	event	is	perceived	by
itself. Walking	down	the	street,	I	may	pass	a	woman	with	bright	red	lipstick,	a
faint	whiff	of	wine	on	her	breath	from	a	lunch	at	a	restaurant,	and	no	hat	onher	head. In	my	worldview,	none	of	these	facts	triggers	any	particular	emotion
or	judgment,	so	this	is	a	neutral	encounter	that	barely	registers	on	me. Therefore	you	might	assume	that	nothing	happened	in	my	brain. Yet,	as	meme
theory	points	out,	a	great	deal	happened	tacitly. The	sight	of	this	woman
entered	my	brain	as	raw	data	along	the	optic	nerve,	but	I	couldn’t	actually
“see”	her	until	that	data	passed	through	my	worldview. Imagine	a	series	of
filters	marked	“memory,”	“beliefs,	“associations,”	and	“judgments. ”	Each
filter	alters	the	raw	data	in	some	way,	invisibly	and	instantaneously. Should	a	person	with	a	different	worldview	encounter	the	same	woman,
he	would	“see”	her	through	his	filters. If	he	happened	to	be	
a
	traditional
Muslim	or	a	Victorian	or	a	medieval	monk,	all	the	innocuous	features	that
entered	my	brain—the	lipstick,	the	smell	of	alcohol,	the	absence	of	a	hat—
might	cause	a	violent	reaction	in	his	brain,	and	generate	considerable	stress. A	worldview	provides	fixed	grooves	for	behavior,	which	is	dangerous,
unfortunately,	much	of	the	time. Traits	like	racism	and	warmaking	persist	as
automatic	reflexes. Anatomically	the	human	nervous	system	is	divided	into
two	parts:	the	somatic	and	autonomic	nervous	systems. All	information	in	the
body	that	you	are	conscious	of	comes	from	the	somatic	nervous	system;	all
information	that	you	are	unconscious	of	comes	from	the	autonomic	nervous
system. Memes	occupy	a	fascinating	middle	ground,	a	shadowland. When
you	can’t	get	a	catchy	song	out	of	your	head—one	classic	example	of	meme
behavior—you	are	totally	conscious	of	the	tune	but	unconscious	of	why	you
can’t	get	rid	of	it. This	is	precisely	what	the	Bhagavad-Gita	means	by	the	binding	effect	of
karma. You	may	be	completely	aware	that	you	have	a	certain	trait,	such	as
being	stingy,	irritable,	easily	flattered,	or	self-important,	but	you	cannot	say
why	that	trait	sticks	to	you,	however	much	you	dislike	it. Worldviews	are	built	of	symbols	that	fulfill	a	need. Take	any	charming
thing	in	the	environment—say,	the	late	Princess	Diana. For	her	to	stay	in	your
mind	and	persist	there	longer	than	a	few	moments,	she	must	be	significant	to
you. That	is,	she	is	a	sign	for	something	you	recognize,	and	I	would	add
something	you	value	and	desire. On	a	global	scale	Princess	Diana	symbolized
beauty,	innocence,	vulnerability,	motherhood,	prestige,	sexuality,	and	more. Like	all	the	best	memes,	her	negative	side	was	also	powerfully	symbolic. At
various	stages	she	represented	disability,	illness,	social	liability,	addiction,
naïveté,	wantonness,	infidelity,	and	masochism. By	whatever	name	we	give	them,	memes	are	the	way	we	give	
meaning
	to
experience. They	package	meaning	into	the	building	block	of	reality. Insofar
as	we	are	creators	of	reality,	we	use	these	symbolic	building	blocks	as	our	raw
material. I	find	this	whole	field	of	meme	theory	exciting	because	among	those
scientists	who	cannot	stomach	the	notion	of	inherent	consciousness,	the
parallel	notion	of	memes	is	gaining	considerable	credibility. A	gap	is	closing. The	Vedic	rishis	had	their	own	model	for	what	happens	in	the	mind	field. Thought	forms	that	grip	us	are	
samskaras
,	impressions	made	on	the	nervous
system	by	past	experience. A	young	child	frightened	when	his	mother
forgetfully	left	him	in	a	department	store	might	carry	that	impression,	or
samskara,	for	life. Such	impressions	do	not	have	to	be	negative—a	first	kiss
can,	and	usually	does,	form	a	lasting	samskara. The	concept	of	samskara	goes
beyond	memes	because	it	applies	to	all	mental	experience. Whether	they	are
sensations,	desires,	or	ideas,	impressions	can	go	as	deep	into	the	field	as	the
soul. They	constitute	the	qualities	of	the	self	that	give	each	of	us	an	identity
we	recognize	as	“me. ”
Samskaras	can	be	dismantled	or	changed	only	by	affecting	the	right	level
of	the	mind. A	change	at	the	subtlest	level	is	the	most	powerful. J. Krishnamurti	put	it	beautifully	when	he	said	that	“the	highest	form	of	human
intelligence	is	to	observe	yourself	without	judgment. ”	That	is,	if	you	can
stand	aside	from	how	your	beliefs	are	behaving,	how	various	impulses	of
desire	and	repulsion	are	pulling	at	you,	how	the	“stored	consciousness”	of
memory	makes	you	see	the	world,	you	can	witness	the	field	itself. This	is	true
enlightenment. In	many	spiritual	traditions,	such	as	Buddhism,	the	key	seems
to	be	stillness,	detaching	oneself	from	the	internal	dialogue	whose	stream	of
ideas	and	impulses	comes	from	the	past. Witnessing	allows	us	to	see	and
understand	with	an	intelligence	that	is	holistic,	without	a	win-or-lose
orientation. This	gives	us	a	chance	to	experience	the	mind	field,	or	what	we
popularly	call	“having	an	open	mind. ”
Can	We	Open	the	Mind. Ultimately,	dying	will	carry	each	of	us	into	the	mind	field,	which	we	will
experience	directly. Yet	our	beliefs,	being	stored	consciousness,	will	follow
us. The	issue	of	an	open	mind	bears	directly	upon	how	much	baggage	we’ll
have	to	carry. I’m	reminded	of	a	question	posed	by	Krishnamurti. When
someone	commented	that	it	was	good	to	have	an	open	mind,	he	asked,	“Is
there	such	a	thing	as	an	open	mind. ”	This	was	a	typically	ambiguous	reply,
but	if	the	mind	is	trapped	by	either	memes	or	samskaras,	it	cannot	be	open,
because	of	secondhand	beliefs,	opinions,	judgments,	and	other	mental
“viruses. ”	Or	is	there	some	kind	of	new	experience	entirely	beyond	the	realm
of	ingrained	beliefs	and	karmic	impressions. The	most	profound	of	contradictions	is	that	to	reach	enlightenment,	which
is	free	from	past	impressions,	you	have	no	choice	but	to	use	your	brain,	and
the	brain	is	mired	in	its	habit	of	filtering,	choosing,	preferring,	rejecting,	etc. Krishnamurti	stated	this	elegantly	when	he	asked,	“Can	a	fragmented	mind
ever	experience	wholeness. ”	The	answer	is	that	it	cannot,	but	all	any	of	us	are
equipped	with	is	a	fragmented	mind. A	mind	made	up	of	memes	andsamskaras. Asserting	that	you	have	an	open	mind	while	someone	else’s	mind
is	closed,	or	claiming	that	you	experience	reality	instead	of	illusion,	seems
like	a	reasonable	statement,	but	in	Krishnamurti’s	terms—which	are	pure
Vedanta—it	is	impossible	to	do	things	like	“trying	to	be	more	open”	or
“trying	to	get	more	real. ”	You	are	simply	fighting	with	your	own	divided	self. So	what	is	the	way	out	of	this	paradox. There	is	a	way	to	approach	the
tricky	business	of	opening	your	mind. 1. Know	that	you	are	going	to	identify	with	your	worldview	at	every	stage
of	personal	growth. 2. Accept	that	these	identifications	are	temporary. You	will	never	be	truly
yourself	until	you	reach	unity. 3. Be	willing	to	change	your	identity	every	day. Take	a	flexible	attitude. Don’t	defend	an	“I”	that	you	know	is	just	temporary. 4. Allow	your	ability	to	quietly	observe	without	judgment	to	replace	the
ingrained	ideas	you	reach	for	automatically. 5. When	you	have	the	impulse	to	struggle,	use	that	as	an	immediate	signal
to	let	go. Open	a	space	for	a	new	answer	to	unfold	on	its	own. 6. When	you	can’t	let	go,	forgive	yourself	and	move	on. 7. Use	every	opportunity	to	tell	yourself	that	all	viewpoints	are	valid,
every	experience	valuable,	every	insight	a	moment	of	freedom. These	steps	cultivate	an	open	mind	by	exposing	you	to	the	mind	field
itself,	witnessing	without	judgment. They	will	orient	you	to	the	possibility
that	you	can	be	redefined	continuously. In	other	words,	give	your	allegiance
to	transformation	rather	than	defending	the	status	quo. Now	you	are	ready	to
disassemble	your	worldview. You	are	ready	to	stop	having	a	stake	in	the
world	limited	to	the	narrow	confines	of	I,	me,	and	mine. The	ego-defended
worldview	you	want	to	dismantle	is	organized	in	three	layers:
1. Energy
2. Beliefs
3. Structure
These	three	layers	apply	both	to	the	whole	and	to	its	parts. They	are
inescapably	intertwined	because	the	field	itself	contains	all	three. This	means
that	a	tree	or	a	cloud	is	nothing	but	energy,	information,	and	structure. Your
personality	is	composed	of	the	same	three	elements,	and	so	is	every
experience	in	your	worldview. Energy:
	When	an	experience	gets	stuck	in	your	head,	you	are	holding	on	to
its	energy. Every	experience	has	its	own	energy	pattern,	which	is	reflected	inthe	brain	as	memory,	emotion,	sensation,	etc. When	you	decide	to	recall
something	from	your	childhood,	what	comes	to	mind. Visual	images,	names
and	faces,	all	kinds	of	emotions,	physical	details,	associations,	various
sensations. All	of	these	exist	at	the	level	of	energy. Without	the
electromagnetic	field	vibrating	in	a	certain	way,	specific	experiences	couldn’t
exist. This	stuck	energy	is	cleared	in	many	ways:	through	dreams,	insight,
imagination,	emotional	release,	deep	recollection,	confession,	prayer,
atonement,	meditation,	love,	etc. Beliefs:
	Beliefs	take	us	to	a	subtler	level	of	the	mind. Beliefs	allow	one
experience	but	forbid	another	to	enter. They	are	like	judges	deciding	whether
an	experience	is	positive	or	negative,	right	or	wrong,	desirable	or	undesirable. The	universe	is	doing	a	continuous	dance	with	your	beliefs. What	you	believe
is	reinforced	by	what	you	experience,	but	what	you	experience	also	alters
what	you	believe. Anyone	who	has	wrestled	with	the	question	“Does	he	(or
she)	love	me. ”	knows	what	it	feels	like	to	have	tiny	things	like	a	glance	or	a
casual	word	or	an	unreturned	phone	call	confirm	or	destroy	your	belief	in
being	loved. Beliefs	are	cleared	by	being	aware	of	the	sticky	quality	they	possess. Beliefs	aren’t	static;	they	result	in	behavior. So	when	you	watch	your	own
behavior,	you	are	seeing	your	beliefs	at	play. If	a	poor	black	homeless	person
asks	you	for	a	handout	at	night	and	your	response	is	to	say	nothing	and	walk
away,	consider	all	the	beliefs	that	could	be	at	work:	“Black	is	dangerous,	the
night	is	fearful,	strangers	can’t	be	trusted,	any	response	will	get	me	entangled,
poor	people	are	lazy	or	crazy	or	weak,	to	associate	with	them	means	I	will	be
one	of	them	one	day. ”	When	you	stop	defending	the	behavior	of	your	beliefs,
they	become	less	sticky. You	regain	freedom	to	think	and	believe	in	a	new
way. Structure:
	Structure	is	the	foundation	of	the	personality. It	includes	your
vision	of	life,	your	purpose	for	being	here,	your	deepest	goals,	your	view	of
physical	existence,	and	your	attitude	toward	pleasure	and	pain. These
profound	things	are	overlooked	because	people	are	too	overwhelmed—and
too	convinced—by	their	beliefs	and	energies. Only	after	you	start	clearing
energy	and	beliefs	can	you	look	at	the	“Why. ”	that	is	at	the	bottom	of	your
participation	in	Maya,	or	external	appearance. Why	are	you	alive. What	is
your	overall	purpose. To	what	higher	values	have	you	offered	your
allegiance. These	are	structural	questions,	and	when	you	can	see	them	clearly,
they	bring	their	own	answers. Structure	isn’t	cleared	the	way	stuck	energy	is,	and	it	can’t	be	challenged
the	way	beliefs	can	be. Structure	is	your	vehicle	for	this	lifetime. It’s	the	boatyou	use	to	sail	across	the	ocean	of	space	and	time. Without	it	you	would	have
no	identity	at	all;	you	would	be	a	cloud	of	energy	without	a	center. All	you
can	do	with	your	structure	is	to	“witness”	it. In	that	moment	of	witnessing,
you	reduce	the	“I”	to	its	first	principles. In	other	words,	you	stand	at	the
threshold	where	the	person	meets	the	soul. This	is	an	enormously	liberating
moment	of	recognition. When	you	build	any	new	structure	in	your	mind—for	example,	deciding
to	see	your	life	in	spiritual	terms	or	learning	parenting	skills	after	a	baby	is
born	or	replacing	the	perspective	of	a	victim	with	the	perspective	of	someone
who’s	in	control—you	are	choosing	to	evolve. You	are	taking	advantage	of
certain	subtle	qualities	that	pertain	to	mental	structures	as	revealed	by	the
rishis:
Structures	in	the	mind	organize	energy	so	that	it	serves	the	highest
purpose. They	interface	this	lifetime	with	universal	experience. They	open	you	to	the	higher	self	and	its	transmissions. They	expose	you	to	the	force	of	evolution. To	the	extent	that	you	are	working	on	the	three	levels	of	energy,	beliefs,
and	structure,	you	are	connecting	yourself	to	the	field	directly	and
consciously,	which	is	how	an	open	mind	is	achieved. How	can	you	tell	that
your	work	has	paid	off	and	you	have	gained	an	open	mind. You	know
yourself	as	wholeness	once	and	for	all. 15
T
HE
	M
ECHANICS	OF
	C
REATION
AS	MUCH	AS
	we	try	to	explain	it,	what	happens	when	we	die	remains	a	miracle. We	move	from	one	world	to	another,	we	shed	our	old	identity	to	experience	“I
am,”	the	identity	of	the	soul,	and	we	assemble	the	ingredients	of	a	completely
unique	life	in	our	next	body. Science	supports	the	claim	that	the	field	is
capable	of	creative	leaps	and	endless	transformation. An	oxygen	atom,	if	it
could	tell	its	own	story,	would	feel	that	a	miracle	has	occurred	when	it	bonds
with	hydrogen	to	form	water. Its	old	identity	was	gaseous,	its	new	one	is
liquid. Its	old	world	was	in	the	atmosphere,	its	new	one	is	in	oceans,	rivers,
and	clouds. And	what	if	this	water	molecule	happens	to	become	part	of	the
human	brain. Would	oxygen	suddenly	experience	being	conscious. This	question	is	the	final,	most	mysterious	leap	we	have	to	explain. Oxygen,	like	every	other	atom	in	the	brain,	participates	in	consciousness	as	it
courses	through	every	neuron. Yet	to	say	that	oxygen	itself	is	conscious	goes
too	far. So	how	did	consciousness	creep	in	somewhere	between	oxygen	atoms
and	the	cerebral	cortex. This	is	crucial	in	determining	whether	or	not
consciousness	survives	death. As	I’ve	already	argued,	the	answer	doesn’t	lie
in	the	brain. The	brain	is	an	inert	object	formed	of	organic	chemicals. Those
chemicals	can	be	broken	down	into	
more
	basic	molecules	and	atoms. Those
atoms	can	be	broken	down	into	subatomic	particles,	which	can	in	turn	be
broken	down	into	energy	waves	that	have	their	source	in	an	invisible	field. Taking	these	steps	one	at	a	time,	we	get	
further	away
	from	consciousness
rather	than	closer. The	brain	is	aware,	but	we	cannot	say	that	energy	waves
are	aware,	even	though	the	brain	is	ultimately	nothing	but	energy. To	solve
this	enigma,	materialists	argue	that	consciousness	has	no	reality	in	itself;	it	is
just	a	trick	of	the	brain. Does	this	mean	that	if	we	could	download	a	person’s
complete	memory	into	a	supercomputer,	we	would	achieve	life	after	death. Would	the	living	self	continue	to	feel	intact,	experiencing	the	world	just	as
before	but	from	inside	a	machine. This	is	a	perfect	example	of	how	we	can	be	victimized	by	our	own
explanations. Awareness	can’t	be	found	in	information. The	fact	that	a	billion
zeros	and	ones	are	loaded	into	a	computer	won’t	make	it	conscious	unless
each	zero	and	one	is	conscious	already,	which	leads	to	the	absurd	conclusion
that	the	numbers	printed	in	a	math	textbook	are	thinking	about	themselves. You	cannot	explain	consciousness	at	any	level	of	nature	without	running	into
the	same	contradiction. So	do	we	have	to	give	up	on	scientific	explanations	or
is	science	ready	for	insights	that	will	force	it	to	explain	Nature	differently. Creative	Leaps
One	property	we	cherish	in	ourselves	is	the	ability	to	create	something	new. We	come	by	this	honestly. The	appearance	of	life	on	Earth	depended	on	the
sudden	ability	of	a	molecule,	DNA,	to	replicate	itself. No	molecule	before	it
had	ever	done	that. We	can	explain	the	evolution	of	the	universe	entirely	in
terms	of	such	creative	leaps,	or	“emergent	properties. ”	Before	oxygen	and
hydrogen	could	discover	how	to	become	water,	the	cosmos	had	to	create
atoms,	which	
weren’t
	present	at	the	Big	Bang,	and	atoms	had	to	turn	into
gases,	solids,	metals,	organic	molecules,	and	so	on. None	of	these	events	were
simple	combinations	like	pouring	sugar	into	water. The	sugar	may	disappear,
but	if	you	evaporate	the	water	you	find	that	the	sugar	has	remained	intact. There’s	no	new	property	in	sugar	water	that	wasn’t	already	present	in	the	two
components	when	they	were	separate. An	emergent	property,	on	the	other	hand,	is	a	creative	leap	that	produces
something	out	of	nothing. In	spiritual	terms	the	cycle	of	birth	and	rebirth	is	a
workshop	for	making	creative	leaps	of	the	soul. The	natural	and	the
supernatural	are	not	doing	different	things	but	are	involved	in	transformation
on	separate	levels. At	the	moment	of	death	the	ingredients	of	your	old	body
and	old	identity	disappear. Your	DNA	and	everything	it	created	devolve	back
to	their	simple	component	parts. Your	memories	dissolve	back	into	raw
information. None	of	this	raw	material	is	simply	recombined	to	produce	a
slightly	altered	person. To	produce	a	new	body	capable	of	making	new
memories,	the	person	who	emerges	must	be	new. You	do	not	acquire	a	new
soul,	because	the	soul	doesn’t	have	content. It’s	not	“you”	but	the	center
around	which	“you”	coalesces,	time	after	time. It’s	your	zero	point. I	was	recently	reminded	of	just	how	uncanny	this	transformation	is. I
know	a	couple	from	Italy	who	suffered	a	terrible	family	tragedy	two	years	ago
when	their	teenage	son,	Enrico,	killed	himself. He	had	gotten	drunk	with
some	friends,	one	of	whom	started	playing	with	his	father’s	handgun. It	went
off	and	Enrico	was	killed. His	family	was	devastated,	all	the	more	when	it
was	suggested	but	never	proved	that	their	son	had	shot	himself	playing
Russian	roulette. A	week	after	he	died	his	mother	went	into	his	bedroom. She	had	the
impulse	to	pray	for	her	son,	and	as	she	knelt	by	his	bed	she	heard	a	noise. A
remote-control	toy	car	of	Enrico’s	had	fallen	off	the	shelf	for	
no
	apparent
reason. It	began	to	run	around	the	floor,	and	the	mother	removed	its	batteries. Still	it	continued	to	run. This	strange	phenomenon	lasted	three	days,	she	toldme. It	was	witnessed	by	the	entire	family,	and	Enrico’s	older	sister,	the	one	he
was	closest	to,	insisted	that	her	brother	was	operating	the	car. She	asked	it
questions,	as	one	would	a	Ouija	board,	and	the	car	would	go	left	or	right	to
signal	yes	or	no. Months	later	Enrico’s	father	happened	to	be	in	India,	and	he	went	to	a
jyotishi
,	or	astrologer. Certain	jyotishis	do	not	cast	your	chart	but	consult
already	written	charts,	many	dating	back	centuries,	that	apply	to	the	person
who	comes	for	a	reading. (This	decision	is	made	according	to	the	time	a
person	appears	and	by	matching	certain	personal	data	with	charts	that	the
astrologer	has	on	hand. ) This	was	true	of	my	friend,	who	was	told	the
following	story:	In	his	previous	lifetime	he	had	lived	on	the	west	coast	of
India. He	was	desperate	to	have	a	son,	but	unfortunately	his	wife	was	barren. The	couple	adopted	a	baby	boy	when	suddenly	she	became	pregnant	and	in
time	delivered	a	boy	of	their	own. After	the	biological	son’s	birth,	the	father	began	to	ignore	the	adopted	boy
and	abuse	him. Tormented	by	this,	the	boy	committed	suicide	at	exactly	the
same	age	as	Enrico. The	astrologer	told	my	friend	that	there	was	a	connection
here. The	former	son	was	reborn	as	Enrico,	and	he	committed	suicide	again	to
show	his	father	what	it	was	like	to	lose	a	real	son. Naturally,	my	friend	was
quite	shaken	to	hear	this,	but	when	he	met	me	some	months	later,	he	said	that
the	final	result	was	a	sense	of	peace. He	had	come	to	terms	with	Enrico’s
tragic	death	and	understood	the	karma	behind	it. I	have	no	idea	how	many	readers	will	scoff	at	this	tale	and	how	many	will
consider	it	uncanny	but	possibly	true. To	me,	it	says	a	great	deal	about	how
mysteriously	life	and	death	are	woven	together. They	are	two	aspects	of	the
same	creative	act. Our	brains	are	set	up	
to
	operate	in	time	and	space. We	do
not	witness	the	mechanics	of	creation	outside	that	framework. But	the	life	you
are	experiencing	now,	the	one	that	preceded	it,	and	the	one	that	will	follow
didn’t	appear	out	of	nowhere. They	appeared	through	a	continuous,	evolving
consciousness—the	real	you. There	is	a	gap	between	lifetimes	that	we	cannot
observe,	yet	your	soul	keeps	track	of	you	as	you	enter	the	gap	and	reemerge. Consciousness	doesn’t	lose	track	of	itself;	the	zero	point	of	the	soul	is	just	as
capable	of	correlating	events	across	time	and	space	as	the	Zero	Point	Field	is. In	this	story	father	and	son	remained	joined	across	the	gap	between	birth
and	death. They	unconsciously	recognized	each	other,	they	carried	out	a
common	purpose,	and	they	worked	out	karma	together—all	these	things
defied	death. At	the	same	time	their	physical	bodies,	their	private	memories,
and	their	sense	of	identity	were	transient—these	didn’t	survive	death. Nature
is	built	from	the	same	intricate	relationships. The	oxygen	atoms	locked	in	a
water	molecule	or	in	your	brain	are	still	themselves,	but	they	have	learned	to
relate	in	a	totally	new	way,	making	it	seem	as	if	each	separate	atom	has
vanished—that	is	to	say,	died. I	can’t	emphasize	enough	that	if	science	cannotexplain	the	emergence	of	wetness	from	dryness,	it	cannot	explain	the
emergence	of	consciousness	in	the	brain. True	creative	leaps	are	always
inexplicable	and	therefore	miraculous. The	Source	of	Everything
What	science	should	do	is	hold	the	miracle	under	a	microscope	to	get	closer
to	where	creation	occurs. There	are	faint	physical	traces	to	be	followed	down
to	a	very	subtle	level. It	has	long	been	known	that	the	brain,	and	the	body	as	a
whole,	is	surrounded	by	a	very	weak	electromagnetic	field. With	the	proper
photographic	emulsion,	this	field	can	be	seen	to	glow;	the	minuscule	electric
charge	given	off	by	
neurons
	as	they	fire	is	also	measurable. If	being	conscious
creates	an	energy	field,	can	an	energy	field	display	consciousness. You	would
think	that	since	the	brain	depends	on	electrical	signals,	it	would	be	affected	by
the	murky	soup	of	radio,	television,	microwave,	and	many	other
electromagnetic	emissions	that	surround	us. Apparently	this	isn’t	true. Parapsychology	researchers	have	gone	so	far	as	to	isolate	subjects	with
psychic	abilities	in	Faraday	cages	that	block	all	electromagnetic	energy
without	altering	their	abilities	to	see	at	a	distance	or	exhibit	other	psychic
phenomena. The	case	of	“remote	viewing”	is	especially	intriguing	because	so
much	credible	work	has	been	done	in	this	field. Many	experiments	have	been	conducted	in	remote	viewing,	commonly
called	clairvoyance,	but	one	of	the	most	notable	took	place	at	Stanford
University,	where	scientists	built	a	machine	called	a	SQUID,	or
superconducting	quantum	interference	device. It’s	enough	for	us	to	know	that
this	device,	which	measures	the	activity	of	subatomic	particles,	specifically
quarks,	is	very	well	shielded	from	all	outside	magnetic	forces. This	shielding
begins	with	layers	of	copper	and	aluminum,	but	to	fully	ensure	that	no	outside
force	can	affect	the	mechanism,	exotic	metals	wrap	the	inner	core. In	1972	a	SQUID	was	installed	in	the	basement	of	a	laboratory	at
Stanford,	apparently	doing	nothing	except	tracing	out	the	same	hill-and-valley
S-curve	on	a	length	of	graph	paper. This	curve	represented	the	constant
magnetic	field	of	the	Earth;	if	a	quark	passed	through	the	field	the	machine
would	register	it	with	changes	in	the	pattern	being	drawn. A	young	laser
physicist	named	Hal	Puthoff	(later	to	become	a	noted	quantum	theorist)
decided	that	aside	from	its	main	use,	the	SQUID	would	make	a	perfect	test	of
psychic	powers. Very	few	people,	including	the	scientists	at	Sanford,	knew
the	inner	workings	of	the	machine. A	letter	Puthoff	wrote	in	search	of	a	psychic	who	would	take	up	the
challenge	drew	a	response	from	Ingo	Swann,	a	New	York	artist	
with
	psychic
abilities. Swann	was	flown	to	California	without	being	told	in	advance	about
either	the	test	or	the	SQUID. When	he	first	saw	it,	he	seemed	a	bit	put	off. Buthe	agreed	to	“look”	inside	the	machine,	and	as	he	did,	the	S-curve	on	the
graph	paper	changed	pattern—something	it	almost	never	did—only	to	go
back	to	its	normal	functioning	as	soon	as	Swann	stopped	paying	attention	to
it. A	startled	Puthoff	asked	him	to	repeat	this,	so	for	forty-five	seconds
Swann	concentrated	upon	seeing	the	inside	of	the	machine,	and	for	exactly
that	interval	the	recording	device	drew	a	new	pattern,	a	long	plateau	on	the
paper	instead	of	hills	and	valleys. Swann	then	drew	a	sketch	of	what	he	saw
as	the	inner	workings	of	the	SQUID,	and	when	these	were	checked	with	an
expert,	they	perfectly	matched	the	actual	construction. Swann	was	vague
about	how	he	had	changed	the	magnetic	input	that	the	machine	was	built	to
measure. It	turned	out	that	if	he	merely	thought	about	the	SQUID,	not	trying
to	change	it	at	all,	the	recording	device	showed	alterations	in	the	surrounding
magnetic	field. P
EOPLE	WHO	ARE
	skeptical	of	psychic	abilities	ignore	countless	studies
demonstrating	that	ordinary	thought	can	actually	affect	the	world. This	is
particularly	important	if	mind	is	a	field. I	once	participated	in	a	controlled
experiment	in	which	a	subject	sitting	in	an	isolated	room	(the	sender)	would
intermittently	look	at	a	visual	image,	while	I	(the	receiver)	would	press	a
button	every	time	I	sensed	that	this	was	happening. My	accuracy,	like	most
people’s,	was	far	above	average. (The	British	biologist	Rupert	Sheldrake,	who
more	than	anyone	has	tried	to	explain	how	mind	extends	beyond	the	body,	has
done	similar	experiments. He	has	tested,	for	example,	whether	we	can
actually	sense	when	someone	is	staring	at	us	behind	our	backs. Those
experiments	have	shown	a	greater	than	random	outcome	as	well. ) In	a	long	series	of	experiments	in	the	Sixties,	an	FBI	expert	named	Cleve
Backster	hooked	plants	up	to	polygraphs,	knowing	that	lie	detectors	work	by
measuring	changes	of	moisture	on	the	skin	surface. In	his	own	words,	here’s
what	happened	next. Then	at	thirteen	minutes,	fifty-five	seconds	chart	time,	the
imagery	entered	my	mind	of	burning	the	leaf	I	was	testing. I
didn’t	verbalize,	I	didn’t	touch	the	plant,	I	didn’t	touch	the
equipment. The	only	new	thing	that	could	have	been	a	stimulus
for	the	plant	was	the	mental	image. Yet	the	plant	went	wild. The	pen	jumped	right	off	the	top	of	the	chart. This	first	startling	observation	in	February	1966	led	to	a	host	of	follow-
ups	as	Backster	measured	responses	to	cigarette	smoke,	negative	thoughts,
and	strong	emotions;	it	turned	out	that	houseplants	register	how	people	feel
around	them. The	most	remarkable	finding,	perhaps,	was	that	if	Backsterhooked	up	a	pair	of	plants	and	injured	one	plant	in	a	separate	room,	the	other
plant	registered	the	same	disturbance	in	electrical	activity	as	if	it	had	been
injured	itself. The	polygraph	needle	jumped	even	though	the	two	plants	had
no	physical	connection,	and	it	kept	jumping	even	when	the	plants	were
separated	by	a	greater	distance. One	can’t	help	but	be	reminded	of	the	various
studies	in	which	identical	twins	sense	what	is	happening	to	each	other	at	a
distance,	to	the	point	that	one	particular	twin	knew	the	instant	his	brother	was
electrocuted	climbing	a	telephone	pole	and	testified	to	actually	feeling	the
pain	himself. Are	human	twins	paired	through	the	same	complementarity	that
bonds	electrons	in	deep	space. To	say	that	consciousness	is	a	field	creates	only	the	outline	of	a	proof. Nobody	has	accounted	for	the	gap,	and	without	that,	consciousness	remains
totally	mysterious;	in	fact,	so	do	fields. The	gap	is	the	empty	space	between
events;	it	contains	nothing	but	itself,	and	
yet
	it	seems	that	everything	comes
out	of	it. When	we	look	at	DNA	we	are	told	by	geneticists	that	life	emerges
not	from	the	bits	of	amino	acids	strung	on	the	double	helix,	but	from	the
space	between	them. These	spaces	are	little	understood,	but	they	play	a
mysterious	role	in	the	sequence	of	genes. In	physical	terms	the	DNA	of
gorillas	and	humans	differs	by	less	than	1%;	the	gaps	between	visible	matter
create	the	unbridgeable	gulf	between	gorillas	and	humans. In	the	gap	the
source	of	consciousness	must	be	revealed. Sat	Chit	Ananda
The	Vedic	rishis	followed	the	mind	into	the	gap	and	declared	that	three	primal
qualities	were	the	foundation	of	existence:	
Sat	Chit	Ananda. These	are	usually
translated	as	a	single	phrase,	“eternal	bliss	consciousness,”	or	individually	as
Sat	(existence,	truth,	reality)	Chit	(mind,	awareness)	Ananda	(bliss). But	these
definitions	don’t	help	us	much,	since	they	assume	an	understanding	of	what
we	mean	in	English	by	reality,	truth,	bliss,	and	existence. These	are	far	from
settled. If	you	say,	“It	was	blissful	going	to	Aruba	for	Christmas. It	changed
my	whole	reality,”	your	words	have	meaning	in	everyday	life,	but	they
haven’t	described	Sat	Chit	Ananda. If	we	unfold	what	the	rishis	meant,	they	were	referring	to	an	experience,
which	can	be	summarized	as	follows:	Every	thought	you	have,	as	well	as
every	object	you	see	in	the	world,	is	a	vibration	of	the	universe—the	Sanskrit
term	is	
shubda. Shubda	creates	light,	sound,	touch,	taste,	and	every	other
quality. In	dreams	you	can	also	see,	hear,	touch,	taste,	and	smell,	but	those
vibrations	are	subtler. They	don’t	have	the	same	feeling	as	concrete	reality. When	you	go	beyond	the	subtle	qualities	of	the	mind,	shubda	becomes	so
faint	that	the	mind	loses	all	experience	of	an	outside	reality,	even	shadowy
wisps	of	memory. Eventually	it	experiences	only	itself,	and	there	aren’t	anyvibrations	at	all. You	are	at	the	source. The	threshold	of	the	source	is	silence. But	you	must	step	over	the
threshold	into	the	room	where	reality	is	born. There	you	find	that	the	raw
materials	are	threefold. Creation	springs	from	existence	(Sat),	consciousness
(Chit),	and	the	potential	for	vibrations	to	arise	(Ananda). These	three	are	the
most	real	things	in	the	universe	because	everything	else	that	we	call	real
comes	from	them. It’s	this	experience	of	the	source,	a	state	beginning	beyond	silence,	that
the	Vedic	rishis	considered	the	field	of	all	fields—what	physicists	call	the
ground	state	or	vacuum	state. Being	pregnant	with	every	possible	flicker	of
energy	in	the	universe,	the	vacuum	state	still	isn’t	Sat	Chit	Ananda. It	has	no
mind,	no	bliss. It	cannot	be	experienced	subjectively. By	leaving	these	factors
out,	physics	leaves	out	the	physicist,	who	pretends	that	he	isn’t	part	of	the
field. John	Wheeler,	an	eminent	Princeton	physicist,	decades	ago	pointed	out
this	flaw:	as	we	make	models	of	the	universe,	he	said,	we	act	like	someone
with	his	nose	pressed	against	the	window	of	a	bakery,	looking	at	everything
on	display	from	the	outside. But	there	is	no	window	separating	the	observer
from	the	universe;	we	are	not	outside	what	we	see. Wheeler’s	suggestion	that	we	must	find	a	science	that	combines
subjectivity	and	objectivity	has	been	meagerly	pursued,	because	science
remains	stubbornly	objective,	and	it	can	afford	to	be	when	conducting
isolated	experiments. Ultimately,	however,	there	is	a	limit	that	cannot	be
crossed,	and	we	are	quite	close	to	it. We	can	face	the	limit	of	knowledge	in	a
simple	problem	like	prayer. By	now	the	public	is	well	aware	that	research	on	prayer	has	validated	that
it	works. In	a	typical	experiment	volunteers,	usually	from	church	groups,	are
asked	to	pray	for	sick	people	in	the	hospital. They	do	not	visit	the	person	and
often	have	only	a	number	rather	than	a	name	to	go	by. The	prayer	isn’t
specific;	they	are	asked	simply	to	pray	for	God’s	help. The	results	of	such
experiments	have	
been
	startlingly	positive. In	the	best-known	one,	conducted
at	Duke	University	in	North	Carolina,	patients	who	were	prayed	for	recovered
faster	and	with	fewer	side	effects	than	those	not	prayed	for. Here	we	have	one
more	demonstration	that	we	are	all	connected	by	the	same	field	of
consciousness. The	properties	of	the	field	operate	here	and	now:
The	field	works	as	a	whole. It	correlates	distant	events	instantly. It	remembers	all	events. It	exists	beyond	time	and	space. It	creates	entirely	within	itself. Its	creation	grows	and	expands	in	an	evolutionary	direction. It	is	conscious. The	Vedic	rishis	began	with	these	qualities	as	their	first	principles;	in	that
regard	they	were	wiser	than	we	are,	with	our	reluctance	to	admit
consciousness	unless	we	are	forced	to	at	the	far	limits	of	a	difficult	scientific
issue. The	field	of	consciousness	is	primary	to	every	phenomenon	in	Nature
because	of	the	gap	that	exists	between	every	electron,	every	thought,	every
instant	in	time. The	gap	is	the	reference	point,	the	stillness	at	the	heart	of
creation,	where	the	universe	correlates	all	events. Has	science	proved	that	the	rishis	were	right. I	think	the	most	we	can	say
—and	it	is	a	lot—is	that	science	and	the	rishis	are	consistent	with	each	other. They	come	from	different	worlds	but	see	with	the	same	vision—almost. Science	is	still	burdened	by	spiritual	materialism,	the	belief	that	any
explanation	of	God,	the	soul,	or	the	afterlife	is	valid	only	if	matter	contains
the	secret. This	is	like	saying	we	can’t	understand	jazz	until	we	diagram	the
atoms	in	Louis	Armstrong’s	trumpet. In	the	end,	a	book	on	the	afterlife	cannot	fully	reconcile	us	with	the
inevitability	of	death. It	can	only	lead	the	way	to	finding	personal	comfort	on
your	own. You	and	I	are	unique	people	and	therefore	very	different. I	may	be
consoled	by	a	vision	of	eternity	that	is	foreign	or	even	frightening	to	you. I
may	mourn	my	aging	body	more	than	you,	or	less. We	each	have	our	own
personal	view	of	God. Yet	we	are	bound	together	in	the	field	of
consciousness,	and	we	do	the	same	work	there. We	need	to	see	that	we	are	all	entangled	in	the	same	reality. Isolation	has
been	outmoded	on	every	front,	from	ecology	to	the	Internet. We	need	to
remember	our	common	source. The	human	spirit	is	degraded	when	we
confine	ourselves	to	the	span	of	a	lifetime	and	the	enclosure	of	a	physical
body. We	are	mind	and	spirit	first,	and	that	places	our	home	beyond	the	stars. Knowing	that	I	will	return	to	the	field	one	day	to	find	my	source	provides
me	with	immeasurable	confidence	in	the	purpose	of	life. As	fervently	as	any
devout	believer,	I	have	faith	in	this	vision. My	faith	is	renewed	every	time	I
have	a	moment	of	witnessing,	in	which	I	can	touch	the	silence	of	my	own
being. Then	I	lose	all	fear	of	death—indeed,	I	touch	death	right	now,	and
gladly. Tagore	said	it	so	movingly:
When	I	was	born	and	saw	the	light
I	was	no	stranger	in	this	world
Something	inscrutable,	shapeless,	and	without	words
Appeared	in	the	form	of	my	mother. So	when	I	die,	the	same	unknown	will	appear	again
As	ever	known	to	me
,
And	because	I	love	this	life
I	will	love	death	as	well. Without	death	there	can	be	no	present	moment,	for	the	last	moment	has	to
die	to	make	the	next	one	possible. There	can	be	no	
present
	love,	for	the	last
emotion	has	to	die	to	make	a	new	one	possible. There	can	be	no	present	life,
for	the	old	cells	in	my	body	have	to	die	to	make	new	tissue	possible. This	is
the	miracle	of	creation,	which	in	every	second	is	one	thing:	life	and	death
joined	in	an	eternal	dance. It	would	be	a	catastrophe	to	exclude	death	from	the
dance. That	would	guarantee	a	universe	with	no	chance	for	renewal. Fortunately,	creation	wasn’t	set	up	that	way. We	live	in	an	endlessly	re-
created	universe. On	the	other	side	of	our	fears	and	doubts,	our	deepest	prayer
should	not	be	for	life,	which	we	have	in	abundance. It	should	be	a	prayer	to
lead	the	cosmic	dance,	for	then	the	angels	and	gods	themselves	will	have
someone	to	follow. E
PILOGUE
M
AHA
	S
AMADHI
THE	MONSOON	RAINS
	swept	down	from	the	mountain	overnight. Ramana	could
hear	it	in	his	sleep	like	warm	dull	thunder	on	the	roof,	or	the	knocking	of	the
gods. It	was	loud	enough	to	make	him	restless	but	not	to	wake	him	up
completely. He	had	dim	thoughts	of	closing	the	window	by	his	bed. He
remembered	the	small	hole	in	the	roof	that	needed	a	bucket	underneath	to
catch	the	drip. Yet	for	some	reason	he	couldn’t	feel	rain	splashing	from	the
windowsill	and	heard	no	dripping	sound. Strange
,	he	thought	drowsily. The	dull	thunder	continued,	hour	after	hour. Too	many	hours. Ramana
opened	his	eyes,	flicking	his	gaze	to	the	windowsill	and	the	place	under	the
hole	in	the	roof. Both	were	dry. Where	was	the	water. Why	was	it	still
thundering. Then	he	knew. It	
was
	the	gods	knocking. Death	had	come	like	the
monsoons,	the	season	of	year	Ramana	loved	the	best. He	wasn’t	surprised	that
he	could	still	feel	his	body	or	that	the	room	was	intact. His	old	master,	who
had	died	sixty	years	ago,	told	him	how	things	would	be. Sixty	years. Could
that	be	right. Suddenly	Ramana	couldn’t	remember	how	old	he	was	himself. Seventy-five,	eighty. This	confusion	triggered	a	change. His	body	began	to
feel	lighter,	as	if	age	were	slipping	
away. He	was	rising,	the	whole	room	was
rising,	in	fact,	and	the	dull	thunder	began	to	fade. Ramana	wondered	if	he	was	about	to	disappear,	but	the	world	saved	him
the	trouble	by	disappearing	first. He	had	never	much	believed	in	the	world,	so
this	didn’t	surprise	him. For	one	last	moment	he	was	still	in	bed,	looking	out
the	window	at	a	sky	that	turned	from	blue	to	a	soft	white,	and	then	there	was
only	whiteness	and	no	room. He	looked	down,	and	his	body	was	gone	too. It
had	slipped	away	so	easily	that	he	was	reminded	of	something	his	master	had
told	him:	“The	body	is	like	a	cloak. For	the	enlightened,	dying	is	like	letting
the	cloak	fall	to	the	floor. For	the	unenlightened,	it	is	like	ripping	off	a	cloak
that	is	sewn	on. ”
What	would	slip	away	next. Ramana	could	still	pose	mental	questions,	so
his	mind	hadn’t	left	him. He	saw	himself	as	a	boy	of	twelve,	when	he	first
met	his	master,	who	lived	in	the	same	forest	retreat	that	became	his	after	the
master	died. The	old	man	sitting	in	lotus	position	on	a	worn	deerskin	had	said,
“Do	you	want	to	learn	from	me. ”	The	boy	nodded. “Is	it	because	your	parentsthink	it	would	be	a	good	thing. ”	The	boy	nodded	again. Then	the	master
waved	his	hand,	sending	Ramana’s	parents	out	of	the	room. When	they	were	alone,	the	master	said,	“Come	to	me	when	it’s	your
desire,	not	that	of	your	parents. ”
“Why. ”	Ramana	asked. “My	parents	only	want	what’s	good	for	me. ”
“That’s	not	enough,”	the	master	replied. “You	can’t	be	with	me	and
remain	like	ordinary	people. Ordinary	people	need	the	support	of	family,	or
they	would	die	of	loneliness. They	need	the	support	of	society,	or	they	would
have	no	friends	or	spouse. They	need	the	support	of	their	bodies,	or	they
would	starve. And	most	of	all,	they	need	the	support	of	their	minds,	or	they
would	go	crazy. ”
“I	don’t	see	why	you’re	telling	me	this,”	said	the	boy. “Because	if	you	lose	family,	friends,	your	body,	and	your	mind—all	of
which	you	must—I	don’t	want	you	to	die. I	want	you	to	be	free. ”
The	boy	didn’t	come	back	for	ten	years,	and	even	then	the	master	laughed
and	said	he	had	been	quick	about	it. “After	what	I	told	you,	most	people
would	stay	away	forever. ”	During	his	period	as	a	disciple	Ramana	had	found
the	teaching	difficult. He	often	stumbled	but	never	fell. Everything	his	master
foretold	came	true. The	time	came	when	the	disciple	no	longer	needed	the
support	of	his	family. But	this	wasn’t	a	loss,	because	he	now	saw	them	with
great	compassion. He	didn’t	need	the	support	of	society,	but	this	wasn’t	a	loss,
because	he	saw	himself	as	part	of	all	humanity. He	didn’t	need	the	support	of
his	physical	body,	but	this	wasn’t	a	loss,	because	his	body	took	care	of	itself
better	when	he	stopped	worrying	about	it. The	one	thing	Ramana	never	quite	gave	up	was	the	support	of	his	mind. “Ah,	you	fear	that	without	a	mind	you	will	die,”	his	master	said	patiently. Ramana	adopted	the	same	patience. He	learned	to	go	inward	in	
samadhi
	to
experience	silence,	and	over	the	years	this	became	home	to	him,	a	place	free
of	the	constant	activity	of	the	mind. On	the	day	his	master	died,	Ramana	knelt	by	his	bed	and	wept. “So	you
imagine	that	I	am	leaving	you,”	his	master	whispered. “Your	mind	still	has
you	in	its	spell. ”	He	said	this	affectionately,	not	in	reproof,	and	that	consoled
Ramana. An	hour	later	his	master	went	into	the	deepest	of	all	silences,	
maha
samadhi. Ramana	could	remember	all	these	things	now	that	he	too	had	died. He
looked	around. There	was	no	one	to	greet	him,	no	family,	not	even	his	master. For	a	second	a	shiver	of	fear	gripped	him,	then	it	faded,	and	with	it	the	power
to	think. Ramana	didn’t	even	get	to	think,	
There	goes	my	mind. He	slipped
effortlessly	to	where	mind	was	no	longer	needed. There	was	no	whiteness
around	him	anymore,	but	even	this	perception	lasted	for	only	an	instant,
because	there	was	no	darkness,	either. When	his	mind	slipped	away,	it	took
light	and	dark	with	it. Now	he	was	enveloped	in	silence,	which	came	as	an	indescribable	relief. Like	thieves	in	the	night,	whole	worlds	wanted	to	enter	him	and	take	his
silence	away. But	all	they	could	do	was	glance	off	him	ever	so	lightly,	like
feathers	off	a	rock. He	was	impenetrable	now. There	was	no	universe	and	no
God,	no	divine	presence,	no	love. He	lingered	like	that,	in	the	womb	of	the	timeless,	for	a	while. Then
Ramana	felt	a	soft	breath,	and	it	beckoned	him	back. He	was	stirring	to	life
again. Not	because	he	wanted	to	live	on	earth,	for	that	would	have	been	a
thought. The	breath	was	its	own	reason. There	was	a	split	second	when	he
could	choose	not	to	return. Eternal	peace	was	just	as	possible	as	another
lifetime. Only	then	did	he	realize	that	he	was	free	at	last. Human	life	could	be	his
again,	only	now	he	also	would	have	eternal	peace,	the	two	together. Ramana
smiled	to	himself,	if	one	can	say	that	the	cosmos	smiles. The	breathing	grew
louder. He	relaxed	and	let	it	carry	him	downward	back	to	earth. One	breath,
then	another,	always	louder,	until	it	became	like	the	monsoons	drifting	down
the	mountain,	or	the	knocking	of	the	gods. He	couldn’t	see	what	family	he
would	be	born	into,	but	Ramana	knew	his	new	purpose:	to	show	these
dreaming	humans,	whom	he	loved	so	much,	how	to	wake	up. READING	NOTES
There	will	never	be	a	definitive	book	on	the	afterlife,	which	I	think	is	good,
because	no	single	book	will	ever	convince	skeptics	or	console	everyone	who
has	wondered	what	happens	after	death. What	might	change	society’s	fear	and
doubt	is	a	rising	tide	of	evidence. Below	I	have	listed	every	book	and	Web
site	that	helped	me	write	this	book. They	constitute	a	mountain	of	evidence
that	life	continues	after	death;	more	important,	each	one	is	a	symptom	of
rising	consciousness. Too	long	has	death	been	a	mysterious	subject. The	best	I
can	hope	for	is	to	shed	a	little	light	into	that	darkness,	but	I	couldn’t	have
done	it	without	the	countless	other	people	trying	to	shed	the	same	light. Chapter	1:	Death	at	the	Door
We	have	entered	a	new	era	in	research	where	the	Internet	has	become	as
valuable	as	standard	book	references. Besides	Googling	any	general	topic
(e. g. ,	ghosts,	near-death	experiences,	heaven)	at	
www. google. com
,	one	can
turn	to	the	ever-expanding	online	encyclopedia	at	
www. wikipedia. com. The
only	flaw	with	Web	references	is	that	they	tend	to	be	overwhelming	in
number	but	sometimes	shallow	in	coverage. The
	great	virtue	of	online
referencing	is	that	the	reader	can	go	deeper	than	the	author	on	any	particular
topic	with	the	push	of	a	button. I	touched	only	briefly	on	the	physical	changes	caused	by	death. Sherwin
B. Nuland	won	a	National	Book	Award	on	the	subject	with	
How	We	Die:
Reflections	on	Life’s	Final	Chapter
	(Knopf,	1994). Nuland,	a	senior	Yale
physician,	goes	into	clinical	detail	about	the	biology	of	the	dying	process,
covering	heart	disease,	cancer,	Alzheimer’s,	and	AIDS,	among	other	topics,	in
his	exploration	of	how	every	person’s	death	is	as	unique	as	his	life. Spiritual	experiences	also	cause	physical	changes,	making	them	just	as
real,	if	you	are	a	materialist,	as	the	changes	caused	by	death. An	early	popular
book	on	the	subject	is	Nona	Coxhead,	
Mindpower
	(Penguin,	1976),	which
emphasizes	research	into	ESP	and	other	areas	of	parapsychology. For	a
contemporary	study	of	how	current	breakthroughs	in	brain	science	are
changing	our	view	of	consciousness,	I	turned	to	Joseph	Chilton	Pearce,	
The
Biology	of	Transcendence:	A	Blueprint	for	the	Human	Spirit
	(Park	Street
Press,	2002),	which	is	refreshingly	humane	and	far-ranging. Pearce	writes	for
the	general	reader	and	intersperses	neurology	with	intriguing	anecdotes. I	have	tried	to	be	as	nontechnical	as	possible	when	discussing	the	vast
philosophical	system	known	as	Vedanta. Readers	who	want	to	go	back	to	thesource	should	begin	with	
The	Concise	Yoga	Vasistha
	(State	University	of	New
York	Press,	1984),	in	a	clear	and	readable	translation	by	Swami
Venkatesananda. This	great	work	describes	the	education	of	Lord	Rama,	an
incarnation	of	God	in	human	form,	at	the	feet	of	an	immortal	rishi,	Vasistha,
who	tells	his	young	pupil	all	the	Vedantic	knowledge	about	death,
reincarnation,	and	the	projection	of	all	worlds	from	the	Self. I’ve	kept	this
book	at	my	side	for	many	years. T
EXT	NOTE:
p. 25
	Modern	attempts	to	weigh	the	soul	at	the	moment	of	death	are	discussed
online	at	
http://www. snopes. com/religion/soulweight. asp. Chapter	2:	The	Cure	for	Dying
The	story	of	the	Tibetan	delog	Dawa	Drolma	is	recounted	by	her	son
Chagdud	Tulku	in	his	introduction	to	her	book,	
Delog:	Journey	into	Realms
Beyond	Death
	(Padma	Publishing,	1995). This	is	the	best	entry	into	personal
experiences	of	the	Bardo	that	I’ve	found. The	classic	work	on	death	and	dying
in	the	Tibetan	tradition	is	the	now-famous	Tibetan	Book	of	the	Dead. It	may
strike	many	Westerners	as	too	exotic	and	detailed	in	its	Buddhist	ritualism,
which	is	the	product	of	many	centuries	of	religious	practice. More	accessible
is	Sogyal	Rinpoche,	
The	Tibetan	Book	of	Living	and	Dying
(HarperSanFrancisco,	1993),	which	covers	the	same	ground. Near-death	experiences	were	introduced	to	the	public	in	the	1970s	through
several	bestsellers,	one	of	them	being	the	immensely	popular	
Life	After	Life
by	Raymond	Moody	(Mockingbird	Books,	1975),	a	quick	read	that	still
retains	the	excitement	of	a	physician	who	has	just	discovered	a	remarkable
phenomenon. Since	then	the	literature	on	NDEs	has	grown	enormously. A
great	deal	of	it	is	summarized	and	updated	on	a	Web	site,	
www. near-
death.
The authors of the theory of "quantum mind" are Henry Stapp, a theoretical physicist from Berkeley, Jeffrey Schwartz, a neuropsychiatrist at UCLA, and Mario Beauregard, a psychologist from the University of Montreal.
Who are the authors of the theory of "quantum mind"?
The concept of "neuroplasticity" is the idea that brain cells are open to change and can adapt to new experiences and intentions. This concept is central to the theory of "quantum mind", which posits that the mind is the controller of the brain, and not the other way around.
What is the concept of "neuroplasticity" and how does it relate to the theory of "quantum mind"?
In the context of the theory of "quantum mind", "samskaras" refers to the idea that the mind can hold onto experiences and memories, which can be cleared or changed through a process of self-reflection and introspection.
What is the idea of "samskaras" in the context of the theory of "quantum mind"?
The concept of "memes" in the theory of "quantum mind" refers to the idea that beliefs and experiences are not static, but can be altered or changed through self-reflection and introspection.
What is the concept of "memes" in the theory of "quantum mind"?
The purpose of the SQUID experiment was to test the idea that the mind can influence the physical world. The outcome of the experiment was that the participant, Ingo Swann, was able to alter the magnetic field of the SQUID device, which was not expected, and the results were consistent with the theory of "quantum mind".
What is the purpose of the SQUID experiment, and what was the outcome?