More Than Allegory

by Bernardo Kastrup

  I could scan the layers from bottom to top and interpret this movement of my attention as the passage of time. This way, I could see the dynamic formation of the tangles and knots as progressively more advanced stages of a kind of chemical agglutination or cross-linking reaction.

  Once again my mind was on fire. These ideas and images opened up huge new horizons and the potential implications were astounding.

  ‘If, as you said earlier, mind-at-large is my own mind as much as it is anybody else’s mind, it is presumably possible for me to gain awareness of deeper layers of universal mentation…’

  ‘In principle it is,’ he confirmed. ‘By letting go of your ordinary attention in just the right way, you can indeed reduce the obfuscation of these deeper layers, which are always in your consciousness anyway.’

  ‘But by accessing them just as I access the Dome right now, I could presumably change the belief system in these layers and thereby change ordinary reality. Yet, this doesn’t seem at all possible.’

  ‘If you were to reduce the obfuscation of the layers where the belief system behind ordinary reality resides, you would simply become cognizant that you have those beliefs. But you would still hold the same beliefs.’

  ‘So there is no possibility to change the rules of cognitive association that govern ordinary reality?’ I asked with a note of disappointment.

  A silent pause ensued that seemed to last for several uncomfortable seconds. I wondered whether I’d said something wrong or whether the Other was simply hesitating. Finally, he continued slowly and emphatically:

  ‘To change a belief system, you have to become lucid of the layers of cognition that underlie and give rise to it. In other words, you have to go at least one layer deeper than the layers where the belief system itself resides. And you have to do it in a critical, self-reflective manner.’

  ‘So why doesn’t anybody do it to make life easier? Why do the rules governing ordinary reality seem so implacable and immutable?’ I probably sounded rather cynical here.

  ‘Because self-reflective access to a layer of cognition requires back-and-forth associative interconnections between this layer and higher layers. Without them you can’t think about your thoughts or inquire critically into your own hidden beliefs. However, such back-and-forth interlayer interconnections form only in the high-density associative environment of clusters. The belief system that governs ordinary reality, on the other hand, resides in layers much deeper than those where clusters develop, thereby escaping the reach of back-and-forth interlayer associations. The fisherman’s line isn’t long enough to reach those depths, so to speak. As such, people cannot change their ordinary reality because the corresponding belief system is too deeply ingrained, beyond the reach of self-reflection.’

  ‘I think I understand this,’ I commented, ‘but could you try to explain it in simpler terms?’

  ‘The belief system that governs ordinary reality is like a collective instinct: it’s an automatism unreachable by lucid reasoning. Your sexual instincts, for instance, cannot be changed by mere rational judgment; otherwise celibate monks, ascetics and people with socially reviled sexual preferences would have easier lives. This is so because you cannot think about the mental processes that underlie and give rise to your instincts. You can only attain lucidity of the instincts’ effects, not of their source. Likewise, humankind cannot change the rules of cognitive association whose reflection is the laws of nature.’

  ‘But there are beliefs one can reflect critically upon and change,’ I pointed out. ‘For instance, any scientist who has ever changed his or her mind about the validity of a certain theory has done precisely that. And so has anyone who has ever changed his or her religious views.’

  ‘Beliefs can form in any layer of cognition,’ the Other clarified. ‘Wherever they are in mind, they determine some aspect of your experience; that is, of your world. But some beliefs are superficial and accessible to self-reflective inquiry, while others are much more deeply ingrained, escaping the reach of back-and-forth interlayer associations. The belief system that underlies the laws of nature is of the latter kind.’

  The complex unfolding of beliefs

  ‘Yes, this is clear to me now,’ I acknowledged, my skepticism somewhat soothed. ‘I wonder about one thing, though. It seems to me that an exploding number of rules of cognitive association would be required to account for every aspect of ordinary reality. We would need a rule for what happens when I close my eyes, another for what happens when I sit under the sun, a different rule for the effect of each drug…’

  ‘This is incorrect,’ he interrupted me. ‘The myriad effects that you are referring to arise as compound implications of basic, much more generic rules of association. Many of these generic rules simply correspond to what you know as the laws of classical physics, which aren’t many. That the laws of classical physics are, in fact, rules of cognitive association doesn’t change the fact that their effects can combine into higher-complexity implications. This way, there is no law of classical physics or rule of association dedicated to specifying what happens when you close your eyes; the effect of closing your eyes is the compound implication of much more generic regularities in nature.’

  ‘So all rules of cognitive association are reflected in the laws of classical physics we know?’

  ‘No, your knowledge of the patterns and regularities of nature is not complete,’ he continued. ‘Most significantly, while the classical laws you know apply all the way down to the level of molecules, there are organizing principles in nature—wide-ranging beliefs of mind-at-large—that only apply at the level of complex, macroscopic systems. Currently, you dismiss these purely macroscopic regularities as mere coincidences.’

  ‘Are you referring to meaningful coincidences, or synchronicities, like getting a call from someone you happen to be thinking about, or getting an unsolicited job offer precisely when you are considering a change of career?’

  ‘Yes, but not only synchronicities,’ he answered. ‘Certain aspects of physiology and metabolism, as well as other organizing principles that your science cannot study under controlled laboratory conditions, also reflect wide-ranging beliefs about how nature should behave.’

  ‘Yet unknown laws of nature waiting to be discovered…’ I commented with a sigh.

  ‘Yes, undiscovered mental patterns reflecting instinctive beliefs and charged with emotions,’ he clarified, ‘which will remain unknown for as long as your science arbitrarily limits its own perspectives by unnecessarily inferring a world outside mind.’

  The clarity, coherence and evocative power of his words were formidable. I just wasn’t fully convinced yet because I suspected that, upon more careful examination, holes or gaps could still be found in his metaphysics. But I no longer had the mental energy to pursue the dialogue further. My most urgent questions had been addressed and I needed a break. Sensing all this, the Other offered:

  ‘You have much to think about over the coming months. Integrating all you have learned takes time and shouldn’t be rushed. There is a natural rhythm to everything. You are correct that the story is not yet complete and more elucidations are required, but we will have occasion to explore more when the time is right.’

  Chapter 10

  The origin of life, the universe and everything

  Over a year would pass before I could return to Club premises and resume my journeys. The delay was entirely due to personal and professional circumstances of my own life, not to Trilobite. Indeed, despite the fact that advances in the Recipe since my earlier trips had been reliably delivering many other Explorers to the Dome—including Club leadership—project scientists were still eager for me to return. There was a somewhat unjustified expectation on their part that, like before, my own journeys could deliver even more advances to the Recipe. Moreover, my trip reports had turned into a kind of popular novel, the next chapter of which everybody wanted to read.

  During this interlude of a year, I had continued to help refine the R
ecipe. Telemetry recordings and trip reports from many other Explorers were now flooding in, unveiling more specific correlations than ever before between neural activity (or rather lack thereof) and the most interesting elucidations of the Other. We zeroed in on these and developed a new setup to give the Other even more latitude and autonomy to convey his insights (or her insights, since many other Explorers experienced the Other as female). I had arranged to be the first Explorer to try this new setup and was very eager to see the results.

  Space and time

  The evening before my next journey, I had dinner with Sophie in a simple but delightful Italian restaurant very close to where I used to work when I first met her, a few years earlier. I used to be a regular there and the place brought back many good memories. It was a fantastic way to set the right mood for what was to come.

  After catching up with developments in each other’s lives, Sophie told me that another explorer she had originally brought into the project, and whom she had maintained regular contact with, wanted to suggest something to me. This woman was a well-respected, semi-retired clinical psychologist. She’d read my earlier trip reports and was amazed at the facility with which a straightforward dialogue with the Other emerged in my journeys. According to her view of things, the Other was what Jungian psychologists call ‘the Self.’ But the Self supposedly communicates in riddles and symbols, almost never in straightforward language. That’s why she was so interested in what she considered to be my peculiar psychological makeup, which she thought held great promise. She wanted to suggest that, instead of setting very specific agendas or questions for a journey, I should allow the Other to choose what to discuss. According to her, the Self knows much better than my ego what I truly need to learn, so I should simply adopt an attitude of openness and receptivity, with only a generic intent to understand life and the universe. Because her suggestion matched so well with the latest fine-tunings of the Recipe—meant to give the Other more autonomy to steer the dialogues—I considered it a synchronicity and decided to give it a try.

  The next morning, still slightly hungry after the frugal breakfast dictated by protocol, I was strapped once more to the Trilobite rig. While waiting for the technicians to adjust the tight-fitting headgear to my skull, I mentally reviewed my discussion with Sophie the previous evening. Yes, I really wanted to follow the suggestion of the psychologist. So after the needle insertion for the Juice Mix—always the most unpleasant part for me—I turned mentally inward and set myself the generic intent to learn whatever the Other considered most appropriate and opportune at the moment.

  ‘We will talk today about the origin of life and the universe,’ he opened. ‘But before we begin, a few clarifications are necessary.’

  ‘OK, let’s do it…’ I mumbled, mostly to myself.

  ‘The idea of an “origin” evokes your concept of time,’ he explained. ‘But neither time nor space exist in the way you normally think of them. Allow me to elaborate.’

  In my mind, I took a deep, long breath. This was going to be intense…

  ‘Mind-at-large is populated with endless mental contents,’ he continued. ‘These mental contents are “excitations” or “movements” of mind-at-large that, although multiple and varied, are all experienced concurrently in the now. It’s easy to see that multiple mental contents can be experienced simultaneously: imagine a person seeing an image, hearing a sound, having a thought about what is being seen and heard, and feeling an emotion evoked by that thought, all at the same time. Clearly, one and the same person can experience thought, emotion and multiple perceptions—a variety of mental contents—concurrently, in an overlapping manner.’

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘multiple and different experiences can exist simultaneously in one and the same mind.’

  ‘Nonetheless,’ he added, ‘this concurrency does not invalidate the very specific associations linking the different mental contents together: the images and sounds being perceived by the person are still triggering a specific thought (instead of any other), which in turn is still evoking a specific emotion (instead of any other), even though they are all being experienced at the same time.’

  He paused, as if to make sure I was still with him.

  ‘Yes,’ I finally acknowledged, ‘these associations are specific cognitive links that exist even between parallel, overlapping experiences, as in a cross-referenced database.’

  ‘Precisely,’ he continued. ‘Now, what you call space-time is simply a mental coordinate system that allows you to unfold or unpack overlapping mental contents. This makes explicit the associative links between them, which would otherwise remain hidden. In other words, space-time allows you to mentally “spread out” simultaneous perceptions, thoughts, emotions, insights, etc., along cognitive reference lines, thereby rendering their links visible to, and treatable by, the intellect. Moreover, this mental trick allows you to describe the associative links in terms of the reference lines used—that is, time and space—which is precisely what you do when you talk of “cause and effect”: you mentally extend simultaneous events in time, so you can say which one happened first and “caused” the other. Essentially, however, all associative links are simultaneous, overlapping mental evocations. They do have structure, but this structure doesn’t inherently span time or space. Instead, it is determined simply by which mental contents evoke which other mental contents—or equivalently, by which mental contents are not evoked in each respective case—as in the cross-referenced database you alluded to. Space-time patterns are only a way to describe and think about this essentially static and dimensionless cognitive structure.’

  As he was saying these words, I saw a sheet of paper being repeatedly folded and unfolded in my mind. The sheet had many lines and arrows drawn on it, connecting together myriad different points also drawn on the paper. I knew the lines and arrows represented causal links, such as the laws of nature and logic, while the points represented events. During the folding part of the cycle, the sheet would be packed into an ever-smaller bundle. At each folding step, more of the lines and arrows on it would become invisible behind the folds. At the end, the sheet would be folded up so tightly as to completely vanish. In the unfolding part of the cycle, the first unfolding movement would make a tiny bundle of paper seemingly pop out of nowhere, like a singularity. Each subsequent unfolding step would then reveal more and more of the previously hidden interconnect lines, until the sheet would be fully stretched out. I knew that this stretched-out sheet was space-time, whose unfolding rendered otherwise implicit cognitive associations visible as causal laws. I was in awe of the synergistic effect between these visuals and the Other’s words. I literally saw what he was trying to say.

  ‘Therefore,’ he continued, ‘space-time is just a mental trick, not a standalone reality. Whenever you hear me talk of “stages,” “steps” or “phases” of mentation, this will be simply a way to discuss simultaneous experiences by unfolding them along an imaginary timeline. Likewise, whenever you hear me talk of different “parts,” “aspects” or “segments” of mind, this will be simply a way to discuss overlapping experiences by unfolding them along imaginary spatial lines. Clear?’

  Since the Other could sense whether I understood something or not, obviously this question was rhetorical. He was simply trying to emphasize the importance of what he’d just explained.

  ‘Not quite.’ I half-lied to see how he would react.

  ‘It’s OK. I just wanted to plant this idea in your intellect upfront, both to avoid literal interpretations of what I am about to say, and in the hope that the seed will eventually grow into a fuller understanding.’

  The vibrations of the string of mind

  ‘I am comfortable with that,’ I said sincerely. ‘But something you said earlier and rather casually peaked my curiosity. Why did you describe the mental contents of mind-at-large as “excitations” or “movements” of mind-at-large?’

  ‘To prevent you from thinking that its contents are different or separate fr
om mind-at-large itself. When you pluck a guitar string, it vibrates, moves, or gets excited. In exactly the same way, the mental contents of mind-at-large are the “excitations” or “movements” of mind-at-large. There is nothing to a mental content but mind-at-large itself, in the same way that there is nothing to a vibrating guitar string but the string itself. Moreover, many different excitations co-exist simultaneously in mind-at-large, just as many radio stations co-exist simultaneously in an oscillating broadcast signal.’

  ‘But a vibration only exists across time and space,’ I dared to rebut. ‘The movements of the guitar string, for instance, unfold in time and along the length of the string. Without time and space, both of which you’ve just denied, we cannot talk of vibrations.’

  ‘This is where the vibration metaphor breaks,’ he explained. ‘Let’s go back to something we already established: mental contents—like sensations, thoughts, feelings—can all be experienced simultaneously in the here and now. They do not required time or space to co-exist, do they?’

  ‘Indeed they don’t,’ I granted.

  ‘Good,’ he continued quickly, before I had a chance to argue further. ‘Your challenge now is to find a way to reconcile the following two truths: mental contents, on the one hand, are the behavior of mind-at-large, much like a vibration is the behavior of a guitar string or a dance is the behavior of a dancer. On the other hand, myriad mental contents exist simultaneously in mind-at-large, without requiring time or space to co-exist. In summary, mind-at-large expresses itself to itself through many simultaneous, overlapping behaviors.’

  ‘I can live with this,’ I said. It wasn’t lost on me that he had now subtly replaced the words ‘excitation’ and ‘movement’ with the more generic word ‘behavior,’ which somewhat circumvented the contradiction I had pointed out.

  ‘Excellent,’ he continued. ‘But keep in mind the key point: space-time is a descriptive framework in cognition; a reference frame that allows you to think and talk about the structure of associations across simultaneous, overlapping mental contents. It does not exist outside cognition. So every time I implicitly or explicitly use time or space to explain something to you, I will be doing so metaphorically, or symbolically.’