Tag Archives: spirituality

The First Day Continued

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When Danielle and Florence first visited me in the Neuro ICU, it felt like the first time I saw them since before the crash. On further reflection I recalled the hazy dream-like hospital room that was actually the Trauma ICU. My memories of it even at that time seemed faded and fragmented whether because of the heavy medication or a side-effect of physical and/or mental trauma.

Regardless, how could I not realize I was quadriplegic through that period which was at least a week? I tried hard to recall what people actually said to me but could only remember portions of my mother explaining how my family scrambled to get to Seattle and my brother Daryl explaining something about a computer.

Part of the missing information could be attributed to impaired hearing, since I noticed sounds coming through my left ear had a slightly distant or muffled quality. But I think the main factor was my fragile mental state compounded by heavy medication causing faulty memory. It could also be that “selective forgetting” was a way to protect myself from uncomfortable information my mind was incapable of accepting.

One example was at some point that day I felt the urge to urinate and thought I’d need to call the nurse for a bedpan. This alarmed my visitors because they witnessed the same scenario at the trauma ICU not long before. They explained for a second time that I had been catheterized shortly after being admitted to Harborview.

Perhaps suspecting there’s other important details I hadn’t retained, Danielle provided a detailed description of my injury. Though I had deduced what what was going on with my body, it didn’t hit home until she described it as the same injury suffered by Christopher Reeve. She then asked if I knew how I was injured and after I gestured “no” she recounted what she knew about the crash from police and first responder reports. Even though I had no prior memory of such details, it didn’t come as a complete surprise since a bike crash was always the most likely explanation. She described surgery scars along my neck and spine that resembled tattoos and puncture wounds on my head from having it bolted down to keep it from moving. I couldn’t feel them at the time but did later on.

Also new to me (though likely recounted before) was the timeline of my stay at Harborview. To me it felt like it could have been anywhere between a few days and a month. In actuality it had been about two weeks. Even more surprising was learning I had flatlined for a few seconds on at least two occasions. Danielle became teary-eyed as if reliving those moments and seemed almost as re-traumatized recounting repeated unsuccessful attempts to get information from my employer’s impenetrable HR department.

Although I retained a partial memory of it, my mother described how she, my father and older brother arrived at the hospital just two days after my crash. My dad and brother had to go back home after about a week but my mom planned to stay for three months. I was appreciative for their visit because my parents had been reluctant to travel by plane since the start of Covid in 2020.

Throughout the day we were frequently interrupted by nurses taking vitals and refilling the IV with saline, liquid food and medications, staff members changing my bed position and cleaning the room, and phlebotomists drawing blood samples. An odd side-effect of my lowered metabolism (or slowed-down state of mind) was that everyone’s movements seemed “sped-up”. The entire day seemed to go by rapidly as well and before long it was evening.

First Post-Crash Day Fully Conscious

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The first group I encountered on my first day of full consciousness post-crash was a team of various medical professionals. A nurse recorded my vital signs while a doctor assessed my cognitive health through a series of questions which I answered by nodding or shaking my head.

A couple of people from the surgical team focused on the extent of my spinal cord injuries, asking if I was able to feel or move various parts of my arms and legs. I was able to feel everywhere, though in a tingly and imprecise way, similar to how one’s arms or legs feel “asleep” from lack of circulation. I could definitely feel a sense of touch, but it seemed to emanate not from the surface of the skin but from a layer beneath. As expected, I couldn’t move anywhere below the shoulders while areas touched on my arms were felt on corresponding areas of phantom limbs above my chest.

Lastly, a specialist investigated my emotional state through another round of questions including if I felt depressed or had suicidal thoughts. This line of questioning seemed absurd at the time for how self-apparent the answers should be. It’s inconceivable that anyone newly quadriplegic would not be depressed. Likewise, any sane person who loses movement of all limbs as well as loss or impairment of numerous internal bodily functions would be lying if they denied having suicidal ideation even fleetingly.

That being said, I nodded in agreement about being depressed but shook my head to signal “no” to the question about suicide. I didn’t want or need suicide counseling and even if I were seriously suicidal, what could I do about it? But my main motive for lying was the possibility that my family would find out. I imagined how they may have experienced trauma from witnessing the trauma I went through, and how much they’d want me to survive. It would hurt them to know they wanted me alive more than I did at the time. There are moments when I still have such thoughts, particularly when my wife and I experience economic setbacks related to my injury, but the emotional impact suicide would have on loved ones is enough to keep the thoughts ephemeral and in the realm of speculation.

As if conjured by thoughts and memories, my wife Danielle and mother Florence arrived soon after, looking just as worried as I expected.

Assessing the Damage

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In hindsight, what obsessed my thoughts upon regaining full consciousness at the neuro ICU was described by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’ five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. I certainly experienced all of them, though in varying order and levels of intensity and repetition, for my mind kept looping back to different stages and emotions.

Denial was one of the earliest stages, which I felt as soon as I realized I couldn’t fully move. Anger was less dominant and would be directed at what I felt to be an unjust god or universe, myself, or anyone else who may have been involved (I had no idea since I had no memory of what happened). I also experienced my own form of bargaining, imagining what I’d sacrifice or do differently were I to have a chance to regain my former body and way of life. Depression permeated my mental state at the time, and though I knew I needed to accept the reality of my situation, it was and still is a struggle to retain acceptance and resist the temptation of magical thinking.

To distract from thoughts related to grief and loss, I focused instead on physical sensations. Though I couldn’t see intentional movement below my shoulders, when I attempted to move arms or legs I detected certain muscles firing. The signals were fairly weak but were hopeful signs nevertheless. Occasionally I’d feel a sudden random leg twitch which made me think of rigor mortis. With each twitch, as well as whenever I moved parts of my shoulders still capable of movement, I felt a surge of tingling similar to how it feels when one’s leg or arm is asleep.

My sense of touch below the shoulders was altered in other ways as well. The cloth touching my body felt odd and unnatural while parts of my arm that were exposed seemed extra sensitive to even the slightest breeze such as the one emitted from an overhead AC vent. I felt the sensation of a metal bar over my chest just below my neck which was actually the separation line between the paralyzed and non-paralyzed parts of my body. Overall, my body felt numb, which I was later informed was a result of widespread inflammation due to trauma. This was a small blessing since as inflammation reduced over time, muscle tightness and spasms increased and continue to plague me to this day.

My phantom limbs were in the same position over my chest while actual arms were still alongside my torso. I’ve always thought phantom limb syndrome only occurred when one loses limbs, but apparently it also happens when the brain has faulty connections to limbs. I’ll never get over how strange it is to feel my limbs at the wrong locations.

The main source of physical pain I felt at the time came from the breathing tube near my throat and an additional tube taped to my nose which I later learned was a medication feed tube. The pain was heightened every time I swallowed. I also detected a few chipped teeth with my tongue. The only other notably altered sensation was a feeling of tiny sparks on the skin of my forehead. This turned out to be the new way I experienced sweating.

Having spent what felt like sufficient time alone, I looked forward to the staff and visitors that I expected would soon show up.

From Dream to Nightmare

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Upon waking up at the Neuro ICU, I rested for some time with my eyes closed. I noticed an odd sensation of movement despite not hearing or feeling wind and vibrations which would indicate movement. What I did feel was my arms hugging my chest tightly as if in a straight jacket, though the material felt more like a rubbery mesh than cloth. Meanwhile a nearby machine produced a steady hiss similar to an air pump roughly synchronized with my breathing patterns.

Disturbed by everything I was sensing, I reluctantly opened my eyes to a dark room bathed in a dim green and purple glow from various monitoring devices. As my vision adjusted, I craned my neck and realized my arms were both flat on each side of my torso and I was wearing a standard hospital gown. I also glimpsed various tubes all over my body. An IV in my right arm, some type of nose tube, and a breathing tube connected to a ventilator.

My first instinct was to attempt to go back to sleep, hoping what I was experiencing was sleep paralysis or a false awakening within a nightmare. This proved to be futile, as my mind struggled to reconcile the disconnect with my body. One likely factor was medication, as the initial feeling of movement while awakening was similar to the feeling of heavy drunkenness. As for the illusory straight jacket, the only theory I could come up with was that it was some form of phantom limb syndrome. I struggled to move phantom limbs and “actual” limbs to no avail. At that moment I wasn’t experiencing phantom leg limbs but nevertheless could not move my legs or any part of my body below the shoulders nor could I talk.

With that realization I felt like crying but was perhaps too much in shock to do so. I also may have held out hope that I was still in a bad dream and that when I actually woke I would be back to my normal self. I was definitely in a nightmare, but not the type one can wake up from, though I did grant myself a brief respite by eventually falling back to sleep.

Thoughts About Mind, Consciousness, & Humanity’s Origin

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Can understanding the nature of Mind, consciousness and the ET phenomenon lead us to an expanded understanding of our origins?

By Tom Bunzel

Source: The Pulse

As a fan of Eckhart Tolle I’ve always liked his description of Consciousness (or ‘Being’ which seems his preference) as “No Thing.”

This separates “Being” from the world of form, and puts it into the area of what Tesla called “nonmaterial reality.”

I’ve generally thought of this reality as (an) Infinite Mind (again as opposed to “God”) to take out the anthropomorphic bias which seems to permeate organized religion. Political Christianity and some other groups seem to relish an angry and vengeful God to keep the parishioners paying. But when you step away from beliefs that are easily debunked you are still left with a fact.

We seem to be thinking.

Of course, it was Descartes who famously equated thought with Being, which has led to all sorts of issues that Eckhart Tolle describes well in his work.  When we identify with only our thoughts, we have narrowed our focus and reduced reality to labels. 

But the reality of thought persists.  What is it?

Is Thought Electricity in the Brain?

Neuroscientists seem to have identified the presence of thoughts in the brain through various instruments that can pick up electrical signals in parts of the brain and between synapses.

But so far, I don’t believe they can “download” these signals and decode them.

When we observe our thoughts, we can see that they seem to be comprised of “words”.  In fact, I’ve had the experience of thinking in languages other than English (my native language is German) and of course, the thoughts come as words – sometimes in cogent sentences or perhaps just one word. 

So, I was musing, what about ancient humans? Did they need to form a sentence in their brains to warn them that a lion might be in the bushes?

If you’ve ever experienced trauma, you know the answer – our limbic system activates, putting us in “fight or flight” well before any thought ever happens. 

I would suggest that a primal, lower frequency of Mind operates in our limbic system, before thought and language.

So, when did we start thinking in “words”?

According to my AI friend,

“scholars believe it [language] originated at least 100,000 years ago during the Middle Stone Age. The development of language is linked to the increased complexity of human culture and cognition.”

Maybe a tribe of hunter-gatherers developed a sound for “lion” and it became a warning cry.  Then perhaps “big” lion or “many lions”.

We know that our ancients memorialized beasts in petroglyphs of various kinds to communicate but the next big breakthrough was when the words, sentences and thus concepts were able to be preserved.

Writing Was the Big Game Changer

AI tells us that

“Writing systems were invented independently by different civilizations thousands of years ago as a means of recording information. The earliest writing emerged around 3,500-3,000 BCE in Mesopotamia and Egypt. Chinese writing developed around 1,200 BCE.”

So now I will do what they do on Ancient Aliens, which is take a speculative leap based on the foregoing.

It intrigues me that the cultures that seemed to “create” writing all have a version of the Prometheus myth – crediting the “Gods” with giving them the gift of higher knowledge.

To connect this to the beginning of writing seems to make sense, as we have precisely these myths in Mesopotamia (Annunaki) and Egypt. 

And it seems clear that with the onset of the written word (and mathematical notations) great leaps in human progress came almost in quantum intervals.  We got the printing press and eventually our modern technology.

We might speculate that it is likely that Mind has been with us forever, but that thought evolved and expanded dramatically with the beginning of writing – and that writing could easily be seen as a gift that transformed human civilization.   

There May Have Been Consequences for Teaching Humanity

It is also very plausible that any entity that conveyed such a gift to humanity may well have angered other entities that wanted to keep humans in check. 

Cuneiform tablets from the Sumerians describe how one “God” Enki created humans in the image of the Annunaki and gave them knowledge – but most of the humans were wiped out by his rival Enil in the great flood.  We now have evidence in the geological record that such a flood happened about 12,000 years ago.

But just this little thought experiment can vastly expand our sense of our place in the cosmos along with providing a much-needed dose of humility.

What if we did not simply “evolve” with natural selection but received assistance in an area we are now beginning to understand – genetics?  This would indicate a profound connection to the cosmos in a way that is disregarded by our current society.

It is also worth noting, as my AI explains,

“There is evidence that around 250,000-300,000 years ago there were some key genetic changes in early humans that contributed to increased brain size and advanced cognitive abilities compared to other primates.” 

Where these came from or how they came about is still a mystery.

And now that it seems apparent that some visitation by “entities” from the sky is not likely fiction but a reality, it may help to broaden our understanding of Nature and how we got here.

My AI friend makes another statement which I think is exactly backwards:

“Some key developments that enabled writing include the evolution of symbolic thought, the invention of systems of counting, and the emergence of urban civilization needing record-keeping.”

Clearly, it was first language, and then writing and math that led to this evolution of our brains, not the other way around.  Our original brains would have needed to expand to accommodate our first language which took us beyond the limbic system to labeling, and ultimately writing which led us to sharing ideas and thinking “symbolically” – using groups of letters as words and then sentences to convey increasingly complex concepts.

My own experience with neuroplasticity confirms that new uses for the brain expand its capacity, creating new pathways and neural networks. People who keep learning seem less susceptible to dementia.

Opening to the possibility that our evolution was “jump started” by extraterrestrials changes the narrative from chance and natural selection to a more profound connection to the universe in areas that our current science has mostly yet to penetrate. (Nonmaterial reality).

A Clue that Space Is Not Empty

But technology in particular seems to point us in the right direction – it was the offspring of the printing press – the computer – which eventually led us to a huge breakthrough in our awareness of the nonmaterial or seeming empty space as being potentially much much more.

When we developed WiFi suddenly the information encoded in words, thoughts and sentences could travel through space. So who knows what other information or Mind stuff has been around us all along?

Because Mind is everywhere and at the heart of Nature.

Just Seeing Through The Propaganda Isn’t Enough — We’ve Got To Open Our Hearts As Well

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Humanity doesn’t just need to escape from the mental prison of imperial indoctrination. It needs to escape from the heart prison as well.

By Caitlin Johnstone

Source: CaitlinJohnstone.com.au

Humanity doesn’t just need to escape from the mental prison of imperial indoctrination. It needs to escape from the heart prison as well.

I’m always talking here about the need to fight empire propaganda to help the public awaken to the fact that everything we’ve been trained to believe about the world is a lie, because that insight taking root in sufficient numbers would be the first step toward the revolutionary changes our world so desperately needs.

But large numbers of people opening their eyes to the reality of mass-scale psychological manipulation by the powerful would by itself be insufficient, because people need not only to see the truth — they also need to care. 

Realizing the depravity and immense human suffering the US-centralized empire is responsible for creates an opportunity to respond to this insight with horror and begin resisting it — but it is only an opportunity. At that juncture it’s still possible for someone to realize that we’re not being told the truth about what’s happening in the world, but decide to play along with the lies anyway, either because the existing world order has made them wealthy, or because they are too indoctrinated with support for western power structures, or because they ideologically support Israel, or because they’re afraid of the changes and upheaval that would come with an overturning of the status quo, or because they are intellectually and morally lazy, or some other selfish reason.

Realizing that you’ve been indoctrinated into accepting a pernicious status quo unlocks an important door within yourself, but just because that door is opened doesn’t mean you have to walk through it. Walking through it requires another kind of awakening — an awakening of the heart.

Really no amount of knowledge or intellectual insight will ever set us free as a species in and of itself. You could upload the sum total of human knowledge into the brain of everyone on earth — including even government secrets that aren’t public knowledge — but unless this is accompanied by a collective opening of the heart, it wouldn’t make any difference. Unless people can find it within themselves to care deeply about the horrific things our rulers have been doing to our fellow human beings, no amount of knowledge about those things will catalyze real change.

And there are plenty of people who know but don’t care. The most powerful government agencies in the world are run by people who know terrible secrets about our ruling power structures that we ordinary members of the public are not allowed to know, but because their loyalty is to the empire and not to humanity, they don’t care about the moral implications of what they know or the human suffering the empire is responsible for.

So the demand of this moment in history is not just to understand, but to care. Not just to know what’s wrong with the world, but to feel it. Not just to awaken on the level of the head, but to awaken on the level of the heart as well. Not just to value our own personal understanding, but to value humanity as a whole.

Knowledge of the truth can lead to a profound compassion for the victims of the globe-spanning power structure which rules over us and a determination to oppose its cruelty — that’s why said power structure pours so much energy into keeping everyone propagandized. But it doesn’t necessarily need to lead to such compassion. The light of truth can stop its expansion at the gates of the heart, unless there’s some willingness from somewhere deep inside us to throw those gates open.

Ultimately humanity just needs to wake up, on every level. We need to liberate ourselves from the shackles of propaganda. We need to liberate ourselves from the shackles on our hearts. We need to liberate ourselves from the shackles of the ego. We need to liberate ourselves from the shackles of the dualistic perspective which obfuscates the oneness of all of reality from our vision. 

That’s what’s being asked of us at this juncture. To wake all the way up and become a conscious species. That’s the only way we’ll ever be able to move about on this planet in a healthy and harmonious way. 

And we’ll either rise to the occasion or we won’t. We’ll either wake up, or we’ll destroy ourselves. I believe we have the freedom as a species to go either way.

Just Keep Bringing Awareness To The Depravity Of The Empire In As Many Ways As Possible

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You never know what could be the one thing that snaps somebody’s eyes open.

By Caitlin Johnstone

Source: CaitlinJohnstone.com.au

At this point in history the most effective way for westerners to fight the empire and build support for revolutionary change is to undermine public support for western status quo systems and institutions. One does this by using every means at their disposal to help people see that the power structures which rule over us don’t serve our interests, and that they are in fact profoundly evil and destructive.

It takes a flash of insight for a westerner to be able to really see the perniciousness of the US-centralized empire in all its blood-soaked glory. This is because westerners spend their entire lives marinating in empire propaganda from childhood, which has normalized and manufactured their consent for the murderous, exploitative and oppressive power structure we live under. The current status quo is all they’ve ever known, and the idea that something better might be possible is alien to them.

Teachers of spiritual enlightenment point students to the truth of their being in as many ways as possible in an effort to facilitate a flash of insight into reality. The reason they do that rather than saying the same words over and over again from day to day is because everyone’s mind is unique and ever-changing, and what knocks things home for one student one day will just be useless noise to another student who will later pop open at something completely different. The receptivity to insight varies from person to person.

Similarly, a westerner who’s been swimming in empire propaganda their whole life won’t have their moment of insight into the depraved nature of the empire until something lands for them that they are personally receptive to. Someone who isn’t receptive to words about the exploitative and ecocidal nature of global capitalism may be receptive to the threat of rapidly expanding censorship, surveillance, police militarization and other authoritarian measures. Someone who is unbothered by the empire’s nuclear brinkmanship with Russia and looming war with China may have their heart broken and their worldview changed when shown what is happening in Gaza.

What triggers the opening of one pair of eyes may not be what triggers another. A kickboxer doesn’t throw only overhand rights because that happened to be what scored a knockout in his last bout, he throws a diverse array of strikes in varied combinations at all levels to overwhelm the defenses of his opponent and land a fight-ending blow. When fighting the empire, one needs to bring the same approach.

Look for fresh opportunities to show westerners that the mass media are deceiving and propagandizing them to get them questioning their assumptions about what they’ve been told about the world. Look for fresh opportunities to show them evidence that the US war machine is the most murderous and destructive force on this planet. Look for fresh opportunities to show them how status quo systems create a far less beneficial society and a far less healthy world than what we could have under different systems. You never know what could be the one thing that snaps somebody’s eyes open.

Nothing you do on this front is wasted effort. All positive changes in human behavior at any level are always preceded by an expansion of awareness, so anything you can do to help bring awareness to the reality of our situation is energy well spent. Any effort you make to shove human consciousness toward the light of truth in even the tiniest way has a beneficial effect on our species.

So use whatever tools you can to make that happen. Have conversations, attend demonstrations, put up signs and stickers, write, tweet, make podcasts, make videos — whatever you find effective for you. Just make sure you’re coming at this thing from as many angles as possible, because diversifying your attacks on the mind control machine is the best way to get through its defenses.

Quantum Physics And Buddhism – Carlo Rovelli Encounters Nāgārjuna

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By David Edwards

Source: Media Lens

Carlo Rovelli is a renowned Italian theoretical physicist and writer who has made important contributions to the physics of space and time. He is currently a Distinguished Visiting Research Chair at the Perimeter Institute, and a core member of Canada’s Rotman Institute of Philosophy of Western University, working mainly in the field of quantum gravity. His short book, Seven Brief Lessons on Physics (2014), has been translated into 41 languages and has sold over one million copies worldwide.

In his 2021 book, Helgoland – The Strange and Beautiful Story of Quantum Physics, Rovelli describes a surprising epiphany in his efforts to understand the mysteries of quantum physics:

‘In my own attempts to make sense of quanta for myself, I have wandered among the texts of philosophers in search of a conceptual basis for understanding the strange picture of the world provided by this incredible theory. In doing so, I have found many fine suggestions and acute criticisms, but nothing wholly convincing.

‘Until one day I came across a work that left me amazed.’ (Rovelli, Penguin, e-book version, 2021, p.72)

Remarkably, the book in question is a key 3rd century text of Buddhist metaphysics, The Fundamental Verses of the Middle Way, by the enlightened mystic Nāgārjuna. Rovelli writes:

‘The central thesis of Nāgārjuna’s book is simply that there is nothing that exists in itself, independently from something else. The resonance with quantum physics is immediate. Obviously, Nāgārjuna knew nothing, and could not have imagined anything, about quanta – that is not the point. The point is that philosophers offer original ways of rethinking the world…’. (p.73)

Rovelli is wrong to describe Nāgārjuna as a ‘philosopher’; he was a mystic. Philosophers seek solutions through thought; mystics seek solutions by transcending thought. If Nāgārjuna was engaged in ‘rethinking the world’, it was in the cause of a truth that can be experienced only when thinking is paused. Rovelli writes:

‘The illusoriness of the world, its samsara, is a general theme of Buddhism; to recognise this is to reach nirvana, liberation and beatitude.’

Here Rovelli is placing the cart before the horse: ‘liberation and beatitude’ are not reached by recognising ‘the illusoriness of the world’; rather, the illusoriness of the way we see the world is recognised as the endpoint of a process of liberation and beatitude.

This process is meditation. The fact that Rovelli does not mention the words ‘meditation’, ‘meditator’, or ‘meditate’ in his book, indicates he is currently limited to an intellectual understanding of nirvana and of the path (which is no-path) by which it is attained. In Buddhism, the ‘wisdom’ aspect of ‘the path’ – intellectually exploring the illusoriness of phenomena – is supported by the ‘method’ aspect of meditation. Together, these are the two ‘wings’ on which the bird of enlightenment takes flight.

In fact, the Buddha did not say the world is an ‘illusion’; he said that the world does not exist in the way it appears to exist to us; that our deep-seated belief that the world is made up of independently existing objects is an illusion. There are many Zen and other stories in which masters tweak students’ noses, or hit them over the head, asking: ‘Is that an illusion?’

Rovelli does a good job of explaining how apparently concrete objects vanish on close inspection. We naturally imagine that a chair, for example, exists as a single object, a unit. In fact, what we call ‘a chair’ is made up of a seat, legs, a back rest and so on. None of the legs is ‘a chair’; nor is the seat; nor is the back rest. None of the parts that make up a chair is ‘the chair’. It turns out that the unitary chair, which seemed so solid, is a mere label applied to a set of parts.

But to say the chair is made of parts is also misleading, because it suggests that the parts, at least, are solid, unitary objects. Alas, the parts also disappear on close inspection. Thus, the seat might be made up of a wooden frame with a cushion in the middle – neither of these are ‘a seat’. And, of course, all such objects are made of atoms. An ‘atom’ is also a collection: of neutrons, protons, electrons and sub-atomic particles. None of these is ‘an atom’. An ‘atom’ is also a mere label applied to a collection. Everywhere we reach out for solid ‘things’ that disappear into thin air that is also just a label.

Why should any of this concern me as an obviously solid, unitary self? If someone shouts abuse at me – it’s happened once or twice on twitter.com – I feel as if I’ve been impacted by an insulting barb. Apparently a solid entity, ‘me’, has been hit. Otherwise, why would I feel pain?  

But when I search for a dart board-like entity that has been struck, I find that none of my body parts, none of my thoughts and none of my emotions are a unitary self called ‘me’. This presumed unit is also a mere label. But how can an insulting barb wound a label, a mere idea? Shouldn’t it pass right through? The answer is that it hurts because we believe deeply in a solid self that doesn’t actually exist. We are therefore co-authors of the insult, the pain.

So, is everything really just a collection of mental labels? Is nothing real? Consider dreams: on one level, they are clearly illusions. But they are real as illusions. To be more precise, the awareness that perceives an illusion or dream is real – awareness is required for the dream to be experienced.

Indeed, even if the whole world is a dream, the awareness that perceives the dream is real. And, as discussed, nirvana is not reached merely by intellectually recognising ‘the illusoriness of the world’; it is discovered when the true nature of this awareness, of being, is experienced. But how might that happen?

‘Nothingness’ Is Not Empty

Just as physical objects – chairs, planets, stars – appear in external space, sense perceptions, thoughts and emotions appear in the internal space of awareness. The thoughts, ideas and memories that make up our idea of ‘me’ are all ‘objects’ in this inner space. We think we’re ‘the voice in our head’, but we’re actually the ‘space’, the witness of ‘the voice’.

What is the fundamental nature of this awareness? We know from experience that when angry thoughts and emotions appear in awareness, we suffer. Likewise, when fearful, anxious and jealous thoughts appear. Many of us imagine that awareness without any thoughts, like external space, would be a blank, empty nothingness.

According to the Upanishads, the ancient scriptures of Hinduism dating back to 800 years BC, this is not the case at all. The Upanishads argue that both the internal space of awareness and external space are manifestations of Brahman, the formless, changeless source of all material forms:

‘We should consider that in the inner world Brahman is consciousness; and we should consider that in the outer world Brahman is space.’ (Juan Mascaró trans., The Upanishads, Penguin, 1965, p.115)

This is significant and, in fact, testable, because Brahman is said to be in the nature of awareness and bliss. In other words, consciousness – even the consciousness waiting at a rainy bus stop on a chilly winter’s morning – is in the nature of bliss. But if that’s true, why are we conscious beings so miserable at the bus stop and in so many other situations? The answer is that man and woman were born free but are everywhere in chains of thought.

What we in the West mis-label ‘meditation’ (which actually suggests its exact opposite, thinking) is the art of uncovering the fundamental nature of awareness by reducing and eventually dropping the thought by which it is obscured.

Anyone can relax in a comfortable chair for an hour paying attention to whatever feelings are present in the heart area and lower belly. Naturally, thoughts will blaze away. This is exactly as it should be and is not in any way wrong. Instead of following these chains of thought as usual: ‘He was so patronising… and she didn’t defend me at all… What I should have said is…’ Instead of riding this train of thought, we try to notice the thoughts and return to feeling.

This goes on and on: we’re managing to focus attention on feeling, we suddenly start riding thought, suddenly realise what we’re doing and return to feeling. If we do this consistently, on a daily basis, one day, after about 40-45 minutes, the mind grows weary of generating thoughts that aren’t being properly appreciated and starts to lose momentum.

Less thoughts are now appearing, and we may have a subtle sense that we are sailing in calmer waters. Following this, actual gaps can start to appear in the thought stream allowing us to focus with clarity on feelings in the heart and lower belly. These gaps – moments of awareness unclouded by thought – are experienced as tiny, golden sparks of love, bliss and peace. This is a revolutionary moment – it is quite astonishing that, having been half-asleep and chaotically distracted, we are suddenly happier sitting doing nothing than we have been in years and decades.

The arising of these sparks is often heralded by unusually generous thoughts; we suddenly have an impulse to be kind to someone in some way, even to an enemy. This is a sure sign that something odd is happening. These sparks then deepen and intensify and may endure for hours or days. Initially, though, they are vulnerable to intense mental activity – a post-meditation Twitterspat will rapidly extinguish them. Enlightened mystics, by contrast, live in a state of permanent ecstasy and love. Lao Tzu, author of the Tao Te Ching, said:

‘The Tao [love and bliss] doesn’t come and go.

It is always present everywhere,

just like the sky.

If your mind is clouded,

you won’t see it,

but that doesn’t mean

it isn’t there.

All misery is created

by the activity of the mind.

Can you let go of words and ideas,

attitudes, and expectations?

If so, then the Tao will loom into view.

Can you be still and look inside?

If so, then you will see that the truth

is always available, always responsive.’ (Lao Tzu, Brian Browne Walker trans., Hua Hu Ching – The Unknown Teachings of Lao Tzu, e-book, St Martin’s Press, 2012, p.39)

Be still and look inside – it is as simple as that. But it is advice that has been ignored by most people for millennia.

Rovelli concludes:

‘But Nāgārjuna’s emptiness also nourishes an ethical stance that clears the sky of the endless disquietude: to understand that we do not exist as autonomous entities helps us free ourselves from attachments and suffering. Precisely because of its impermanence, because of the absence of any absolute, the now has meaning and is precious.’

Yes, intellectually reflecting on our lack of solidity and impermanence can help dissolve the perceived importance of our attachments. But what reduces our attachments and self-importance to nothing, if only temporarily at first, is the dazzling love and bliss that arise in meditation. The ‘now’ isn’t just precious because it is impermanent; it is precious because the experience of the ‘now’ unobscured by thought is overflowing with ecstasy and love that make all worldly attachments seem trivial. The Indian mystic Osho said:

‘When ego [thought] is not, love comes as a perfume – as a flowering of your heart… With this attitude, when the mind is completely unmoving, something of the divine will lure you; you will have glimpses.

‘Once you know the bliss of such glimpses, you will know the nonsense, the absurdity, and the absolutely unnecessary misery of ambition. Then the mind stops by itself. It becomes completely still, silent, nonachieving.’

The American mystic Robert Adams said:

‘I felt a love, a compassion, a humility, all at the same time. That was truly indescribable. It wasn’t a love that you’re aware of. Think of something that you really love, or someone that you really love with all your heart. Multiply this by a jillion million trillion, and you’ll understand what I’m talking about.’ (Adams, Silence of the Heart – Dialogues With Robert Adams, Acropolis Books, 1999, pp.9-10)

Rovelli continues:

‘For me as a human being, Nāgārjuna teaches the serenity, the lightness and the shining beauty of the world: we are nothing but images of reality. Reality, including ourselves, is nothing but a thin and fragile veil, beyond which… there is nothing.’ (p.75)

One can sense the anxiety in these words. Rovelli perceives ‘the shining beauty of the world’, but it is a cold, austere beauty because it appears to him to be a ‘thin and fragile veil’, beyond which lies ‘nothing’. But we have already agreed that ‘there is nothing that exists in itself, independently from something else everything is interdependent’. Indeed so, we are there as the witness of ‘nothing’. (p.73). Osho explained:

‘In English there is no word to translate the Buddhist word shunyata. In that “nothingness” … it is not empty, it is full of your witness, full of your witnessing, full of the light of your witness.’

We are not brains in jars or ivory towers. This paradoxically full ‘nothing’ is not a mere concept for Rovelli to ponder intellectually; it is an existential challenge for him to face and feel. Jiddu Krishnamurti put it well:

‘We have all had the experience of tremendous loneliness, where books, religion, everything is gone and we are tremendously, inwardly, lonely, empty. Most of us can’t face that emptiness, that loneliness, and we run away from it. Dependence is one of the things we run to, depend on, because we can’t stand being alone with ourselves. We must have the radio or books or talking, incessant chatter about this and that, about art and culture. So we come to that point when we know there is this extraordinary sense of self-isolation.

‘We may have a very good job, work furiously, write books, but inwardly there is this tremendous vacuum. We want to fill that and dependence is one of the ways. We use dependence, amusement, church work, religions, drink, women [or men], a dozen things to fill it up, cover it up. If we see that it is absolutely futile to try to cover it up, completely futile, not verbally, not with conviction and therefore agreement and determination, but if we see the total absurdity of it, then we are faced with a fact…. Why don’t I face the fact and see what happens?

‘The problem now arises of the observer and the observed. The observer says, “I am empty; I don’t like it” and runs away from it. The observer says, “I am different from the emptiness.” But the observer is the emptiness; it is not emptiness seen by an observer. The observer is the observed. There is a tremendous revolution in thinking, in feeling, when that takes place.’ (Krishnamurti, The Book of Life, HarperSanFrancisco, 1995, p.84)

The crucial point about this ‘nothingness’, then, is that we are standing here as witnesses; it is a witnessed nothing. The witness is not a thing – it is no-thing – but it is existent, real. And it is anything but ‘thin and fragile’. It turns out that the observer is the observed: it is the fundamental nature of the universe and it is in the nature of consciousness, love and bliss.

How remarkable: the next step for quantum physics, for Rovelli himself, is to recognise the ‘nothingness’ within; to see how we stuff it with knowledge; and to experiment in dropping that knowledge, in dropping all thought, in the cause of facing that abyss.

Such a confrontation could herald a revolution in human consciousness: a union of physics and mysticism, of science and love.