Transpersonal

Studies
T H E I N T E R N AT I O N A L J O U R N A L O F

Volume 23, 2004

Table of Contents
Editors Introduction ii
Douglas A. MacDonald, Ph.D. and Harris Friedman, Ph.D.
The Artistic Brain, the Navajo Concept of Hozho, and Kandinskys Inner Necessity 1
Charles D. Laughlin, Ph.D.
Cosmic Connectivity: Toward a Scientific Foundation for Transpersonal Consciousness 21
Ervin Laszlo, Ph.D.
Animal Mind as Approached by the Transpersonal Notion of Collective Conscious Experience 32
Axel A. Randrup, Ph.D.
All Mind? No Matter: The Self-Regulation Paradigm 46
Stanley Krippner, Ph.D.
Transpersonal Functions of Masks in NohKiDo 50
Sirkku M. Sky Hiltunen, Ph.D.
Metaphysical Tracking: The Oldest Ecopsychology 65
David Kowalewski, Ph.D.
The Trans/Trans Fallacy and the Dichotomy Debate 75
Burton Daniels
A Secret Poem for You 91
Jorge N. Ferrer, Ph.D.
A Revised Paranormal Belief Scale 94
Jerome J. Tobacyk, Ph.D.
Lightly Swimming 99
Don Diespecker, Ph.D.
SPECIAL TOPIC: TRANSPERSONAL STUDIES APPLIED TO ORGANIZATIONAL/CULTURAL CHANGE
Images of the Intrapersonal Organization: Soul Making at Work 106
Mary Ann Hazen, Ph.D. and Jo Anne Isbey
Integral Psychology and Foreign Policy: Lessons From the Fulbright Scholars Program 114
Daniel Holland, Ph.D.
Reframing the Conflict in Fiji: Economic and Transpersonal Frameworks for Peace 118
Harris Friedman, Ph.D.
READERS COMMENTARY
Surfing the Absolute: Comments on Volume 22 of the IJTS 125
Don Diespecker, Ph.D.
Two Suitors: A Parable 129
Richard Tarnas, Ph.D.
Natural Crazy Wisdom 132
Kidder Smith and Susan Burggraf, Ph.D.
Toward a Participative Integral Philosophy 135
Daryl S. Paulson, Ph.D.
About Our Contributors 141
Board of Editors 143
Editorial Policy and Manuscript Submission Guidelines 144
Subscriptions and Back Issues 146
 Editors Introduction
T
his volume of the International Journal of
Transpersonal Studies presents an eclectic
group of writings from a variety of areas within
transpersonal studies. Ranging from poetry and inno-
vative prose style used to freely express transpersonal
experience perhaps too resistant for the confines of log-
ical-rational discourse, to qualitative and quantitative
approaches used to empirically explore transpersonal
issues, to a widely diverse collection of thoughtful top-
ical articles, this issue highlights the breadth and depth
of transpersonal studies.
The regular articles in this edition commence with
Charles Laughlins Art and Spirit: The Artistic Brain,
the Navajo Concept of Hozho and Kandinskys Inner
Necessity. Laughlin examines art as an expression of
cultures spiritual dimension and also as a powerful
driver for individuals spiritual experiences. He ana-
lyzes and operationalizes concepts that enable art to be
more available for cross-cultural transpersonal
research, such as a model of representational-associa-
tional abstraction, and richly exemplifies his views with
ethnographic discussions of Navajo art.
This is followed by Ervin Laszlos Cosmic
Connectivity: Toward a Scientific Foundation for
Transpersonal Consciousness, which reviews empiri-
cal data suggesting that consciousness interconnec-
tions extend beyond mainstream understandings,
drawing specifically on recent developments in
physics. Laszlo speculates on the importance of these
powerful findings as a way to tie what is often dis-
missed as mere anomaly into a basic paradigm shift
that reframes knowledge in a way that can impact con-
ceptual analysis, experimental testing, and theory-for-
mulation.
Next, Axel Randrup, in Animal Mind as
Approached by the Transpersonal: Notion of
Collective Conscious Experience, discusses animal
mind based on an idealist philosophy of collective con-
scious experience. In advocating that both animals and
humans can be seen as experiencing collective con-
sciousness, he provides for the possibility of studying
other minds, including animal minds, in a way that
avoids the solipsistic traps often associated with other
idealist approaches.
ii The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
Then Stanley Krippner, in All Mind? No Matter:
The Self-Regulation Paradigm contrasts the material-
istic and transcendental paradigms, rejecting both in
favor of an approach grounded in complex systems
theory that is nonreductive and inclusive. He con-
cludes by speculating that this holistic paradigm offers
an avenue that may not only reconcile the other two
competing paradigms but perhaps also facilitate
humanitys survival in currently precarious times.
In the next article, Transpersonal Functions of
Masks in NohKiDo, Sirkku M. Sky Hiltunen discuss-
es the role of masks in psychodrama and art therapy
with specific focus on her own work adapting Japanese
Noh theatre techniques to the Western context. In her
article, she emphasizes the transpersonal aspects of
masking, providing fascinating insights on how this
can profoundly alter the consciousness of both the per-
formers and the audiences.
Then David Kowalewski, in Metaphysical
Tracking: The Oldest Ecopsychology, takes us on a
trek into skills that at one time may have been crucial
for humankinds survival and now, similarly, may be
just as needed in order to reconnect us with the earth
to facilitate our continued survival. Filled with specu-
lation about mystical phenomena associated with both
ancient and modern trackers, he ferrets out their pos-
sible root commonalities in various proposed parapsy-
chological phenomena and discusses their implications
both for psychospiritual growth and for research.
Next, Burton Daniels, in the The Trans/Trans
Fallacy and the Dichotomy Debate, takes on one of
the stickiest disagreements in transpersonal studies,
namely whether transpersonal development is best
seen as cumulative and linear, per Ken Wilbers widely
acclaimed hierarchical theory, or more spirally ascend-
ing and descending, as Stan Grof and Michael
Washburn assert in their persuasive writings. Daniels
deconstructs both of these views, clearly showing their
limitations, and proposes an alternative integration of
this crucial aspect of transpersonal theory based on Adi
Das spiritual revelation.
Then Jorge Ferrer, in A Secret Poem for You,
shares an intensely personal piece based on a poem
written by his father. To preserve the original meaning,
the poem is presented in its original language, Spanish,
as well as translated into English.
Following this, Jerome Tobacyk, in A Revised
Paranormal Belief Scale, publishes a significantly
improved version of his widely used scale, including
data supporting its enhanced utility. This measure
should prove useful to researchers interested in para-
normal beliefs, as well as to general readers who want
to understand both the domain included in this meas-
ure and the empirical underpinnings that place such a
measure firmly within the conventions of contempo-
rary science. Through focusing on an area mostly mar-
ginalized by mainstream science, he clearly demon-
strates how quantitative research can benefit transper-
sonal studies.
As the last regular article, Don Diespecker pro-
vides an entertaining and illuminating illustration of
an alternative form of transpersonal expression in his
piece Lightly Swimming, using an approach he iden-
tifies as free indirect style. Bearing resemblance to
stream of consciousness writing, this expressive mode
speaks to the experiential lived elements of the
transpersonal. Perhaps rational discourse can take us
only so far in communion with others, and delightful,
communicative play, such as through free indirect
style, may push the so-called river furtherand possi-
bly without as much effort.
It is often stated that transpersonal psychology
should be relevant to needed change in the world, but
seldom is anything written on actually applying
transpersonal approaches outside of the clinical arena.
Consequently, this volumes special topics section,
Transpersonal Studies Applied to Organizational/
Cultural Change, focuses on how a transpersonal per-
spective can be applied to issues of social relevance at
local, national, and even global levels of human organ-
ization. Mary Ann Hazen and Jo Anne Isbey, in
Images of the Intrapersonal Organization: Soul
Making at Work, discuss the postmodern organiza-
tion from an archetypal perspective, exploring the
reciprocal relationship between organizational and per-
sonal growth. Using qualitative methods grounded in
constructivist thought, they explore the transpersonal
interplay in three employment settings in North
America through imaginal and other Jungian
approaches. Daniel Hollands article, Integral
Psychology and Foreign Policy: Lessons From the
Fulbright Scholars Program, explores the need for
new interdisciplinary perspectives to address U.S.
national policy issues and emphasizes the moral obliga-
tion of transpersonal scholars to engage in promoting
quality of life across many realms and levels. He exem-
plifies this through discussion of the transpersonal val-
ues held in the Fulbright Scholars Program, a U.S.
effort to promote multinational cooperation. As the
last of our special section articles, one of us (Harris
Friedman), in Reframing the Conflict in Fiji:
Economic and Transpersonal Frameworks for Peace,
addresses how narrowly defined identifications can
lead to unfortunate national and global conflicts, illus-
trated through a case study of Fiji, where national
problems are commonly attributed to ethnic, racial,
and religious divides. He shows how these problems
can be reframed as due to competing economic mod-
els, an alternative interpretation perhaps more likely to
lead to peaceful reconciliation. In addition, he propos-
es a transpersonal model for fostering global peace,
particularly when conflicts are fueled by religious divi-
siveness.
Finally, we are pleased to offer several readers
comments. In Surfing the Absolute: Comments on
Volume 22 of the IJTS, Don Diespecker, the found-
ing editor of IJTS (although at the time of his tenure it
was called The Australian Journal of Transpersonal
Psychology), provides his perceptions and criticisms of
the last edition of the journal. In general, he argues
that the volume is excessively academic in tone and
content and chastises both editors and contributing
authors for placing emphasis on scholarly writing and
accomplishments over nonconventional modes of
expression. While we do not agree with his perceptions
and generally do not share his opinions, we believe that
his commentary brings to the fore some core issues
around how we are to best approach and study the
transpersonal. At the same time, we are delighted that
Diespecker has sufficient fire in the belly to write pas-
sionately about the content and direction of the jour-
nal. We hope that readers find this short piece stimu-
lating and thought provoking. Richard Tarnas, profes-
sor of philosophy and psychology at the California
Editors Introduction iii
Institute of Integral Studies and author of the best-
selling book The Passion of the Western Mind, shares
his comment, Two Suitors: A Parable, on the wis-
dom of approaching knowledge as one would a lover.
If approached with the rough hands and direct touch
of so-called objective science, he asks, would a sentient
world be as likely to reveal its deepest and most inti-
mate secrets as freely as if it were invited warmly with
gentle caresses and shared subjectivity? Kidder Smith
and Susan Burggraf, in their comment, Natural Crazy
Wisdom, extol the virtues of various forms of crazi-
ness, portraying these as states that many spiritually
inclined individuals may be seeking and may already
have attainedif only they knew. They further specu-
late that more recognition should inure to the spiritu-
al possibilities in those often dismissed as merely crazy
but who may, despite being stigmatized by formal
diagnoses, be much moreor paradoxically lessthan
crazy. Lastly, in the final comment, Toward a
Participative Integral Philosophy, Daryl Paulson
expresses his views on developing a living philosophy
based on integral principals. We hope these reader
comments provide a lively forum for expression of
diverse opinions relevant to transpersonal studies, and
we encourage our readers to actively engage in express-
ing their perspectives, especially when germane to arti-
cles recently published in the journal.
As the second volume of the International Journal
of Transpersonal Studies under our editorship and
Saybrook Graduate School and Research Centers
sponsorship goes to press, we want to welcome our
new editorial board members. We also thank both our
departing editorial board members for all of their help,
and all the reviewers who have diligently worked on
this issue.

Harris Friedman, Ph.D.

Professor Emeritus
Saybrook Graduate Schooland Research Center

Douglas A. MacDonald, Ph.D.

Associate Professor
University of Detroit Mercy

iv The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

 Art and Spirit: The Artistic Brain, the Navajo
Concept of Hozho, and Kandinskys Inner Necessity

Charles D. Laughlin, Ph.D.

Carleton University, Ottawa, Canada and
International Consciousness Research Laboratories

Most traditional art forms around the planet are an expression of the spiritual dimension of a cul-
tures cosmology and the spiritual experiences of individuals. Religious art and iconography often
reveal the hidden aspects of spirit as glimpsed through the filter of cultural significance. Moreover,
traditional art, although often highly abstract, may actually describe sensory experiences derived
in alternative states of consciousness (ASC). This article analyzes the often fuzzy concepts of art
and spirit and then operationalizes them in a way that makes them useful for cross-cultural
transpersonal research. The fact of the universally abstract nature of traditional art is analyzed and
used as a clue to the function of art in expressing and penetrating to the spiritual domain. A con-
tinuum of representational-associational abstraction model is introduced and described. These
concepts are then applied to the authors experiences with Navajo art and the relation between art
and the important Navajo philosophical concept of hozho (which may be understood as beau-
ty, harmony, unity). A perspective on art and spirit is developed that essentially supports
Wassily Kandinskys contention that abstract art is the expression of an inner necessity of spir-
it. The article argues for a greater sensitivity among researchers and theorists for the sublime
nature of spiritual art.be induced by very different means, including contemplative practices and
chemical substances, and yet have different after-effects. Taken together, these ideas lead to the
cautious conclusion that some psychedelics can induce genuine mystical experiences sometimes
in some people, and that the current tendency to label these chemicals as entheogens may be
appropriate.

The spiritual life, to which art belongs and of

which she is one of the mightiest elements, is a
complicated but definite and easily definable
movement forwards and upwards. This move-
ment is the movement of experience. It may take
different forms, but it holds at bottom to the
same inner thought and purpose.
Wassily Kandinsky
Concerning the Spiritual in Art
(1977/1914)
Physics is a form of insight and as such its
a form of art.
David Bohm
Shlain (1991, p.15).
E
thnographers have long known that most soci-
eties on the planet produce art of one sort or
another, and that most traditions of art are
expressions of the particular societys cosmology. A
societys religious art and iconography often reveal the
hidden aspects of spirit as glimpsed through the filter
of cultural significance. Moreover, traditional art may
describe aspects of experiences encountered in alterna-
tive states of consciousness (ASC). Any attempt to
understand the inner meaning of traditional art is
futile without some grasp of the cosmology and per-
haps even the mystical experiences expressed by the
arts iconic form. Traditions of art are in fact systems of
symbols that are part of a much greater cultural and
experiential contexta transpersonal context that
must be entered at least partially by the ethnologist if
he or she is going to be able to critique the art from
anything like an authoritative stance. Indeed, art

Art and Spirit 1

objects in American society may reach the status of
icon where their significance transcends mere artistic
criticism. For instance, the famous 1851 painting by
Emanuel Gottlieb, George Washington Crossing the
Delaware, is recognized by virtually all adults and
school children in the United States. The facts that the
event depicted in the painting never happened, that
the flag came into existence after the date of the
alleged event, that Washington could not possibly have
crossed standing up in a small craft under such weath-
er conditions, and that the ice is all wrong, have no
bearing at all, either upon the significance of the pic-
ture or upon the emotional impact felt by patriotic
viewers. Rather, the significance of the image is all
about a heroic figure who is central to American
mythology.
However, because all forms of art derive from the
operations of the human brain in its dynamic interac-
tion with the world, there exist universal properties of
art and artistic activity that may be traced, not only
among most human cultures, but to some rudimenta-
ry extent in the artistic activity of those animals who
share with human beings many of the same neurocog-
nitive structures. Thus we may expect to find among
various peoples art products that may be simultane-
ously appreciated as art by us as outsiders and yet
express meanings and intentions that are obscure or
downright inaccessible to us without some under-
standing of the cultural context within which the art
is embedded.
It is the purpose of this paper to explore the struc-
tural relationship between art and spirit for whatever
clues we may find about how the human brain makes
sense of an essentially transcendental world. I present
a model of art and spirit that will explain some of the
universal properties of artin particular the common
association of abstraction and aesthetics that defines
what we usually mean by the concept of art. In order
to do this, I analyze the very fuzzy concepts of art,
spirit, and abstraction, and operationalize them in
a way that makes them applicable to cross-cultural and
transpersonal research. I then apply the model to the
art of the Navajo people of the American Southwest. I
am especially interested in the relation between Navajo
art and the Navajo philosophical concept of hozho
(beauty, harmony). Finally, the model is used to
analyze Wassily Kandinskys (1977) contention that
abstract art, such as modern expressionist paintings
and Navajo sandpaintings, is the product of an inner
2 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
necessity of spirit to express its nature.
Operationalizing Art and Spirit
The term art is scientifically problematic. Art
is one of those words we lift from common English
and try to apply in a rigorous way to other cultures.
Art is an artifact of the way we in modern society value
certain kinds of symbolic activities and products (see
Malraux, 1953, p. 220; Cassirer, 1979, pp. 145-215;
Langer, 1953; Jung, 1966, p. 136; Read, 1960,
Chapter 2; Dissanayake, 1988, pp. 167-192). One
may search in vain in most of the worlds languages for
a term that glosses art in anything like this modern
sense, if by that term we refer to objects or products set
apart in special places for the sole appreciation of their
aesthetic and monetary value (see, e.g., Berndt, 1971,
p. 101 on the absence of art or artist in Aboriginal
languages).
Operationalizing Art
This said, I do not wish to imply that the term
art cannot be ethnologically operationalized. Of
course it can be, and I intend to do so. But typical of
natural categories, the concept art has fuzzy bound-
aries (Layton, 1978, pp. 25-26; Dissanayake, 1988,
pp. 35-39)1 and hence objects and activities may
appear to be more or less art-like to our eyes. Our
own modern Euro-American attitudes privilege the
aesthetic in art, and we sometimes fail to realize that
some traditional peoples consider this aspect to be less
important, and even beside the point. For these peo-
ples, what are for us primarily objects of beauty may be
for them objects of significance or objects of utility. In
fact, the symbolic mode of cognition is inherent to all
human beings (Arnheim, 1969; Donald, 1991;
Alexander, 1989) and the conjunction of right lobe,
symbolic, cognitive processing, and aesthetic feelings is
universal to human cultures, whether there is a name
in any particular language for that conjunction or not
(Dissanayake, 1988; Maguet, 1971, 1986). Moreover,
however a people may refer to their art, symbolically
rich and beautiful artifacts, activities, and performanc-
es are inextricably involved in symbolic action in tra-
ditional societies (Gell, 1998).
Thus, a cross-culturally workable definition of art
requires that it encompass at least three major dimen-
sions, aesthetics, the dimension of attractiveness, beau-
ty, taste (Maguet, 1971, 1986), significance, the
dimension of meaning and the relation between the
objects meaning and the societys cosmology and reli-
gious beliefs (Eliade, 1986; Layton, 1978), and utility,
the dimension of usefulness, purpose, intention, func-
tion, and so forth, as in Alfred Gells notion of
agency (1998). In other words, what art ethnologists
are really interested in studying are material culture
and performances that involve expression through
imagery that combines aesthetics, significance, and
utility. As the exact interaction between these three
may vary from situation to situation, and among cul-
tures, anything like a crisp definition of art is pointless.
As Dark (1978, p. 34) makes clear, western terms like
decoration, craft, and art are somewhat inter- 1977), (2) crops up naturally in childrens art cross-
changeable and flexible. What we can do however is
lay out an operational definition to guide our under-
standing of the underlying processes producing art.
We may define art as any imagery that is the result of
the coalescence of aesthetics, significance, and agency,
realizing that one or two of these may not be strongly pres-
ent and that the peoples themselves may not recognize one
or two of these as important.
For those readers who are more technically
inclined, I am defining art in terms of an n-dimension-
al phase space (a geometrical space defined by any
number (n) of dimensions, each dimension of which
may vary independently or in concert) in which aes-
thetics, significance, and utility are the major three
dimensions, with an eventual fourth dimension, sub-
limity, and a fifth dimension, abstraction, defining
sacred art. Because my intention here is to keep the
discussion as simple as possible, some of the power of
defining art as a phase space is lost. Nevertheless, this
way of defining art is sensitive to the considerable vari-
ation we may encounter cross-culturally in how people
conceive of art. It is possible to find art objects that are
considered beautiful without being overly associated
with any meaning per se. Ornamentation may or may
not involve significant iconography. Paintings may or
may not be of something. Likewise, the beauty, or
lack of beauty, of icons such as masks used in healing
rituals may be considered peripheral within the cultur-
al frame of reference. And, as Gell (1992) has shown,
the principal concern of the people may be upon the
use of the object as a kind of technology, as in the case
of certain Pacific peoples who create shields, body art,
and prow boards for their boats in order to dazzle the
beholder and put them at a disadvantage in trade or
warfare. But keep in mind that what first draws the
interest of the Western mind is usually the sense of
beauty in the creation, execution, form, and deploy-
ment of the object, or the mastery of performance
usually some form of iconic symbolism or ritual per-
formance.
It is also important to note that a culture may or
may not recognize a special social status similar to our
artist, and may or may not conceive of artistry as dis-
tinct from the transmission of significance or techno-
logical intention, but the material intersection of these
three qualities beauty, symbol, and (to a lesser
extent) utility(1) has been demonstrated in research
with captive primates and other animals (Alland,
culturally (Kellogg, 1969; Alland, 1983), (3) is univer-
sal to human cultures (Dissanayake, 1988, p. 1x), and
(4) has been so since at least Paleolithic times (10,000
- 40,000 or more years ago; Dissanayake, 1988, pp.
53-55). The universality of this combination cries out
for a neurobiological explanation, for artistic proclivi-
ty obviously existed among human ancestors prior to
complex cultural variation and personal conditioning.
As I will show below, it is my position that this univer-
sality is explained as being mediated by an essentially
artistic brain. The brain recognizes and experiences
beauty, just as it cognizes and produces significance
and initiates purposeful action in the world (Donald,
1991, 2001; Alexander, 1989). When these three nat-
ural, semiosomatic processes intersect in material
objects or in cultural events, we in modern society will
tend to recognize art. And, because our English con-
cept of art is so fuzzy, we tend to use various hedges to
express more precise kinds of art. We may recognize
the merely beautiful (ornamental, decorative,
fine, or art for its own sake), the beautiful and use-
ful (craft), and perhaps the merely significant (con-
ceptual or symbolic art).
Operationalizing Spirit
Operationalizing the term spirit is, if anything,
even more difficult than art. The term spirit is fre-
quently conflated with such terms as sacred, numi-
nous, religious, soul, and the like. It is especially
difficult to define in a scientifically meaningful way in
the current climate of New Age thinking in which
spirit is commonly defined in opposition to anything
savoring of received or institutionalized religion. As
Mircea Eliade (1986, p. 83) has remarked, this dual-
ism is an artifact of the loss and rediscovery of the spir-
itual and sacred in modern society; religion being
Art and Spirit 3
more associated with bureaucratic institutions that
participated in the despiritualization and materializa-
tion of nature. Yet the element of spirit cannot be
ignored in non-Western art, nor in modern art. There
is something missing from our definition of art above
that must be included within any definition of art of
use to ethnology. That something is sublimity. It is the
element of the sublime in the art of peoples every-
where. I use the term in its ancient sensefrom the
root sub, up to, and limin, threshold. The latter
root is the same one that has been central to Victor
Turners use of the concept of liminality in his analysis
of the function of ritual (Turner, 1969, 1979). I am
using the term in Turners sense of threshold to some
experience of the sacred. Such an experience may vary
from a simple feeling of numinosity to a full-blown
transpersonal encounter or ASC.
What ethnologists often find in traditional cul-
tures is a profound appreciation of the sacred in what
we Westerners conceive of as merely matter.
Moreover, there is a universal recognition among peo-
ples that there is a hidden dimension to nature, a
dimension that hosts the animated and powerfulbut
normally unseenforces that shape events in the
human world. Even if we take a strictly psychodynam-
ic view of spirit (or even a neuropsychological point of
view; see Ernandes & Giammanco, 1998)that is,
that spirit is the projection of our own inner and large-
ly unconscious and archetypal nature upon extramen-
tal reality2the loss of the sense of the sacred and the
spiritual in modern society has been accompanied by
an interruption of an essential process in spiritual dis-
covery, maturation, and expression. As those who have
actively followed paths of spiritual discovery will attest,
dialog with the depths is generally carried out by way
of imagery encountered in hypnagogic fantasy, ritual
practice, visualization techniques, and various themat-
ic apperception methods such as meditation upon the
esoteric Tarot. What may be accessed by way of these
techniques is a panoply of extraordinary experiences
numinous experiences that may be interpreted by the
individual or the society as living spirit. What has been
lost for most people living in modern society is the
smooth linkage of imagery and culturally rich, spiritu-
al associations. In my opinion, the more astute critics
of modern art, or at least certain schools of modern art
such as abstract expressionism, understand the artistic
process as a rediscovery of the spiritual or mystical
dimension of imagery (e.g., Kandinsky, 1982; Read,
4 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
1960; Malraux, 1953; Ament, 2002).
The dialog between the conscious self and either
the unconscious or the spiritual dimension of reality
(depending upon ones point of view) remains intact
for many traditional peoples, especially those cultures
whose core symbolism derives from shamanic imagery
and practices (Winkelman, 2000). This dialogue
means that the core symbolism within their cultural
heritage remains pregnantin Ernst Cassirers (1957,
p. 202) sensewith cosmological meaning, and much
of this symbolism constitutes traditional or folk art
in the eyes of Westerners. Thus I want to retain the use
of the terms spirit and spiritual for the recognition
by peoples everywhere of what Eliade (1986) called
cosmic religiositythe recognition of a sacred or
occult dimension behind or within the everyday world
of appearances. For the purposes of this study, there-
fore, spiritual art is defined as the confluence of beauty,
significance, and utility in imagery that has associated
with it a link to the sublime, regardless of how the culture
within which the imagery is found interprets that
imagery. This definition is intended to apply to art
found anywhere, whether the culture be traditional or
modern. It applies as much to traditional Navajo sand-
paintings and Northwest Coast spirit masks as it does
to the cosmological paintings of Japans Kieji Usami or
the mystical paintings of Americas Mark Tobey.
Abstraction
I have so far incorporated four aspects of art with-
in our model, those being aesthetics, significance, util-
ity, and sublimity. There is yet another quality of art
that needs addressing before the model may be consid-
ered reasonably complete. Ethnologists of art have
long recognized that nearly all traditional art is
abstract (see Redfield, 1971). In my opinion, this fact
provides an important clue to understanding the
power of art to penetrate into, evoke, and express the
sublime dimension of being (Laughlin, 2003). In
order to use this clue, however, additional clarification
is required. It is crucial to understand that abstraction
is to some extent a characteristic of all artthat is,
involved in all beautiful, significant, and useful
imagery. But once again we face the problem of ren-
dering an everyday English word into a technical and
universally applicable concept. The commonsense
Western meaning of abstraction involves a movement
away from particularity and toward generalityfrom
the concrete presence of something to thought freed
from the demands of representation.3 One of our most
famous philosophers, John Locke, extrapolated this
commonsense meaning of abstraction in his 17th-
century study, An Essay Concerning Human
Understanding, in which he argued that all abstract
ideas derive from comparing the similarities and differ-
ences among the objects we encounter in our environ-
ment. The movement in Lockes notion of abstraction
is from external particulars to internal ideas. The
notion that some abstract ideas may originally derive
from wholly internal even inherentstructures of
the brain and that these structures develop as they are
instantiated in experience was quite foreign to Locke,
as it is to many thinkers to this very day. Moreover, the
English connotations of abstraction do not readily
refer to the expression of ideas or iconic symbols hav-
ing their origins in inner psychodynamic experience
say, from intuition, feeling, or contemplation. Other
commentators have recognized this stumbling block.
As one textbook in the psychology of art puts it:
Thanks to habitual terminology, many would agree
that a great part of modern Western art, as well as
Egyptian, African, American Indian, and Pre-
Columbian art, is abstract, yet few would be will-
ing to go along with the implication that abstrac-
tion is built into the very essence of all art products
and is essential for experiencing them no less than ten-
sion and relief and feeling-into. The difficulty of
accepting these hypotheses arises mainly from the
usual connotations of abstraction, which place it as
a contrast to concreteness, perceptibility, and indi-
viduality as well as to emotional experiencing.
(Kreitler & Kreitler, 1972, p. 302; emphasis added)
To apply this very Western idea of abstraction to the
experiences of peoples outside the umbrella of Euro-
American culture and history is obviously problemat-
ic, especially in those cases where the process of
abstraction seems to be a spontaneous expression of
some inner impetus or drive. Even among ethnogra-
phers, there is a tendency to presume that the abstract
ideas expressed in traditional art inevitably arise from
some kind of Lockean analysis of similarities and dif-
ferences among experienced objects in the environ-
ment. Even the reputable ethnologist Robert Redfield
(1971, p. 47), noted the inevitable distortion of real-
ity that traditional art holds in common with modern
art. As we shall see, eliminating this cultural bias will
enable us to better understand the way that tradition-
al systems of art, as well as some schools of modern art,
are able to express an intuitive grasp, and even the
direct apprehension of the spiritual realms of human
experience, as well as the essential forms and properties
of normal experience (Burnham, 1971, p. 45).
Continuum of Representative-Associative
Abstraction
Recognizing that all art is to one extent or anoth-
er the product of mental abstraction, perhaps a more
scientifically useful model of abstraction in art would
be to see that art products may be placed along a con-
tinuum from representative abstraction at one pole to
associative abstraction at the other pole. I am not defin-
ing ideal types here, but rather suggesting polar ten-
dencies in artistic intention, expression, and interpre-
tation. All art products are abstract, but what deter-
mines their place on the continuum is their principal
focus along the continuum of the abstraction process.
To put it another way, of what phase of the neuropsy-
chological abstraction is the art an expression? Is the
main intention the description of sensed objects? Or is
the focus upon some adumbrated property of the act
of perception itself? Or is it an expression of an emo-
tion, an intuition, an idea, or an eidetic image sponta-
neously arising from the depths?
Let me give some examples from the history of
Euro-American art to demonstrate how the representa-
tiveassociative continuum might be appropriate. If the
theme of a painting or sculpture or performance is the
depiction of the topographical relations visually sensed
in the world, then we would consider that piece to be
highly representational in common parlance. The
clearest examples of pure representation are illustra-
tions that utilize the various principles of illusion to
produce a realistic picture of the sensed object.
Among visual artists, a landscapesay, one done by
John Gainsboroughwould normally be interpreted
as representational. Perhaps the paintings of Andrew
Wyeth would also serve as being fairly representation-
al in this sense. However, the portraits of Rembrandt
or Renoir are as much inner emotional projections as
they are illustrations. Even more, a pointillist painting
by Georges Seurat, although on the face of things quite
representational, actually focuses upon certain struc-
tural properties of the perceptual act and uses the rep-
resentational aspect (the beach scene or whatever) to
explore the infra-realistic organization of visual per-
ceptionin keeping with the other impressionists, the
pointillists were phenomenologists and wanted to
Art and Spirit 5
describe how we see what we see. Further along the
continuum, Pablo Picasso performed topological
experiments upon the geometry of perception by
changing the normally encountered relations of form
and point of view. Still further along on the continu-
um, Wassily Kandinsky used the merest hint of real
objects and forms, or pure geometric, nonrepresenta-
tional forms to explore the expression of spirit via
abstract relations composed of color, form, and
movement. Piet Mondrian likewise constructed paint-
ings that use pure geometrical forms and colors to
probe the dimensions of inner space, the realm of
inner psychological experience. The paintings of the
cubists and surrealists are also positioned at about this
point on the continuum. As you can see when you
look at such works, there is a clear movement away
from the pictorial to the significant, from the sign to
the signified. As Ortega y Gasset (1968, pp. 38-39)
notes, the artist shuts his eyes to the outer world and
concentrates upon the subjective images in his own
mind.
The Pure Associative Pole and Automatism
The dripped paintings of Jackson Pollock are
perhaps furthest from representational abstraction,
and may represent for us the pole of pure associative
abstraction in modern art. Pollock divested himself of
all natural components in his compositions, includ-
ing such things as objects, central focus, conventional
borders, and conventional spatial relations. He wanted
nothing whatever in his paintings upon which the
mind could project remembered objects, even symbol-
ic objects like archetypes. His avowed intent was to
freely express the processes of the unconscious by giv-
ing up control of his body and the creative process to
the unconscioushence the epithet action painting
sometimes used to describe his technique.
Pollocks method became one of the most celebrat-
ed of the automatic methods of creation.
Automaticism was derived from the earlier experiments
by the cubists and surrealists (in fact Andre Breton
once defined surrealism as pure psychic automatism;
Ellenwood, 1992, p. 39) and was used by a number of
artists, including many of the other abstract expres-
sionists such as Robert Motherwell, Mark Rothko, and
Barnett Newman, to access their own unconscious cre-
ative processes (Shapiro & Shapiro, 1990, p. 2). From
surrealists like Andre Breton, these artists learned to
use essentially meditative techniques to subvert
6 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
accepted aesthetic standards and provoke, not only a
new kind of authenticity, but unexpected sparks that
could be obtained in no other way (Ellenwood, 1992,
p. 178). Artistic activity became by definition a
transpersonal process.
The great French Canadian painter Paul-Emile
Borduas4 distinguished three types of automatism
(Ellenwood, 1992, pp. 173-174):
mechanical automatismreliance upon the physi-
cal properties of a process, like centrifugal force,
gravity, the properties of plastic media, etc. Not the
product of psychological processes. For example,
imagery from spirographs, or the so-called fractal
imagery produced from computer transposition of
Mandelbrot sets.
psychic automatismcreation with no control by
conscious thoughts, and in an emotionally neutral
state. This would include imagery from the hypna-
gogic, dreams, fantasy and hallucination, and pro-
duced surrealism. But it still involves memory. The
artist is painting what one remembers of the
imagery one has experienced in those ASC. Interest
is more on the object than on the dialog with the
materials being used.
surrational automatism5 creation without pre-
meditation, process of creating with no attention
to content. The first form that occurs leads by free
association to the next form, and so on, until a feel-
ing of unity and completion is reached (or a sense
that to go further would destroy that unity).
Understanding and interpretation of the work
comes after it is finished. The painting is its own
content, not a description of a recalled image.
The distinction between psychic and surra-
tional automatism is an important one for my pur-
poses, for not only is the neuropsychology of the two
types of automatism different, there are different rep-
resentations of these methods among traditional sys-
tems of art. The difference psychologically is that there
are two distinct mind-states involved in psychic auto-
matic methodsthe mind-state that is the inspira-
tional source of imagery is distinct from that during
the act of producing the piece of art; e.g., an actual
dream and the painting of an image from that
dreamwhile there is but one mind-state involved in
surrational methodsthe inspiration and execution
occurring simultaneously within the unpremeditated
act of creation.
The neuropsychology is distinctly different
between psychic and surrational automatism, for each
method involves a different process of expressive pen-
etration. In the case of psychic automatic techniques,
the subject of the artistic act is a recalled image. So the
penetration is from unconscious processes to internal
eidetic imagery in the first instance, and from the
memory of that image to expression in the painting in
the second instance. This involves an intentional
entrainment of right parietal lobe cortical structures
mediating the eidetic image, prefrontal cortical struc-
tures mediating working memory, long-term memory
structures in the hippocampus, and the visual and
somatic structures involved in composing and execut-
ing the painting. But in the case of surrational auto-
matic methods, there presumably is a direct penetra-
tion from unconscious intuitive processes to motor
and visual systems involved in executing the painting.
The expression of unconscious neurocognitive
processes via behavior to the canvas is direct and
involves entrainment of unconscious associational
structures (say, in the thalamus and limbic system, and
perhaps structures in the basal ganglia) with the motor
and visual systems.
The process of abstraction is reasonably obvious in
the case of psychic automatismthe artistic act
requires the abstraction of the image from its original
experiential context. Borduas was correct in emphasiz-
ing that this involves an act of memory. To make
Borduas distinctions even more useful for a cross-cul-
turally applicable model of art, I want to add my own
subsidiary distinction between two types of surrational
methods. A pure surrational method is one without fig-
urative constraint of any kind, while a figurative surra-
tional method is one in which a figurative constraint is
imposed upon an essentially automatic act, as for
example when Carl Jung required his patients to paint
mandalas in their exploration of the unconscious
(Jung, 1969, 1997). The general form of the mandala
was set by the analyst, but the execution of the form
and subsidiary imagery was left to automatic processes
of the patient. The patient painted a mandala and only
after it was complete did he or she address the issue of
interpretation.
If psychic automatism involves abstraction via
memory from an earlier experience, but surrational
automatism does not, one may then reasonably ask to
what extent is surrational automatic art actually
abstract? And if it is abstract, then what is it an abstrac-
tion of? Is abstract in this sense synonymous with
nonfigurative? Certainly not, for the true sense of
abstraction is retained for any expression of uncon-
scious processes, either indirectly through psychic
automatic techniques, or directly by surrational auto-
matic techniques. Both are symbolic acts. The process-
es of the unconscious that produce the imagery are
transcendental relative to any expression they produce
through penetration to semiosomatic activity (acting,
speech, writing, movement, singing, sculpting, paint-
ing, dancing, and so forth), and such unconscious
processes are certainly not limited in their movement,
associations, or relations by the physical properties of
the artistic medium (be it paint, ink, film, stage props,
yarn, wood, soapstone, or what have you). The initiat-
ing unconscious processes are limited only by the neu-
rophysiological structures that mediate them.
Surrational automatism is an abstract expression of
unconscious processesa medium by means of which
the hidden, transcendental activities of the uncon-
scious penetrate to those neurocognitive structures
mediating expression in materials and movements.
Representative-Associative Abstraction and
Traditional Art
The much vaunted iconoclasm of modern art is
perhaps a reaction to the materialism of 19th- and
20th-century Euro-American culture. Modern artists
have frequently rejected received cultural values and
styles and have been forced to fall back on their own
visions and insights, which are communicated using
new and often esoteric symbolism (see Redfield, 1971,
pp. 47-48; Read, 1960). Modern artists are frequently
the agents of the process of creative mythology
(Campbell, 1968, p. 4), which is no longer subject to
the tyranny of historical styles and standards. Indeed,
as Leonard Shlain (1991, p. 18) has suggested, as new
insights must first be imagined, it is often the artist
that presages creative changes in knowledge and society.
Things are quite different with respect to the sta-
tus of associational abstraction in traditional systems
of art, for abstract symbolism in traditional societies is
typically spiritually iconic, a fact that anthropological
theorists as far back as Durkheim (1995/1912, pp.
425-428) have considered significant. Art is often an
expression of deeply held spiritual knowledge about
nature, and especially about the hidden forces that
impact upon human experience. Most of this knowl-
Art and Spirit 7
edge is incorporated in a worldview that has been
transmitted through innumerable generations of story
telling, ritual performance, and artistic expression.
Sensate, Idealistic, and Ideational Cultures
To make the distinction between modern and tra-
ditional art clearer, it would perhaps be useful to intro-
duce another continuum, this time involving types of
society. Pitirim Sorokin (1957, 1962) has suggested
that societies may be placed upon a pendulum-like
continuum in terms of their dominant patterns of
adaptation. Societies like ours that are out on what he
called the sensate pole are extremely materialistic in
their mode of adapting to reality. Sensate cultures tend
to be outer directed and develop systems of knowledge
that rely heavily upon rational thought and the expres-
sion of knowledge through language. Intuitive ways of
knowing are usually held as suspect, are rationalized,
or are merely ignored. Extremely sensate societies
eventually tend to compensate by swinging back
toward a balanced cultural view in which rational
knowledge appears more integrated with knowledge
from the spiritual mode (he called these more balanced
societies midway on the pendulum swing idealistic cul-
tures). This seems to be happening in mainstream
North American culture at the present time with the
rise of charismatic movements, increased use of alter-
native healing systems, conversion to Asian religions,
and the growth of various New Age movements like
neoshamanism, Wicca, and the mythopoeic mens
movement.
Cultures are actually quite dynamic. They never
stand still, and the balance found in one generation
between rational materialist and imagistic/intuitive
spiritual ways of knowing may be lost to subsequent
generations in the continued movement of the culture
toward the opposite pole, that characteristic of more
mystical, or ideational cultures. From the point of view
of people in an ideational culture, what we might con-
sider mystical knowledge or experience is not mysti-
cal at all. It is simply the way things are. After all,
consider that the word occult in English just means
hidden from view or hard to see. When we finally
experience and comprehend the mysteries, they are no
longer hidden, and hence no longer occult.
Ideational peoples tend to be inner directed and rever-
ence imagination and intuition as the path to knowl-
edge. Wisdom is valued more highly than mere factu-
al knowledge.
8 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
The swing back to the more spiritual modes of
expression in modern society may be presaged in the
iconoclasm of modern art, especially in the art of the
surrationalist movements that have forsaken any sem-
blance of realism. Surrational art is often the product
of a self-conscious exploration of the unconscious, of
the hidden depths and unknown mysteries of the
greater psycheof spirit, if you will. The creative eye
of the artist probes inward for a deeper well of intuitive
understandinga quest for direct apprehension of
spiritual realization through the praxis of the artistic
moment (Kandinsky, 1982, p. 758). This quest is in
reaction to the lived experience of most people in
modern society, whose preoccupation with making a
living and raising families is done within a system of
(for them) very commonsense materialist values. For
most people the drippings of Pollock and the palate
knife strokes of Jean-Paul Riopelle are noise at best,
and meaning, if there is any, will be limited to the crit-
ical comments about art read in newspapers or on
museum labels.
Art as Icon and Portal Within a Cosmological Cycle
of Meaning
The art of idealistic and ideational cultures is com-
monly both highly abstract and powerfully meaningful
in a profoundly cosmological wayin a way exceed-
ingly difficult for western-reared (sensate) people to
comprehend. There is a seeming ease of access to
meaning found in these groups with living traditions
of art, and the avenue of access does not require decon-
struction or demythologization. These cultures seem
to balance and even privilege the mimetic function (or
mimesis; see Donald, 1991, p. 168; 2001, p. 268) of
neurocognitive processingthat is, the inherent
process of eidetic knowing that may be unique to
human beings and that may operate independent of lan-
guage. In ideational cultures, people are used to under-
standing art-as-symbol. All members know what their
societys art means, for they have been exposed to the
imagery from childhood, and have learned a repertoire
of meanings associated with forms of drama, dance,
masks, paintings, and so on, which are part and parcel
to their societys mythology (Berndt, 1971, p. 104;
Burnham, 1971; Dissanayake, 1988). Styles of tradi-
tional art are typically quite conservative (Redfield,
1971, p. 48), and artists within these traditions are
fairly limited as to the degrees of freedom they may
enjoy in creating new forms of expression (Berndt,
1971, p. 102). It is quite true that we as outsiders can-
not fully appreciate the meaning of traditional art and
symbolism unless we come to understand the cultural
context within which they are embedded (Whitten &
Whitten, 1993). This conservatism of style and speci-
ficity of meaning tends to loosen up considerably, of
course, when traditional artists turn their skills toward
modern-day commercial art (see Parezo, 1983, for the
Navajo), but here I am concerned only with the
inwardly directed arts (Graburn, 1976b, p. 4) that
traditional societies produce for their own consump-
tion.
The power of traditional art for ideational peoples
is due in part to the fact that the art-as-icon (mimesis)
is part of a much greater system of culturally condi-
tioned signification, a system that may be modeled as
a cycle of meaning (see Laughlin, 1997, 2001;
Laughlin, McManus, & Shearer, 1993; Laughlin &
Throop, 2003). Ideational cultures typically under-
stand the world as a cosmology; that is, as a vast living
system in which everything is embedded, has a role to
play, and accrues its meaning. The world is understood
to be a single monad comprised of relations between
all things big and small, apparent and hidden,
momentary or enduring, including human beings and
their social relations and institutions. This cosmologi-
cal understanding is expressed in various institutional-
ized forms of symbolic expression (myth, ritual per-
formance, drama, art, stories, and so forth) in such a
vital way that it intertwines with direct life experi-
ences. The experiences and memories that arise as a
consequence of participation in the cultures semioso-
matic procedures are interpreted in terms of the cos-
mology in such a way that they enliven and thereby
empirically verify the cosmological order. A living
cycle of meaning would seem to be a delicate process,
and one that requires change or revitalization
(Wallace, 1966) over time in order for meaningful dia-
logue to continue between a peoples worldview and
their everyday lived experience. The social construc-
tion of knowledge and individual experience is thus
involved in a reciprocal feedback system, the proper-
ties of which may be so changed by circumstances that
the link between knowledge and experience may be
hampered, and even lost. In other words, a religious
system may become moribund due to the failure of the
dialogue between worldview and direct experience.
I should emphasize that the interpretive phase of
the cycle of meaning is rarely one of deconstruction or
rational reformulation. Human beings really are
mimetic creatures (Donald, 1991, 2001) and do not
require language or rational faculties to apprehend rich
and complex meanings associated with objects and
events. The tendency of Western analysts to demythol-
ogize traditional art in their attempt to understand it
is a common failure in both ethnology and art criti-
cisma failure that among other things distracts us
from more appropriate and productive phenomeno-
logical approaches. As Charlotte Otten (1971) notes,
...in asking the meaning of an art event, we are ask-
ing for a translation into discursive mode, embalmed
in a tradition of literacy, a translation which (as all
artists are acutely aware) cannot be achieved... (p.
xiv). The apprehension of meaning is typically one of
immediate intuitive comprehension (Cardew, 1978, p.
18): realization occurs as a rapid, experiential instanti-
ation of the symbolic context that evoked the experi-
ence, and by way of that symbolic context to the
underlying worldview of which the symbolism is an
expression. It should be mentioned that a shaman or
other specialist may act to design and control the ritu-
al context and perhaps act as an interpretive agent
linking experience with the world view, as is the case
with Moroccan dream interpreters or the elders offici-
ating at a Sun Dance among some Plains Indian cul-
tures.
Many ideational cultures encourage their mem-
bers to seek extraordinary experiences arising in ASC
(arising in dreams, visions, meditation states, drug
trips, trance states, and so forth) and interpret those
experiences according to culturally recognized systems
of meaning (Read, 1955, p. 87; Winkelman, 1986,
1990, 2000). This process of exploring experiences in
multiple realitieswhat we have elsewhere termed
polyphasic culture (see Laughlin, McManus & dAquili,
1990)combined with social appropriation of the
meaning of these experiences within a single cycle of
meaning, is definitive of ideational culture.6 Many
societies go so far as to compel ASC by putting their
members through initiation rituals, sometimes using
psychotropic drugs like datura or hallucinogenic
mushrooms (see Dobkin de Rios &
Winkelman,1989), and enforcing vision quests (see
Bourguignon, 1973; Naranjo, 1987). The experiences
encountered during these procedures in turn reinforce
the societys belief in the existence of multiple realities
and inform the meaning of the societys art products
(masks, icons, mandalas, and so forth) associated with
Art and Spirit 9
such experiences (see, e.g., Reichel-Dolmatoff, 1978
on this issue among Columbian Indians). This is why
art is so commonly linked to ritual and play in tradi-
tional societies. Art objects are poignant reminders of
the underlying spiritual realizations indicated by their
symbolism. In this sense, art makes special otherwise
mundane contexts (Dissanayake, 1988, p. 98). The
art-as-symbol is a reminder of the hidden spiritual
dimension, and may well operate also as a portal or
passageway into an alternative reality experienced by
the individual in ASC. Hence art objects may figure
prominently as neuropsychological drivers (elements
that penetrate into and evoke semiosomatic processes
mediating experience) in religious ceremonies (see
dAquili, Laughlin, & McManus, 1979) and play (see
Laughlin, 1990), both of which have distinctly spiritu-
al associations in many traditional societies.
Most ideational cultures are also polyphasic (to at
least a minimal degree), and of course their art prod-
ucts frequently depict imagery related to experiences
encountered in ASC. For example, the Huichol peo-
ples of Central Mexico ingest peyote in their religious
rituals, and their yarn paintings, beadwork, basketry,
and weaving incorporate imagery that depicts experi-
ences had during psychedelic episodes (MacLean,
2001). Other cultures will use their art products as
portalling devicesas symbolically loaded icons that
penetrate to the neuropsychological systems mediating
extraordinary experiences and intuitive insights (see
MacDonald, Cove, Laughlin, & McManus, 1989, on
the process of portalling and portalling motifs in art).
Tibetan Buddhist practitioners, for example, use
sacred scroll paintings (thang ka), usually of specific
deities, as objects of veneration and devotion. They
may also use these paintings as foci of meditation and
visualization, especially when carrying out their foun-
dation practices (sngon gro) in which meditation on
the refuge tree and guru are important (Jackson &
Jackson, 1984, pp. 9-13; Laughlin, 1994a).
Art and the Sacred in Navajo Cosmology
We in Euro-American society are very used to
experiencing art from our secular point of view.
Perhaps we visit museums and art galleries, theaters
and festivals, and then carry the memory of those
experiences away with us into our normal sphere of
life. Perhaps we hang pictures or position sculptures so
that they add beauty to our surroundings. But this is
not the typical pattern encountered in traditional soci-
10 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
eties where we find art well integrated into daily cul-
tural life (Redfield, 1971, p. 44; Dissanayake, 1988,
pp. 98, 168). In order to bring home more effectively
the role of art among traditional people, let me offer a
more extended example from my own fieldwork
among the Navajo people of the American Southwest
(see also Witherspoon, 1977, Chapter 4; Witherspoon
& Peterson, 1995).
Present day Navajo represents the kind of balance
typical of Sorokins idealistic cultures. Navajo is also a
nation full of artists. Navajo people produce everyday
art in the form of jewelry, pottery, utensils, textiles,
and so forth. Yet much of the symbolism incorporated
into these objects has for the traditional Navajo pro-
found historical, cosmological, and religious signifi-
cance (see Adair, 1944; Reichard, 1939; Kaufman &
Selser, 1999; Witherspoon, 1977; Witherspoon &
Peterson, 1995; Frisbie, 1992). Indeed, Jackson
Pollock and many other modern artists have been
directly or indirectly influenced by Navajo weaving,
sandpainting, and performance (Witherspoon, 1977,
p. 174). It is interesting that Shlain (1991, p. 245)
makes the point that whereas museums hang Pollocks
paintings on the wall so that they are in a vertical ori-
entation relative to the audience, Pollock himself often
painted the canvases tacked to the floor of his barn,
and while dancing around them. These horizontal can-
vases were basically portals into energetic space for
him, much as are the more geometrical, but no less
abstract, Navajo rugs and sandpaintings that so influ-
enced his understanding of art.
Yet it is interesting that the closest one can come
in the Navajo language to art is naashchaah, which
refers to the act of decorating something. But we must
be careful here, for as Gary Witherspoon (1977, p.
151) remarks, beauty (hozho) for the Navajo is an
internal mental state, not a quality of something out
there. Beauty is a path or ideal of living, and objects
can be made with such skill that they enhance the
beauty one experiences while walking through life.
Beauty is what one projects onto happenings and
objects from within oneself. Thus to collect a bunch of
objects and store them in a museum is a foreign notion
to a traditional Navajo, although like so many other
peoples around the globe today, Navajo artists
(weavers, sandpainters, silversmiths, painters) have
now learned to cater to Anglo tastes and patterns of
consumption (Graburn, 1976a). And like so many
other peoples, the Navajo have produced modern
artists whose work is no longer perceived by more tra-
ditional Navajo as sacred or as an expression of Navajo
values or aesthetic ideals.
Beauty is a natural state of both perceived events
and the hidden forces behind those events (Farella,
1984). The Navajo, like so many other peoples around
the globe (see, e.g, Laderman, 1991, for the Malay),
have noticed that we cannot actually see the air we
breaththat we only know the existence of air by its
effects on other things (rustling leaves, whirling dust,
the sensation of the breeze on our skin). It is not sur-
prising then that in Navajo philosophy the hidden
dimension of things is called nilchi, or Wind
(McNeley, 1981). Physical realityindeed, all things
in the perceptual world, including peopleare mani-
festations of this one, vast, cosmic Wind that flows in
and out of all things (biiasti, the animated energy
within) and that underlies the normally hidden total-
ity of the universe. Wind is the essential, vital, and
unitary truth of nature, from the contemplation of
which the people attain their intuitions about the pur-
pose of existence. And it is an imbalance of that por-
tion of the wind that stands within (nilchI hwiisizi- Faris,1990, on the nine day Nightway ceremony).
inii) each one of us that leads to disease and misfor-
tune. According to one of my Navajo friends, one of
the ways that balance, harmony, or as the Navajo say,
hozho, can be lost is by forgetting. One returns to the
state of beauty therefore by rememberingand I
believe he meant remembering in the literal sense of
re-membering, of re-collecting, of putting it all back
together again in the normally healthy way (our words
health, hale, and holy all derive from the same controlling the hidden energies (Witherspoon, 1977,
root meaning whole). One again walks in beauty p. 25; Frisbie, 1992, pp. 459-460) of the Holy Wind
by remembering what the old ones taught from the
beginning of time. If need be, one may be reminded
by a medicine man, or by singing the appropriate
songs, or by doing the proper rituals, such as greeting
the dawn with an offering of corn pollen.
Art and Healing Ritual in Navajo
The Navajo imagine the hidden dynamics of
Wind as the movement of the Holy People (Diyin
Dinee)for instance, the Mountain People, the Star
People, the River People, the Rain People, the Corn
People, and so forth. The Holy People are the Wind
personifiedthe Wind imagined. Hence, one of the
major mnemonic devices for the hidden is iconograph-
ic artthat is, art objects that invoke cosmological fig-
ures (the gods or yeeii), themes (the open circle), and
events (slaying of monsters) that reveal the causally
powerful but hidden spiritual dimension of the world.
The iconic representation of the Holy People are high-
ly abstract and geometrical, almost insectoid figures
that merely suggest human forms. These figures are
immediately recognizable to traditional Navajo, and
are considered very sacred. The key to understanding
this sense of the sacred in art is that whether tradition-
al or modern, a piece of art is sacred if it is associated
in the mind of the artist or the audience with the cos-
mogonic stories that comprise the core of Navajo his-
tory and philosophy. A piece of sacred art reminds the
viewer of the teachings of the ancient ones, and thus
the mind is guided, via the object and its narrative
associations, back onto the path of beauty and harmo-
ny. The art object must be experienced as a portal into
the sacred teachings, or it simply is no longer
Navajo.
The most dramatic deployment of art in Navajo is
within healing rituals called sings (hataal; see
Reichard, 1950; Sandner, 1979). Sings are very elabo-
rate affairs, often taking days to complete (e.g., see
Every phase and element of the ceremony is under the
supervision of a medicine man or woman (hataali,
singer). Sings involve artistic creations, dramatic per-
formances, and chanting of songs that describe events
during mythological time. The rituals and artistic
ingredients are considered to be gifts given by the Holy
People to the Navajo in order that they may avail
themselves of powerful techniques for evoking and
and the Holy People that bring about healing. A sing
may only occur within or around a traditional Navajo
hut called a hogana round, five- or eight-sided hut
made of logs, mud, rocks, or in more modern times,
brick, lumber, or concrete. Today most people no
longer live in hogans, but rather in more modern styles
of buildings like ranch-style houses, row houses, and
mobile homes. But even today, a healer will not con-
sider holding a sing unless the family sponsoring the
event owns or builds a hogan. The reason is that the
myths and other texts that prescribe the techniques for
symbolic healing require a hogan, and a hogan must be
constructed in the proper way, with its one door point-
ing eastthe direction of the rising sun and Changing
Woman. The daily cycle begins in the east with the ris-
ing sun, which is associated with birth, proceeds clock-
Art and Spirit 11
wise through the south and the west, and ends in the
north, the latter being associated with night and death.
By positioning symbols and people within and around
the hogan in the proper way, one automatically posi-
tions them properly in relation to the four sacred
mountains that define Navajoland, and the four cardi-
nal directions of the cosmos.
In many sings, the singer or his helpers will con-
struct a sandpainting (also called a drypainting, for
no sand is actually used; see Witherspoon, 1977, pp.
167-172; Sandner, 1979; Reichard, 1939, Parezo,
1983) on the smooth dirt floor of the hogan. The
painting is achieved by spreading pulverized stone of
various colors in a geometrically prescribed way and in
the proper orientation to the hogan. Sandpaintings
usually take the form of mandalas (see Jung, 1969, and
Laughlin, 2001, on the transpersonal significance of
mandala symbolism), the eastern side of which is left
open and pointed toward the door of the hogan, and
thus toward the east (all patterns in Navajo art are left
open in this way, whether in pottery, basketry, or
weaving, so that the energies may flow in and out).
The singer will either construct the painting himself,
or have it done by his apprentices under close supervi-
sion. If an error is made in rendering the image, no
matter how small, the error will be erased and made
over. When people enter the hogan for ceremonial
activities during the sing, they move clockwise around
the sandpainting and sit along the walls according to
their gender, age, and status. Thus people become
arranged properly relative to each other, relative to the
sandpainting, relative to the homeland, and ultimate-
ly, relative to the cosmosall because of the physical
structure of the hogan.
Sandpaintings relate directly to the mythological
stories being chanted and often depict the Holy
People, mythological characters, features, and events
mentioned in the stories. But they are far more than
pictorial illustrations. In Gells (1992) terms, the
Navajo sandpainting, properly configured and
deployed, is a kind of technology of enchantment in
which the intent is to evoke and focus the healing
power of the Holy People and to thereby effect a
change of state in the patient. At the appropriate
moment in the ritual, the patient is placed in the mid-
dle of the sandpainting, thus inviting the Holy Wind
energies in the form of the Holy People to pass into
and heal the disease. The healing is accomplished by
returning the inner Wind of the patient to its natural
12 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
state of harmony (hozho) with the cosmos. Everything
in the painting and everything within the hogan are
brought into resonance with the cosmos, the inner
essence of which is the Holy Wind. The sandpainting
thus operates as a portal (MacDonald et al., 1989) that
facilitates the passage of the normally invisible energies
into the patient and the hogan. The passage of healing
energies seems to be directed only one way in Navajo
psychology, thus reversing the direction often
described for flying shamans in other cultures, who
may pass through a portal of some sort (geometric pat-
tern, mirror, skrying device, and so forth) and make a
soul flight into the spirit world (Winkelman, 2000,
p. 61). There are in fact no data of which I am aware
that Navajo practitioners have ever practiced or expe-
rienced this kind of ASC.
The utility of the sandpainting is over when its
phase of the sing is concluded. As it would remain
powerful and potentially dangerous to others, it is
completely destroyed by being swept up, and every last
bit of the colored powder from which it was made is
disposed of outside and to the north of the hogan.
Under no circumstances will an accurate sandpainting
be conserved, nor is it permissible to photograph it.
The various ethnographic renditions of sandpaintings
executed by various medicine men for research and
archival purposes are said to all have intentional errors
painted into their form that render them harmless and
incapable of evoking the power of the Holy People.
More Modern Utility of Art in Navajo
As the above discussion demonstrates, the associa-
tion of art and myth within a cycle of meaning is
essential to understanding both the sacred nature (i.e.,
the significance) and the utility of art for Navajo peo-
ple. For a more modern application, let me turn briefly
to the use of pictures by another of my Navajo friends
who is a social worker. Let me call him Fred. Fred fre-
quently works with families that have been ravaged by
alcoholism, drug addiction, and domestic violence. He
works to reintroduce his clients to the proper tradi-
tional roles each must play to form a harmonious
Navajo family. Parents must come to see that they have
to become appropriate role models for their children.
And appropriate here means traditionalin accord
with the ancient stories that prescribe how the People
are to behave. In beginning his counseling on the nat-
ural state of harmonious relationships, Fred sometimes
uses a drawing of the famous sandpainting depicting
Father Sky on the right and Mother Earth on the left
(as one looks out of the painting). The male element is
associated with the right hand side and the female with
the left hand side of the body. He teaches that his
clients should think about the act of taking a bath, an
act that involves the right hand (male) washing the
female side and the left hand (female) washing the
male side of the body. Relations among the genders
should be, and once were of this kind of mutual help,
respect, and cooperation. Things have changed, Fred
says, for the attraction between the genders is often
merely lust these days.
Father Sky and Mother Earth are depicted as con-
nected mouth to mouth by a track of corn pollen, and
between the legs by a rainbowthe former referring to
the morning ritual of greeting the sun from the earth
with offerings of pollen and the gift of rays of golden
light from the sun to the earth, and the latter recalling
the common experience of a rainbow arching from
earth to sky and back again. Mother Earth is shown as
pregnant and as festooned with the four sacred plants
(corn, tobacco, beans, and squash). The genital area of
the predominantly black Father Sky is white and that
of the white Mother Earth is black. This reversal has
much the same significance as the dots in a yin-yang
symbol. Both male and female contain, and are
dependent for their existence upon, the opposite.7
Fred emphasizes in his counseling that we are all,
whether male or female, both born from the female
and are femaleand that men have become special-
ized in their development. Men are nowadays actually
weaker than women, but in the olden days women
stayed at home and the men protected the women.
This was symbolically enacted in everyday life when
men slept toward the eastern side of the hoganthe
side that always faces the rising sun and has the only
door to the outsidewhile the women slept on the
western, protected side. Fred tells his clients one or
more of the ancient myths about the tragic conflicts
between First Man and First Woman, and how these
conflicts were only resolved when both men and
women acknowledged their interdependence in the
scheme of things. According to Fred, many of the mal-
adies facing the People today are due precisely to a fail-
ure of folks to remember these teachings and to act
accordingly.
Art and Cosmology in Navajo
Of course sandpaintings are not the only forms of
art (or craft) among the Navajo. Navajo artists also
produce world-famous fabrics and jewelry, as well as
the masks and regalia used in the yeeii dances that are
also a part of healing rituals and public ceremonials.
Yet all of the imagery used in blankets, silver bracelets,
baskets, pottery, or masks have their origins and signif-
icance within the context of Navajo cosmology. In
other words, for the traditionally minded Navajo, in
order for any art object to be perceived as being of the
People, it must partake in the Navajo cycle of mean-
ingit must relate in some way to the corpus of sacred
stories that all Navajo hear in their childhood, and that
relate the formative events in the mythic history of the
People. This corpus of stories and the traditional cos-
mology behind them comprise the Navajo cycle of
meaning within which artistic expressions find their
significance and their association with the sublime.
The role of art is thus thoroughly mimeticto encap-
sulate and remind the people to follow the beauty
way (hozho-ji). To live properly as a Navajo means
that one is living in a state of hozho, and thus in accord
with the teachings encoded in the sacred stories. Art is
an expression of this atemporal binding of mythic and
modern times, thereby reminding people through the
immediate nonlinguistic impact of symbolism of the
way of beauty and harmony, of the significance of the
four sacred mountains that define their land, and of
the immanent presence of the Holy People, whose
sublime energies animate the ever-dynamic forms and
processes that constitute the world. Nor is art merely a
passive representation of the cosmology, but, as we
have seen, may constitute an active technology of
enchantment by means of which the hidden forces of
the cosmos may be evoked and applied in the service
of the way of beauty. Navajo art, and especially art
deployed in healing ritualsand as we have seen, in
modern family counselingis thus a clear example of
the nexus of aesthetics, significance, and utility that
frame and suggest the deeper sublimity that I have
identified as a defining characteristic of art in an eth-
nological frame. But the Navajo tradition does not
allow pure surrational art. Figurative surrational art is
apparent in the designs woven into fabrics. Another of
my friends who is a well-known Two Grey Hills weav-
er has told me that she never weaves the same pattern
twice, and that the patterns come to her out of the
blue before she begins a rug. Her patterns arise as
either psychic automatic productions or figurative sur-
rational ones, depending upon how spontaneously
Art and Spirit 13
they originate before weaving begins.
The Artistic Brain and the
Inner Necessity of Spirit
Art itself is a metaphorical activity, finding
(rather than seeking) new symbols to signify new
areas of sensibility.
Herbert Read
Icon and Idea
The model of art and spirit I have constructed,
and the example of traditional spiritual art among the
Navajo people, both concentrate upon the inextricable
and universal association of abstract imagery and spir-
itual or transpersonal experiences. I am by no means
the first student of art to suggest the cardinal impor-
tance of this association. In what surely must rank as
one of the greatest pieces of art criticism ever penned,
Concerning the Spiritual in Art (1977 [1914]), the
great painter and philosopher Wassily Kandinsky took
this relationship to be pivotal in the understanding of
modern art and its connection to traditional art.
Kandinsky defined two types of resemblances of art
in relation to culture. The first kind of resemblance is
between people who share the same culture and age
as he said, Every work of art is the child of its time...
(p. 23). This resemblance is due to a similarity in the
background, attitudes, styles, circumstances, and foci
of a particular society during a particular era of its his-
tory. No other society will produce exactly that kind of
art, nor will people in that society later on be able to
exactly reconstitute the art of the earlier period. As we
all know, history is a point of view on the past taken
through the filters of contemporary culture.
Kandinsky called this kind of resemblance merely
external. In modern ethnology we might say that
this kind of resemblance in style refers to cultural spe-
cific patterning which changes with each generation.
An obvious example from our own Euro-American
experience is the change in pop music fads that seem
to occur every few years.
The second kind of resemblancethe one of rele-
vance to my studyderives not from cultural taste,
but from an inner necessity of spirit to express itself
through artistic creation. An ethnologist might call
this kind of resemblance transcultural patterning and
recognize perhaps two explanations for apparent simi-
larities: diffusion of cultural patterns across societies
that have come into contact at some point in the past,
14 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
and universal structural processes inherent in the
human brain or psyche. Again, obvious examples from
our own Euro-American experience might be the blues
which, although it arose out of the specific experience
of an oppressed people at an earlier phase of history,
and although there have occurred stylistic changes over
the generations, nonetheless is essentially timeless in
its structure and the feelings it evokes, and may be
appreciated by anyone in any age and by people of
other cultures. As Kandinsky wrote,
But among the forms of art is another kind of
external similarity, which is founded on a fun-
damental necessity. When there is, as some-
times happens, a similarity of inner direction in
an entire moral and spiritual milieu, a similari-
ty of ideals, at first closely pursued but later lost
to sight, a similarity of inner mood between
one period and another, the logical conse-
quence will be a revival of the external forms
which served to express those insights in the
earlier age. This may account partially for our
sympathy and affinity with and our comprehen-
sion of the work of primitives. Like ourselves,
these pure artists sought to express only inner
and essential feelings in their works; in this
process they ignored as a matter of course the
fortuitous.
(1977[1914], pp. 23-24; emphasis added)
Kandinsky is referring here to something like
Sorokins pendulum swing between the sensate and
ideational poles of culture discussed above. He has rec-
ognized the stifling effect of sensate (materialist) cul-
ture on spirit, and the difficulty faced by people encul-
turated in a sensate society when trying to understand
the inner-directed quality of spiritually generated art.
Again, in Kandinskys own words,
This great point of inner contact is, in spite of
its considerable importance, only one point.
Only just now awakening after years of materi-
alism, our soul is infected with the despair born
of unbelief, of lack of purpose and aim. The
nightmare of materialism, which turns life into
an evil, senseless game, is not yet passed; it still
darkens the awakening soul. Only feeble light
glimmers, a tiny point in an immense circle of
darkness. This light is but a presentiment; and
the mind, seeing it, trembles in doubt over
whether the light is a dream and the surround-
ing darkness indeed reality. This doubt and the
 oppression of materialism separate us sharply from
primitives. Our soul rings cracked when we
sound it, like a precious vase, dug out of the
earth, which has a flaw.
(1977[1914], p. 24; emphasis added)
Although he was primarily addressing the state of
the fine arts during the early 20th century, and the dif-
ficulty most people at the time had in comprehending
modern art, Kandinsky was aware that the one-sided
focus of sensate consciousness upon outer reality is
conditioned at the expense of an awareness of the
inner, mystical or spiritual domain. Most members of
sensate cultures, for instance, pay little or no attention
to their dream life, and thus commonly do not tap that
domain of experience to inform their waking self-
awareness. Art expressive of sensate culture tends to be
external art that typically does not tap into the sublime
dimensions of spirit. Thus spiritually active individu-
als in a sensate society must struggle both to access and
to express the insights that emerge intuitively and that
may give rise to their eidetic imagery. Yet at the same
time, individuals who are spiritually active frequently
find that the spiritually pregnant art of traditional peo-
ples is moving and even transparent in its essential sig-
nificance. Having been previously involved in both the
spontaneous transpersonal experience of hypnagogic
mandalas (Laughlin, 2001), and the use of mandalas as
visualization devices in Tibetan Buddhism (Laughlin,
1994a), when I eventually experienced Navajo sand-
paintings, their structural significanceif not their
exact cultural contentwas transparent to me.
Indeed, I happen to know that Tibetan Buddhist
monks who also make sandpainted mandalas during
their rituals, and who have visited Navajo singers while
passing through the American Southwest, find it easy
to discuss such art and share experiences with the
Navajo. Each in fact find the sandpaintings of the
other moving and meaningful, and expressing similar
insights about the unitary nature of the hidden.
Art expressive of sublimity will endure through
history and across cultural boundaries. As Kandinsky
put it, merely external art has no future
(1977[1914], p. 24) while art generated out of the
inner necessity of spirit contains the seeds of the
futureby which I take it he meant that the inner
meaning of spiritual art is recoverable, regardless of the
age in which it was created or the cultural differences
in details. In music, the blues penetrates to the spirit in
a way that perhaps much pop music does not. The
inner meaning is recoverable by way of penetration
from art object to a level of sublimity marked by dis-
tinct feelingsas Kandinsky says of the spiritually
expressive artist, ...his work will give to those
observers capable of feeling them emotions subtle
beyond words (1977[1914], p. 24). And of course
such imagery may penetrate to archetypal levels of
imagery and insight, and evoke direct spiritual experi-
ences in normal waking consciousness or ASC: the
spectator hears an answering chord in himself (p. 25).
Little wonder then that traditional peoples all over the
planet have concluded that certain art objects are
enchanting, or that they are the abode of spirits. A
spiritually evocative art is very much a living thing,
animated by the penetrations and projections of
observers.
Inner Necessity and Traditional Art
Peoples around the planet have been able to con-
serve the spiritual impact of their art by embedding
their artistic heritage in a cycle of meaning and a
myth-ritual context that inhibits alterations in style.
Indeed, it is partly this transgenerational conservatism
of form, significance, and psychological impact that
defines the meaning of the term traditional in the
first place. The key to understanding traditional art
among ideational and idealistic peoples is that the
force of the inner necessity of spiritual expression is
locked in so to speak, recurring anew for each gener-
ation with only subtle changes discernable across the
generationsin Wallaces (1966) terms, the art is sub-
tly revitalized, along with its mythopoeic context, in
the crucible of each generations experience.
Technological modifications may indeed occur.
Australian Aboriginal artists took to acrylics like fish to
water, and yet the spiritual impact of their paintings
remains the same. The impact is the same because of
the association between the motifs and movements of
the art with the mythopoeic context of Aboriginal reli-
gion, an association that remains intact for both artist
and audience. Modern Japanese Noh players purchase
more three-dimensional masks than would have been
acceptable in generations past, but the use of the mask
in ritual dramas remains the same (Young-Laughlin &
Laughlin, 1988).
As we have seen above, Navajo sandpaintings are
highly constrained in their form and in their utility. As
a consequence, and in keeping with the practices of
most traditional peoples, one will not encounter any-
Art and Spirit 15
thing as individualistic as pure surrational automatism
among the Navajo. The only exceptions, of course, are
the Navajo artists who have left their cultural roots
behind and are operating in the Euro-American art
world. However, some figurative surrational art occurs
within the confines of traditional forms. In completing
a sandpainting for a sing, the singer will often refer to
notes about the proper conformation of the image
notes that the singer has learned from his or her
teacher. The paintings and the rituals of which they are
a part have recurred for untold generations, and they
recur because people perceive them as effective.8
Conclusion:
Ethnology and the Inner Necessity of Spirit
What I have done here is suggest a model of art (1)
that may be applied to artistic productions cross-cul-
turally, (2) that allows the ethnologist or transpersonal
researcher a flexible but operationalizable definition of
artistic production, (3) that allows the analyst to take
into consideration the often ineffable sublimity of art,
(4) that recognizes the true function of abstraction in
art, (5) that allows the analyst to distinguish between
cultures in which spiritual art is embedded in a cycle
of meaning from those cultures in which spiritual art
is, as it were, cast adrift, (6) that explains the seeming
paradox between cultural conservatism in artistic styles
and the often profound spiritual consequences of artis-
tic production. Above all, we can see how abstract,
spiritual art may be seen as an inevitable outcome of
humanitys essentially mimetic natureour predilec-
tion to comprehend our world and ourselves by way of
pregnant symbolism. In sensate cultures, the tendency
is toward apperception of the external world, but in
modern art and in the art of idealistic and ideational
cultures generally, we see an opposite spin toward
apperception of the psychic or cosmological depths
through abstract expression. This linking of the vari-
ous functions of imagery (aesthetic, significant, utili-
ty), abstraction, and sublimityof art and spiritis
fundamental to humanity, and requires on the part of
researchers a greater sensitivity for and appreciation of
the transpersonal dimensions of life and culture.
Ethnologists have an all-too-frequent predilection for
the obvious and superficial when it comes to describ-
ing and analyzing symbolic activity. Moreover, ethno-
graphers have historically shied away from direct expe-
riences of the sublime, the transpersonal dimensions of
their hosts experiences (Laughlin, 1989, 1994b). It is
16 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
perhaps far easier to ask our informants what does
that image mean than to actually participate in the
imagery in a direct mimetic way. But when it comes to
spiritual art, there is no alternative if one wishes to get
to the real bottom of thingsto fully comprehend the
inner necessity that gives sublimity its voice through
art.
Author Note
Many thanks to Michael Winkelman, and to the
authors fellow International Consciousness Research
Laboratories (ICRL) colleagues, especially Paul
Devereux and Hal Puthoff, for their many helpful sug-
gestions.
End Notes
1. See Rosch (1977) on fuzziness of natural cate-
gories, and Laughlin (1993) on categorical fuzziness
related to transpersonal experiences.
2. A process considered by some to be fundamen-
tal to animism and the origins of religion; see Guthrie
(1993).
3. Abstraction is commonly defined in contrast to
such terms as representation, facticity, concrete-
ness, perceptibility, individuality, realism,
objective, and the like. The Oxford English
Dictionary notes that the word was derived from the
Latin abstractus, from abs off or away plus tractus
to draw. The OED goes on to trace the use of the
English concept back to the 16th century where it
connotes to withdraw, deduct, remove, or take away
(something), as well as to draw off or apart; to sepa-
rate, withdraw, disengage from. At least by the 17th
century the term had picked up mental connotations,
as to separate in mental conception; to consider apart
from the material embodiment, or from particular
instances, to derive, to claim extraction for, and to
make an abstract of; to summarize, epitomize; to
abridge. The act of abstraction came to include the
act or process of separating in thought, of considering
a thing independently of its associations; or a sub-
stance independently of its attributes; or an attribute
or quality independently of the substance to which it
belongs; and a state of withdrawal or seclusion from
worldly things or things of the sense. Certainly by the
early 20th century the term was being applied to the
arts meaning the practice or state of freedom from
representational qualities; a work of art with these
qualities.
 4. Paul-Emile Borduas led another group of artists
that experimented with automatic techniques, a
group that included such artists as Jean-Paul Riopelle,
Jean-Paul Mousseau, Marcelle Ferron, and Pierre
Gauvreau, among othersand who produced some
very remarkable, nonfigurative abstract paintings, as
well as sculpture, poetry, dance, and performance
(Ellenwood, 1992). Their methods were intended to
circumvent either culturally conditioned method and
interpretation, or ego-driven motives like aesthetic
convention, external expectation. Borduas and his
group were influenced by Bretons earlier thinking
about the nature of the automatic method.
5. The suffix sur- means above, over, super, or up.
Ortega y Gasset (1968, p. 35-36) distinguishes
between the surrealism of metaphors and infrarealism,
the latter probing below reality to get at its details.
6. For examples of ideational cultures, see
Tonkinson (1978) and Poirier (1990) on the
Australian Aborigines, Guedon (1984) on the
Tsimshian in northwestern Canada, Laderman (1991)
on Malay shamanism, and Peters (1982) on Tamang
shamanism.
7. FB also uses the traditional cradle board (aweet-
saal) as an artistic mnemonic. He instructs his clients
that the different parts of the board relate to the differ-
ent aspects of gender and energy. Looking out from
the board, the left board is female and the right board
male. The two boards are tied with four thongs which
represent the four directions, the four sacred moun-
tains that define Navajoland (Denetah). The stitching
is done in a zigzag pattern representing lightning,
which involves the exchange of energy between Father
Sky and Mother Earth. A string representing a sun-
beam is tied on the left side if the baby is a girl and on
the right side if the baby is a boy. The hoops are rain-
bows and the foot board is earth.
8. It should be mentioned, however, that fewer
Navajo families are willing to take on the financial
burden of sponsoring a sing because they are expensive
to mount (I have been given figures averaging in excess
of $3,000). Also, there are now competing alternatives
to the singprimarily the much less expensive and
time-consuming ceremonies of the Native American
Church, various Christian sects, and of course modern
Anglo medicine. Still, my understanding is that rough-
ly 20 percent of Navajo families still have recourse to
traditional sings.
References
Adair, J. (1944). Navajo and Pueblo silversmiths.
Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press.
Alexander, R. (1989). Evolution of the human psyche.
In P. Mellars & C. Stringer (Eds.), The human rev-
olution: Behavioral and biological perspectives on the
origins of modern humans (pp. 4-49). Edinburgh:
Edinburgh University Press.
Alland, A. (1977). Artistic animal: An inquiry into the
biological roots of art. Garden City, NY: Anchor.
Alland, A. (1983). Playing with form: Children learn to
draw in six cultures. New York: Columbia
University Press.
Ament, D. T. (2002). Iridescent light: The emergence of
northwest art. Seattle, WA: University of
Washington Press.
Arnheim, R. (1969). Visual thinking. Berkeley, CA:
University of California Press.
D'Aquili, E. G., Laughlin, C. D., & McManus, J.
(1979). The spectrum of ritual. New York:
Columbia University Press.
Berndt, R. M. (1971). Some methodological consider-
ations in the study of Australian Aboriginal art. In
C. F. Jopling (Ed.), Art and aesthetics in primitive
societies (pp. 99-126). New York: Dutton.
Bourguignon, E. (1973). Religion, altered states of con-
sciousness, and social change. Columbus, OH: Ohio
State University Press.
Burnham, J. (1971). The structure of art. New York:
George Braziller.
Campbell, J. (1968). The masks of god: Creative
mythology. New York: Penguin.
Cardew, M. (1978). Design and meaning in preliterate
art. In M. Greenhalgh & V. Megaw (Eds.), Art in
society: Studies in style, culture and aesthetics (pp. 15-
20). London: Duckworth.
Cassirer, E. (1957). The philosophy of symbolic forms.
Vol. 3: The phenomenology of knowledge. New
Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Cassirer, E. (1979). Symbol, myth, and culture: Essays
and lectures of Ernst Cassirer, 1935-1945. New
Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Dark, P.J.C. (1978). What is art for anthropologists?
In M. Greenhalgh and V. Megaw (Eds.), Art in
society: Studies in style, culture and aesthetics (pp. 31-
50). London: Duckworth.
Dissanayake, E. (1988). What is art for? Seattle, WA:
University of Washington Press.
Art and Spirit 17
Dobkin de Rios, M., & Winkelman, M. (Eds.).
(1989). Shamanism and altered states of conscious-
ness [Special Issue]. Journal of Psychoactive Drugs,
21(1).
Donald, M. (1991). Origins of the modern mind.
Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Donald, M. (2001). A mind so rare: The evolution of
human consciousness. New York: Norton.
Durkheim, E. (1995). The elementary forms of religious
life. Translated by K. Fields. London: Allen.
(Original work published 1912)
Eliade, M. (1986). Symbolism, the sacred, and the arts.
New York: Crossroad.
Ellenwood, R. (1992). Egregore: A history of the
Montreal automatist movement. Toronto, Canada:
Exile Editions.
Ernandes, M., & Giammanco, S. (1998). MacLeans
triune brain and the origin of the immense
power being idea. Mankind Quarterly, 39(2), 173-
201.
Farella, J. R. (1984). The main stalk: A synthesis of
Navajo philosophy. Tucson, AR: University
of Arizona Press.
Faris, J. C. (1990). The nightway: A history and a his-
tory of documentation of a Navajo ceremonial.
Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico
Press.
Frisbie, C. J. (1992). Temporal change in Navajo reli-
gion: 1868-1990. Journal of the Southwest, 34(4),
457-514.
Gell, A. (1992). The technology of enchantment and
the enchantment of technology. In J. Coote and A.
Sheldon (Eds.), Anthropology, art and aesthetics (pp.
40-63). Oxford: Clarendon.
Gell, A. (1998). Art and agency: An anthropological the-
ory. Oxford, England: Clarendon.
Graburn, N. H. H. (Ed.). (1976a). Ethnic and tourist
arts: Cultural expressions from the fourth world.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
Graburn, N. H. H. (1976b). Introduction: Arts of the
fourth world. In N. H. H. Graburn (Ed.), Ethnic
and tourist arts: Cultural expressions from the fourth
world (pp. 1-32). Berkeley: University of California
Press.
Guedon, M.F. (1984). An introduction to Tsimshian
worldview and its practitioners. In M. Seguin
(Ed.), The Tsimshian: Images of the past (pp. 137-
159). Vancouver, Canada: University of British
Columbia Press.
18 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
Guthrie, S. (1993). Faces in the clouds: A new theory of
religion. Oxford, England: Oxford University Press.
Jackson, D. P., & Jackson, J. A. (1984). Tibetan thang-
ka painting: Methods and materials. Ithaca, NY:
Snow Lion.
Jung, C. G. (1966). Picasso. In The spirit in man, art,
and literature (pp. 135-141). Collected works Vol.
15. New York: Bollingen.
Jung, C. G. (1969). Mandala symbolism. Princeton,
N.J.: Princeton University Press.
Jung, C. G. (1997). Visions: Notes of the seminar given
in 1930-1934 by C.G. Jung (2 vols). Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press.
Kandinsky, W. (1977). Concerning the spiritual in Art.
New York: Dover. (Original work published 1914)
Kandinsky, W. (1982). Kandinsky: Complete writings
on art. Volume 2 (1922-1943). Boston:
G. K. Hall.
Kaufman, A., & Selser, C. (1999). Navajo weaving tra-
dition 1650 to the present. Tulsa, OK: Council
Oak Books.
Kellogg, R. (1969). Analyzing childrens art. Palo Alto,
CA: National Press.
Kreitler, H., & Kreitler, S. (1972). Psychology of the
arts. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
Laderman, C. (1991). Taming the wind of desire:
Psychology, medicine and aesthetics in Malay
shamanistic performance. Berkeley: University of
California Press.
Langer, S. K. (1953). Feeling and form. New York:
Scribner.
Laughlin, C. D. (1989). Transpersonal anthropology:
Some methodological issues. Western Canadian
Anthropologist, 5, 29-60.
Laughlin, C. D. (1990). At play in the fields of the
Lord: The role of metanoia in the development of
consciousness. Play and Culture, 3(3), 173-192.
Laughlin, C. D. (1994a). Psychic energy and transper-
sonal experience: A biogenetic structural account
of the Tibetan dumo practice. In D. E. Young & J.
G. Goulet (Eds.), Being changed by cross-cultural
encounters: The anthropology of extraordinary experi-
ences (pp. 99-134). Peterborough, Canada:
Broadview Press.
Laughlin, C. D. (1994b). Transpersonal anthropology,
then and now. Transpersonal Review, 1(1), 7-10.
Laughlin, C. D. (1997). The cycle of meaning: Some
methodological implications of biogenetic struc-
tural theory. In S. Glazier (Ed.), Anthropology of
 religion: Handbook of theory and method (pp. 471-
488). New York: Greenwood Press.
Laughlin, C. D. (2001). Mandalas, nixies, goddesses,
and succubi: A transpersonal anthropologist looks
at the anima. International Journal of Transpersonal
Studies, 20, 33-52.
Laughlin, C. D. (2003). Abstraction and the artistic
brain: A neuroanthropological account of spiritual
symbolism in traditional and modern art. Site
Street 4 (refereed electronic journal;
http://www.sidestreet.org/sitestreet/index2.html).
Laughlin, C. D., McManus, J., & d'Aquili, E. G.
(1990). Brain, symbol and experience: Toward a neu-
rophenomenology of consciousness. New York:
Columbia University Press.
Laughlin, C. D., McManus, J., & Shearer, J. (1993).
The function of dreaming in the cycles of cogni-
tion. In A. Moffitt et al. (Eds.), The function of
dreaming. Albany, NY: SUNY Press.
Laughlin, C. D., & Throop, C. J. (2003). Experience,
culture, and reality: The significance of Fisher
Information for understanding the relationship
between alternative states of consciousness and the
structures of reality. International Journal of
Transpersonal Studies, 22, 7-26.
Layton, R. (1978). Art and visual communication. In
M. Greenhalgh and V. Megaw (Eds.), Art in socie-
ty: Studies in style, culture and aesthetics (pp. 21-30).
London: Duckworth.
MacDonald, G. F., Cove, J., Laughlin, C. D., &
McManus, J. (1989). Mirrors, portals and multiple
realities. Zygon, 23(4), 39-64.
MacLean, H. (2001). Sacred colors and shamanic
vision among the Huichol Indians of Mexico.
Journal of Anthropological Research, 57(3), 305-324.
Maguet, J. (1971). Introduction to aesthetic anthropology.
New York: Addison-Wesley Module.
Maguet, J. (1986). The aesthetic experience. New
Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Malraux, A. (1953). The voices of silence. Garden City,
NY: Doubleday.
McNeley, J. K. (1981). Holy Wind in Navajo philoso-
phy. Tucson: University of Arizona Press.
Naranjo, C. (1987). Ayahuasca imagery and the ther-
apeutic property of the harmala alkaloids. Journal
of Mental Imagery, 11(2), 131-136.
Ortega y Gasset, J. (1968). The dehumanization of art:
And other essays on art, culture, and literature.
Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Otten, C. M. (Ed). (1971). Anthropology and art:
Readings in cross-cultural aesthetics. Garden City,
NY: Natural History Press.
Parezo, N. J. (1983). Navajo sandpainting: From reli-
gious act to commercial art. Albuquerque: University
of New Mexico Press.
Peters, L. G. (1982). Trance, initiation, and psy-
chotherapy in Tamang shamanism. American
Ethnologist, 9(1), 21-46.
Poirier, S. (1990). Flexibilite structurelle et creativite
onirique chez les groupes aborigines du desert
Occidental australien. Unpublished Ph.D. disserta-
tion, Laval University, Quebec, Canada.
Read, H. (1955). Icon and idea: The function of art in
the development of human consciousness. Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press.
Read, H. (1960). The forms of things unknown.
London: Faber and Faber.
Redfield, R. (1971). Art and icon. In C. M. Otten
(Ed.), Anthropology and art: Readings in cross-cul-
tural aesthetics (pp. 20-36). Garden City, NY:
Natural History Press.
Reichard, G. A. (1939). Navajo medicine man sand-
paintings. New York: Dover.
Reichard, G. A. (1950). Navaho religion: A study of
symbolism. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Reichel-Dolmatoff, G. (1978). Drug-induced optical
sensations and their relationship to applied art
among some Columbian Indians. In M.
Greenhalgh and V. Megaw (Eds.), Art in society:
Studies in style, culture and aesthetics (pp. 289-304).
London: Duckworth.
Rosch, E. (1977). Human categorization. Studies in
Cross-Cultural Psychology, 1, 3-49.
Sandner, D. (1979). Navaho symbols of healing. New
York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich.
Shapiro, D.,& Shapiro, C. (1990). Introduction: A
brief history. In D. Shapiro and C. Shapiro (Eds.),
Abstract expressionism: A critical record (pp. 1-30).
Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.
Shlain, L. (1991). Art and physics: Parallel visions in
space, time, and light. New York: William Morrow.
Sorokin, Pitirim A. (1957). Social and cultural dynam-
ics. Boston: Porter Sargent Publisher.
Sorokin, Pitirim A. (1962). Society, culture, and person-
ality. New York: Cooper Square.
Tonkinson, R. (1978). The Mardudjara Aborigines.
New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.
Turner, V. (1969). The ritual process: Structure and
Art and Spirit 19
 anti-structure. Chicago: Aldine.
Turner, V. (1979). Process, performance and pilgrimage.
New Delhi, India: Concept Publishing House.
Wallace, A. F. C. (1966). Religion: An anthropological
view. New York: Random House.
Whitten, D. S., & Whitten, N. E., Jr. (Eds.). (1993).
Imagery and creativity: Ethnoaesthetics and art
worlds in the Americas. Tucson, AZ: University of
Arizona Press.
Winkelman, M. (1986). Trance states: A theoretical
model and cross-cultural analysis. Ethos, 14, 174-
203.
Winkelman, M. (1990). Shamans and other magico-
religious healers: A cross-cultural study of
their origins, nature, and social transformations.
Ethos, 18, 308-352.
Winkelman, M. (2000). Shamanism: The neural ecolo-
gy of consciousness and healing. Westport, CT:
Bergin & Garvey.
Witherspoon, G. (1977). Language and art in the
Navajo universe. Ann Arbor: University of
Michigan Press.
Witherspoon, G., & Peterson, G. (1995). Dynamic
symmetry and holistic asymmetry in Navajo and
western art and cosmology. New York: Peter Lang.
Young-Laughlin, J., & Laughlin, C. D. (1988). How
masks work, or masks work how? Journal of Ritual
Studies, 2(1), 59-86.

Correspondence regarding this article should be

directed to Charles D. Laughlin at the
Department of Sociology and Anthropology, Carleton
University, Ottawa, Ontario, CANADA
K1S 5B6. Email: claughlin9@aol.com

20 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

 Cosmic Connectivity: Toward a Scientific
Foundation for Transpersonal Consciousness

Ervin Laszlo, Ph.D.

Club of Budapest

The principal aim of this paper is to overview some of the salient existing empirical data support-
ing the possibility of an interconnectivity of consciousness that extends beyond the convention-
ally recognized confines of body and mind. Thereafter, the article provides possible explanations
of this apparent interconnectivity drawn from the work of Jung and recent developments in
physics.

re human beings entirely discrete individuals, known experiments on subtle connections among dis-

A their organism enclosed by the skin and their

minds enclosed by the cranium housing the
brain? Or are there effective, if subtle, interconnec-
tions between humansand between humans and the
world at large? This study argues that the latter
assumption is likely to be true. Though the evidence
for such transpersonal connections is not in the form
of incontrovertible hard data, it is nevertheless
cogent and significant. The directly pertinent findings
are generated by research on psi phenomena and by
the practice of psychotherapists. Possible explanations
for these findings can be traced to the ideas of Carl
Jung, and can now be framed by theories at the lead-
ing edge of the new physics.
The Findings
Psi Experiments
Controlled experiments concerning subtle con-
nections between subjects removed in space, and occa-
sionally also in time, date back to the 1930s, to J.B.
Rhines pioneering card- and dice-guessing work at
Duke University. Since then, experimental designs
have become sophisticated and experimental controls
rigorous; physicists have often joined psychologists in
carrying out the tests. Explanations in terms of hidden
sensory cues, machine bias, cheating by subjects, and
experimenter error or incompetence have all been con-
sidered, but they were found unable to account for a
number of statistically significant results.
Relevant work began in the 1970s, when Russell
Targ and Harold Puthoff carried out some of the best-
tant subjects in regard to the transference of thoughts
and images. They examined the possibility of telepath-
ic transmission between individuals, one of whom
would act as sender and the other as receiver. The
receiver was placed in a sealed, opaque, and electrical-
ly shielded chamber, while the sender was in another
room, where he or she was subjected to bright flashes
of light at regular intervals. Electroencephalograph
(EEG) machines registered the brain-wave patterns of
both. As expected, the sender exhibited the rhythmic
brain waves that normally accompany exposure to
bright flashes of light. Then, after a brief interval, the
receiver began to produce the same patterns, although
he or she was not exposed to the flashes and was not
receiving sense-perceivable signals from the sender.
Targ and Puthoff also conducted experiments on
remote viewing. In these tests, sender and receiver
were separated by distances that precluded any form of
sensory communication between them. At a site cho-
sen at random, the sender acted as a beacon; the
receiver then tried to pick up what the beacon saw. To
document his or her impressions, the receiver gave ver-
bal descriptions, at times accompanied by sketches.
Independent judges found that the descriptions of the
sketches matched on the average 66 percent of the
time the characteristics of the site that was actually
seen by the beacon (Puthoff & Targ, 1976; Targ &
Harary, 1984; Targ & Puthoff, 1974).
Remote viewing experiments reported from other
laboratories involved distances from half a mile to sev-
eral thousand miles. Regardless of where they were car-

Cosmic Connectivity 21
ried out, and by whom, the success rate was generally
around fifty percentconsiderably above random
probability. The most successful viewers appeared to
be those who were relaxed, attentive, and meditative.
They reported that they received a preliminary impres-
sion as a gentle and fleeting form which gradually
evolved into an integrated image. They experienced
the image as a surprise, both because it was clear and
because it was clearly elsewhere.
Images may also be transmitted while the receiver
is asleep. Over several decades, Stanley Krippner and
his associates carried out dream ESP experiments at
the Dream Laboratory of Maimondes Hospital in New
York City (Persinger & Krippner, 1989; Ullman &
Krippner, 1970). The experiments followed a simple
yet effective protocol. The volunteer, who would
spend the night at the laboratory, would meet the
sender and the experimenters on arrival and had the
procedure explained to him or her. Electrodes were
then attached to the volunteers head to monitor brain
waves and eye movements; there was no further senso-
ry contact with the sender until the next morning.
One of the experimenters threw dice that, in combina-
tion with a random number table, gave a number that
corresponded to a sealed envelope containing an art
print. The sender opened the envelope upon reaching
his or her private room in a distant part of the hospi-
tal, and then spent the night concentrating on the
print.
The experimenters woke the volunteers by inter-
com when the monitor showed the end of a period of
rapid eye-movement (REM) sleep. The subject was
then asked to describe any dream he or she might have
had before awakening. The comments were recorded,
together with the contents of an interview the next
morning, when the subject was asked to associate with
the remembered dreams. The interview was conducted
double blindneither the subject nor the experi-
menters knew which art print had been selected the
night before.
Using data taken from the first night that each
volunteer spent at the dream laboratory, the series of
experiments between 1964 and 1969 produced 62
nights of data for analysis. The data exhibited a signif-
icant correlation between the art print selected for a
given night and the recipients dreams on that night.
The score was considerably higher on nights when
there were few or no electrical storms in the area and
sunspot activity was at a low ebbthat is, when the
22 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
Earths geomagnetic field was relatively undisturbed.
A particularly striking example of transpersonal
contact and communication has been the work of
Jacobo Grinberg-Zylverbaum at the National
University of Mexico (Grinberg-Zylverbaum, Delaflor,
Sanchez-Arellano, Guevara, & Perez, 1993). In more
than fifty experiments performed over five years,
Grinberg-Zylberbaum paired his subjects inside
sound- and electro-magnetic radiationproof Faraday
cages. He asked them to meditate together for twen-
ty minutes. Then he placed the subjects in separate
Faraday cages, where one of them was stimulated and
the other not. The stimulated subject received stimuli
at random intervals in such a way that neither he or
she, nor the experimenter, knew when they were
applied. The non-stimulated subject remained relaxed,
with eyes closed, instructed to feel the presence of the
partner without knowing anything about his or her
stimulation.
In general, a series of one hundred stimuli were
appliedflashes of light, sounds, or short, intense but
not painful electric shocks to the index and ring fin-
gers of the right hand. The EEG of both subjects was
then synchronized and examined for normal poten-
tials evoked in the stimulated subject and transferred
potentials in the non-stimulated subject. Transferred
potentials were not found in control situations where
either there was no stimulated subject or a screen pre-
vented the stimulated subject from perceiving the
stimuli (such as light flashes), or when the paired sub-
jects did not previously interact. However, in experi-
mental situations with stimulated subjects and with
interaction, the transferred potentials appeared consis-
tently in some 25 percent of the cases. A particularly
poignant example was furnished by a young couple,
deeply in love. Their EEG patterns remained closely
synchronized throughout the experiment, testifying to
their report of feeling a deep oneness.
In a limited way, Grinberg-Zylberbaum could
replicate his results. When a subject exhibited the
transferred potentials in one experiment, he or she
usually exhibited them in subsequent experiments as
well.
A related experiment investigated the degree of
harmonization of the left and right hemispheres of the
subjects neocortex. In ordinary waking consciousness
the two hemispheresthe language-oriented, linearly
thinking rational left brain and the gestalt-perceiv-
ing, intuitive right brainexhibit uncoordinated,
randomly diverging wave patterns in the EEG. When
the subject enters a meditative state of consciousness,
these patterns become synchronized, and in deep med-
itation the two hemispheres fall into a nearly identical
pattern. In deep meditation, not only the left and right
brains of one and the same subject, but also the left
and right brains of different subjects manifest identical
patterns. Experiments with up to twelve subjects med-
itating simultaneously showed an astonishing synchro-
nization of the brain waves of the entire group
(Olistiche, 1992).
In the past few years, experiments such as these
have been matched by hundreds of others. They pro-
vide significant evidence that identifiable and consis-
tent electrical signals occur in the brain of one person
when a second person, especially if he or she is closely
related or emotionally linked, is either meditating or
provided with sensory stimulation, or attempts to
communicate with the subject intentionally (cf. Benor,
1993; Braud & Schlitz, 1983; Dossey, 1989, 1993;
Honorton et al, 1990; Rosenthal, 1978; Varvoglis,
1986).
Interpersonal connection beyond the sensory
range can also occur outside the laboratory; it is partic-
ularly frequent among identical twins. In many cases
one twin feels the pain suffered by the other, and is
aware of traumas and crises even if he or she is halfway
around the world. Besides twin pain, the sensitivity
of mothers and lovers is equally noteworthy: countless
stories are recounted of mothers having known when
their son or daughter was in grave danger or was actu-
ally involved in an accident.
Interpersonal connection is not limited to twins,
mothers, and lovers: the kind of closeness that a ther-
apeutic relationship creates between therapist and
patient seems also to suffice. A number of psychother-
apists have noted that, during a session, they experi-
ence memories, feelings, attitudes, and associations
that are outside the normal scope of their experience
and personality. At the time these strange items are
experienced they are indistinguishable from the mem-
ories, feelings, and related sentiments of the therapists
themselves; it is only later, on reflection, that they
come to realize that the anomalous items stem not
from their own life and experience, but from their
patient.
It appears that in the course of the therapeutic
relationship some aspect of the patients psyche is pro-
jected into the mind of the therapist. In that location,
at least for a limited time, it integrates with the thera-
pists own psyche and produces an awareness of some
of the patients memories, feeling, and associations.
Known as projective identification, the transference
can be useful in the context of therapy: it can permit
the patient to view what was previously a painful ele-
ment in his or her personal consciousness more objec-
tively, as if it belonged to somebody else.
Actual bodily effects seem also capable of being
transmitted from one individual to another.
Transmissions of this kind came to be known as tele-
somatic: they consist of physiological changes that are
triggered in the targeted person by the mental process-
es of another. The distance between the individuals
involved seems to make little or no difference. William
Braud and Marilyn Schlitz carried out hundreds of tri-
als regarding the impact of the mental imagery of
senders on the physiology of receiversthe latter were
distant, and unaware that such imagery was being
directed to them. Braud and Schlitz claim that the
mental images of the sender can reach out over space
and cause changes in the physiology of the distant
receivereffects comparable to those ones own men-
tal processes produce in ones own body. People who
attempt to influence their own bodily functions are
only slightly more effective than those who attempt to
influence the physiology of others from a distance.
Over several cases involving a large number of individ-
uals, the difference between remote influence and self-
influence was almost insignificant: telesomatic influ-
ence by a distant person proved to be nearly as effec-
tive as psychosomatic influence upon oneself (Braud
& Schlitz, 1983).
Grof s Experience With Altered States of
Consciousness
Complementing psi experiments in regard to the
ability of the human mind to penetrate beyond the
limits of personal sensory experience are the findings
of modern psychotherapists. The pertinent evidence
comes clearly to the fore in the work of Stanislav Grof.
In reviewing findings gathered in the course of more
than three decades, Grof suggests that the standard
cartography of the human mind needs to be complet-
ed with additional elements. To the standard bio-
graphic-recollective domain of the psyche we should
add a perinatal and a transpersonal domain. The
transpersonal domain, it appears, can mediate connec-
tion between our mind and practically any part or
Cosmic Connectivity 23
aspect of the phenomenal world (Grof, 1988).
Grof s experience derives from work with nonor-
dinary altered states of consciousness (ASCs)
induced in his patients either by psychedelic drugs or
holotropic breathing. ASCs embrace a large part of the
human psyche; the states of normal waking conscious-
ness are but the tip of the iceberg. As over a hundred
years ago William James had noted,
Our normal waking consciousness...is but one special
type of consciousness, whilst all about it, parted from
it by the filmiest of screens, there lie potential forms of
consciousness entirely different. We may go through
life without suspecting their existence; but apply the
requisite stimulus, and at a touch they are all there in
all their completeness. (1902/1929, p. 378)
People in primitive and classical cultures knew
how to apply the requisite stimulussome tribes, such
as the !Kung Bushmen of the Kalahari desert, could
enter altered states all at the same time. In many parts
of the world, ancient peoples combined chanting,
breathing, drumming, rhythmic dancing, fasting,
social and sensory isolation, and even specific forms of
physical pain to induce altered states. The native cul-
tures of Africa and pre-Colombian America used them
in shamanic procedures, healing ceremonies, and rites
of passage; the high-cultures of Asia used them in var-
ious systems of yoga, Vipassana or Zen Buddhism,
Tibetan Vajrayana, Taoism, and Sufism. The semitic
cultures used them in Cabalah, the ancient Egyptians
in the temple initiations of Isis and Osiris, the classical
Greeks in Bacchanalia and the rites of Attis and
Adonis, as well as in the Eleusinian mysteries. Until
the advent of Western industrial civilization, almost all
cultures held such states in high esteem for the remark-
able experiences they convey and the powers of per-
sonal healing and interpersonal contact and communi-
cation they render accessible (cf. Grof, 1996).
Today, at the leading edge of the contemporary
sciences, research on altered states of consciousness is
becoming accepted as a legitimate part of the new dis-
cipline known as consciousness research. The insight
that surfaces isthat altered states tend to make our con-
nections to each other and to our environment more
evident. Grof s records of the verbal reports of his
patients makes this very clear (cf. Grof, 1988, 1993).
In the experience of dual unity a patient in an
ASC experiences a loosening and melting of the
boundaries of the body ego and a sense of merging
with another person in a state of unity and oneness. In
24 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
this experience, despite the feeling of being fused with
another, the patient retains an awareness of his or her
own identity. Then, in the experience of identifica-
tion with other persons, the patient, while merging
experientially with another person, has a sense of com-
plete identification to the point of losing the awareness
of his or her own identity. Identification is total and
complex, involving body image, physical sensations,
emotional reactions and attitudes, thought processes,
memories, facial expression, typical gestures and man-
nerisms, postures, movement, and even the inflection
of the voice. The other (or others) can be someone
in the presence of the patient or someone absent; he or
she can be part of an experience from the subjects
childhood, his or her ancestry, or even a previous life-
time.
In group identification and group consciousness
there is a further extension of consciousness and melt-
ing of ego boundaries. Rather than identifying with
individual persons, the patient has a sense of becoming
an entire group of people who share some racial, cul-
tural, national, ideological, political, or professional
characteristics. The depth, scope, and intensity of this
experience can reach extraordinary proportions: peo-
ple may experience the totality of suffering of all the
soldiers who have ever died on the battlefield since the
beginning of history, the desire of revolutionaries of all
ages to overthrow a tyrant, or the love, tenderness, and
dedication of all mothers toward to their babies.
Identification can focus on a social or political group,
the people of an entire country or continent, all mem-
bers of a race, or all believers of a religion.
Identification with animals goes beyond the
human transpersonal dimension: it involves a com-
plete and realistic identification with members of var-
ious animal species. The experience can be authentic
and convincing, including body image, specific physi-
ological sensations, instinctual drives, unique percep-
tions of the environment, and the corresponding emo-
tional reactions. The nature and scope of these experi-
ences distinguish them from ordinary human experi-
ences; they often transcend the scope of fantasy and
imagination.
While less frequent, identification with plants
and botanical processes occurs as well. On occasion
patients have a complex experience of becoming a tree,
a wild or garden flower, a carnivorous plant, kelp,
Volvox globator, plankton in the ocean, a bacterial cul-
ture, or an individual bacterium. In the still more
embracing experience of oneness with life and all cre-
ation an individual expands his or her consciousness
to such an extent that it encompasses the totality of life
on this planet, including all of humanity and all the
flora and fauna of the biosphere. Instead of identifica-
tion with one living organism, the patient identifies
with life itself as a cosmic phenomenon.
Experience in ASCs can also penetrate beyond the
sphere of life: it can include the macroscopic and
microscopic phenomena of the inorganic world. In the
experience of inanimate matter and inorganic
processes, patients report experiential identification
with the waters of rivers and oceans, with various
forms of fire, with the earth and with mountains, and
with the forces unleashed in natural catastrophes such
as electric storms, earthquakes, tornadoes, and vol-
canic eruptions. They can identify with specific mate-
rials, such as diamonds and other precious stones,
quartz crystals, amber, granite, iron, steel, quicksilver,
silver, and gold. The experiences extend into the
microworld and may involve the dynamic structure of
molecules and atoms, Brownian motions, interatomic
bonds, electromagnetic forces, and subatomic parti-
cles. Grof concludes that every process in the universe
that in an ordinary state of consciousness can be objec-
tively observed can also be subjectively experienced in
an altered state.
The cosmic dimensions of altered-state experi-
ences can encompass all of the planet Earth. In plan-
etary consciousness the subjects consciousness
expands to the Earths geological substance with its
mineral kingdom, and its biosphere with all its life
forms. The Earth as a whole appears to be one com-
plex organism, oriented toward its own evolution,
integration, and self-actualization. In extraterrestrial
experiencesa further expanded form of conscious-
nessother celestial bodies and astronomical process-
es are included. The subject can experience travelling
to the moon, sun, other planets, stars, and galaxies; he
or she can experience explosions of supernovas, con-
traction of stars, quasars, and pulsars, even passage
through black holes. The experience can occur in the
form of simply witnessing such events or of actually
becoming them, experiencing them intimately, as if
being a part of the experienced thing or event. At the
widest (and comparatively rare) form of this experi-
enceidentification with the entire physical uni-
versethe subject has the feeling that his or her con-
sciousness encompasses the entire cosmos. All its
processes are experienced as part of the organism and
psyche of the all-encompassing universe-system.
In addition to the spatially expanded forms of
consciousness, there are experiences that recall out-of-
body experiences (OBEs), clairvoyance, clairaudience,
and telepathy. More relevant for our purposes are
experiences involving a displacement in time. Time-
displacement experiences range from embryonal and
fetal experiences, where the subject recalls his or her
intrauterine experiences as a fetus, through ancestral
experiences involving identification with ones biolog-
ical ancestors, racial and collective experiences where
those involved are not ones direct ancestors but mem-
bers of the same race, or sometimes the entire human
species (suggestive of Jungs collective unconscious,
of which more will be said later), all the way to past
incarnation experiences. The essential characteristic
of the latter is a convinced sense of remembering
something that had already happened to oneself.
Subjects maintain their sense of individuality and per-
sonal identity, but experience themselves in another
form, at another place and time, and in another con-
text. In these reincarnation-type experiences the birth
of the individual appears as a point of transformation,
where the enduring record of multiple lifetimes enters
the bio-psychological life of the individual.
According to Grof, the memories that surface in
past incarnation experiences share with other transper-
sonal experiences the capacity to provide instant and
direct extrasensory access to information about some
aspect of the world. If so, all divisions and boundaries
in the universe are illusory and arbitrary; in the last
analysis it is only a cosmic consciousness that actually
exists (Grof, 1988, 1993, 1996).
Toward an Explanation
Jungs Unus Mundus
What explanation can we give for the varied yet
remarkably consistent transpersonal phenomena
unearthed in controlled psi experiments and in the
work of Grof and other psychotherapists with patients
in altered states of consciousness? Just how is the
human psyche connected with the world at large?
Carl Jung, fascinated with this seemingly esoteric
aspect of the human psyche, attempted an explanation
in terms of a higher or deeper reality that would con-
nect human minds with each other as well as with
physical reality. He was led to his explanatory concept
by a comparison of the unconscious processes in indi-
Cosmic Connectivity 25
vidualshis patientswith the myths, legends, and
folktales of a variety of cultures at various periods of
history. Jung found that the individual patient records
and the collective material contain common themes.
This prompted him to postulate the existence of a col-
lective aspect of the psyche: the collective uncon-
scious. The dynamic principles that organize this
material are the archetypes. Archetypes are irrepre-
sentable in themselves, but have effects that make visu-
alizations possible: these are the archetypal images and
ideas: The archetype as such is a psychoid factor that
belongs, as it were, to the invisible, ultraviolet end of
the psychic spectrum. It does not appear, in itself, to be
capable of reaching consciousness (Jung, 1958, para.
417).
While in the realm of the spirit, at the upper,
ultraviolet end of the psychic spectrum, archetypes
are dynamic organizers of ideas and images, at the
lower, infrared end of the spectrum, the biological
instinctual psyche shades into the physiology of the
organism, merging with its chemical and physical con-
ditions. As Jung noted, ...the position of the arche-
type would be located beyond the psychic sphere, anal-
ogous to the position of physiological instinct, which
is immediately rooted in the stuff of the organism and,
with its psychoid nature, forms the bridge to matter in
general (Jung, 1958, para. 420).
Jung formulated his concept of the archetype in
collaboration with Wolfgang Pauli. He was struck by
the fact that while his own research into the human
psyche led to an encounter with such irrepresenta-
bles as the archetypes, research in quantum physics
had likewise led to irrepresentables: the microparti-
cles of the physical universe, entities for which no
complete description appeared possible.
Jung concluded, When the existence of two or
more irrepresentables is assumed, there is always the
possibilitywhich we tend to overlookthat it may
not be a question of two or more factors but of one
only (Jung, 1958, para. 417). The single factor that
underlies the irrepresentables of physics and of psy-
chology may be the same as that which underlies the
synchronicities Jung had investigated: meaningful
coincidences that tie together in an acausal connected-
ness the physical and the psychological worlds. The
common factor that would underlie and connect these
worlds Jung named unus mundus. The foundation
for the unus mundus is ...that the multiplicity of the
empirical world rests on an underlying unity, and not
26 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
that two or more fundamentally different worlds exist
side by side or are mingled with one another (Jung,
1958, para. 767).
Jung relates the subtle connections that appear in
synchronistic events involving the psyche of different
individuals, as well as the psyche of one person and the
physical world around that person, to an underlying
reality that emerges in the form of archetypes. The
fundamental realitythe unus mundusis itself nei-
ther psychic nor physical: it stands above, or lies
beyond, both psyche and physis.
The Quantum Vacuum
Jungs concept points the way toward a fruitful
avenue of research: a deeper reality that connects mind
and mind, and mind and matter. This approach
should enter the current stream of research on
transpersonal information-transmission. For the pres-
ent, most researchers seek an explanation of mental
events mainly in terms of physical processes in the
brain. But henceforth the mental events to explain
should include not only the workings of the individual
brain but, in light of the findings of psi experimenters
and psychotherapists, the subtle connections that link
human brains with each other and with the world at
large.
It seems likely that world and braincosmos and
consciousnessare interconnected by a continuous
information-conserving and transmitting field (cf.
Laszlo, 1993, 1995, 1996). Such a field cannot be pos-
tulated in an ad hoc mannerscience must respect the
law laid down by William of Occam in the 14th cen-
tury: entities are not to be multiplied beyond necessi-
ty. New entitieswhich can also be forces or fields
can only be postulated when doing so is the simplest,
the most economical and the most rational way of
explaining a given set of findings and observations.
A field that constitutes the simplest, the most eco-
nomical and rational explanation of the current find-
ings may exist: David Bohm suggested, like this writer,
that it is the as yet imperfectly understood zero-point
field (ZPF) that seems present throughout the quan-
tum vacuum. In the following we shall explore what is
known about this field of the vacuum, what is current-
ly hypothesized about it, and how it could account for
the subtle interconnections noted above.
Received knowledge about the vacuum. In quan-
tum physics, the quantum vacuum is defined as the
lowest energy state of a system of which the equations
obey wave mechanics and special relativity. It is con-
siderably more than just the state of a system, howev-
er. It is the locus of a vast energy field that is neither
classically electromagnetic nor gravitational, nor yet
nuclear in nature. Instead, it is the originating source
of the known electromagnetic, gravitational, and
nuclear forces and fields. It is the originating source of
matter itself.
The technical definitions of the quantum vacuum
point to a continuous energy sea in which particles of
matter are specific substructures. According to Paul
Diracs calculation, all particles in positive energy
states have negative-energy counterparts (by now such
antiparticles have been found experimentally for all
presently known particles). The zero-point field of the
quantum vacuum is a Dirac-sea: a sea of particles in
the negative energy state. These particles are not
observablephysicists call them virtual. But they
are not fictional for all that. By stimulating the nega-
tive energy states of the ZPF with sufficient energy (of
the order of 10-27 erg), a particular region of it can be
kicked into the real (that is, observable) state of pos-
itive energy. This is the process known as pair-creation:
out of the vacuum emerges a positive energy (real) par-
ticle, with a negative energy (virtual) particle remain-
ing in it. Thus the Dirac-sea is everywhere; the observ-
able universe floats, as it were, on its surface.
The quantum vacuum contains a staggering den-
sity of energy. John Wheeler estimated its matter-
equivalent at 1094 gram per cm3 and that is more
than all the matter in the universe put together.
Compared with this energy density, the energy of the
nucleus of the atomthe most energetic chunk of
matter in the known universeseems almost minus-
cule: it is merely 1014 gram/cm3.
The vacuum itself is not material: its zero-point
energieswhich, according to David Bohm, exceed all
the energies bound in matter 1040 timesare in the
negative state. This is fortunate, for if they were not,
the universe would instantly collapse to a size smaller
than the radius of an atom. (This follows from E =
mc2, Einsteins celebrated mass-energy equivalence
relation: energy corresponds to mass, and mass in turn
entails gravitation.)
Because the real world of matterthat is, of
energy bound in massis so much less energetic than
the vacuum, the observable universe is not a solid con-
densate floating on top of the vacuum, but like a set of
bubbles suspended in it. In terms of energy, the mate-
rial world is not a solidification of the quantum vacu-
um, but a thinning of it.
Speculations on the vacuum. A thin line divides
what is already known and accepted about the quan-
tum vacuum and what is still speculative and contro-
versial. Here we review the relevant explorations: those
that concern interactions between the observable
world of matter-energy and the vacuums zero-point
energies.
The world of matter and the quantum vacuum are
known to interact. For example, under certain condi-
tions, the vacuums zero-point energies act on electrons
orbiting atomic nuclei. The effects occur when elec-
trons jump from one energy state to another: the
photons they emit exhibit the so-called Lamb-shift (a
frequency slightly shifted from its normal value).
Vacuum energies also create a radiation pressure on
two closely spaced metal plates. Between the plates
some wavelengths of the vacuum field are excluded,
thereby reducing its energy density with respect to the
field outside. This creates a pressureknown as the
Casimir effectthat pushes the plates inward and
together.
Other interactions may exist as well. Some years
ago Hungarian physicist Lajos Jnossy assigned rela-
tivistic effects (such as the slowing down of clocks
when accelerated close to the speed of light, or the
increasing of the mass of objects at those velocities) to
the interaction of real-world objects with the vacuums
energy field. Close to the speed of light, the matter-
particles of objects rub against the force-particles
(bosons) of the vacuum, and this friction slows down
their processes and increases their mass. In this con-
cept the ZPF of the vacuum is a physical field that
interacts with the objects that move in space and time.
Currently another Hungarian, maverick theoreti-
cian Lszl Gazdag, developed Jnossys concept into a
full-fledged post-relativity theory (Gazdag, 1993,
1995). In his theory, the vacuums energy field has the
properties of a superfluid. It is known that in super-
cooled helium all resistance and friction ceases; it
moves through narrow cracks and capillaries without
loss of momentum. Conversely, objects move through
the fluid without encountering resistance. (Since elec-
trons also move through it without resistance, super-
fluids are also superconductors.) Thus, in a sense, a
superconducting superfluid is not there for the
objects or electrons that move through itthey get no
information about its presence. This could explain
Cosmic Connectivity 27
why we, and even our most sensitive instruments, fail
to register its presence.
In Gazdags reinterpretation of Einsteins relativity
theory, the celebrated formulas describe the flow of
bosons in the superfluid ZPF. This flow is what deter-
mines the geometrical structure of space-time, and
hence the trajectory of real-world photons and elec-
trons. When particles of light and matter move uni-
formly, space-time is Euclidean; when they are acceler-
ated, the ZPF interacts with their motion. Then space-
time appears curved. (As Russian physicist Piotr
Kapitza noted, in a superfluid only those objects move
without friction that are in constant quasi-uniform
motion. If an object is strongly accelerated, vortices are
created in the medium and these vortices produce
resistance: the effects of the classical interaction sur-
face.)
Front-line research in physics confirms the basic
notion that underlies these assumptions. Current work
follows up a suggestion made by physicists Paul Davies
and William Unruh in the mid-1970s. Davies and
Unruh, like Jnossy and Gazdag, based their argument
on the difference between constant-speed and acceler-
ated motion in the vacuums zero-point field.
Constant-speed motion would exhibit the vacuums
spectrum as isotropic (the same in all directions),
whereas accelerated motion would produce a thermal
radiation that breaks open the directional symmetry.
The Davies-Unruh effect, too small to be measured
with physical instruments, prompted scientists to
investigate whether accelerated motion through the
vacuum field would produce incremental effects. This
expectation has borne fruit. It turned out that the iner-
tial force itself could be due to interactions in that
field.
In 1994, Bernhard Haisch, Alfonso Rueda, and
Harold Puthoff gave a mathematical demonstration
that inertia can be considered a vacuum-based
Lorentz-force. The force originates at the subparticle
level and produces opposition to the acceleration of
material objects. The accelerated motion of objects
through the vacuum produces a magnetic field, and
the particles that constitute the objects are deflected by
this field. The larger the object, the more particles it
contains, hence the stronger the deflectionand
greater the inertia. Inertia is thus a form of electromag-
netic resistance arising in accelerated frames from the
distortion of the zero-point (and otherwise superfluid)
field of the vacuum.
28 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
More than inertia, mass too appears to be a prod-
uct of vacuum interaction. If Haisch and collaborators
are right, the concept of mass is neither fundamental
nor even necessary in physics. When the massless elec-
tric charges of the vacuum (the bosons that make up
the superfluid zero-point field) interact with the elec-
tromagnetic field, beyond the already noted threshold
of energy, mass is effectively created. Thus mass may
be a structure condensed from vacuum energy, rather
than a fundamental given in the universe.
If mass is a product of vacuum energy, so is gravi-
tation. Gravity, as we know, is always associated with
mass, obeying the inverse square law (it drops off pro-
portionately to the square of the distance between the
gravitating masses). Hence if mass is produced in
interaction with the ZPF, then also the force that is
associated with mass must be so produced. This, how-
ever, means that all the fundamental characteristics we
normally associate with matter are vacuum field-inter-
action products: inertia, mass, and gravity.
In regard to the full scale of interactions between
vacuum energies and the micro- as well as macro-
world of matter-energy, the work of a group of Russian
physicists is of particular significance. Anatoly
Akimov, G.I. Shipov, and co-workers developed a
sophisticated theory of what they call the physical
vacuum. In their theory, the vacuum is a real physical
field extending throughout the universe: it registers
and transmits the traces of both micro-particles and
macro-objects (Akimov, 1991; Shipov, 1995).
The theory, which at the time of writing has not
been published outside Russia, is important and fasci-
nating enough to merit some further details.
In standard theories, the energetic properties of
the quantum vacuum are generally considered in the
framework of quantum electrodynamics. This frame-
work gives rise to elegant and relatively simple mathe-
matics. But such formulas, though highly sophisticat-
ed, can be misleading: they may not provide the best
possible account of physical reality. Stochastic electro-
dynamics, for example, produces a more messy
math, but its tenets about the real world may be clos-
er to realistic assumptions about the nature of reality.
In any case, quantum electrodynamics, like other sci-
entific theories, can always be reconsidered or extend-
ed.
The Russian physicists do not hesitate to undertake
this step. They take their cue from earlier work by
Einstein. In a seminal treatment, G.I. Shipov showed
that in accordance with the Clifford-Einstein program
of the geometrization of space-time, the vacuum can
be described not only in terms of Riemannian (four-
dimensional) curvature, but also in terms of Cartan
torsion. In the 1920s, studies carried out by Albert
Einstein and E. Cartan laid the foundation of the the-
ory that became subsequent known as the ECT
(Einstein-Cartan Theory). The idea stemmed original-
ly from Cartan, who at the beginning of the century
speculated about fields generated by angular momen-
tum density. This idea was later elaborated independ-
ently by a number of Russian physicists, including N.
Myshkin and V. Belyaev. They claim to have discov-
ered the natural manifestations of enduring torsion
fields.
Presently, Akimov and his team consider the
quantum vacuum as a universal torsion wavecarrying
medium. The torsion field is said to fill all of space
isotropically, including its matter component. It has a
quantal structure that is unobservable in non-dis-
turbed states. However, violations of vacuum symme-
try and invariance create different, and in principle
observable, states.
The torsion field theory takes a modified form of
the original electron-positron model of the Dirac-sea:
the vacuums energy field is viewed as a system of rotat-
ing wave packets of electrons and positrons (rather
than a sea of electron-positron pairs). Where the wave-
packets are mutually embedded, the field is electrical-
ly neutral. If the spins of the embedded packets have
the opposite sign, the system is compensated not only
in charge, but also in classical spin and magnetic
moment. Such a system is said to be a phyton. Dense
ensembles of phytons are said to approximate a simpli-
fied model of the physical vacuum field.
When the phytons are spin-compensated, their
orientation within the ensemble is arbitrary. But when
a charge q is the source of disturbance, the action pro-
duces a charge polarization of the vacuum, as pre-
scribed by quantum electrodynamics. When a mass m
is the source of disturbance, the phytons produce sym-
metrical oscillations along the axis given by the direc-
tion of the disturbance. The vacuum then enters a
state characterized by the oscillation of the phytons
along their longitudinal spin-polarization; this is inter-
preted as a gravitational field (G-field). The gravita-
tional field is thus the result of vacuum decompensa-
tion arising at its point of polarizationwhich is an
idea that was originally introduced by Sakharov. Given
that the gravitational field is characterized by longitu-
dinal waves, it cannot be screened, which is in accor-
dance with observation and experiment. Hence m-dis-
turbance produces the G-field, much as q-disturbance
produces the electromagnetic field.
Akimov and colleagues go further. Following a thesis
advanced by Roger Penrose, they represent the vacuum
equations in the spinor form and thereby obtain a sys-
tem of nonlinear spinor equations where two-compo-
nent spinors represent the potentials of torsion fields.
These equations can describe charged as well as neutral
quantum and classical particles. They thus allow that
the vacuum field is disturbed not only by charge and
mass, but also by classical spin. In that event, the phy-
tons oriented in the same direction as the spin of the
disturbance keep their orientation. Those opposite to
the spin of the source undergo inversion; then the local
region of the vacuum transits into a state of transverse
spin-polarization. This gives the spin field (S-field),
viewed as a condensate of fermion pairs.
As a result, Akimov and coinvestigators view the
vacuum as a physical medium that can assume various
polarization states. Given charge polarization, the vac-
uum is manifested as the electromagnetic field. Given
matter polarization it is manifested as the gravitation-
al field. And given spin-polarization, the vacuum man-
ifests as a spin-field. All fundamental fields known to
physics correspond to specific vacuum polarization-
states.
Thus the above torsion-field theory of the physi-
cal vacuum can claim that all objects, from quanta to
galaxies, create vortices in the vacuum. The vortices
created by particles and other material objects are
information carriers, linking physical events quasi-
instantaneously. The group-speed of these torsion-
waves is of the order of 109 Cone billion times the
speed of light. Since not just physical objects, but also
the neurons in our brain create and receive torsion-
waves, it is not only particles that are informed of
each others presence (as in the famous EPR experi-
ments); humans can also be so informed: our brain,
too, is a vacuum-based torsion-field transceiver. This
suggests a physical explanation not only of quantum
non-locality, but also of telepathy, remote viewing, and
the other telesomatic effects discussed previously
(CISE-VENT, 1995).
Torsion waves are both supraluminal and endur-
ing. Meta-stable torsion-phantoms generated by
spin-torsion interaction can persist even in the absence
Cosmic Connectivity 29
of the objects that generated them. The existence of
these phantoms has been confirmed in the experi-
ments of Vladimir Poponin and his team at the
Institute of Biochemical Physics of the Russian
Academy of Sciences (Gariaev, Grigorev, Vasilev,
Poponin, & Shcheglov, 1999; Poponin, n.d.).
Poponin, who has since repeated the experiment at the
Heartmath Institute in the United States, placed a
sample of a DNA molecule into a temperature-con-
trolled chamber and subjected it to a laser beam. He
found that the electromagnetic field within the cham-
ber exhibited a specific structure, more or less as
expected. But he also found that this structure persist-
ed long after the DNA itself had been removed from
the laser-irradiated chamber: the DNAs imprint in the
field continued to be present when the DNA was no
longer there. Poponin and his collaborators conclude
that the experiment shows that a new field structure
had been triggered from the physical vacuum. This
field is extremely sensitive; it can be excited by a range
of energies close to zero. The phantom effect is a man-
ifestation, they claim, of a hitherto overlooked vacuum
substructure.
Theories such as those cited here foreshadow a
major leap in the scientific world picture: the physical
foundations of the universe acquire an active role in all
its functions and processes. Life, and even mind, is a
manifestation of the constant, if subtle, interaction of
the wave-packets classically known as matter with
the underlying physically real zero-point vacuum field.
Conclusion
The astonishing transpersonal phenomena that
come to light in controlled experiments, and in the
equally astonishing findings of psychotherapists, can-
not be dismissed as mere chimera, figments of a fertile
but undisciplined imagination. The findings are part
and parcel of the manifestation of human conscious-
ness: an entity whose subconscious domains extend far
beyond the confines of the subjects brain and organ-
ism.
The findings may be real, yet their acceptance
hinges critically on discovering ways to connect them
with the received frameworks of knowledge. As long as
there is no conceivable tie between an anomaly and the
basic paradigm that frames knowledge in the pertinent
field, the anomaly will remain just that: a paradoxical,
incomprehensible item, relegated to the back shelf of
the science establishment. Recognition of a conceiv-
able tie could, however, make for a significant differ-
30 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
enceit could open up feasible avenues of conceptual
analysis, theory-formulation, and experimental test-
ing. For that reason, likely hypotheses of brain-brain
and brain-universe (or, in an alternative terminology,
consciousness-consciousness, and consciousness-
world) interaction need to be seriously scrutinized for
intrinsic meaningfulness, consistency with observa-
tions, and mesh with the currently known frameworks
of explanation. Such a hypothesis was put forward by
the present writer in Cosmic Connectivity:
Foundations of an Integral Science of Quantum,
Cosmos, Life, and Consciousness (Laszlo, 2003).
T.S. Eliot asked, What are the roots that clutch,
what branches grow out of this stony rubbish? Son of
man you cannot say, or guess, for you know only a
heap of broken images. Perhaps, the exploration of
our transpersonal ties with each other and with nature
could enable us to know more than a heap of broken
images. It could help us to recognize Batesons pattern
that connects: the subtle connecting pattern present
in the cosmos and in the biosphereand likewise in
the human brain and consciousness.
References
Akimov, A. (1991). Heuristic discussion of the prob-
lem of finding long-range interactions. EGS-
Concepts. Center of Intersectoral Science,
Engineering, and Venture, Non-Conventional
Technologies (CISE VENT), Preprint No. 74.
Moscow.
Benor, D. J. (1993). Healing research (Vol. 1).
London: Helix Editions.
Braud, W., & Schlitz, M. (1983). Psychokinetic influ-
ence on electrodermal activity. Journal of
Parapsychology, 47, 95-119.
Card, C. R. (n.d.). The emergence of archetypes in
present-day science and its significance for a con-
temporary philosophy of nature. In T. Artzt, M.
Hippius-Grafin Durkheim, & R. Dollinger (Eds.),
Philosophia Naturalis. Wurzburg, Germany:
Konigshausen & Neumann.
CISE VENT (1995). Consciousness and physical
world. Moscow: Author
Dossey, L. (1989). Recovering the soul: A scientific
and spiritual search. New York: Bantam.
Dossey, L. (1993). Healing words: The power of
prayer and the practice of medicine. San Francisco,
CA: Harper.
Gariaev, P. P., Grigorev, K. V., Vasilev, A. A., Poponin,
V. P., & Shcheglov, V. A. (1999). Investigation of
the fluctuation dynamics of DNA solutions by
laser correlation spectroscopy. Bulletin of the
Lebedev Physics Institute, 11-12, 23-30.
Gazdag, L. (1993). Combining of the gravitational
and electromagnetic fields. Speculations in Science
and Technology, 16(1), 20-25.
Gazdag, L. (1995). A relativitas elmeleten tul (Beyond
relativity theory). Budapest, Hungary: Szenci
Molnar Tarsasag.
Grinberg-Zylverbaum, J., Delaflor, M., Sanchez-
Arellano, M. E., Guevara, M. A., & Perez, M.
(1993). Human communication and the electro-
physiological activity of the brain. Subtle Energies,
3(3), 25-43.
Grof, S. (1988). The adventure of self-discovery.
Albany, NY: SUNY Press.
Grof, S. (1993). The holotropic mind. San Francisco,
CA: Harper.
Grof, S. (1996). Healing and heuristic potential of
non-ordinary states of consciousness: Observations
from modern consciousness research. Unpublished
manuscript.
Haisch, B., Rueda, A., & Puthoff, H. E. (1994).
Inertia as a zero-point-field Lorentz force. Physical
Review, 49(2), 679-694.
Honorton, C., Berger, R. Varvoglis, M., Quant, M.,
Derr, P., Schechter, E., & Ferrari, D. (1990). Psi-
communication in the Ganzfeld: Experiments with
an automated testing system and a comparison
with a meta-analysis of earlier studies. Journal of
Parapsychology, 54, 99-139.
James, W. (1929). The varieties of religious experience.
New York: Modern Library. (Original work pub-
lished 1902).
Jung, C. G. (1958). The collected works of C. G. Jung
(Vols. 8 & 14). Princeton: Princeton University
Press.
Laszlo, E. (1993). The creative cosmos. Edinburgh,
Scotland: Floris Books.
Laszlo, E. (1995). The interconnected universe.
London: World Scientific.
Laszlo, E. (1996). The whispering pond. London:
Element Books.
Laszlo, E. (2003). Cosmic connectivity: Foundations
of an integral science of quantum, cosmos, life, and
consciousness. Albany, NY: SUNY Press.
Olistiche, R. (1992). Report. Milan, Italy: Cyber.
Persinger, M. A., & Krippner, D. (1989). Dream ESP
experiments and geomagnetic activity. Journal of
the American Society for Psychical Research, 83,
101-116.
Poponin, V. P. (n.d.). Modeling of NLE dynamics in
one dimensional anharmonic FPU-lattice. Physics
Letters A.
Puthoff, H., & Targ, R. (1976). A perceptual channel
for information transfer over kilometer
distances: Historical perspective and recent research.
Proceedings of the IEEE, 64, 329-354.
Rosenthal, R. (1978). Combining results of independ-
ent studies. Psychological Bulletin, 85,
185-193.
Shipov, G. I. (1995). A theory of physical vacuum.
Unpublished manuscript.
Targ, R., & Harary, K. (1984). The mind race. New
York: Villard Books.
Targ, R., & Puthoff, H. (1974). Information transmis-
sion under conditions of sensory shielding. Nature,
251, 602-607.
Ullman, M. & Krippner, S. (1970). Dream studies
and telepathy: an experimental approach. New
York: Parapsychology Foundation.
Varvoglis, M. (1986). Goal-directed and observer-
dependent PK: An evaluation of the conformance-
behavior model and the observation theories.
Journal of the American Society for Psychical
Research, 80, 137-162.
Ervin Laszlo can be reached through the Club of
Budapest USA, 4040 Civic Center Drive, Suite 200,
San Rafael, CA 94903 or via adcock@clubofbudapes-
tusa.org.
Cosmic Connectivity 31
 Animal Mind as Approached by the Transpersonal
Notion of Collective Conscious Experience
Axel A. Randrup, Ph.D.
International Center for Interdisciplinary Psychiatric Research (CIRIP)
Roskilde, Denmark

The discussion of animal mind in this paper is based on an idealist philosophy contending that
only conscious experience is real, based on the transpersonal notion of collective conscious expe-
rience. The latter has earlier been explained by the author as experience referred to a group of
humans as the subject, the We. Here it is contended that also a group of humans and animals
can be seen as the subject of collective conscious experiences. The author argues that the notion
of collective conscious experience provides a possibility for studying the problems of animal mind
and the related human problem of other minds in a detailed and rational way.

n previous papers, the author has attempted to dence (observations) in science and is particularly

I develop an idealist ontology and philosophy con-

tending that only conscious experience is real
(Randrup, 1997a, 1999, 2002, 2003, 2004). This view
agrees, principally, with various brands of idealist phi-
losophy known from the literature (e.g., see Randrup,
1997a, p. 20; Knight, 2001; Merrell-Wolff, 1973, p.
145). In my view, conscious experience can only be
known directly or intuitively and not through the use
of rational explanation alone. By extension, science
may be regarded as a catalogue of selected conscious
experiences (observations) that are organized by
means of concepts and theories which themselves can
also be understood as conscious experiences. Though
this conception of science challenges the currently
dominant materialist ontology in the natural sciences,
it does maintain the methodological presupposition
that all scientific research rests on empirical observa-
tions from which concepts and theories are derived.1
What conventional science usually calls material
objects or material things are regarded in my model
of science as heuristic concepts (also regarded as con-
scious experiences) useful for expressing observations
within a certain domain with some of their mutual
relations. This reinterpretation of materialist objects
allows the understanding and use of theories of mate-
rialist science without accepting their ontology
(Marshall, 2001, p. 60; Randrup, 1997a, section 4).
The idealist ontology emphasizes the role of the evi-
open to new experiences, the formation of new theo-
ries, and the application of more than one theory and
set of concepts to a domain of observations (Lindsay
& Margenau, 1949, pp. 1-3; Randrup 1992, 1994,
1997b; Wallace 1996, pp. 25-27, 113-114, 148-150,
190).
Berger and Luckmann (1966) define reality as a
quality associated with phenomena that we regard as
existing independent of our own volition; we cannot
wish them away. I think this definition comes close to
my idealist conception of scientific reality as described
above, and also to the definition of Wirklichkeit by
Diettrich.1 Berger and Luckmann regard reality as
constructed and defined by social groups. This agrees
with the emphasis on the intersubjectivity of science
made in this paper, and I think that this position can
also be regarded as close to the transpersonal idea of
collective conscious experience described below.
Idealist philosophy is useful for resolving inconsis-
tencies and contradictions in materialist science conse-
quential to the assumption of a world out there.
Such problems exist in mainstream science within the
disciplines of evolutionary epistemology, neuropsy-
chology, second order cybernetics, statistics, and
physics (Randrup, 1997a). In evolutionary epistemol-
ogy, a contradiction has emerged between the belief in
a material world independent of the human observer
and the equally firm belief that all our thoughts and

32 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

cognitions (including the assumption of a material
world) depend on the human cognitive apparatus in
its present stage of evolution. Indeed, in the light of
evolutionary epistemology, the assumption of an inde-
pendent material world appears to be self-contradicto-
ry. Diettrich (1995, p. 96) thinks that this assumption
is due to an untenable circular inference. This funda-
mental problem in evolutionary epistemology can be
overcome by application of the idealist philosophy
presented here, since material reality is not part of this
view. Here every immediate conscious experience has
relations to other conscious experiences, and these
relations are not in mutual contradiction (Randrup
1997a, p. 18; 2004).
Idealist philosophy is also useful for resolving the
mind-brain problem (also known as the hard prob-
lem in materialist philosophy and conventional sci-
ence). For the materialists, it is difficult to imagine
how conscious experiences are produced by the mate-
rial brain, but in idealist philosophy it is not difficult
to understand the formation of the heuristic materi-
al concepts (including the concept of a material 1999, Pierre Marchais asserted that the number 5 is an
brain) from observations. In fact, such formations are
described comprehensively in the scientific literature
(e.g., the formation of the new concepts in quantum
physics; Mehra & Rechenberg, 1982).
The idealist ontology of nature also readily accom-
modates the intense and unitive nature experiences
known as nature spirituality (Randrup, 1997a). These
intense, direct nature experiences are felt by the expe-
rient to be essential and important, indicating that
they must be real and that nature primarily is an expe-
rience. These spiritual experiences are thus felt to be in
conflict with the materialist view that nature exists sep-
arate from and independent of the observer. Also, on
more secular grounds, many people resist the alien-
ation from nature entailed by strict materialist realism
and tend to retain a nave (direct) realism, where mate-
rial nature is believed to be as perceived.
Idealist philosophies have often been met with the
objection that they lead to solipsismonly my expe- justify the supposition that material things exist inde-
riences exist. This objection, however, seems unten-
able. I have argued that collective conscious experience
may be considered as a viable alternative or comple-
ment to individual experience. A collective experience
is regarded as one experience associated with a group
of persons as the subject, the We, and related to all the
brains of this group. This is an alternative to the ordi-
nary assumption that if several persons have the
same experience (a scientific observation for
instance), then each of them has a copy of that experi-
ence in his individual mind and related to his individ-
ual brain (Randrup 1997a, 1999, 2002, 2003, 2004).
Also the occurrence of egoless experiences indicates an
alternative to solipsism (Randrup 1997a, pp. 21-22,
1999, 2003).
Indeed, knowledge generally (as well as concepts)
cannot be individual at all. From its discovery and sub-
sequent elaboration, all knowledge is shaped by com-
munication and education. This view is supported by
several reflections in the literature. Berger and
Luckmanns book (1966) on the social construction of
reality was mentioned above, and Jrgensen (1963, p.
176) describes in detail how two persons can arrive at
common names of certain phenomena such as head,
arm, green, and so forth by making observations
together and communicating about the names. He
contends that originally we have all learned the names
of things and their properties in this way; in science
further education and communication has led to the
technical terms. In a personal letter of March 20,
educational, not a subjective phenomenon, an exam-
ple of collective knowledge. He told me that the 5
exists in me only because I have been taught arith-
metic. These views are in agreement with the compre-
hensive work of Vygotsky, who found that social inter-
action has a formative role, a constructive function in
the childs development: certain types of higher men-
tal functions such as deliberate attention, logical mem-
ory, verbal and conceptual thought, and complex emo-
tions could not emerge and take form in the develop-
ment process without the constructive assistance of
social interaction (Ivic, 1994; Rieber & Carton,
1987). I find that the emphasis on social interactions
conforms well with the notion of collective conscious
experience.
I have often met the argument that if we kick a
stone, we feel an effect (maybe painful), even if we
have not observed the stone before. This is supposed to
pendently of our mind. I have answered that in the
idealist philosophy, the kicking of a stone and the
effects that follow can be understood on the basis of
regularities that exist in the occurrence of our percep-
tions.1 Even if the first perception of pain may be
experienced as irregular or even as a surprise, we can
susequently have visual and tactile perceptions that
show the regularities of our perceptions in this case,
including the first (painful) perception. Modern sci-
Animal Mind 33
ence has emphasized the regularities of our conscious
experiences in certain domains (particularly percep-
tions). These regularities were not so much attended to
in more ancient times. Thus, it is told that the Greek
philosopher Heraklit asserted that the same man could
not bathe twice in the same river. This remains true, if
we consider all the aspects of such an experience (aes-
thetic, emotional, perceptual, etc.), but science
extracts from the whole experience certain aspects
(mainly perceptual) that are repeated (for example, the
DNA profile of the man) and can be agreed upon
intersubjectively.
Different Views on Animal Mind
In the present paper, I shall extend the notion of
collective conscious experience of human groups to
embrace also humananimal groups and I shall use
this transpersonal notion as a basis for discussing ani-
mal mind and evolutionary aspects of consciousness.
This differs from nearly all the previous discussions in
Western science of which I am aware. My arguments
are made on the presumption that if consciousness
occurs in animals, it will be individual. Since we have
no means for assessing individual conscious experi-
ences in animals directly or with certainty, it is not sur-
prising that opinions in the literature diverge widely.
In one extreme, some authors believe, like
Descartes, that conscious experiences exist with
humans only (Davis, 1997; Godlee, 2001; Kennedy,
1992, pp. 24, 33; Wynne, 1999). At the opposite
extreme, de Quincey (1994, pp. 218-291, 2000, pp.
10-11, 2002) entertains the idea that consciousness
goes all the way down to the beginning of evolution.
In between these two positions, there are authors like
Sande (1993, p. 92) and Varner (1998, chapter 2),
who think the occurrence of consciousness is restrict-
ed to more highly developed animals, the animals that
are most like humans.
Roth (1999) finds it likely that most tetrapods,
including amphibia and reptiles as well as birds and
mammals, possess at least simple states of conscious-
ness such as awareness of sensory events, attention,
knowledge, representation, and analogical thinking.
He thinks that higher states of consciousness, taking
the perspective of the other, and anticipation of future
events are found only in primates, and that conscious
states such as comprehension of underlying mecha-
nisms, knowledge attribution, self-awareness, and the
use of simple syntactical language seem to be restrict-
ed to the great apes. Roth states that the use of com-
34 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
plex syntactical language seems to be restricted to
humans, but he finds that the relationship between
higher states of consciousness and syntactical language
remains unclear.
Humphrey (1982) gives a story of the emergence
of consciousness in evolution, arguing that our animal
ancestors could be percipient, intelligent, complexly
motivated creatures without being conscious (clever
brains, but blank minds). He is most inclined to
believe that consciousness has developed with humans
only but leaves open the possibility that it may occur
also with nonhuman species having complex social sys-
tems, such as the social carnivores and the great apes.
Popper (1987, pp. 150-151) contends that we do not
have the slightest idea, on which evolutionary level
mind emerges and writes about the difficulty, if not
the impossibility of testing the conjectural ascription
of mental powers to animals. Nielsen (1965, p. 75)
writes with an uncertainty similar to Poppers and
states that we can neither prove nor disprove whether
insects have conscious experiences (though he person-
ally believes that they do). Likewise, Vorstenbosch
(1997, pp. 33-34) argues that it is not possible to reach
watertight conclusions on whether animal conscious-
ness exists; he thinks we have to concede that we have
no direct access to the supposed mental phenomenal
states. Clearly, certainty or intersubjectivity has not
been arrived at in this domain. In fact, and based on a
firm belief in the individuality of consciousness, some
philosophers even regard the ascription of conscious
experiences to other humans as problematic; this is the
philosophical problem of other minds (Griffin,
1998; Harnad, 1991; Wisdom, 1965).
In the following sections I contend that the
transpersonal notion of collective conscious experience
provides an opportunity to study the problems of the
minds of other humans, animal mind, and the evolu-
tionary aspects of consciousness in a more detailed and
rational way, above the conjectural level.
Conscious Experience With a Group of Humans as
the Subject
In Western scientific and daily life, it is usually
firmly assumed that the human mind or consciousness
is individual; each person has his or her own conscious
experiences separated from those of other persons. It is
also generally assumed, however, that sometimes two
or more persons may have the same experience. If, for
instance, two persons read a meter with digital display,
they read exactly the same value, 7.6 for example. This
is at least tacitly assumed in mainstream science.
Indeed, an observation is regarded as scientific only
when it is repeated by other observers (a new observa-
tion or a new concept may originate with one person,
but then the scienctific community will work to test if
intersubjectivity can be obtained). Based on the
assumption of the individuality of human conscious-
ness, it is supposed that the same experience, 7.6 for
example, is repeated in different individual minds or
consciousnesses, transpersonal unification being
obtained by means of an objective materialist entity,
7.6 volts for example.
I think, however, that when we deal with the same
observation made by a group of persons, it is equally
possible to regard this as one collective experience with
the whole group as the subject, the We. Logically, both
conceptions are equally possible. Collective experi-
ences will, of course, be associated with changes in all
the brains of the persons involved (persons including
the I, and brains seen as heuristic constructs), while
neuropsychology usually studies conscious experiences
in association with one brain only. Here, I believe, is a
domain for further experimental research.
In the example given above, reading of a meter, it
is only the number read that is precisely the same or
transpersonal for the group of observers. Agreement
may not be reached with respect to other features of
the whole perception, such as the color and aesthetics
of the instrument.
With respect to colors, the argument has been raised
that what for one person appears as red may for anoth-
er person appear as green (and vice versa), and this
would not be detected by communication, because
both persons would have learned to call the grass green
and the Danish flag red. This argument does not, how-
ever, affect an agreement on the two colors being dif-
ferent, and I will contend that this difference is a col-
lective part of the color experience. Severely red-green
color-blind individuals are not included in this collec-
tive experience, as can readily be shown by well-known
tests for color blindness (color-blind people may, how-
ever, be able to distinguish colors by means of an appa-
ratus).
Since many intersubjective observations, concepts,
and theories exist in science, we may envisage that sci-
entists, particularly people within one discipline, have
a significant part of their consciousness in common, a
collective consciousness. It is also possible to learn
from fellow humans, particularly about conceptions
and theories, and thus the collective experience can
become richer than the individual one.
In the literature, several authors have discussed
collective memory. Bryld and Warring (1998) have
written a book about the Danish collective memory of
the German occupation from 1940 to 1945. They
describe the formation of this collective memory dur-
ing the years after the war as being influenced by the
need of the Danish people to regard themselves as
resistance heroes and not as collaborators. Halbwachs
(1975) has written a comprehensive general treatise
about the social frames of memory. He argues that the
notion of individual memory is insufficient and needs
to be supplemented by group memory. Halbwachs
employs terms such as collective perception, collec-
tive representations, collective experience, collec-
tive reflections, collective thought, and collective
memories. I think that these terms can be seen as
transpersonal, something like collective conscious
experience.
Living and acting together can also give rise to the
same experiences in a group of persons, and these may
be regarded as collective experiences intellectually and
also be directly experienced as such. Vaughan (1995)
wrote,
The soul that empathetically identifies with both
the pain and the joy of others begins to see that in
the inner world we are not separated from each
other. Peace and joy, no less than pain and sorrow,
are shared, collective experiences. (p. 5)
And in a recent special issue of the journal ReVision
entitled Intimate Relationships and Spirituality, sev-
eral authors have given examples of experiences being
direcly experienced as collective or egoless by couples
living and acting together in intimate relationships
(Rothberg & Masters, 1998). Here follow some cita-
tions from this work:
... they felt they were ... one soul residing in two
bodies. (p. 8);
Also, a deep spiritual bondwhich may be felt
during the most routine activities and even far
awaymay develop. Robert Bly uses the metaphor
of the third body as a way of describing the
transpersonal dimension that unites a couple. It is
the soul of the couple as one respondent
expressed it. (p. 23)
Holding to a sense of self and to the bond feels at
times to be overwhelming. Repeated dancing back
and forthnow self, now disappearing, wave to
particle and back .... separateness and union....
(p. 9)
Animal Mind 35
 These examples show directly experienced, lived
collective consciousness. The last example shows diffi-
culties with reconciling the individual and the collec-
tive. Personally, I have experienced such difficulties
too, a temporary fear of losing myself. But these diffi-
culties have not been serious for me since the collective
experience is or becomes as familiar as the individual
experience. When an experience moves from individ-
ual to collective (by communication for example), my
immediate feeling is that the subject of the experience
changes from I to We, while the rest of the experience
remains the same.
Based on comprehensive clinical experience, the
Danish psychiatrist Brandrup (1996) writes about
overlap or amalgamation between two or more person-
alities and their consciousnesses. This may happen
between mother and child, psychotherapist and client,
as well as in many other instances. Brandrup writes
that such overlap may be perceived when a person tries
intensely to familiarize himself with another person.
Carl Jung has written comprehensively about the
collective unconscious. This might be regarded as
something different from collective conscious experi-
ence, but the Jungian analyst Bernstein writes ...the
collective unconsciousclearly implies a collective
conscious (Bernstein 1992, p. 25). And Bernstein
(2000) has reported examples of directly felt collective
conscious experiences. Likewise Young-Eisendrath and
Hill (1992) think that Jungs later theory of archetypes
and self is a constructivist model of subjectivity that
accounts for the collective or shared organization of
affective-imaginal life. Constructivism, they think,
reveals the impossibility of mental separatism and rec-
ognizes the shared nature of mental processes that arise
within an interpersonal field.
Gallagher (1970) writes about intersubjective
knowledge and envisages direct knowledge of the
other. Referring to Scheler (1954), he considers an
important, but also very sad example:
In some cases we may even speak, says Scheler, of
one emotion shared by two selves. A father and a
mother standing together by the body of their dead
child have their grief in common. They are not
here simply two consciousnesses, but two con-
sciousnesses sharing one identical sorrow. They
experience it as our sorrow. In the face of such
experiences, the problem of other minds loses all
standing. (Gallagher 1970, pp. 382-383)
I would say that the shared emotion is a part of the col-
lective consciousness of the couple. In various foreign
36 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
cultures, transpersonal (collective and relational) fea-
tures of humans and their minds are emphasized at
least as much as individual features (Randrup, 1999,
2003). I think this fact yields significant evidence, and
I shall relate a few examples of this evidence.
I have had some contact with Japanese psychiatry
and shall quote psychiatrist Okuyama, who has prac-
ticed both in Japan and in the United States. She
writes about the three senses of self among the
Japanese: the collective, the social, and the individual.
Of these, the collective sense is seen as the most impor-
tant and fundamental one. Okuyama states explicitly,
Japanese people commonly think that the self exists
only in relationships with others.... our mind is
thought to exist in a field of relationships. The self
cannot be considered separate from the relation-
ship field nor having as clear a boundary, as
Western people imagine.... one of the conditions to
be an adult is the ability to feel somebody elses or
the groups feelings. (Okuyama, 1993, p. 29)
Arisaka (2001) writes in the same vein:
Intersubjectivity, in this light, is not a problem, but a
foundational or constitutive aspect of our selfhood (p.
198), and she quotes the Japanese philosopher Watsuji
(1996):
My being conscious of you is intertwined with
your being conscious of me.... in the relation of
Being-between the consciousness of the partici-
pants are mutually permeated through one anoth-
ers. (Arisaka, 2001, p. 200)
These views are difficult, or rather, impossible to
understand on the background of a strictly individual
concept of conscious experience. If, on the other hand,
transpersonal collective consciousness is conceived
intellectually and experienced directly as described
above, this will open opportunities for understanding
these foreign views and thus be helpful in cross-cultur-
al studies.
Rosenstands views on collective and individual
self provide further help for cross-cultural understand-
ing. She thinks that We all know that I am me, even
if we dont use words such as self or I. But some cul-
tures consider this knowledge of minor importance
(Rosenstand, 2002, p. 251).
Sorenson (1998) has made a sketch of the evolu-
tion of Western civilization suggesting that the state of
consciousness and the ego have developed historically
along with the development of agriculture. He first
studied indigenous people living in isolated enclaves
around the world more or less untouched by domi-
nant, conquering cultures. In these people, he found a
state of mind which he calls preconquest conscious-
ness. One of the characteristics of this consciousness is
an empathetic, integrative, intuitive rapport between
individuals. Sorenson found their way of life to be
simultaneously individualistic and collective, each per-
son constantly enlivening the others by a ceaseless,
spirited, individualistic input into a unified at-one-
ness. He felt strongly that this way of life was very dif-
ferent from the ways of cultures to which Western
Europeans were accustomed. Sorenson also observed
that a rapid collapse of preconquest consciousness
(sometimes within one week) occurred after contact
with dominant cultures. Based on his analysis, he
argues that a resketching of the civilizational process
virtually suggests itself. He thinks that in preciviliza-
tional Mediterranea, people had the same type of con-
sciousness, but with the advent of agriculture and later
confinement, confrontation, and conflict, possessive-
ness evolved as a basic human trait. It is noteworthy
that in a session at the World Congress of Philosophy
in Istanbul in 2003, Sorenson openly endorsed the
notion of collective conscious experience.
Jaynes too(1976) thinks that subjective conscious-
ness and its accompanying separate-self sense is a rela-
tively late cultural development, occurring 2,500 to
4,000 years ago. Jaynes thinks that before this develop-
ment, people were signal-bound, that is, responding
each minute to cues in a stimulus-response manner
and controlled by those cues (p. 140). This reminds
me of Sorensons description (referred to just above) of
the rapport between people in the preconquest cul-
tures; perhaps further research will bring alignment
between the views of Jaynes and Sorenson.
Experiences with the Internet have given rise to
new thoughts about interaction and collectivity.
Gackenbach, Guthrie and Karpen (1998) find that the
most important characteristic of the Internet is its
emergent collective properties, and de Kerckhove
(1995) contends that the real nature of the Internet is
to act as a forum for collective memory and imagina-
tion. He also thinks that online communications have
created a new kind of permanence, a new stability of
mind, a collective mind, in which one plugs in or from
which one pulls out.
Suler (1999), who is credited for coining the term
cyberpsychology, has published comprehensive stud-
ies of experiences in connection with use of the
Internet. Among other results, he has reported that
some people feel as if their minds are merged or blend-
ed with that of the other person with whom they relate
through e-mail, news groups, or chat rooms.
Sometimes I feel that experiences I have are not
shared or only partly shared by persons with whom I
communicate. This feeling and the corresponding
intellectual judgement are based on the behavior,
including verbal behavior, of the other person and
myself. I may also wonder if the other person has indi-
vidual experiences different from mine, and I may
even think about the nature of such experiences. Those
thoughts can, however, only be conjectural. I cannot
know specific, individual contents of other minds, but
what I feel and think that we share collectively, I know
and experience directly. This is my answer to the philo-
sophical problem of other minds.
I conclude that the existence of collective con-
scious experiences with a group of humans as the sub-
ject is logically possible and has become well founded
by the evidence now available.
Conscious Experience With a Group of Humans and
Animals as the Subject
With a few exceptions, all the discussions of ani-
mal mind in Western science that I know of have been
made on the presumption that if consciousness occurs
in animals, it will be individual. But since we have no
means for directly assessing individual experiences of
animals, these discussions suffer from a fundamental
uncertainty. We cannot judge with reasonable certain-
ty what an animal may experience individually, nor if
it has any conscious experience at all. This uncertainty
is shown clearly by the very divergent opinions on the
content and existence of conscious experience in the
various animal species mentioned above.
The transpersonal notion of collective conscious
experience offers a new approach to the study of ani-
mal mind. I think it is logically possible to associate a
certain part or core of a perception of mine, clearly
related to the behavior of an animal, with the animal
as well as with myself and thus regard it as a collective
experience. For example, if I am in my sitting room
with a dog and hear a noise outside, the dog will also
react. I think that in this case some part of my senso-
ry experience and the alerting effect felt can be associ-
ated with the dog too without entering any logical
contradiction or observational impossibility. It can be
reflected in detail, which part of my experience I can
associate with the dog, and this admits of a more
detailed and precise determination of the collective
experience than would be possible if I tried to con-
Animal Mind 37
struct the content of an individual experience of the
dog. It is also posible to correct and develop initial
decisions about what is collective. If, after a little
while, the dog in the example looks out of the window
in one direction, and I look in another direction, I
cannot associate my belief about the source of the
noise with the dog, but by further investigation by
myself and by the dog this may become possible.
For another example, we can go back to the dis-
cussion of colors above. It has been shown by extensive
behavioral and brain research that some animal species
distinguish between colors such as red and green,
while others apparently do not (Backhaus, Kliegl &
Werner, 1998; Jacobs, 1981; Sinclair, 1985). I think
that my own experience of the red-green difference can
be associated with those animals that do distinguish, as
well as with most humans (red-green color blinds
excluded) to form a collective experience of a group of
animals and humans.
With humans, verbal behavior and communica-
tion contribute much to the formation of intersubjec-
tivity as emphasized by the phenomenological school
of psychology at Copenhagen University (Tranekjr
Rasmussen, 1968). Nonverbal communication and all
forms of behavior are, however, also important with
humans. For the exploration of animalhuman collec-
tivity, analysis of behavior can bring us a long way.
As an aside, above I have written on behalf of
myself, writing I, but when I write on matters on
which there is intersubjectivity among humans, I can
also write on behalf of a humanhuman collective
(e.g., biological scientists) and then write We, stat-
ing, for example, that we may extend our collective
color distinction to comprise some animal species too.
By means of technology, we humans can extend
our own observations to share, for example, the dis-
tinction between two forms of polarized light with
bees. If we assume individual conscious experiences,
we can imagine any number of ways the bees may
experience polarized light.
On a philosophical basis, Avramides (2001)
expresses a remarkable concept of mind, which, I
think, comes close to the notion of collective con-
sciousness. She suggests that we understand mind in
relation to the behavior and capacities that we share
with others. Avramides writes much about humans,
but since we share an important part of our behavior
and capacities with other species, animals (or at least
certain animal species) may well be included in what
she means by others. Avramides emphasizes that the
38 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
conception of mind she developed is a general one, not
restricted to one individual. The subject must under-
stand her being in pain as a particular case of a gener-
al type of state of affairs, someones being in pain (p.
271).
It has been stated that the animals live in the same
world as we humans (Lorenz, 1973). In this statement,
the shared world is believed to be the material world.
The material world is not a part of the idealist philos-
ophy proposed here, but the relation between animals
and man expressed by Lorenzs statement still has
meaning in this philosophy. Here the common world
can be conceived of as a world of animalhuman col-
lective experiences. From the behavior of the various
animal species, judgements can be made about how
much of my (or of the human collectives) observation-
al and conceptual world can be associated with each
animal species, and from that, reasoned judgements
can be made about the relation of consciousness to
evolution. I think that generally we humans can asso-
ciate more of our experiences with a dog than with an
earth worm. However, as discussed below in the sec-
tion on ethics, I still think that I can experience some-
thing collectively with an earth worm.
After having a collective experience, I can also
later remember it when I am alone. I will then be the
subject of the memory, but inside the memory, the
group (humanhuman or humananimal) will be the
subject, the We. The memory may be more clear if I
am again together with the group; it seems probable
that this is correlated with our brains exchanging sig-
nals (visual, auditory, olfactory, etc.) and working
together to form a collective brain. I think there are
possibilities for studying these phenomena experimen-
tally. The notion of collective brain, or societies of
brains, is entertained by Huberman (1989) and by
Freeman and Burns (1996). In the most recent years,
such notions have been strengthened by experience
with computer networks.
Von Uexkll (1957) completed research on a
number of animal species to assess the perceptual cues
to which they react. He states that for each animal
species, these cues correspond to a (small) part of the
world as humans perceive and conceive it. In the con-
text of idealist philosophy, his studies therefore seem
helpful for further investigation of the extent of ani-
malhuman collective experience. As an example, the
female tick is a small animal that is blind and deaf, but
reacts to light because of a general photosensitivity of
her skin. She also reacts to the odor of butyric acid and
to temperature differences, but not to anything else.
The Umwelt (phenomenal environment) of the tick
is restricted to distinction of these three features of the
much richer Umwelt of humans, so this will be what
we experience collectively with the tick. Von Uexkll
asserts that he does not ask how butyric acid smells or
tastes to the tick; he merely registers that butyric acid
is a receptor cue for her actions. Von Uexkll (1957)
discusses his studies of the tick and of the Umwelt of
other animals in more detail, and these studies have
been further reflected on by Emmeche (1990) and
Sjlander (1984).
Based on his views on the historical development
of mind and consciousness in humans, Jaynes (1978)
reflects also on animal mind. For Jaynes, mind and
consciousness are functional concepts, very different
from my conception of consciousness as consisting of
conscious experiences known directly. For the view of
collective humananimal conscious experiences,
Jaynes paper contains, however, valuable arguments
for considering critically how much we actually share
with the various animal species and individual ani-
mals. Such valuable criticism also appears in the work
of Searle (2002, pp. 6176), who believes that con-
sciousness and other forms of mental phenomena are
biological processes occurring in human and certain
animal brains (p. 70).
Felt communal emotions with animals are well
known by a large number of pet owners, including
myself. For instance, Levinson (1980) states that
young children very readily identify with animals.
Clinical observations in pet therapy indicate that some
children unconsciously believe that they may be trans-
formed into animals and that animals may become
children. Levinson also thinks that, through identifica-
tion with an animal, the child comes to feel stronger.
He incorporates the pets strength.
Lasher (1998) thinks that the primary mode of
communication between human and animal is attune-
ment, defined as the mutual picking up of and
responding to the subjective state of another creature.
Lasher builds her conception of attunement on the
work of Stern and states that attunement is experi-
enced but does not necessarily involve the act of think-
ing about the experience. It is independent of human
language and is a perceptual ability of human and
nonhuman animals, which appears to be central to the
way that animal and human mothers and infants com-
municate with each other. Sterns own description of
attunement comes close to what I here call collective
consciousness. He writes about intersubjective sharing
of affect and also describes selective attunements,
where some experiences can be shared with another
person and others cannot (Stern 1985).
Adams (1999) writes about the relation between
the poet Emily Dickinson and her dog Carlo.
According to Adams, Dickinsons writings suggest that
Carlo served as a selfobject for her. The term selfob-
ject, taken from Heinz Kohuts self psychology, can be
defined as the internalization and assimilation of
another person such that they are experienced as part
of the self.
Smuts (2001) describes her contact with a group of
baboons: The baboons thorough acceptance of
me, combined with my immersion in their daily
lives, deeply affected my identity. The shift I expe-
rienced is well described by millenia of mystics but
rarely acknowledged by scientists. Increasingly my
subjective consciousness seemed to merge with the
group-mind of the baboons. Although I was still
present, much of my experience overlapped with
this larger feeling entity. (Smuts, 2001, p. 299)
Smuts (2001) writes further about the meeting and
merging of minds:
A seventh (and final?) level develops when individ-
uals experience such a profound degree of intimacy
that their subjective identities seem to merge into a
single being or single awareness (at least some of
the time). A personal example is the experience that
Safi and I shared when we gazed for so long into
each others eyes. (Smuts, 2001, p. 307)
Safi is her dog and they had lived together for ten
years.
The Jungian psychoanalyst Bernstein (2000)
reports in some detail the experiences of his client
Hannah as they related to animals. At first, Bernstein
suggested to Hannah that she projected her own feel-
ings onto animals (cows, dogs) and initially she accept-
ed this interpretation. However, soon she began to
protest, and Bernstein too felt that something was
missing, some part of Hannah was absent in his inter-
pretation. Finally, he came to interpreting her feelings
as identification with animals she experienced as
abused. Prior to her work with Bernstein, Hannah
could not distinguish between her own feelings and
those of the Earth and the animals, and she also said
that she could not distinguish her own pain and the
pain of other people. Bernstein later got other clients
with similar feelings and coined the term Borderland
Personality, which he regards as a normal personality,
Animal Mind 39
to be distinguished from psychopathological traits
such as depression and neurosis. He states that these
people feel (not feel about) the plight of animals that
are no longer permitted to live by their own instincts
and only survive in domesticated states. In 2004,
Bernstein completed a book-size manuscript entitled
Living in the Borderland: The Pathological and the
Sacred.
Bernstein compares these Borderland phenomena
with what he has heard from Native American Indian
elders and healers and with the participation mys-
tique observed in various native cultures by anthro-
pologist Lvy-Bruhl. By mystic participation, Lvy-
Bruhl (1926, 1975) apparently refers to a kind of
transpersonal and unitive experience where subject
and object converge, sometimes becoming fused into
one. With this kind of experience, a person can partic-
ipate mystically in his or her totem, which is often an
animal species but may also be a plant or a nonliving
entity of nature.
In the study of the ethology of monkeys, cultural
differences between Japanese and Western researchers
have played an important role. Western workers (with
a few important exceptions, e.g., Smuts quoted above)
have considered Japanese attitudes too anthropomor-
phic, while the Japanese workers have considered most
theories proposed in the West too logical and simplistic.
The Japanese ethologist Masao Kawai has pro-
posed the concept kyokan to characterize the Japanese
method of studying monkey behavior. Kawais work is
written in Japanese but important parts of it are trans-
lated into English in the doctoral thesis by Asquith
(1981, pp. 340-348; see also discussions by Harraway,
1989, pp. 247-252 and Montgomery, 1991, pp. 274-
275). Kawai describes the method in this way:
At one level we fuse ourselves with the monkeys
lives and through an intuitive channel where feel-
ings are mutually exchanged between monkey and
man we can actually sense their lives. This we
believe is the most striking feature of the Japanese
method. It is what we call the kyokan or feel-one
method. (Asquith, 1981, p. 344)
By penetrating the group and sharing its living
space, we come to sense the monkeys aura. Our
eventual cognitive knowledge of individual mon-
keys may depend on this emotional or intuitive
awareness which is perhaps based on a natural
empathy with the monkeys, which comes through
sharing the experience of simply being alive.
(Asquith, 1981, p. 341)
40 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
The word aura is a translation of the Japanese word
funiki, which here refers to the atmosphere of the
monkey group with the human observer included.
In Japan, it is quite common to perform kuyo
(prayer services) for the souls of animals and objects.
Asquith (1983, 1990) writes about these services and
in this connection discusses various Japanese concepts
of soul. She states that in Japanese culture, the soul is
seen to pass from humans to objects. An object (e.g., a
bicycle), acquires soul through long use or association.
The same occurs with monkeys, as participants in the
sarokuyo (monkey service) have reported.
Interestingly, one researcher said he believed in the
existence of souls of those monkeys he had come to
know, but not of monkeys with whom he did not
work.
Much material on animalhuman interaction can
be found in Anthrozos, Journal of the International
Society for Anthrozoology, which specializes in this
topic. Clearly, in daily life a large number of humans
and animals are engaged in animalhuman interac-
tions, and it may be regarded as an important domain
in the study of both animal and human ethology in the
future.
Ethical Attitudes Toward Animals:
Importance of Empathy and of HumanAnimal
Collective Experience
Many people who care about animal welfare
assume that ethical attitudes toward animals depend
on the assumption that animals have conscious experi-
ences (e.g., animals can feel pain and joy). However, by
conscious experience is typically meant individual
experience. Since we have no means to assess with cer-
tainty whether animals have individual conscious
experiences, or even what they feel, this criterion for
ethics remains shaky. The uncertainty about animal
consciousness ascribed to individuals transfers to
ethics.
Sande (1993) thinks that only higher animals
most similar to humans have conscious experiences
and advocates ethical attitudes toward these animals,
while Singer (1983) states that the moral circle should
be pushed out to include most animals (e.g., he only
excludes oysters and other animals very low in the evo-
lutionary scale, which he doubts are capable of feeling
anything). Although both Sande and Singer care
deeply about animal welfare, there is an important dif-
ference between their ethics, based on their different
estimations of the extent of individual consciousness
in the animal kingdom. Descartes, who believed that
animals have no consciousness, did not adopt or advo-
cate a moral stance with regards to how humans
should treat animals.
The possession of individual consciousness is,
however, not the only criterion employed as a founda-
tion for ethics towards animals. Verhoog and Visser
(1997) base their ethical attitude on an intrinsic value
of life and living creatures, not on animal conscious-
ness. Other authors have written in a similar vein
(Carruthers, 1999; Schweitzer, 1929; Varner, 1998).
Carruthers (1999, p. 481) concludes that the non-
conscious desires of non-human animals are at least
possible, or appropriate, objects of moral sympathy
and concern.
Ethics toward animals based on these criteria is
independent of the uncertainty associated with ascrib-
ing conscious experiences to individual animals. It
does not depend on the idea of humananimal collec-
tive conscious experiences either, but I think it is in
harmony with this idea.
I shall relate some personal experiences which show an
immediate feeling for ethics toward animals.
For many years, I have felt concerned about earth-
worms being dried to death on pavements when sun
follows rain. I have moved many worms to sheltered
places (and after I had done this for a long time, I was
told that my maternal grandfather did the same thing).
One day, some friends said to me: You dont need to
do this, the worms are not conscious, they do not feel
pain. Then I immediately realized that this was irrel-
evant for my ethical attitude. I now believe that my
motive is, rather, immediate empathy with living crea-
tures, and I think this empathy conforms with the
opinion that my feeling of pain and adversity associat-
ed with the experience of a worm drying to death is
not my individual feeling, but is experienced collec-
tively, with the worm and me as the We.
Likewise, based on his own experience, my col-
league, ethologist Grethe Srensen, thinks that empa-
thy with animals is natural, spontaneous, and
unconditioned, and occurs independent of beliefs
about the animals capacity to experience pain and joy
(personal communication, November 2001). I there-
fore think that abandoning all conjectures about indi-
vidual conscious experiences of animals removes
important uncertainties in the ethical attitudes toward
animals. In its place, the transpersonal idea of
humananimal collective experiences helps to attain
more harmony and precision in the ethical considerations.
Beyond Animals: Panpsychic Views
In this paper, the focus has been on collective con-
scious experience with a group of humans and animals
as the subject, the We. But a few words on even more
expanded views of collective consciousness are in
order.
It is an old saying, that mind sleeps in the stone,
dreams in the plant, awakes in the animal, and
becomes self-conscious in the human. Based on the
notion of collective conscious experience and judged
from behavior and inner processes, this can be
rephrased into I share more experiences with other
humans than with animals, more with animals than
with plants, and more with plants than with stones.
Stones do not exhibit much behavior, but if my foot
hits a stone, there will be some inner processes in the
stone as well as in my foot and nervous system.
Views of animals, plants, and nature differ much
among cultures. In some cultures, people feel a kind of
proximity with nature that is unfamiliar for us in the
industrial West. Reference was made above to the felt
closeness, even identity with totem objects (animals,
plants, or nonliving entities of nature), and Noske
(1997) states that in the stories of many native peo-
ples, men and women transform themselves easily into
animals, and animals act like human beings.
Expressing American Indian views, Rser (1998)
also writes about proximity with nature and extends
his views to consciousness. He writes that Cowlitz is a
single consciousness born of countless generations of
interaction among individuals, their revered ancestors,
and their extended families, which includes other ani-
mals, plants, water sources, stones, mountains, the
moon, the sun, the stars, and prairies (p. 17). Rser
also states that humans and other peoples share a com-
mon consciousness within the living universe. Here
the fish, the eagle, the mountain, and so forth are
regarded as peoples. Singleness of consciousness is
always temporary and fleeting, while the collective
consciousness is the permanent and perpetual condi-
tion of things. Rsers text is written in English and he
uses the word consciousness probably with a mean-
ing that has something to do with the concept of con-
sciousness followed in this paper (i.e., consciousness as
the total of conscious experience).
Jewish mysticism describes in various ways close
relations of the material world with consciousness,
soul, and spirit (Halevi, 1979, pp. 10-11; Meijers &
Tennekes, 1982; Scholem, 1955, p. 17; Steinsaltz,
Animal Mind 41
1980, pp. 62, 97, 114).
In biographical material about the Jewish mystic Isaac
Luria it is told,
his visionary gaze caught glimpses of psychical life
in all that surrounded him; he did not differentiate
between organic and inorganic life, but insisted
that souls were present everywhere and that inter-
course with them was possible (Scholem, 1955, p.
255).
In modern Western philosophy, de Quincey maintains
a panpsychic view (called panexperientialism or radical
naturalism). As mentioned earlier in this paper, he
thinks that consciousness goes all the way down in
biological evolution and was always there. He also
associates consciousness with rocks, atoms, and even
subatomic particles and he thinks that the matter of
the universe, its raw stuff has within itself the
essence of what we call consciousness (de Quincey,
1999, p. 21, 2002, 2004). This perspective has found
support in literature linking matter and consciousness
through quantum physical processes (Zohar, 1990).
Author Note
The themes in this paper have been discussed with
colleagues in the International Center for
Interdisciplinary Psychiatric Research, the Danish
Society for Human Ethology, and elsewhere. I have
received particularly valuable critique and suggestions
from Grethe Srensen, Pierre Marchais, Elaine Smith,
Lin Waddell, Nina Rosenstand, Sam Shapiro, and
Manfred Wimmer.
End Note
1. The selection of conscious experiences to be
regarded as scientific is of course influenced by scien-
tific theory and even the formation of observations
and perceptions may be regarded as a process to be
likened with theory formation and influenced to some
extent by the rationally formed concepts and theories
(Diettrich, 1995; Dixon,1987; Gregory, 1998; Libet,
1982). On the basis of complete constructivism,
Diettrich (1995, pp. 96, 103-105) emphasizes, howev-
er, that our perceptions contain regularities and speci-
ficities we cannot influence, and these unchangeable
features of our perceptions he denotes by the German
word Wirklichheit. In daily language, this German
word means nearly the same as reality, but, in
Diettrichs exposition, reality (materialist reality) is
42 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
seen not as something existing independent of
humans, but as a special human-made theory of
Wirklichkeit. This, of course, comes close to my ideal-
ist description here of material things as mental con-
cepts.
Diettrich also realizes that a major objection to
constructivist approaches is that they lead to solipsism
(only my experiences exist). He counters this objec-
tion by stating that the cognitive efforts he describes
are human specific (p. 111) and that the fact experi-
ence and perception contains regularities we cannot
influence is a basic experience of all men (p. 105). In
this paper I deny that solipsism is an implication of
immaterialist views by invoking the transpersonal
notion of collective conscious experience, and I think
that this is closely similar to Diettrichs argument.
References
Adams, M. (1999). Emily Dickinson had a dog: An
interpretation of the humandog bond.
Anthrozos, 12(3), 132-137.
Arisaka, Y. (2001). The ontological co-emergence of
self and other in Japanese philosophy. Journal of
Consciousness Studies, 8(5-7), 197-208.
Asquith, P. (1981). Some aspects of anthropomorphism
underlying Western and Japanese studies of the social
behaviour of non-human primates. Deposited Thesis
(January 1982) Bodleian Library, University of
Oxford, England.
Asquith, P. (1983). The monkey memorial service of
Japanese primatologists. Royal Anthropological
Institute News, 54, 3-4.
Asquith, P. (1990). The Japanese idea of soul in ani-
mals and objects as evidenced by kuyo services. In
D. Daly & T. Sekine (Eds.), Discovering Japan (pp.
181-196). North York, Canada: Captus University
Publications.
Avramides, A. (2001). Other minds. London:
Routledge.
Backhaus,W. G. K., Kliegl, R., & Werner, J. S. (Eds.)
(1998). Color vision. Berlin, Germany: Walter de
Gruyter.
Berger, P. L., & Luckmann, T. (1966). The social con-
struction of reality (Danish edition, 1992).
Copenhagen, Denmark: Lindhardt og Ringhof.
Bernstein, J. S. (1992). Beyond the personal. In Renos
K. Papadopoulos (Ed.) Carl Gustav Jung: Critical
Assessments, Vol. 4 (pp. 22-37). London:
Routledge.
Bernstein, J. S. (2000). On the borderland. IONS
(Noetic Sciences Review), 53, 8-13, 44-46.
Brandrup, E. (1996). Bvidsthed, kvantefysik og moral
[Consciousness, quantum physics, and moral].
Agrippa, 17(3-4), 116-125.
Bryld, C., & Warring, A. (1998). Besttelsestiden som
kollektiv erindring (Thetime of occupation as collec-
tive memory). Fredreriksberg C, Denmark:
Roskilde Universitetsforlag.
Carruthers, P. (1999). Sympathy and subjectivety.
Australasian Journal of Philosophy, 77(4), 465-482.
Davis, H. (1997). Animal cognition versus animal
thinking: The anthropomorphic error.
In R. W. Mitchell, N. S. Thompson, & H. L.Miles
(Eds.), Anthropomorphism, anecdotes, and animals
(pp. 335-347). Albany, New York: State University
of New York Press.
De Kerckhove, D. (1995). Network art and virtual
communities. Internet. www.va.com.au/parallel/x2/
journal/derrick_dk/ddk.html
De Quincey, C. (1994). Consciousness all the way
down? Journal of Consciousness Studies, 1(2), 217-
229.
De Quincey, C. (1999). Radical nature and the para-
dox of consciousness. ReVision, 21(4), 12-25.
De Quincey, C. (2000). Consciousness: Truth or wis-
dom. IONS (Noetic Sciences Review), 51, 8-13, 44-
46.
De Quincey, C. (2002). Radical nature. Montpellier,
VT: Invisible Cities Press.
De Quincey, C. (2004). Are rocks conscious? Shift,
No. 1. http://www.noetic.org/publications/shift/
issue1/s1_cdeq.pdfn.p.
Diettrich, O. (1995). A constructivist approach to the
problem of induction. Evolution and Cognition,
1(2), 95-113.
Dixon, N. (1987). Preconscious processing. New York:
Wiley.
Emmeche, C. (1990). Kognition og omverden--om
Jakob von Urexkll og hans bidrag til kognitions-
forskningen (Cognition and surrounding world--
on Jakob von Uexkll and his contribution to cog-
nition research). Almen Semiotik, 2, 52-67.
Freeman, W., & Burns J. (1996). Societies of brains.
Journal of Consciousness Studies, 3(2), 172-180.
Gackenbach, J., Guthrie, G., & Karpen, J. (1998),
The coevolution of technology and consciousness.
In J. Gackenbach (Ed.), Psychology of the Internet
(chapter 13, n.p.). San Diego, CA: Academic Press.
Gallagher, K. (1970). Intersubjective knowledge. In T.
O. Buford (Ed.), Essays on other minds. (pp. 371-
395). Chicago: University of Illinois Press.
Godlee, B. (2001). The private life of the brain (book
review). British Medical Journal, 322 (April 14),
935.
Gregory, R. L. (1998). Eye and brain. The psychology
of seeing. Oxford, England: Oxford University
Press.
Griffin, D. R. (1998). From cognition to conscious-
ness. Animal Cognition, 1(1), 3-16.
Halevi, Z. (1979). Kabbalah. London: Thames and
Hudson.
Halbwachs, M. (1975). Les cadres sociaux de la
mmoire (The social frames of memory). Paris:
Mouton.
Harraway, D. (1989). Primate visions. New York:
Routledge.
Harnad, S. (1991). Other bodies, other minds: A
machine incarnation of an old philosophical prob-
lem. Minds and Machines, 1(1), 43-54.
Huberman, B. A. (1989). The collective brain. In M.
J. Cotterill (Ed.), Models of brain function (pp. 443-
451). Cambridge, England: Cambridge University
Press.
Humphrey, N. (1982). Consciousness: A just-so story.
New Scientist, 95, 474-477.
Ivic, I.(1994). Lev S. Vygotsky. Prospects: the quarterly
review of comparative education. 24 (3/4), 471-485.
Paris, UNESCO: International Bureau of
Education. Internet: http://www.ibe.unesco.org/
International/Publications/Thinkers/ThinkersPdf/
vygotske.pdf
Jacobs, G. H. (1981). Comparative color vision. New
York: Academic Press.
Jaynes, J. (1976). The origin of consciousness in the
breakdown of the bicameral mind. Boston:
Houghton Mifflin.
Jaynes, J. (1978). In a manner of speaking. The
Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 1(4), 578-579.
Jrgensen, J. (1963). Psykologi paa biologisk grundlag
(Psychology based on biology). Copenhagen:
Munksgaard.
Kennedy, J. S. (1992). The new anthropomorphism.
New York: Cambridge University Press.
Knight, G. (2001). Idealism, intentionality, and non-
existent objects. Journal of Philosophical Research,
26, 43-52.
Lasher, M. (1998). A relational approach to the
human-animal bond. Anthrozos, 11(3), 130-133.
Levinson, B. M. (1980). The child and his pet: A
Animal Mind 43
 world of nonverbal communication. In S.
A.Corson, & E. OLeary Corson (Eds.), Ethology
& nonverbal communication in mental health (pp.
63-81). New York: Pergamon.
Lvy-Bruhl, L. (1926). How natives think. London:
George Allen and Unwin.
Lvy-Bruhl, L. (1975). The notebooks on primitive
mentality. Oxford, England: Basil Blackwell.
Libet, B. (1982). Brain stimulation in the study of
neuronal functions for conscious sensory
experiences. Human Neurobiology, 1, 235-242.
Lorenz, K. (1973). Die Rckseite des Spiegels (The verse
of the mirror). Mnchen, Germany: Piper
& Co.
Marshall, P. (2001). Transforming the world into expe-
rience. Journal of Consciousness Studies, 8(1): 59-76.
Mehra, J., & Rechenberg, H. (1982). The historical
development of quantum theory,Vol. 2. Berlin:
Springer Verlag.
Meijers, L. D., & Tennekens, J. (1982). Spirit and
matter in the cosmology of chassidic Judaism.In P.
E. De Josselin de Jong & E. Schwimmer (Eds.),
Symbolic anthropology in the Netherlands (pp. 200-
221). The Hague, Netherlands: Martinus Nijhoff.
Montgomery, S. (1991). Walking with the Great Apes.
Boston: Houghton Mifflin.
Nielsen, A. (1965). Insekternes sanseverden (The sensory
world of the insects). Copenhagen, Denmark: Haase
& Sn.
Noske, B. (1997). Speciesism, anthropocentrism, and
non-western cultures. Anthrozos, 10(4), 183-190.
Okuyama, M. (1993). The sense of self among
Japanese. In G. Lasker (Ed.), Advances in systems
studies (pp. 22-29). Windsor, Canada: The
International Institute for Advanced Studies in
Systems Research and Cybernetics.
Popper, K. R. (1987). Natural selection and the emer-
gence of mind. In G. Radnitzky & W. W. Bartley
III. (Eds.), Evolutionary epistemology, rationality,
and the sociology of knowledge. (pp. 139-155). La
Salle, Illinois: Open Court.
Randrup, A. (1992). Perspectives de recherches inter-
disciplinaires en psychiatrie. Annales Mdico-
Psychologique, 150(4-5), 247-249.
Randrup, A. (1994). Mind-matter relations: Is it the
conception of matter that is problematic? In G. E.
Lasker and D. Murphy (Eds.), Advances in research
of human consciousness (pp. 24-25). Windsor,
Canada: International Institute for Advanced
Studies in Systems Research and Cybernetics.
44 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
Randrup, A. (1997a). An alternative to materialism.
Cybernetics & Human Knowing, 4(4), 15-24.
Randrup, A. (1997b). More than one truth:
Consequences for our world view. In G. E. Lasker
(Ed.), Research-in-Progress: Vol. 4. (p. 12). Windsor,
Canada: International Institute for Advanced
Studies in Systems Research and Cybernetics.
Randrup, A. A. (1999). Collective and egoless con-
sciousness: Significance for philosophy
of science and for the mind-brain problem. The
International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 18(2),
133-137.
Randrup, A. A. (2002). Collective consciousness
across time. Anthropology of Consciousness. 13(1),
27-41.
Randrup, A. A. (2003). Idealist philosophy: What is real
? Conscious experience seen as basic to ontology. An
overview. http://philsci-archive.pitt.edu/archive/
00001216/01/reality.html
Randrup, A. (2004). Cognition and biological evolu-
tion: An idealist approach resolves a fundamental
paradox. http://philsci-archive.pitt.edu/archive/
00001563/01/evolutioncognition.html
Rieber, R., & Carton, A. (1987). The collected works of
L. S. Vygotsky, Vol 1. New York: Plenum. Internet:
http://www.ibe.unesco.org/International/
Publications/Thinkers/ThinkersPdf/vygotske.pdf
Rosenstand, N. (2002). The human condition. Boston:
McGraw-Hill.
Roth, G. (1999). The neurobiological basis of con-
sciousness in man and animals. Evolution and
Cognition, 5(2), 137-148.
Rothberg, D., & Masters, R. A. (Eds). (1998).
Intimate relationships and spirituality (Special
issue). Revision, 21(2).
Rser, R. C. (1998). Observations on self and
knowing. In H. Wautischer (Ed.), Tribal episte-
mologies (pp. 17-29). Aldershot, England: Ashgate.
Sande, P. (1993). Etik. Copenhagen, Denmark:
Folkeuniversitetet i Kbenhavn.
Scheler, M. (1954). The nature of sympathy. New
Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Scholem, G. G. (1955). Major trends in Jewish mysti-
cism. London: Thames and Hudson.
Schweitzer, A. (1929). Civilisation and ethica. London:
A. C. Black.
Searle, J. R. (2002). Consciousness and language.
Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.
Sinclair, S. (1985). How animals see. New York: Facts
on File Publications:
Singer, P. (1983). The expanding circle. Melbourne, Young-Eisendrath, P., & Hall, J. A. (1992). Jung and
Australia: Oxford University Press. constructivism. In R. K. Papadopoulos (Ed.), Carl
Sjlander, S. (1984). Nya tankar om gamla hjrnor Gustav Jung: Critical assessments, Vol. 4 (pp. 166-
(New thoughts about old brains). Sweden: 181). London: Routledge.
Brombergs. Zohar, D. (1990). The quantum self. London:
Smuts, B. (2001). Encounters with animal minds. Bloomsbury.
Journal of Consciousness Studies, 8(5-7), 293-309.
Sorenson, E. R. (1998). Preconquest consciousness. In Correspondence regarding this article should be
Helmut Wautischer (Ed.), Tribal epistemologies (pp. directed to the author at the Center for
79-115). Aldershot, England: Ashgate. Interdisciplinary Research, Bygaden 24 B, Svog. DK-
Stern, D. N. (1985). The interpersonal world of the 4000 Roskilde, Denmark. E-mail: arandrup@mobil-
infant. New York: Basic Books. ixnet.dk
Suler, J. (1999). Cyberspace as psychological space. In
J. Suler (Ed.), The psychology of cyberspace. Internet:
http://www.rider.edu/users/suler/psycyber/psycy-
ber.html
Tranekjr, R. E. (1968). Bevidsthedsliv og erkendelse
(Conscious life and cognition). Copenhagen,
Denmark: Munksgaard.
Varner, G. E. (1998). In natures interests?: Interests,
animal rights, and environmental ethics. New York:
Oxford University Press:.
Vaughan, F. (1995). The power of imaginal worlds.
Association for Transpersonal Psychology Newsletter,
Summer, 3-7.
Verhoog, H. & Visser, T. (1997). A view of intrinsic
value not based on animal consciousness. In
M. Dol, S. Kasanmoentalib, S. Lijmbach, E. Rivas, &
Ruud van den Bos (Eds.), Animal consciousness and
animal ethics (pp. 223-232). Assen, Netherlands:
Van Gorcum.
Von Uexkll, J. (1957). A stroll through the worlds of
animals and men. In C. H. Schiller (Ed.),
Instinctive behaviour (pp. 5-80). New York:
International Universities Press.
Vorstenbosch, J. (1997). Conscientiousness and con-
sciousness. How to make up our mind about the
animal mind? In M. Dol, S. Kasanmoentalib, S.
Lijmbach, E. Rivas, & R. van den Bos (Eds.),
Animal consciousness and animal ethics (pp. 32-47).
Assen, Netherlands: Van Gorcum.
Wallace, B. A. (1996). Choosing reality. Ithaca, NY:
Snow Lion.
Watsuji, T (1996). Watsuji Tetsuros rinrigaku: Ethics in
Japan. Albany: SUNY Press.
Wisdom, J. (1965). Other minds. Oxford, England:
Blackwell.
Wynne, C. (1999). Do animals think? The case against
the animal mind. Internet. www.findarticles.com/
cf_0/ m1175/6_32/56883557/p1/article.jhtml

Animal Mind 45
 All Mind? No Matter: The Self-Regulation Paradigm
Stanley Krippner, Ph.D.
Saybrook Graduate School and Research Center
In this short article, the author discusses the conflict between materialistic and transcendental
paradigms in accounting for the nature of reality. After speculating on the meaning and impli-
cations of an idealist perspective where consciousness is seen as the fundamental ground of all
phenomena, the author reframes the consciousness versus matter debate in terms of complex
systems theory. Such a reframing allows for the mutual coexistence of both matter and con-
sciousness in a manner which is nonreductive and inclusive of different epistemologies.

concludes, We all know what it stands for, even

W
hat if consciousness rather than matter
were held to be the ultimate reality, the
ground of all being? What would be the
implications for the planet, for society, and for peoples
daily lives? Over the years these questions have been
posed in one form or another, and have prompted
other questions, such as what is meant by conscious-
ness and matter? Matter, to use a common dic-
tionary definition, is that of which any material
object is composed. But what is meant by a material
object? Do electromagnetic fields meet this criterion?
Do fractals and attractors qualify as matter? And
what about subatomic particles that have never been
observed, but only hypothesized?
Definitions become even more contentious when
the term consciousness is approached. Thomas
Natsoulas (1992) lists six contrasting dictionary defi-
nitions of consciousness, each with different impli-
cations. Imant Baruss (19861987) identifies seven
meanings of the term, and each of these is a cluster of
dozens of other descriptions. Indeed, some writers
equate consciousness with self-awareness, others
with the activity of neurons and their interactions.
Some claim that many nonhuman animals manifest
consciousness, and others extend the phenomena to
the computers of the future.
J.A. Hobson (1994) sees mind as something
more fundamental than consciousness because most
of the information in the brain is not conscious at
any point in time (p. 205). Taking a radically different
approach, one might argue that spirit is more funda-
mental than either matter, mind, or conscious-
ness, a position that is implied in Ken Wilbers (1980)
description of involution, the general movement
from spirit to matter. George Feuerstein (1987) pro-
poses that the idea of consciousness, like love, is
surrounded by a haze of ambivalence. Even so, he
though our descriptions may not always match in
every detail (p. 35).
The Bishops Attempt
In 1710, the famous Irish bishop of the Church of
England, George Berkeley, attempted to overcome the
threat of atheistic materialism posed by the
Enlightenment by writing The Principles of Human
Knowledge. In it, he argued that all impressions of
material objects, in other words all sensations, are in
the final analysis no more than ideas in the mind.
From this he concluded that the existence of an exter-
nal material world is an unwarranted assumption
(1952). As the cultural historian Richard Tarnas
(1991) summarizes, All that can be known with cer-
tainty is the mind and its ideas, including those ideas
that seem to represent a material world (p. 336). But
deep reflection on this view soon leads one to wonder
how it is that we all seem to experience the same
world. Berkeley dealt with this challenge by claiming
the reason that different individuals continually per-
ceive a similar world, and that a reliable order inheres
in that world, is that the world and its order depend
on a mind that transcends individual minds and is uni-
versalnamely Gods mind (p. 336). Berkeleys argu-
ments for the mental basis of sensations, and more
radically for the absence of convincing evidence in
favor of an objective material world, are forceful and
cogent, but this final gambit, designed to save his phi-
losophy from the pitfall of solipsism, lured few mate-
rialists back to the church.
In fact, though unfashionable today, idealist
metaphysics offers an elegant solution to the so-called
mind-body problem, especially if one passes on
Berkeleys heavy-handed theology. As a monistic
approach it is more parsimonious than Descartes

46 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

dualistic division of mind and matter, and unlike
materialistic monism, it retains its advantage with-
out degrading consciousness. Instead, matter is Roman Catholic Church execute Bruno, reject Coper-
reduced to mental contents in one way or another.
Peter Lloyd (1999), a recent defender of Berkeley, pro-
poses that the mental world is our primary reality,
and that the physical world is a construct that we
build out of our conscious experiences (p. 1).
Berkeley engaged in a historical argument with his
contemporary empiricists such as Locke and Hume.
These debates were humorously condensed into such
aphorisms of that day as, All mind? No matter and
All matter? It doesnt mind. However, echoes of
Berkeleys perspective are still to be found in the writ-
ings of such modern empiricists as Bas van Frassen
(2002), who argues that atoms, quarks, and similar
entities are not to be taken literally as objects in the
world. Instead, they are to be understood as conven-
ient means for describing and predicting observable
phenomena such as those resulting from physics exper-
iments. And, to go a step further, if scientists can jus-
tify the existence of atoms because theories that postu-
late them provide the best explanation for scientific
observations, why cant religion similarly justify the
existence of God? Despite Laplaces dismissal of the
God hypothesis as unnecessary, for many people it
might provide the best explanation of the origin and
design of the universe, as well as the ubiquitous preva-
lence of religious belief systems.
The Empirical Stance
Empirical science, however, is not about doctrines
so much as about stances; it consists of attitudes,
approaches, and methods. It involves the performing
of experiments in order to test hypotheses. Thus,
empiricism does not claim that atoms exist; neither
does it claim that they do not exist. Nevertheless,
atomic theory explained observable phenomena better
than its competitors (Thagard, 2002, p. 971). Most
religions, however, do involve doctrines; they make
claims about the nature of reality and take moral posi-
tions that have consequences for individual and group
behavior. Adherents might justify particular religious
beliefs (e.g., the significance of sacred scripture) and
insist that these beliefs explain phenomena better than
any rival stance. Among these stated beliefs, one often
finds the claim that divine consciousness (Berkeleys
Gods mind and Lloyds metamind) is the funda- ideas have replaced psychological theories as conversa-
mental ground of all creation.
What might be the outcomes of this assumption?
When a religious group attains political power, the
impact upon society is widespread. Not only did the
nicus, and force Galileo to recant, but its Office of the
Holy Inquisition (founded in 1542) labeled tens of
thousands of people heretics, and burned many of
them at the stake. In recent times, religious fundamen-
talists such as the Afghani Taliban have denied women
basic education, prohibited them from working outside
the home, and stoned to death those women convict-
ed of infidelity. If consciousness is accepted as the
ultimate reality, let us hope that fanatical religious
authorities are not in charge of working out its implications!
Was Consciousness There First?
On the other hand, a more benign series of events
might include the creation of academic courses
addressing the scientific study of consciousness, and
accelerating research programs in areas such as medita-
tion, sleep and dreams, hypnosis, psychoneuro-
immunology, and cognitive and affective neuro-
science. Even parapsychology might find itself well
funded. Already, some parapsychology buffs employ
data from the fields of extrasensory perception and
psychokinesis to buttress the argument that con-
sciousness is primary. However, their position skips a
logical step or two in that it can alternatively be
claimed the mind that can remote view or manifest
clairvoyance might be an emergent quality of mat-
ter itself. In the same vein, the matter influenced at
a distance by mind (e.g., in experiments where ran-
dom event generators seem to be influenced by con-
scious intention) could be no more than a denser
form of the very same stuff that seems to tweak it.
Compelling as many of the parapsychological investi-
gations may be (see Radin, 1997), they do not consti-
tute a prima facie case for those who insist that con-
sciousness was there first.
Now, during the first half of the 20th century the
writings of Freud, Jung, and other psychoanalysts
evoked psychological thinking among large numbers
of people, most of them Westerners who were educat-
ed and well informed. Psychoanalytic perspectives
found their way into literature, the cinema, and even a
few Broadway plays and musicals, notable examples
being Pauls Case, Spellbound, Desire Under the Elms,
and Lady in the Dark. More recently, cosmological
tion items, and have become the objects of folk rituals
and media portrayals such as 2001: A Space Odyssey,
Self-regulation Paradigm 47
The Black Hole, Contact, and even festivals in honor of
comets. But could a paradigm shift focused on the
basic stuff of the universe alter the daily lives of men
and women in any significant way? And if this para-
digm shift were to occur in the laboratories of science
and the halls of academia would its repercussions soon
affect society as a whole? It seems unlikely.
Venues that most rapidly catalyze social transfor-
mation often involve entertainment and the arts.
Consciousness themes and schema might find their
way into popular music, literature, television, and the
like. Video games with a consciousness focus might
flourish. Virtual reality technology could simulate
synesthesia experiences, out-of-body experiences, and
even near-death experiences. Talk shows would have a
new topic for their talking head interviews, and
panoplies of overnight experts would begin to pon-
tificate and deliberate. Researchers and writers who
have been ignored or sidelined for most of their careers
would find themselves lionized; sales of their books
would escalate from the hundreds to the thousands.
Consciousness would become a catchword, and
studying consciousness might become something of a
fad. Berkeley would be hailed as a genius ahead of his
times, and the good bishop could even become the hero
of films, plays, psychohistories, and television mini-series.
Unfortunately, it is difficult to imagine what line
of investigation would be able to establish the primacy
of consciousness. Comparing consciousness and
matter is reminiscent of the apples and oranges
conundrum. Consciousness is not a thing or an
object and does not lend itself to the sorts of com-
parisons one typically makes between objects. Perhaps
it can be most felicitously described as a process (e.g.,
Guenther, 1989; Husserl, 1981). If so, Peter Lloyd and
other contemporary idealists might be well advised
to examine current work in systems theory, chaos
mathematics, and the sciences of complexity. Rather
than rephrasing the chicken and the egg question,
asking whether consciousness came before or after
matter, explorers in these fields tend to see both
matter and consciousness as evolving processes.
In complex living systems such as plants and ani-
mals, such processes have the capacity to self-organize,
maintaining order in the face of internal and external
threats and creating order in the midst of chaos
(Woodhouse, 1996, p. 265). Even in the nonliving
world, order often arises spontaneously out of disor-
der, otherwise how could biological life have original-
ly emerged? On a larger scale of magnitude there is evi-
48 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
dence of ongoing connections among all phenomena
that coevolve within the Earths biosphere, and
between these and the cosmos-at-large. Consciousness,
both human and nonhuman, is a part of this network
of interconnections (Laszlo, 2000, p. 114), constantly
creating and re-creating itself as it unfolds in time
(Combs, 1995, p. 135). This model, and the vision of
the cosmos that it evokes, could well replace
either/or approaches with both/and viewpoints
that reflect a holistic, systems-oriented integration.
Connection and Communication
Because the theories of complexity are transdisci-
plinary, they can help make the intricate dynamics of
human bio-psycho-socio-cultural change comprehen-
sible. Without reducing the study of the psyche to
physics, these approaches offer powerful conceptual
tools to use for working toward a unified understand-
ing of the cognitive and affective dimensions of
human, social, and natural orders of the cosmos
(Laszlo & Krippner, 1998, p. 30). Because a complex
system can be seen as a pattern of interacting com-
ponents, both mind and matter can interact in a
nondualistic dance reminiscent of the Taoist yin/yang
concept. There is always a bit of yang in every yin, and
a bit of yin in every yang; neither is primary and both
are necessary to each other and to the whole. New
properties can emerge from a system, but they remain
a part of an indivisible unity.
This insight motivated J.L. Randall (1975) to pro-
pose that systems thinking can more easily accommo-
date parapsychological phenomena than either a
mechanistic or a dualistic approach. A complex sys-
tems approach has also been proposed as a useful
means to study the transcendental potentials of the
psyche at various levels of complexity, as revealed
in meditation, yoga, and various altered states
(Krippner, Ruttenber, Engelman, & Granger, 1985, p.
111-112). Using insights from chaos theory, Christine
Hardy (1998) accommodates parapsychological phe-
nomena in her concept of consciousness fields,
replacing classical notions of time and space with
such constructs as semantic proximity, intensity, and
coherency (p. 194). These networks of meaning not
only bridge mind and matter, they permit a novel
way of understanding such complex systems as con-
sciousness fields.
Since its mid-20th-century conception, systems
theory has held that the whole is more than the sum of
its parts. More recent decades have added the dimen-
sion of complexity, giving birth to complex systems
theory and offering the realization that the whole is
also different from the sum of its parts. In the mean-
time, chaos theorists speak of nonlinear and often
indeterminate bifurcations, or transitions, between
system states. Such bifurcations can reflect revolution-
ary transformations in the development of individuals
and societies. Centers of power change, orderly stan-
dards are overthrown, and the chaos of transformation
yields to new eras of comparative stability. These eras
may demand the creation of new and more appropri-
ate cognitive-affective maps, as well as revised person-
al and cultural mythsin other words, new ways of
being. The field of evolutionary systems design is a
rigorous, future-creating, self-regulating arena of
inquiry and action (e.g., Banathy, 1996). Bifurcations
have the potential of becoming emancipatory as new
maps and myths emerge that offer a better fit to the
new emerging realities of individuals and their soci-
eties. However, this outcome depends upon the degree
of choice possible, and the determination of people to
design their own futures. Freedom is one potential
outcome but another is authoritarianism in all its
forms (e.g., cultism, fascism).
Because it has yielded hypotheses that can be test-
ed by empiricists, the self-regulation paradigm could
be taken seriously by influential individuals and
groups that are major players in science, technology,
academia, the media, and even politics. The self-
organization paradigm bypasses such shopworn labels
as mind and matter, while honoring nonlinear
worldviews such as those of indigenous peoples and of
Eastern philosophy. It undercuts the superficial
semantic categorization of people according to their
race, ethnicity, and religion, the buzzwords that
account for most of the three dozen armed and bloody
conflicts that were being fought at the beginning of
the 21st century. In the hands of wise leaders, and with
the help of power players of good will, this holistic
paradigm may contain the potential to help the
human species re-vision itself in a way that will assure
its survival. Faced with the alternative, this possibility
is more than worth considering.
References
Baruss, I. (1986-1987). Metanalysis of definitions of
consciousness. Imagination, Cognition, Personality,
6, 321-329.
Banathy, B. H. (1996). Designing social systems in a
changing world. New York: Plenum Press.
Berkeley, G. (1952). The principles of human knowl-
edge. Chicago: Encyclopedia Britannica. (Original
work published 1710)
Combs, A. (1995). Psychology, chaos, and the process
nature of consciousness. In F. D.
Abraham & A. R. Gilgen (Eds.), Chaos theory in psy-
chology (pp. 129-137). Westport, CT: Praeger.
Feuerstein, G. (1987). Structures of consciousness.
Lower Lake, CA: Integral Publishing.
Frassen, B.C. van (2002). The empirical stance. New
Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Guenther, H.V. (1989). From reductionism to creativi-
ty: rDzogs-chen and the new sciences of mind.
Boston: Shambhala.
Hobson, J.A. (1994). The chemistry of conscious states.
Boston: Little, Brown.
Husserl, E. (1981). Cartesian meditations: An introduc-
tion to phenomenology (D. Cairns, Trans.). The
Hague, Netherlands: Martins Mijhoff.
Krippner, S., Ruttenber, A.J., Engelman, S.R., &
Granger, D.L. (1985). Toward the application of
general systems theory in humanistic psychology.
Systems Research, 2, 105-115.
Laszlo, A., & Krippner, S. (1998). Systems theories:
Their origins, foundations, and development. In J.
S. Jordan (Ed.), Systems theories and a priori aspects
of perception (pp. 47-74). New York: Elsevier.
Laszlo, E. (2000). Macroshift 20012010: Creating the
future in the early 21st century. New York: ToExcel.
Lloyd, P.B. (1999). Consciousness and Berkeleys meta-
physics. London: Ursa Software.
Natsoulas, T. (1992). The concept of consciousness 3:
The awareness of meaning. Journal for the Theory of
Social Behaviour, 22, 199-225.
Radin, D. (1997). The conscious universe: The scientif-
ic truth of psychic phenomena. San Francisco:
HarperEdge.
Randall, J.L. (1975). Parapsychology and the nature of
life. New York: Harper and Row.
Tarnas, R. (1991). The passion of the Western mind.
New York: Harmony.
Thagard, P. (2002). Empiricism, realism, and religion.
Science, 298, 971.
Wilber, K. (1980). The Atman project: A transpersonal
view of human development. Wheaton, IL:
Theosophical Publishing House.
Woodhouse, M. B. (1996). Paradigm wars: Worldviews
for a new age. Berkeley, CA: Frog.
Correspondence regarding this article should be
directed to the author at skrippner@saybrook.edu.
Self-regulation Paradigm 49
 Transpersonal Functions of Masks in NohKiDo

Sirkku M. Sky Hiltunen, Ph.D.

This article discusses the transpersonal functions of masks in ritual and in drama therapy as
expressed in the creative path of NohKiDo. NohKiDo, whose main components include the
Prism of Consciousness (Personal, Transpersonal, and Universal), the Rainbow Method, Action
Meditation techniques (masked meditation, etc.), and Therapeutic Noh Theater, is a therapeu-
tic system developed by the author through the redefinition and interpretation of a set of
transpersonal concepts based on Zeamis (one of the founders of Noh) original formulations for
classic Noh Theater. The most significant concepts of Ma (heightened energy through stillness
and silence), Mushin-no-kan (transpersonal projection), Ichu no kei (projective imagination), and
Riken no ken (transpersonal mirroring) pertain especially to the transpersonal functions of masks.
The main aim of a Therapeutic Noh Theater performance is to heighten the consciousness of its
actors, as well as the members of its audience, to a transpersonal level; a Therapeutic Noh Theater
performance of Born from Good Angels Tears is discussed as an example. The creative path of
NohKiDo is introduced here as a lifelong journey to the spiritual, within and without, via masks,
the arts, and creativity.

D
uring my theater studies at the University of
Helsinki in 1966, the power of masks first
captured my imagination. It was our masked
mime class. The masks we used were gray rubber
masks, yet the illusion was total. The mask was no
longer a separate artificial addition on the students
face, but a new believable character was born
(Hiltunen, 1988).
In 1967, I was introduced to the authentic
Japanese Noh Theater in Helsinki, Finland. In 1972, I
was finally able to see Noh in its own cultural setting
in Kyoto, Japan. The experience was so profound that
it changed my life and career. After returning from
Kyoto, I began the challenging task of searching for
books in English about Noh and Noh masks, and
developing my own method, called creative path of
NohKiDo. After moving to Washington, D.C. in
1977, I had many opportunities to see Noh on stage,
to find more literature on Noh, and to finally go to
study Noh in Kyoto and Nara, Japan, starting in 1988.
After all these years, regardless of how many
encounters with masked improvisations or masked
performances I have witnessed, I still get the same
thrill from the transformative powers of masks. In
order to understand why masks are so powerful and
A client with profound mental retardation performs the role
from where their magical and transpersonal connec- of a Tear in the Therapeutic Noh Theater performance of
tions originate, I will look back into the history of the Good Angels Tears.

50 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

functions of masks. How and why did the ancient peo-
ple use masked rituals? Some pertinent history of Noh
Theater and its transpersonal roots will also be intro-
duced.
The transpersonal concepts regarding the use and
the functions of masks in the creative path of
NohKiDo drew their initial inspiration from the writ-
ings of Zeami (1363-1443). At first, Zeami wrote
down the teachings of his father Kannami (1333-
1384) and later on created and documented his own
theories about the training of Noh actors (Zeami,
1970, 1975). Both Kannami and Zeami are the
founders of the classic Noh Theater, as it is still prac-
ticed today, six hundred years later.
The word transpersonal literally means beyond
mask or beyond persona. Transpersonal or spiritual
psychology acknowledges the reality that transcends
body-ego boundaries. NohKiDo as a method and
process consists of multifaceted components of the
Projective Prism of Consciousness, the Rainbow
Method and Therapeutic Noh Theater. The terms
used in NohKiDo vary from Chinese to Japanese, thus
terms such as ki may be replaced with chi, hara
with dan tien, or NohKiDo with NohChiDo. ers of masks, which were considered a magic means of
Both Japanese and Chinese terms can be used because
NohKiDo is not exclusively Japanese or Chinese but
multiethnic and multicultural. This article will focus
on NohKiDo only in reference to some of the
transpersonal functions of masks as they interplay in
the components of the system.
The Transpersonal Functions of Masks in Ritual
The ancient people were aware of spirits, the spir-
itual world, and spiritual powers. Their rituals were
created to connect with the spirits of animals as well as
humans, and masks became the mediators between the
physical and the spiritual world. Thus there is no ques-
tion about the transpersonal functions of masks in the
ancient rituals. In many ancient cultures, even the
mask making became a ritual and followed some strict
order, with its rules, and taboos.
Ritual is defined here as a prescribed order of con-
ducting a spiritual or transpersonal ceremony, which
consists of drumming, chanting, and masked dancing.
In those rituals, the transpersonal functions of masks
have been to evoke, honor, worship, and embody
deities, ancestors, or animal and plant spirits. Masks
have also been commonly used as a part of funeral rites
to honor ancestors, to assure fertility, as a part of other
A client with Downs syndrome performs the role of the Good
Angel in the Therapeutic Noh Theater performance of Good
Angels Tears.
life-cycle rites, to cure illnesses, or to protect against
evil forces and misfortune in general.
Riley (1955) and Lommel (1970) talk of the pow-
protection against the dead. According to them, dead
enemies, animals, or ancestors were considered a con-
stant threat from the mysterious spiritual world.
Consequently, people had to find mediators who
could directly connect to the spiritual world and com-
municate with the spirits, calm them down, and make
them favorable toward the living.
Riley (1955) describes the worldview of the
ancient people as one of respectful admiration, with
wonder and awe, toward the animate as well as the
inanimate. Imagination guided the ancient people to
see and experience lifes mysteries of birth, survival,
and death with fear and respect of spirits and the forces
of nature. Masks and their magical powers of transfor-
mation became the ritualistic protection against the
threat of the unknown. Thus the mask itself also
became an instrument of spiritual magic powers.
Sorell (1973) indicates that, in order for the early
men and women to transform during this ritualistic
dance, they had to not only let go of their own identi-
ty, but also conceal it in order to make the illusion
total. According to him, ancient persons thought of
the spirit as living in the face of a person. Thus by don-
ning a mask, one could admit another spirit into ones
physical body. The mask made it possible for its wear-
Transpersonal Functions of Masks 51
er to become one with the mask, or at least to become
possessed by it.
Immediately after donning the mask, the incanta-
tion, chanting, and rhythmic drumming magically
transformed the tribesmen and tribeswomen into a
masked god or spirit. Thus it created and evoked
altered states of consciousness in the wearer of the
mask as well as the person who was the living object of
the ceremony, ritual or rite. The wearer of the mask
became whatever the mask represented: ancestor, god,
or spirit, and the person who witnessed the transfor-
mation was also transformed. The altered states of
consciousness were a shared experience.
The Transpersonal Roots of the Ancient
Noh Theater
The indigenous Japanese folk ritual kagura, in
which kagura is not a religion but a ritual in which
masks are used, has its origin and roots in the Shinto,
Buddhist, and Taoist religions, the synthesis of which
created this religion, both prehistoric and protohis-
toric. Kagura, which is still practiced in Japan, can be
defined as dance of gods, Shinto dance and cere-
monial ritual dance. Kagura has assumed regionally
varying identities and practices, which can range from
shamanistic ritual to the blessing of a harvest. Besides
seasonal rituals, daily ritual dances are practiced in
some form of kagura as a part of shrine proceedings.
Like folk religion almost everywhere, it places its
main emphasis on ritual and practice rather than on
ideas and doctrines, is distinctly magico-religious in
character and preserves the most ancient shaman lay-
ers of the native religion. Indeed, kagura is the proto-
type of ancient shamanic rituals in Japan (Averbuch,
1995, p. 3).
Hoff (1978) bases his analysis on the Japanese
classification by Yasuji Honda, Hoff differentiates
more than one hundred varieties of masked kagura,
giving intricate details and distinctions. For the pur-
pose of this review, only some of the most essential
spiritual features of kagura will be discussed.
Kagura, in the form of the Shinto dance rituals
still performed today in Japanese shrines, has used
masks in distinct ways. Essentially, the invocation of
Shinto gods (kami mukae) through the ritualistic
dance and music of kagura takes place at different lev-
els. The kami may be considered truly present in the
masked dancer, he may be temporarily manifested, or
he may be present in the mask carried around during
52 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
the performance.
In Dake Kagura, the gods come dancing to bestow
their blessings of fertility, longevity, and prosperity
on the people, and to infuse them with their divine
vital energies. Dake kagura is famous for its ener-
getic, often acrobatic, dancing and for its colorful
performance. As a yamabushi kagura, Dake Kagura
inherited the eclectic world view and the practice of
Shugendo, the tradition of mountain asceticism, and is
believed to possess special magical powers to ward off
evil and prevent calamities. (Averbuch, 1995, p.2)
Hoff s (1978) sources are both Honda and Yamaji, the
latter of whom emphasizes the fact that in spite of
being Buddhist by religious orientation, the dance rit-
uals of yamabushi monks also contained indigenous
Shinto performance elements. These ascetic monks
spent their lives not only performing these sacred ritu-
al dances but also healing, teaching, and preaching.
Their sacred performances often included such ancient
rituals as Okina and Sanbaso, which are currently in
the repertoire of classical Noh troupes. In addition,
there are Oshiki-mai or Okina-no-shita mai, in the
beginning of which the mask of Okina is purified as a
part of the performance before it is donned. So these
Okina-centered performances were presented prior to
Zeami by both yamabushi and sarugaku performers.
In kagura dances, the masks are removed in the
middle of the ritual. Sometimes on stage, dancers may,
after removing the masks while facing the curtain,
push their masks through the curtain to the dressing
room. At other times they may stick their heads past
the curtains to the dressing room, to the heavenly
realm, while changing their appearance and trans-
forming themselves (Averbuch, 1995, p. 82).
A variety of performance elements are indicated in
kagura: the use of masked performers; the use of masks
as a part of the performance; the use of boiling water
(yudate) for invocation of kami and purification; the
use of salt for purification and objects such as a reli-
gious wand (heisoku) or a sword held in hand during
the dance (torimono no mai). In the Shishi (lion) kagu-
ra, kami is present in the lion masks while the per-
formers carry them about (Hoff, 1978). In the tori-
mono kagura, kami is considered to be present only
temporarily during the performance.
In kagura ritual, the stage setting creates a symbol-
ic universe in which the deities commune between
their heavenly abode and the human world, and on
which the dancers are both manifestations of the
 kami and the priests who summon them down to
worship them. Thus the structure of the setting
itself provides the symbolic devices that render the
kagura performance magically efficacious.
(Averbuch, 1995, p. 82)
In kagura, the headgear and masks are considered
channeling devices for the deities who possess them via
the masking. In other words, masks depict not only
humans dressed as kami, but also kami dressed as
humans (Averbuch, p. 97). Masks are sacred objects
in kagura.
When searching for the transpersonal roots of the
classic Noh, there are many secular roots, such as saru-
gaku, but kagura ritual dances are no doubt the most
essential predecessor whose transpersonal influence is
still so strongly seen in Noh Theater today.
In general, one could say that the emotional ener-
gy of Noh is subtle, symbolic, extremely controlled,
and rhythmically paced, gaining strength from its pro-
found contrasts and dramatic build-ups, not unlike in
kagura.
The Transpersonal Functions of Masks in the Classic
Noh Theater
In the classic Noh Theater, shite (the main or prin-
cipal character) wears a mask throughout the perform-
ance. On rare occasions, after an initial appearance
without a mask, the shite returns masked to express
his/her dramatic transformation, as in the play
Tsuchigumo (Spider Spirit). Occasionally, however,
shite tsure (shites companion) may also wear a mask.
Other characters do not wear masks in the classic Noh.
Yasuo (1984) enumerates about one hundred and
fifty Noh masks and categorizes them into six types: 1)
Okina, the principal god mask, the oldest Noh mask;
2) fierce Shinto or Buddhist Deity masks that ward off
evil forces; 3) Old Man masks; 4) Man masks; 5)
Woman masks; and 6) Spirit masks.
Noh masks form their own genres. Carved from
wood and painted using ancient painting methods, the
masks are extremely vulnerable to damage even when
barely touched. The minerals and sweat from the
hands can remove the paints, which do not have any
protective cover. That the masks are considered sacred
objects and treated with extreme reverence is an appar-
ent legacy from kagura dance, in which the evocation
of deities could be achieved through objects or by the
person performing the dance. The Noh actor puts on
his/her mask in the green room as the final act before
entering the stage. This ritualistic process seems to
date to the kagura dance, where an object held by the
dancer or the dancer him/herself becomes the instru-
ment or the medium of this momentary incarnation of
a deity.
Noh masks are very small in size and usually
expose a part of the wearers actual face. They are not
easy to wear. The holes for the eyes are extremely small.
Because of this, among other reasons, there are four
pillars on the Noh stage to guide the masked actor and
enable him/her to navigate without falling off the stage.
Noh and its highly symbolic performance style, as
well as its masks, have many interpretations among
theater professionals, as well as performance theories.
According to Nearman (1984), W. B. Yeats and Paul
Claudel considered Noh and Noh masks sacred.
Whereas,
others, like Bertold Brecht and the followers of
Gordon Craig, interpreted the mask as an alienat-
ing device in accord with their own interests in
anti-naturalistic and presentational theatre. The
creatively stimulating interpretations of these poets
of the theatre have in many ways obscured or dis-
torted both the history and the artistic intention of
No. Isolating No from its cultural setting, these
writers often assumes that similarities in outer
appearance were due to similarities in artistic
intent. (Nearman, 1984, pp. 20-21)
Zenchiku Komparu, Zeamis brother-in-law, who was
a Zen Buddhist and who wrote a very detailed, spiri-
tually focused analysis of Noh, talks of the mind and
spirit of the Noh mask itself. According to Nearman
(1984), Zenchiku does not refer to the projections of
the actor wearing the mask but rather to projections of
the mask makers and creators inner life inherent in
the mask itself.
Traditional Noh actors will, months prior to a per-
formance, look at all the potential masks for their role
and meditate on the masks.
He lets the mask speak to him. The particular feel-
ings that seem to emanate from the mask as the
actor turns it in various positions do not constitute
simply the projections in his personal, subjective
responses, but appear to rise from the mask itself,
and can therefore be considered a product of the
mind or spirit of the mask. (Nearman, 1984, p. 44)
This ritualistic process relies heavily on the actors
enlightened ability to see beyond the surface of the
mask. Zenchiku and Zeami alike emphasize the spiri-
Transpersonal Functions of Masks 53
tual inner development of Noh actors. Zenchiku fur-
ther explains some deeper meanings of the Noh mask
with profoundly significant psycho-spiritual and even
therapeutic implications (Nearman, p.45). In the ritu-
al of donning the mask, the Noh actor will hold the
mask in front of him before donning it, looking at the
dark inside of the mask. When the mask is held against
the light, the openings for eyes, ears, nose, and mouth
total seven portals of human perception, analogous to
the stars of the North-Pointing Constellation that act
as guides to the path of human travel (p. 45). He fur-
ther refers to the Buddhist tradition, which considers
the sensory channels not only as the source and cause
of delusions but also as guides for spiritual awakening
and enlightenment.
At the technical level, the Noh masks can be
manipulated with slight movements of up and down
or right and left, varying the tempo. This creates a
unique impression of the emotional change on the
masked face from serene to sad, for example. Besides
witnessing the expressive changes on a single Noh
mask as a member of an audience, I have also received
feedback as a performer using authentic Noh masks.
For example, while I was demonstrating Therapeutic
Noh Theater in St. Petersburg, Russia, many viewers
came to me afterwards and assured me they had seen
the mask change its emotional expressions and asked
me questions about it.
Nearman points out that both Zeami, as one of
the founders, and Zenchiku, as the early Noh master,
did make it clear that technical training and practice
are essential in Noh, but more importantly the Noh
actors are required to develop themselves creatively,
artistically, and spiritually. Only when coupled with
this total approach can the Noh actor, even today,
impact his/her audience at the transpersonal level.
When the technical training is pointed out, as far as
the movement of the head to the right, left, up, or
down is concerned, Iwao Kongoh, the Head of the
Kongoh School of Noh (Teele, 1984, pp. 83-84),
emphasizes the importance of imagination of what is
being expressed, not just the mere movement of the
head.
Kanze (1984), a Noh actor, talks of the power of
masks. He indicates that for him personally as a per-
former, some masks have empowered him spiritually as
a Noh actor on stage. Instead of the common word for
mask, men, the word omote (facade) is used for Noh
masks. This clearly indicates the special relationship
54 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
that Noh actors have to their masks. For them, the
mask is not just a wooden artifact but a companion
endowed with magical and supernatural powers.
According to Kanze, besides being aesthetically superi-
or, Noh masks are media for superhuman spirits and
deities, and possess spiritual strength.
There is a special seating arrangement in Noh the-
aters, which uniquely connects the audience with the
Noh stage. The minimalistic stage structure showing
bare wood, the asymmetrical seating, the use of only
the most essential props, and a small curtain located
between the green room and the beginning of the
bridge emulate the kaguras ritualistic stage settings.
Some costume changes regarding the outer kimonos
and masks may take place on the stage itself with the
aid of a koken (stage assistant, who himself is often a
Noh master). The Noh stage is build like an open
shrine or temple space. Much of the kaguras ritualistic
traditions are seen directly in the performance of
Okina, which is, in fact, performed in shrines.
The original meaning of the word for the bridge on
the Noh stage, hashigakari, is suspension
bridgethat is, something aerial. Thus, the
emphasis is more on the time-transcending jour-
neys between this world and the other world of
ghosts and spirits than on the daily comings-and-
goings of real human beings. (Komparu, 1983,
p.124)
There are two ways of seeing the symbolism of the
bridge: 1) as leading from the heavenly realm to the
earth, or 2) as leading from the earth to the heavenly
realm. Takabayashi Koji, a Noh actor (Bethe, 1984)
states that when performing Okina,
I walk onto the stage as my everyday self. Once I
wear the mask, I am in communion with the god
inside me, with the universal part that transcends
the mundane. This part of me which is godlike
dances and that same universal god resides in the
mask: therefore both mask and performer are god.
(p. 96)
Masks in Drama Therapy
Masks used in therapy function as the protection,
so that the true self can be revealed. Masks in therapy
are considered first and foremost a projective device.
Masks and mask making are not used only in drama
therapy and psychodrama (Moreno, 1999; Jennings,
1992 & 1995; Landy, 1986, 1993, & 1996; Jones,
1996; Scheff, 1979; Emunah, 1994; Grainger, 1995;
Holt, 1992; Barrager-Dunne, 1992; Shuttleworth,
1981; Naitove, 1981), but also in arts therapy (Mills
Dufrene, 1991; Gerity, 2000; Henley, 1994; Rugh,
2001). The use of masks by the cited authors seem
mostly to aid in addressing the body/ego problems,
needs, and shadow conflicts. For example, Landy
(1996) promotes the use of masks for distancing, yet
he considers them less distancing than puppets and
dolls. Jones (1996) uses masks and mask making in
drama therapy to provide his clients an additional
means of expressing their internal and secret roles.
Fryrear & Stephens (1988) use masks and video feed-
back to facilitate this very process of intrapsychic com-
munication.
The Creative Way of NohKiDo
Nearman (1982, 1984), Ortolani (1983) and
Pilgrim (1972) emphasize both Zeamis and
Zenchikus expectations for the spiritual and creative
development of Noh actors. Ortolani and Pilgrim state
that there is a way or path of Noh. Pilgrim (1972)
discusses the spirituality of Noh Theater as grown
from the spiritual traditions of Japan. According to
him, Noh Theater does not differ from the better-
known and long-established spiritual practices as paths
to enlightenment, namely the tea ceremony (chado),
the way of painting (gado), the way of poetry (kado),
the way of calligraphy (shodo), the way of swords
(kendo) in the martial arts, and the way of archery
(kyndo). Throughout much of Japanese tradition,
artistic discipline, artistic form, and aesthetic sensitivi-
ty have been important ways of attaining spiritual or
religious goals as well as expressing and experiencing
sacred Reality (Pilgrim, 1972).
NohKiDo is also a path or a way to obtaining
higher consciousness via creativity and the artistic pur-
suit of expressive excellence. Like kagura, the predeces-
sor of Noh theater, NohKiDo emphasizes ritual and
practice. The vitalization of the performer, as well as
the audiences, of the rituals or performances with
transpersonal insight or energy, is the goal of
NohKiDo practice in the Rainbow Method as well as
during Therapeutic Noh Theater performances.
Chi (energy)
The essential energy flow in Noh dance radiates from
the dan tien (energy center below the navel). Ancient
roots connect the three styles of meditative movement
of Chi Kung, Tai Chi, and Noh dance. The ancient
Chi Kung breathing methods refer to heaven, man,
and earth. There are breathing techniques that direct-
ly refer to the triad and localize them in a body
through mentally focusing on the specified body parts:
1) breathing from the top of your head (heaven); 2)
breathing through dan tien (man); and 3) breathing
through your feet (earth). This method was also taught
to me by my Noh Master in Japan.
Zeami (1970, 1975) talks of chi in relation to
movement and voice. Chi is considered the heavenly
energy, which can be seen in a persons movement. My
Tai Chi master, Sifu Chao Chi Liu, demonstrated the
use of chi when we were touring Taiwan. He had each
of his five black belt students hold an iron spear
against his throat and push it until the spears bent.
None of the spears pierced the skin on his throat or
damaged it in any way. The secrets of chi have been
known to the ancient cultures for millennia, but we in
the West have just recently become reacquainted with
it and with the belief that energy is a transpersonal
reality.
Talent
This term is used to replace the term shadow in
order to widen it and make it inclusive of a positive
component. Talent was a unit of money in ancient
Greece, Rome, and the Middle East. Coins have two
sides; consequently the word talent is used to ampli-
fy the two-sidedness. Shadow is defined as the
repressed and denied part of ones psyche; whereas tal-
ent is defined as consisting of both the repressed neg-
ative failed lessons from one incarnation to another
and the positive inherited skills and talents brought
from one incarnation to the current one.
Creativity
I consider creativity to be a divine gift inherited by
all human beings. The major components of everyday
creativity are flexibility, feasibility, and originality. The
ability to synthesize and create a new combination
based on the existing components is also a part of cre-
ative processes. Inspiration and intuitive knowing can
lead to transpersonal creativity. I have developed a
method of Meditative Vail Painting using deliberately
the variant vail for veil in the term. As an example
of intuitive knowing leading to transpersonal creativi-
ty, I painted a meditative vail painting entitled
Healing hand opens the heart chakra six years before
I had the actual experience in Brazil. As creativity can
Transpersonal Functions of Masks 55
also create a pathway to the Divine, one must be care-
ful, because it can also lead to the unholy side of spir-
ituality. The choice is ours, to use our gifts in the serv-
ice of humanity or for our own personal gain.
NohKiDo
The Creative Way of NohKiDo as a method con-
sists of the Projective Prism of Consciousness, The
Rainbow Method, and Therapeutic Noh Theater
training, practice, and performances. The Prism of
Consciousness identifies from where one is projecting
(e.g., Personal, Transpersonal and Universal; Hiltunen,
2001, 2003a, 2003b).
All of the previously listed components of the
method are interwoven as categorized by the Projective
Prism of Consciousness and the color/chakra spectrum
of the Rainbow Method. Creativity is the essence of
the way. It connects via intuition and inspiration to
ones higher self. The Finnish mythological epic of
Kalevala and many ancient Finnish traditions have
inspired the use of lamenting (Hiltunen, 2003a) and
the creation of the Seven Stages of Womanhood Ritual
(Hiltunen, 2001), which are also a part of NohKiDo.
In addition, NohKiDo is centered on many Action
Meditation and creative arts practices, some of which
utilize masks. The term Action Meditation refers
here to meditative practices that do not require sitting
still as in Zazen, but rather aim to reach a meditative
stage through engagement in some form of action such
as the movement meditation forms of tai chi, chi
kung, Noh dance, Zen dance, walking meditation,
Masked Meditation or haiku meditation, and eating
meditation. NohKiDo draws its spiritual foundation
not only from Zen and other ancient spiritual
approaches, but also from mystic Christian concepts
and practices. This article will not address the latter, as
it is the topic of another article.
The awareness of our contemporary minds varies
as far as spiritual reality is concerned. Thus my own
acceptance and acknowledgement of transpersonal
reality is based on a lifelong search for the spiritual and
on actual experiences in it, for example, encounters
with my deceased grandmothers spirit and some of my
mystical experiences with Christ. The scientific valida-
tion of personal and spiritual or transpersonal experi-
ences is not easy. It is up to the reader to accept or
reject them. It could be said that for those who have
experienced transpersonal or mystical realities, no
explanation is necessary; and for those who have not,
56 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
no explanation will do. This is to say that the examples
of the transpersonal concepts presented in this article
are based on inspiration, intuitive knowing, and per-
sonal experiences.
Transpersonal Functions of Masks in NohKiDo
I have been developing my creative arts therapy
approach for almost four decades. Since 1966
(Hiltunen, 1988) I have had an increasing interest in
the use of masks as a major projective therapeutic
device. I have witnessed the transformative power of
masks both in training professionals and as an intricate
part of my therapeutic theater, which consists of an
integrated ensemble of artist volunteers (actors, visual
artists, musicians, writers) and actors with mental
retardation and developmental and multiple disabilities.
I can still recall vividly many of the improvisations
in my workshops all over the world (Finland, Canada,
Japan, Switzerland, Russia, Lithuania, and the USA).
The projected imagery created by masking is like a
film strip which I am able to recall, not in detail, but
by its powerful emotional energy and expression pro-
jecting from deeply personal, sometimes transperson-
al, conscious or unconscious, inner sources.
A collection of my earlier papier-mache masks were
designed to depict the four major races of the world:
white, black, reddish brown and yellow. In my work-
shop in Canada, at the University of Calgary in 1983,
a student of the creative arts therapies selected the yel-
low mask, which also has a tragic emotional expres-
sion. She was able to get in touch with her own sup-
pressed grief, yet among the viewers her expressions
transcended the projection of her personal pain. They
created associations, among other things, to the
Vietnam War and its burn victims caused by napalm
bombing. Her fiveminute improvisation consisted of
a simple set of mimetic self-expressions, connecting
honestly and mercilessly to her own inner pain and
mediating this powerful moment not only for her but
also for us in the audience. It exemplifies profoundly
the power of masks to enable not only the wearer, but
also the members of the viewing audience, to project
from a transcended perspective.
During therapy sessions and the masked improvi-
sations, an ability to select the mask that draws our
attention is the first and most crucial step in successful
masking. Our honesty in responding spontaneously to
the associations, memories, and emotions elicited by
that very mask is a prerequisite for the creation of a
moment of seeming unity with the mask and the wear-
er. Finally, the power of the improvisations will rely on
the directness of the connection with our uncon-
sciousour suppressed and denied ideas, thoughts,
memories, and feelings (Hiltunen, 1988). The masked
improvisations are an essential part of the training in
both the Rainbow Method and Therapeutic Noh
Theater. It may start at Personal level (guilt, fear, or
anger) of the Prism of Consciousness, yet transcen-
dence and transformation to forgiveness, courage,
faith, or love will enable the wearer to transcend
body/ego needs and perceptions and reach the
transpersonal in his or her projections.
Ancient men and women believed that ones face
was the gateway to the transpersonal. Consequently,
when a mask was donned, the passage from the per-
sonal to transpersonal took place almost automatically.
Chanting and dancing were also an important compo-
nent for the final transformation. In NohKiDo, masks
still have the same potential to create the passage from
personal to transpersonal. When the baggage of the
personal body/ego is unresolved and too heavy, the
masked person is unable to transcend personal prob-
lems, and the take-off is not easy, or may not even
be possible. The content of the baggage may be
assessed by using the Prism of Consciousness tool.
In the overall process of NohKiDo, masks do not
always function at the Transpersonal level. In the
beginning phases of the Rainbow Method, when the
chakras that are considered to function at the Personal
level (base chakrared, sacral chakraorange, and
solar plexus chakrayellow) are the focus of the inter-
vention, it is essential that plenty of time be given for
the participant to explore their body/ego needs and
issues. Initially, rainbow-colored masks and scarves
representing each chakra are used to identify the needs
of participants. However, since the Rainbow Method
as a whole is still being developed further, no detailed
description of the use of the rainbow-colored masks is
given here. When the participants are ready and will
have an opportunity to perform with the Therapeutic
Noh Theater, the Transpersonal will become the focus
of the intervention. Even after engaging in the
Therapeutic Noh Theater, only the main characters
wear authentic Noh masks.
Masked Meditation
Transpersonal communication does not always
need language, because it is able to step above and
beyond ordinary perception and comprehension.
When the higher self is receiving information
through intuition and not through the ego, the per-
ception and comprehension transcend the egos
demands for intellectualization, analysis, and reason-
ing. The language needs of the higher self (transper-
sonal) may directly be met through mythology,
dreams, and images, rather than by linear, logical rea-
soning.
Masked Meditation as a technique has evolved
over the years. Actually, two years ago, when I was
teaching a summer course in a college in Finland, my
international students began acting with the masks in
such a wide range of busy activities, accompanied with
a lot of verbal expressions, that I decided to invite
them to stop totally and begin to meditate on the
essence of their mask. When they had an opportunity
to slow down, through stillness and silence, they were
able to discover most amazingly simple but powerful
expressions for their own personal growth. I used the
same basic steps and the technique with a mirror as
with the masked improvisations (Hiltunen, 1988).
With Masked Meditation, however, the focus shifts
from activity to nonactivity.
The appeal of a specific mask and the reasons that
the student chooses it are often caused by unconscious
identification with a specific quality, emotion, or char-
acteristic of the mask. The Masked Meditation gives
an opportunity to excavate and bring to conscious
awareness that special chosen quality. The stillness and
silence will enable the masked person to own it, accept
it (even if the quality is not acceptable for the con-
scious mind), and transcend it. The Masked
Meditation as a process may take only five minutes
but, depending how deeply students are willing to dive
into their own being, it can also take up to thirty min-
utes. It is potentially a very powerful method, and as
in all methods, the outcome depends on the willing-
ness of the students to explore their inner life, and
their strength and security in their own vulnerability.
In the Masked Meditation, the focus is on only
one isolated aspect of the mask. Projective Imagination
is used to mediate the aspect through nonaction and
awareness of the here-and-now moment. The term
Projective Imagination will be defined later on in this
article.
Transpersonal Functions of Masks 57
The Projective Prism of Consciousness
The Projective Prism of Consciousness is used for
the Ritual of Seven Stages of Womanhood (Hiltunen,
2001), for lamenting (Hiltunen, 2003a), and as an
intuitive assessment tool for poetry therapy (Hiltunen,
2003b). In general, the Projective Prism of
Consciousness identifies the source of projections as
Personal (ego/body concerns), Transpersonal (beyond
ego/body concerns via transcendence and transforma-
tion), and Universal (unity, or no-self consciousness
via transcendence and transformation). This article
examines the functions of masks in NohKiDo as pro-
jections from the Transpersonal side of the Prism of
Consciousness. All of the previously listed applications
of the Projective Prism of Consciousness may be used
for the assessment of the functions of masks in the
Rainbow Method as well as in Therapeutic Noh
Theater. The three sides of the Prism of Consciousness
(Personal, Transpersonal, and Universal) in poetry
therapy are as follows: Either actively or more passive-
ly projected through five major domains, the first three
of which are the different modes of thinking: 1)
Intuitive, 2) Contemplative 3) Rational/Analytic, 4),
Affective and 5) Somatic. The therapeutically signifi-
cant roots, content and outcome of the poetry can fur-
ther be divided into the following categories: 1)
Pathological, 2) traumatic 3) negative, 4) realistic/nat-
uralistic, 5) socially conscious, 6) humorous, 7)
metaphoric/symbolic 8) imaginative, 9) insightful, 10)
creative, 11) authentic, 12) courageous, 13) visionary,
14) positive, 15) inspirational, 16) nurturing, 17)
compassionate, 18) cathartic, and 19) purgative. Via
transcendence resulting from acceptance, understand-
ing, forgiveness and love, transformation may take
place and consciousness shifts from a personal to a
transpersonal perception. The transpersonal or univer-
sal contents and outcomes differ in degree and are
identified in the checklist, which is presented after a
basic model is introduced.
In addition, the Bereavement Prism of
Consciousness (Hiltunen, 2003a) will be useful when
assessing the use of masks as transpersonal projective
devices. Masks and masked rituals were a means of
reaching altered states of consciousness for ancient
men and women. In NohKiDo, masks are treated with
respect and awe, because of their sacredness.
There are, however, masks that are used exclusive-
ly for training in Therapeutic Noh Theater or as a part
of the Rainbow Method. These masks do not have the
58 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
same ambiance as the authentic Noh masks, some of
which are termed universal. These non-Noh masks
may have been collected from all over the world
from Finland, Italy, China, and Indonesia. In most
cases the non-Noh masks represent so-called character
masks, which are used in the Rainbow Method as well
as in the early phases of the Therapeutic Noh Theater
training. The Rainbow Method and the early phases of
Therapeutic Noh Theater training use many masking
exercises, most of which address the Personal side of
the Prism of Consciousness, namely the issues of body,
ego, or talent. Occasionally, a transcendence and trans-
formation may lead to Transpersonal perception,
which can be assessed by the Prism of Consciousness
tool. When an actor or a participant in NohKiDo
training has evolved and is ready to participate in the
Therapeutic Noh Theater rehearsals and performanc-
es, the Transpersonal side of the Prism of
Consciousness is the aim of all of the experiences.
Later on in this article the Transpersonal concepts will
be defined and discussed.
As applied in NohKiDo, transpersonal psychology
transcends extensive focus on negative values, weak-
nesses, problems, and pathology and, without ignoring
challenges, draws its strength from positive values,
wellness, and creativity. It does not focus only on the
shadow or pathology, but on talent, previously defined
as both the strengths and weaknesses of each individ-
ual. It raises questions about the true purpose and
meaning of ones life on earth. Furthermore, it aims to
connect participants via creativity and intuition to
their higher selves, simultaneously aiming to strength-
en their ability to be present in and aware of each
moment.
The Rainbow Method
This method consists of the use of the rainbow
colors as identified in Chakras, or the seven sacred cen-
ters in a human body. One of the methods, which I
developed and use as a part of the Rainbow Method, is
Meditative Vail Painting. Mandala painting also
accompanies each color/chakra. (Since this article
focuses on the use of masks, further examination of the
painting components is beyond its scope.) As the
color/chakra spectrum is central in this method, masks,
and vails of colors representing each chakra are used.
The Rainbow Method is divided into the compo-
nents of the color/chakra spectrum, starting from the
Personal: 1) base chakra, red (body); 2) sacral chakra,
orange (ego); 3) solar plexus chakra, yellow, including
black and white (related to talent, metaphorically
taken from an ancient coins sides with heads referring
to gifts/skills and knowledge brought from one incar-
nation to another on one side and tails to lessons to be
learned in this incarnation on the other side); 4a) heart
chakra, green (heart; body/ego/talent), the gatekeep-
er to the Transpersonal projections; Transpersonal: 4b)
thymus chakra, turquoise, not always included in lists
of chakras (acknowledged as the transitory chakra and
color from green to blue and from heart to throat
chakra); 5) throat chakra, blue; 6) brow chakra, violet
(third eye); and Universal: 7) crown chakra, magenta.
When transpersonal functions of masks in
NohKiDo are discussed, the Prism of Consciousness
creates the framework and provides the assessment
tool. The Rainbow Method provides the chakra/color
framework for the training, practice, and therapy to
enable the participant to work from Personal and then
transition to Transpersonal, and eventually to the
Universal perception of life.
Therapeutic Noh Theater also offers training,
rehearsing, and preparation for the actual performanc-
es, which aim to operate at the Transpersonal level.
The three components of NohKiDo interweave and
cannot be totally discussed as separate practices.
Poetry writing is also an essential component of
the Rainbow Method. Both haiku and renku poetry, as
well as free form, are used. This eventually leads to
playwriting or dramatization of stories for Therapeutic
Noh Theater. The poetry itself may also be used for
Noh kata recitals as it is chanted to accompany the
dance recital at the Personal level of training. Mask
making is also a part of the NohKiDo training, and
masked improvisations are a very significant method at
the same level. The masks are prepared so that emo-
tions, negative and positive, are expressed in their col-
ors. As this portion of the method is currently being
developed further, this discussion of the transpersonal
functions of masks will mostly focus on the
Therapeutic Noh Theater.
Therapeutic Noh Theater
Therapeutic Noh Theater, a form of transpersonal
drama therapy developed since 1966, synthesizes
ancient theater, rituals, mythology, and spiritual tradi-
tions of Japan, Finland, and other ancient cultures
with contemporary theater and healing practices to
produce catharsis, positive change, personal and
transpersonal growth, and healing. A Therapeutic Noh
Theater performance is actually a ritual, with its previ-
ously defined components.
The aims of Therapeutic Noh Theater are to teach
discipline, physical self- control, stillness of ones
mind, and expansion of ones awareness from the
Personal to the Transpersonal through connecting and
communicating with the audience. It culminates in
theater productions that consist of ancient music and
chanting, basic and expressive sacred dance and move-
ment forms, and mime, and utilize glamorous cos-
tumes and masks. It aims to touch deeply and
transpersonally not only its participating actors but
also its viewing audiences.
In 1996, after the Therapeutic Noh Theater per-
formance of Good Angels Tears, the audience was asked
to respond in writing about their experience. Sean
Schultz, a young man who gave permission for his
name to be used after seeing the performance, com-
mented: The last time I was moved in this way was
when my son was born 2 months ago. The feeling was
so similar but different in many ways. But since I have
been asked to describe this is the only way I can. This
is an example of the transpersonal impact.
The reference to birth is remarkable, since birth
rituals were honored in many ancient cultures. Thank
you for opening my heart was another response to the
same performance. However, oftentimes, the audience
members reported that they could not find the exact
words to describe what they had experienced.
The Use of Masks to Create Transpersonal Impact on
Participants and Audience
In the Therapeutic Noh Theater, unlike in its clas-
sic counterpart, masks are used by most of the actors.
However, in the Therapeutic Noh Theater, only the
main character or his or her companion may use the
classic Noh masks. Others may wear masks from all
over the worldfrom China, Indonesia, or Italy.
Therapeutic Noh Theater training begins at the
Personal level of the Prism of Consciousness. Body-
centered training begins with relaxation, tai chi, chi
kung, Zen dance, walking meditation, masked
improvisations and basic Noh kata. Chanting, mask
making and the introduction of the Expressive Noh
kata will culminate in masked dance recitals.
The Creative way of NohKiDo is founded on the
spiritual aspects of not only Noh but also other ancient
and spiritual traditions. Some of the following con-
Transpersonal Functions of Masks 59
cepts were inspired by Zeami and Zenchiku, who
introduced many important concepts: gassho; donning
of the mask; ritual of mask removal; ma; mushin no
kan; ichu-no-kei; and riken-no-ken. No English transla-
tions for the Japanese terms are given here, because I
have specifically defined them and will introduce and
define the terms later in this article. Other transper-
sonal concepts of NohKiDo, such as talent and the
mystic spiritual connection of the practitioner of
NohKiDo, are concepts not necessarily based on or
inspired by Noh. Combinations of Buddhist and mys-
tic Christian concepts are inherent in NohKiDo as
well (Hiltunen, 2003b). For the sake of the short for-
mat of this article, not all of the concepts will be dis-
cussed in depth.
The impact of Noh masks or the masked actors on
their audience plays an essential part in the often non-
verbal and even transpersonal communication that
takes place between the actor and his or her audiences.
The profound catharsis I experienced as a member of
the audience at my first Noh performance in Japan
and the experiences described by a spectator at a Good
Angels Tears production seem similar. My recollection
of my initial cathartic experience in Kyoto, Japan, in
1972 at a Noh theater (Hiltunen, 1988) was rekindled
not only by the written evaluative comments on Good
Angels Tears but even more profoundly by the verbal
comments made by the spectators after the perform-
ances. Their deeply and positively felt emotional com-
ments made me understand that Therapeutic Noh
Theater has been able to capture some of the original
sacredness of the ancient Noh Theater.
Gassho (Honoring)
Gassho is the general greeting by the students of
NohKiDo and the members of the Therapeutic Noh
Theater. When practicing Zazen in a Japanese
Sanshoji temple, I was given a handout that defined
gassho as follows: Hold the palms and fingers of both
hands together. Gassho is an expression of respect, faith
and devotion. Because the two hands (duality) are
joined together, it expresses the One-Mind. Hands
are raised in front of the chest while stopping to bow.
When one enters the space for the Keiko Komatsubara
Noh Stage at the Art and Drama Therapy Institute in
Washington, D.C. for training, rehearsing, or per-
formances, one honors the space and everyone in it by
gassho at the door. This ritualistic honoring is done also
at other times, when respect is expressed toward a
60 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
member of the group, as a thank-you or an excuse-me.
Donning of Masks
The importance of the ritualistic donning of a
mask, especially a Noh mask, cannot be overempha-
sized in Therapeutic Noh Theater. In classic Noh
Theater, a Noh actor bows before the mask before
donning it in the green room, which is just behind the
entrance curtain. The adjustment of the mask to the
correct angle on the face is also very crucial in maxi-
mizing the impact of moving of the head while on stage.
Ritual of Mask Removal (Acceptance)
Sometimes masks are removed in kagura during the
ritual. Sometimes in Classic Noh Theater, shite may
change his mask during the performance, when his
back is turned or he is otherwise not directly in view.
The Ritual of Mask Removal is authentically created
for the Therapeutic Noh Theater and it has proven to
be a powerful means of awakening for audience mem-
bers to a different perception of reality. The mask may
be removed as a part of the performance, particularly
with actors with mental retardation, in order to illus-
trate to the audience the importance of acceptance. It
is easier to accept a person behind a mask without
judgment or prejudice. When the mask is removed,
the reality is revealed. This enables the audience to
become aware of their prejudice and reassess their per-
ception of persons with mental retardation.
One of my professors, after viewing the video of
Good Angels Tears, expressed her initial shock when she
realized that the part of the Angel was not performed
by me, as she assumed, but by an actress of
Therapeutic Noh Theater with Downs syndrome. She
became acutely aware of her own prejudice.
Transpersonal mirroring had taken place.
Ma (silence, stillness, and heightened awareness)
According to Pilgrim (1972), the development of
ones own inner vision and mental/spiritual/emotional
(kokoro) resources, the transcending of the function-
al, intending, object-oriented mind in attainment of
no-mind or true Mind (mushin), and an art rooted
in spiritual power and vision or in an experience of the
Great Nothingness (mu) and expressing the ultimate
mystery of depth of reality (p. 142) are prerequisites
for the expression of ma. Ma is the moment of no
action, the stillness and silence, which is filled with
more powerful energy than the moments of action on
Noh stage. Komparu (1983) talks of stillness and
emptiness, or quiet stillness, when referring to ma.
In the Therapeutic Noh Theater, the ma
moment on stage is experienced by the audience
when a masked actor/dancer is able to be totally pres-
ent in stillness and silence and projects transpersonally
beyond his or her body/ego consciousness (mushin-no-kan).
Mushin-no-kan (transpersonal projection)
For a masked actor/dancer, moments of total silence
and stillness that occur in between the dance move-
ments gives an opportunity for transpersonal projec-
tion. It is a powerful moment, which cannot be meas-
ured easily. The written audience feedback after the
performance has been the only measurement used.
When the actor/dancer on stage is able to be totally
present in stillness and silence and transcend body/ego
awareness, it is an empowering moment, during which
a sense of peace enlarges the space of awareness around
the dancer.
Ichu no kei (projective imagination)
Iwao Kongoh identified in classic Noh the impor-
tance of the use of imagination by Noh actors, when
technically moving their head down, for example, to
express looking at a river. It is not enough to perform
the technical movement; the actor must accompany it
with the imagination. In Therapeutic Noh Theater,
this has been termed as projective imagination (ichu
no kei). In projective imagination, the actual scene is
visualized in the actors minds eye and projected in his
or her dance kata. Both Noh and Therapeutic Noh
stages are bare, and a limited number of realistic props
are used during performances. Thus the masked
actor/dancers use of projective imagination is essential
in order to transmit visualized images to the audience.
During the Therapeutic Noh Theater training,
rehearsals, or performances, projective imagination has
been tested through audience feedback and, based on
their written or stated comments, it seems to work.
The audience can visualize what is being chanted bet-
ter if the actors are able to use their projective imagi-
nation during the scene. In Therapeutic Noh Theater,
fans are used not only to accompanying the dancers
kata as indicated in the basic dance kata, but also in
the expressive Noh kata in which fans stand for a vari-
ety of props, from vessels to rakes and swords. Thus it
is most essential that the projective imagination by the
masked actor/dancer be used to reinforce the unusual
functions of fans.
Riken no ken (transpersonal mirroring)
Riken no ken was actually initially used by Zeami
only for transpersonal detachment. In Therapeutic
Noh Theater, riken no ken has been defined in more
expanded ways as a reciprocal process between the
masked actor/dancer and his or her audience consist-
ing of multiple facets: transpersonal detachment,
transpersonal projection, and transpersonal intromis-
sion. The initial term came from Zeami. Yet this is
actually an expanded term drawn at first in practice
from my work with persons with mental retardation
and then applied to Therapeutic Noh Theater. I real-
ized that Zeamis initial term expressed very well what
was observed in the actual therapeutic interventions
with clients with mental retardation. Later on, it
became apparent that in Therapeutic Noh Theater, the
term translated into the exchange between the masked
actor and his or her audience.
I have written a symbolic story about persons with
mental retardation called Born from Good Angels
Tears. It indicates that persons with mental retarda-
tion are our teachers of patience, compassion, and
love. I have personally been the recipient of their
teachings through transpersonal mirroring. Many
times, when I have tried to correct their behavior in
public, they have turned it into a learning experience
for me. Instead of my being able to teach them some
behavior or skill, they have been able to set a mirror in
front of me and show me my weaknesses.
I have encountered the perception and notion,
even among professional therapists, that working with
persons with mental retardation requires very little
skill or intelligence owing to their limited intelligence
and skills. Because of their limited verbal communica-
tion skills and lack of ability to rationalize, it is more
challenging to decipher the roots of their problem
behaviors. It is my experience and philosophical stance
that persons with mental retardation are our teachers
and that they have chosen to incarnate as persons with
mental retardation. Furthermore, they have chosen to
learn the ultimate lessons by taking humiliation,
ridicule, disrespect, and treatment as invisible mem-
bers of our society. Yet I consider them my humble
and generally unacknowledged spiritual teachers.
Transpersonal mirroring in Therapeutic Noh
Theater will take place when audience members are
able to receive from an actor/dancer some deeper mes-
Transpersonal Functions of Masks 61
sages about themselves or their lives, to intromit into
their consciousness and awareness something that was
not acceptable before. Often, however, audience mem-
bers do not even have words to express what they have
experienced. When transpersonal mirroring takes
place, it can be said that Therapeutic Noh Theater has
retained some of the original transpersonal power of
ancient Noh Theater.
When an ancient man wore his mask in a ritual,
he became the spirit or the deity he was dancing as.
When kagura dancers or Noh actors performed a
dance of a god or a spirit, they became that deity or
that spirit. When an actor/dancer in the Therapeutic
Noh Theater puts on his or her mask and enters the
Therapeutic Noh Stage, he or she descends from the
earth and enters the sacred and the transpersonal.
Thus hashikagari (the bridge between the curtain and
the Noh stage) provides the transitional time and space
for the actor. While on stage, it is the aim of
actor/dancers in Therapeutic Noh Theater to be able
to first detach themselves from their body/ego aware-
ness, from the Personal, and project from the
Transpersonal to see themselves in the eyes of an audi-
ence. This transpersonal detachment is an essential
component of riken no ken. If and when the audience
members are open and ready to receive, they can par-
ticipate in the process of transpersonal mirroring by
their own transpersonal intromission. It is not easy to
describe or prove if and when that happens. That is
why the audience is often asked to provide written
feedback after the performance. They may do it
anonymously or may state their names.
Because of the small size and placement of the eyes
in Noh masks, I have experienced, while in a
Therapeutic Noh Theater performance on stage, a
type of seeing as if through only one eye of a Noh
mask in the middle of my foreheadwhich has creat-
ed a spiritual sense of seeing the world through a third
eye. This refers to the brow chakra, which is consid-
ered the transmitter of the Transpersonal in the Prism
of Consciousness. This is my personal experience and
I believe worth reporting. Noh masks create an addi-
tional meditative and centering effect on the wearer
because the wearer does not experience the general
feeling of being protected, which is typical of other
types of masks. As a result, Noh masks seem at first to
redirect the wearers awareness toward their inner
sight. After the initial meditative period, the attention
seems to be redirected away from the body ego aware-
62 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
ness, which makes transcendence and connection with
the audience at a transpersonal level possible.
Conclusion
Transpersonal reality was present in the masked rituals
of numerous ancient cultures. In drama therapy, masks
are mostly used for the personal or the body/ego and
shadow healing. Ancient Noh Theater emulates many
aspect of its spiritual predecessor, kagura, and has
retained up to the present many transpersonal ritualis-
tic dimensions in its performances. The Creative Way
of NohKiDo consists of the Prism of Consciousness
tool, which lends itself as a useful assessment tool both
for the Rainbow Method and for Therapeutic Noh
Theater processes and practices.
In the Creative Way of NohKiDo, as was the case
in classic Noh, the spiritual development of the partic-
ipants via artistic/creative training is the essence. The
experience of an actor of Therapeutic Noh Theater
may vary greatly depending on the actors ability to be
present. In Therapeutic Noh Theater, meditative
dance accompanied with ancient music and chant can
be a powerful experience both to the actor and to the
members of an audience. The numerous Action medi-
tation methods imbedded in the NohKiDo all prepare
the participants for their engagement in the
Therapeutic Noh Theater training, rehearsals, and
public performances.
The spiritual transformative powers of masks vary,
depending on how they were made and how they are
used. Ancient men and women, as well as Zenchiku,
believed that the spiritually evolved mask maker would
leave his or her spirituality imprinted into the masks
he or she carved. Masks are made mostly from papier-
mache, carved wood or molded leather. Compared to
masks made of other materials, the carved masks seem
to have more power onstage, yet there are no absolute
distinctions between the seeming powers of carved
masks and those of the others.
Therapeutic Noh Theater performances take place
mostly once a year, owing to time limitations as well as
the performers need for extended rehearsals.
NohKiDo as a method is my lifelong pursuit. All of its
concepts and methods are being developed further. I
dream of the day when I can dedicate my full-time
attention to NohKiDo, teaching and practicing it as
well as performing in Therapeutic Noh Theater.
When I consider functions of masks in the masked
ancient rite and ritual dances and then compare them
with the functions of masks in NohKiDo, I realize that
both NohKiDo and Therapeutic Noh Theater have
received the heritage of the ancient sacred masked
dance traditions. This heritage is not complete nor
inclusive of all the different functions, but bears the
unique premise that masks are sacred objects and the
potential transmitters of their wearers consciousness
from personal to transpersonal realities.
Contemporary actors of ancient classic Noh Theater
are still today holding onto the spiritual traditions.
They accept the high demands of the actor/dancers
personal growth as an artist and as a creative individ-
ual on the path to the enlightenment through cre-
ative/artistic pursuit, laid out by Zeami and Zenchiku.
Similarly, the Creative Way of NohKiDo is a path with
multiple components focused on the spiritual growth
of the participant, via the path of creative and artistic
excellence.
The roads to enlightenment or to mystic Christ
consciousness are endless. It is my belief that a street
sweeper can reach enlightenment of mystic Christ
consciousness through true, sincere, and dedicated
service through his or her vocation. It is also possible
to find Christ consciousness through the sincere, ded-
icated, and humble pursuit in the arts and creativity as
offered in the Creative Way of NohKiDo. At first, we
as spiritual beings need to find a way to communicate
with the higher self or the transpersonal within.
Through that higher self or the transpersonal
through inspiration, creativity, and intuitionwe are
able eventually to communicate with God. Creativity
is the divine gift given to us all as a birthright of
human beings, and via creativity we can also be direct-
ly inspired by the Divine within.
It is also my premise that all masks are not created
equal. I agree with Iwao Kongoh, who talks of the
power of some individual masks, as well as with
Zenchiku, who saw masks as sacred media empowered
by their maker.
Ancient men and women protected themselves
with sacred masks and masked rituals against the
threats of unknown spiritual forces. In NohKiDo, the
masks aid the participants to connect and reconnect
with their denied or unknown spiritual selves.
Whether or not the masked dances or masked ritual
performances of Therapeutic Noh Theater enable the
participating actors to connect with their transperson-
al selves and see themselves with the eyes of the audi-
ence depends on each individual and his or her ability
to be totally present and to detach transpersonally. It
also depends on the individuals total dedication to his
or her path.
Author Note
NohKiDo, The Creative Path of NohKiDoh,
and Therapeutic Noh Theater are the trademarks of
Sirkku M. Sky Hiltunen, Ph.D., Ed.D., RDT-BCT,
ATR, LPC, MT.
References
Averbuch, I. (1995). The gods come dancing. Ithaca,
NY: East Asia Program, Cornell University.
Barrager-Dunne, P. (1992). The narrative therapist and
the arts: Expanding possibilities through drama,
movement, puppets, masks and drawings. Los
Angeles: Drama Therapy Institute of Los Angeles.
Bethe, M. (1984). Okina: An interview with
Takayabashi Koji. Mime journal, 93-103.
Emunah, R. (1994). Acting for real: Drama therapy
process, technique and performance. New York:
Brunner/Mazel Publishers.
Fryrear, J. L., & Stephens, B. C. (1988). Group psy-
chotherapy using masks and video to facilitate
intrapersonal communication. The Arts in Psycho-
therapy, 15, 227-234.
Gerity,. L. A. (2000). The subversive art therapist:
Embracing cultural diversity in the art room. Art
Therapy: Journal of the American Art Therapy
Association, 17(3), 202-206.
Grainger, R. (1995). Drama and healing:The roots of
drama therapy. Bristol, PA: Jessica Kingsley
Publishers.
Henley, D. R. (1994). Transcultural responses to aes-
thetic and therapeutic experience: An ethnological
approach. Art Therapy: Journal of the American Art
Therapy Association, 11(3), 194-199.
Hiltunen, S. M. S. (2003a). Bereavement, lamenting
and the Prism of Consciousness: some practical
considerations. The Arts in Psychotherapy. 30, 217-228.
Hiltunen, S. M. S. (2003b). I need to be a turtle,
reflective, mindful and slow: The projective prism
of consciousness in poetry therapy. Journal of Poetry
Therapy. 16(3), 153-176.
Transpersonal Functions of Masks 63
Hiltunen, S. M. S. (2001). Seven stages of woman-
hood: A contemporary healing ritual from the
Finnish mythology of the Kalevala. The Journal of
Transpersonal Psychology, 33(2), 113-129.
Hiltunen, S.M.S. (1988). Initial therapeutic applica-
tions of Noh Theater in drama therapy. The Journal
of Transpersonal Psychology, 20(1), 71-79.
Hoff, F. (1978). Song, dance, storytelling: Aspects of the
performing arts in Japan (4th printing). Ithaca, NY:
East Asia Program, Cornell University.
Holt, D. (1992). Enactment, therapy and behavior. In
S. Jennings (Ed.). Drama therapy: Theory and prac-
tice (n.p.). New York: Tavistock/ Routledge.
Jennings, S. (1992). (Ed.). Drama therapy: Theory and
practice. New York: Tavistock/Routledge.
Jennings, S. (1995). Theatre, ritual and transformation.
New York: Routledge.
Jones, P. (1996). Drama as therapy: Theatre as living.
New York: Routledge.
Kanze, H. (1984). Life with the No mask. Mime
Journal. 65-73.
Komparu, K. (1983). The Noh Theater. New York:
Weatherhill/Tankosha.
Landy, R. J. (1993). Persona and performance: The
meaning of role in drama, therapy, and everyday life.
New York: The Guilford Press.
Landy, R. J. (1986). Drama therapy: Concepts and prac-
tice. Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas.
Landy, R. J. (1996). Essays in drama therapy: The dou-
ble life. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers.
Lommel, A. (1970). Masks: Their meaning and func-
tion. New York: Excalibur Books.
Mills Dufrene, P. (1991). A comparison of the tradi-
tional education of Native American healers with
the education of American art therapists. Art
Therapy: Journal of the American Art therapy
Association, 8(1), 17-24.
Moreno, J. J. (1999). Ancient sources and modern
applications: The creative arts in psychodrama. The
Arts in Psychotherapy, 26(2), 95-101.
Naitove, C. E. (1981). A Multi-arts approach to
drama therapy with adolescents and young adults.
In G. Schattner and R. Courtney (Eds.), Drama in
therapy, Vol. 2 (pp. 243-262). New York: Drama Books.
Nearman, M. J. (1982). Kakyo: Zeamis fundamental
principles of acting. Monumenta Nipponica, 31,
299-496.
Nearman, M. J. (1984). Behind the mask of No. Mime
Journal, 20-64.
64 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
Ortolani, B. (1983). Spirituality for the dancer-actor
in Zeamis and Zenchikus writings on the No. In
B. Jones (Ed.), Dance as Cultural Heritage. (Vol. 1).
Dance Research Annual XIV. New York: CORD.
Pilgrim, R. (1972). Zeami and the way of No. History
of Religions: An International Journal for
Comparative Historical Studies, 12(1), 136-148.
Riley, O. L. (1955). Masks and magic. London:
Thames & Hudson.
Rugh, M. M. (2001). Art, nature, and aging: A
shamanic perspective. In M. Farrelly-Hansen,
(Ed.), Spirituality and art therapy (n.p).
Philadelphia: Jessica Kingsley Publishers.
Scheff, T. J. (1979). Catharsis in healing, ritual and
drama. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Shuttleworth, R. E. (1981). Adolescent drama therapy.
In G. Schattner & R. Courtney (Eds.), Drama in
therapy, Vol. 2 (pp. 157-174). New York: Drama Books.
Sorell, W. (1973). The other face. New York: Bobbs-
Merrill.
Teele, R. (1984). Reflections and thoughts on No: An
Interview with Kongo Iwao, Head of the Kongo
School of No. Mime Journal, 74- 92.
Yasuo, N. (1984). No masks: Their history and devel-
opment. Mime Journal, 114-124.
Zeami. (1970). Kadensho. (Sakurai, Hayashi, Satoi, &
Miyai, Trans.). Kyoto, Japan: The Foundation of
Sumiya-Shinobe Scholarhip.
Zeami (1975). The Fushikaden. (S. Shimada, Trans.).
Japan: Shohei Shimada.
Correspondence regarding this article should be
directed to Dr. Sirkku M. Sky Hiltunen, The Art and
Drama Therapy Institute, Inc., 327 S Street,
Washington, D.C. 20001; Tel: 202.635.1576; Fax:
202.832.2474; drsky@adtinet.com
 Metaphysical Tracking: The Oldest Ecopsychology

David Kowalewski, Ph.D.

Alfred University

Ecopsychologythe use of nature for understanding and healing the soulhas become accept-
ed as a legitimate tool by theorists and practitioners alike. Yet one important dimension of the
field has been ignored: metaphysical tracking. This article brings to light a number of mystical
phenomena that trackers, ancient and modern, have experienced, and suggests their common
root in the so-called energy body. The implications for psychospiritual growth are then
described. Finally, alternative explanations and new avenues for research are discussed.

When you see . . . a footprint you do not know,
follow it to the point of knowing.
Uncheedah,
grandmother of Lakota sage Ohiyesa
(Nerburn, 1993, p. v)
the implications for psychospiritual growth. Finally, it
evaluates the alternative explanations that skeptics
might bring forward and offers a few avenues for
future research.
The Energetics of Tracking
Modern humans who take up trackingsome-

T
he field of ecopsychology is rapidly being
accepted as a legitimate mode of psychothera-
py (Roszak, Gomes, & Kramer, 1995). The
use of nature to understand and heal the soul has an
ancient lineage (Harner, 1990), but currently has
taken some postmodern, metaphysical, New Age
twists (Gray, 1995). This paper looks at one such twist,
namely metaphysical tracking. It shows how the
ancient skill of tracking wildlife, now being rediscov-
ered in its physical dimension, has opened to contem-
porary practitioners a metaphysical, soul-awakening
dimension as well. Tracking can serve as a crash course
in natural mysticism.
This paper surveys the ways that trackers, while
absorbed in the physical technique of the art, also
experience its mystique. Based on several sources
ethnographic literature on hunter-gatherers, my own
training by professional trackers, the reports of my stu-
dents, my own experiences, and stories around wilder-
ness campfiresit focuses on the three most common
metaphysical experiences: remote tracking, auric
residue tracking, and spirit tracking. It posits their
common root in the so-called energy body, which pre-
sumably enables trackers to transcend the limitations
of the physical or space-time dimension. It then shows
times called the oldest profession because of its utility
to huntersoften discover they are engaged in a far
more mysterious endeavor than simply a new hobby or
occupation. While gathering left-brain data about
gaits, T-steps, and so on, they also start picking up
strange right-brain information that leads them to
start questioning the very nature of nature. During
these experiences, they appear to transcend space-time
and fall into a mystical flow, tapping into heretofore
unknown powers (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990). As one
Kalahari tracker put it: When tracking is like a dance,
you are like a god (Foster, Foster, & Hersov, n.d.). For
this reason, primitive trackers have astounded modern
observers. Amazonian trackers, according to one
report, seemed to know by some special extra sense
just where to find the game they sought (Lamb, 1971,
p. 64).
Until recently, modern trackers who themselves
entered this zone kept their experiences in the clos-
et. But with the growing acceptability of the
Primitive Renaissance, parapsychology, and New
Age movements, they are increasingly speaking out in
workshops (Brown, 1996), lecture tapes (Young,
1995), books (Rezendez, 1998), journals (Kowalewski,
2002b), and other venues. Even hard-nosed search-

Metaphysical Ttracking 65
and-rescue trainers, who would seemingly be very
reluctant to allow their responsibility for the lives of
their quarry to depend on worthless practices, strong-
ly recommend that their tracking students listen to
intuition (Fuller, Johnson, & Koester, 2000, p. 24).
The experiences of these trackers suggest that
something metaphysically energetic is going on. The
more deeply trackers engage in the art, the more fre-
quent and profound the experiences. Seemingly, the
more personal energy they invest in the absent crea-
tures tracks, the more they connect with its present
energyand beyond. As one practitioner of Native
American arts has put it, Indian knowing is entering
into a personal relationship with the energy of the craft
(Peat, 1995).
Yet this notion remains vague about exactly how a
tracker can transcend the limitations of space-time.
The key, I propose, lies in the notion of energy body,
alternatively known as the astral, etheric, or dreaming
body (Guiley, 1991). New Age writer Carlos
Castaneda calls it the luminous egg or luminous
ball (1998, p. 5). It is said to permeate but also to sur-
round the physical body (usually called the aura),
and to constitute part of the universal energy field to
which all creatures belong (namely the Chinese chi and
Japanese and Korean ki). Humans, according to
reports, can be taught to see the energy bodys aura
(Andrews, 1995; Kowalewski, 2002a).
Many researchers consider the energy body holo-
graphic, such that the whole is represented in every
part (Gerber, 2000). While it can manifest electromag-
netically, nonetheless its effects can be observed
through electromagnetic and other shields (Radin,
1997). It appears to contain all the perceptual pow-
ersseeing, hearing and so onof the physical body
as well as the memory of its entire history, and has
been used to explain bizarre medical phenomena such
as phantom limbs and changes in organ transplant
recipients (Burr, 1972; Eden & Feinstein, 1998;
Sheldrake, 1995). Experiments of the DNA phantom
effect have found a similar phenomenon. Randomly
scattered photons that are exposed to DNA not only
form patterns, but the patterns continue even after the
DNA is removed, as if they remembered its energy
body (Braden, 2000).
This double of the physical body seemingly
accounts for many metaphysical phenomena such as
precognition and out-of-body experiences (Guiley,
1991). While such notions are usually considered
66 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
bizarre by modern humans, they are increasingly being
supported by quantum physics (Goswami, 1996),
biology (Sheldrake, 1981), and other disciplines
(Kowalewski, 2000; McTaggart, 2002).
Thus, I propose, when trackers experience mystical
phenomena, their energy bodies somehow connect
with the energy body of the creature being tracked,
enabling them to learn about it in ways inexplicable by
the space-time data of the physical senses. The inter-
section of the energy bodies of the tracker and tracked
is seemingly observable in three common experiences:
remote tracking, auric residue tracking, and spirit
tracking.
Remote tracking might be called a type of non-
physical bilocation, or what has come to be known
as remote viewing, a phenomenon well documented
by research at Stanford and other universities (Guiley,
1991; Targ & Puthoff, 1977). It has been shown to
occur independently of distance or electromagnetic
shielding (Radin, 1997). Trackers located in one place
might be said to extend their energy body beyond their
physical body and see the creatures tracks somewhere
else far away, an observation later verified by them-
selves or others. Thus, the energy body might be said
to track the creature while the physical body remains
immobile.
In recent years, remote viewing has spawned a
flood of literature, especially concerning its use in
intelligence-gathering by the U.S. government during
the controversial Stargate program of the 1980s
(McMoneagle, 1993; Morehouse, 1998; Schnabel,
1997). The phenomenon, however, has a long pedi-
gree in tracking lore. One story in tracking circles goes
like this:
An Englishman in Australia came across an aborig-
ine sitting on the ground and staring into space,
and asked, What are you doing? Tracking,
came the reply. But youre not moving, objected
the Englishman. I dont have to, said the aborig-
ine, Im tracking out there, pointing to a distant
hillside. He then proceeded to describe the location
of the creature and sketch all its tracks. The
Englishman later verified the claim.
Such lore finds more formal expression in the
ethnographic literature on hunter-gatherers. One
anthropologist recorded these remote tracking experi-
ences of a Kalahari Bushman:
I see everything. . . . I can see hyenas, lions, and
 leopards. I can even see tracks . . . far away. . . . My
eyes start turning around in my head . . . and
[w]hen I look out to the bush, I can see a lion mak-
ing low growling sounds, far away. I can see his face
very clearly, and I tell the others, Hey! Hey!
Theres a lion out there. . . . Then later on they see
the tracks of the animal and say, Kau Dwa was
right! (Katz, 1982, pp. 216-217)
Or consider this account from Labrador:
[T]he old hunter was looking for traces of a bear
[that were] . . . swept away bythe icy winds and lost
in a deep snowdrift. All that the old hunter saw
were the footprints of the bear immediately around
him. But the footprints led nowhere. . . . The old
man squatted down next to the bear tracks. He
pulled his blanket over his head, creating darkness
. . . [and] gaze[d] on the footprints. He began to
see . . . prints . . . leading in a certain direction. The
old man got up, followed the prints he had seen,
and soon found the bear and killed it. (Speck,
1935, p. 160)
Of course, one might dismiss this and similar
accounts as mere braggadocio, lying, or other false-
hood. But for hunter-gatherers, tracking is a serious,
even sacred, business, and not a subject for frivolous
jokes (Brown, 1978). They must produce results,
physically or metaphysically, otherwise hunger is not
far away (see Liebenberg, 1990; Lyell, 1929, p. 36).
Certain such trackers, as in the Blackfoot nation,
claim to see the tracks while asleep. They say they track
an animal in their dreams and then, after waking phys-
ically, find the tracks at the place where it was moving
at the time they were sleeping (Peat, 1995). According
to another report,
Some Dene could rely on their dreams and spiritu-
al traveling to . . . locate food. . . . They could see
where their path would cross with an animals on
the physical earth and then could go to that spot
and make the kill easily. (Meili, 1991, p. 126)
Such reports should not be too surprising, given the
amount of research supporting the notion of precogni-
tive dreaming (see Guiley, 1991).
I once saw a master tracker dispatch a new student
to a thick patch of woods 30 yards away, tell him to
place a stick in the ground just behind his foot, then
claim that the stick was now at the back of the heel of
a red fox track. The claim was immediately verified.
This tracker, it should be mentioned, has solved over
500 cases involving missing children, escaped prison-
ers, lost hunters, and the like for police, park officials,
and so on (Brown, 1978, 1996).
I have personally been team-tracking in a hide-
and-seek game when I saw our quarrys tracks in my
minds eye suddenly stretch far ahead, then loop
around behind us and lead into a grove of trees. Ill
bet hes right over there, I told my partners, pointing
back to the grove. We went to the trees, where in fact
he was hiding. How did you know I was here without
seeing the tracks? he asked me in amazement. But I
did see the tracks, I answered. I certainly did not
hear or see his body moving out of the corner of my
eyes, see his physical tracks in the distance, or notice
my fellow trackers detecting him or his tracks far
ahead. Similarly, one tracking teacher tells his students
to meditate on where a known cougar in the vicinity is
presently moving; they then go out and find its tracks
at the spot they saw them in their minds eye (Young,
1995).
Since trackers, while in remote-viewing mode,
seem to be transcending space-time, they appear to see
tracks made far away and long ago. In my university
course on psychic policing, I once asked students to
remote-view a crime scene of a recent mystery case (the
Jon-Benet Ramsey murder on Christmas eve in
Colorado) while they were sitting in our classroom in
New York state. One student drew the entire crime
scene perfectly (house faade, snow-covered moun-
tains, Christmas presents and stockings, and so on),
including tracks leading away from the house. Reports
of the crime indicated that tracks had indeed been
detected at the scene (see also Cortesi, 1987; Druffel
& Marcotte, 1983).
Remote viewing, like other metaphysical skills, can
make ones physical life much easier. It can save the
tracker endless time and exertion. Some trackers sim-
ply stare at a track in a state of trance and envision the
creature moving away from them, thus avoiding the
need to see every track. The skill, therefore, may have
life-saving consequences in law enforcement and
search-and-rescue efforts, when time is of the essence.
Indeed, since it undoubtedly contributed to hunting
success among ancient peoples, we can speculate that
evolution hard-wired the ability into our psyches to
enhance survival chances.
Thus, apparently, trackers have the ability to see
Metaphysical Ttracking 67
footprints made beyond the here and now, presumably
by connecting their energy body with the energy body
of the tracked creature. Judging from the evidence, by
far the easiest way to track is to do nothing, or more
accurately, to let ones energetic scout do the work.
For good reason have Native-American trackers been
traditionally used as scouts by the U.S. military. Do
less and be more, as some New Agers have said, may
be the appropriate maxim for a tracker.
Auric Residues
Auric-residue tracking might be defined as the
gleaning of information from metaphysical tracks,
namely, detecting the energetic traces left by feet on a
substrate. According to one ancient belief, the soul
substance of a creature adheres to all physical things
with which it has been in contact (Kalweit, 1988).
Thus, for the metaphysical tracker, the creature
appears to leave energetic remains on everything its
body has touched.
Such auric residues are commonly said to be read
by psychometrists helping police solve crimes from
objects touched by victims and perpetrators at the
scene (Elkin, 1994; Hibbard & Worring, 2002;
Ostrander & Schroeder, 1997). Similarly, according to
a compendium of research on alternative healing,
objects touched by powerful healers affect patients
thousands of miles away (Benor, 1992).
Auric residues appear to carry, holographically, the
entire psyche of the creature, and hence the tracks are
sometimes termed signatures (i.e., the creatures
unique metaphysical fingerprints) (Brown, 1996;
Murphy, 1992). Since the creatures energy body is
said to be the seat of its memory, the residues appear
to contain its entire history. These energy traces seem
responsible for the common statement made by track-
ers, Tracks are a window into an animals soul. These
trackers seem in effect to be following creatures ener-
gy paths, on a substrate that acts much like a crime-
scene object psychometrized by a police psychic. In
short, the substrate appears to remember the crea-
tures that stepped on it, containing information about
them that the tracker can access.
The traces seemingly remain linked to the crea-
tures energy body. Thus each track appears energeti-
cally connected to its maker at the end of the path. For
this reason, perhaps, some First Nations teachers say
that if you step on a bear print, the bear will get angry
because it literally feels your foot.
68 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
Indeed, some modern ecologists have claimed that
the special feel of a place is caused by longstanding
networks of crisscrossing auric trackways.
Each path and track has its own sensitivity and psy-
chic existence, shaped by the consciousness of
those who have made it and used it. That is why
some old roads have a strong energetic personality
and can give rise to certain states of being, making
one open to the inspiration of the spirit of the
place. (Vogt & Vogt, 1999, p. 35)
The ethnographic literature is also full of stories about
auric-residue tracks. In one report on Australian abo-
rigines,
The tribal members . . . recognize at a glance
themarkson the sand.Theycan tellif
the person is feeling well or[ill].Their percep-
tion is developed well beyond the limitations of
people growing up in other cultures. Their senses
seem to be on superhuman levels. Footprints
have vibrations that tell much more than merely
what one sees on the sand. (Morgan, 1994, p. 59)
Such accounts might be dismissed as simple imagin-
ings, except for the simple fact of quantum physics
of which these primitive trackers were undoubtedly
unaware in the formal sensethat the universe at its
deepest level consists of vibrations (Goswami, 1996;
Guiley, 1991; Jenny, 2001).
One can also find reports of auric-residue tracks
left by presumably nonphysical creatures on physical
substrates. Lakota visionary Black Elk noted such an
occurrence in his description of an Elk Ceremony:
The virginswentback to the tipiThen the
six elk men went into the tipi. After we got into
this sacred place we could see tracks of all kinds of
animals in therespirit tracks. (De Mallie, 1984,
pp. 243-244)
Wet footprints are often reported as appearing
mysteriously in the bathrooms of haunted hotels and,
as is well known in psychic circles, beside the swim-
ming pool of the Queen Mary.
Auric-residue prints have also been seen by humans
while awake but deliberately tracking on the other
side, in the metaphysical realm. It is said, for exam-
ple, that the shaman who journeys into nonordinary
reality to retrieve lost soul parts, or to find unconscious
or comatose or deceased souls, may follow their ener-
getic tracks or spirit trails to establish contact
(Ingerman, 2001).
Trackers claim to pick up many sensations on an
auric pathway, yet the perceptions vary widely depend-
ing on personal history, culture, and other variables
(Guiley, 1991). Common experiences, however,
include luminous orbs, silver and gold ribbons, fuzzi-
ness, itching on solar plexus and kidneys, tingling,
heaviness, sponginess, pressure, magnetic pulls, and
pulses (Young, 1995). In the words of one tracker,
One nightI noticed a much more
heightenedawarenessthan Id normally had. chometrists, the residues are said to contain a wealth of
[T]he trails were talking to meI was literally
hearing things from the forest around me. I was
having a lot of really intense instinctive experi-
ences, knowing things before they happened. I
was definitely walkingin alpha state, if not a
deeper statewhere I was able to seethe animal
trails all around me as shimmering light. (Young,
1999, tape 4)
One night while I was tracking a deer, the trail sud-
denly lit up like a silver ribbon. My logical mind
immediately interjected that I was probably just seeing
moonlight reflected off crystal-like grains of moist
sand. However, I looked up and saw only a dark and
overcast sky, and the substrate was dry. The next morn-
ing I returned to the site and saw no white sand but
instead a dark and dull trail of leaves, twigs, and other
debris.
One tracker I met feels electric shocks in his palm
when its held over a track. Others experience vibra-
tions, which, as suggested above, are what connect us
all. The intensity of the experiences also varies, the key
determinant being apparently the emotionality of the
creature at the time it made the track. Psychometrists
working on police cases regularly detect, and indeed
experience, strong emotions from the objects left at the
scenes of violent crimes.
Yet perhaps the most common experience is heat.
In the coldest days of winter, trackers in the zone
(i.e., trackers actively and efficiently using auric
residues to track an animal) report feeling hot and
shedding their clothes despite subfreezing ambient
temperatures. While teaching, I commonly see my stu-
dents, after a long afternoon of intense tracking in
freezing temperatures, walking home with their hats
and heavy parkas draped over bare arms. Among the
Bushmen of southern Africa,
!Xo hunters maintain that ifthey feel a burning
sensation in the middle
of their foreheadsthentheir quarry is just
ahead. Somesathat this feelingis accom-
panied by perspiring under the arms. (Liebenberg,
1990, p. 93)
Presumably it is these sensations that gave rise to the
popular expressions, warm trail and hot on the
trail.
As in proven cases of crimes solved by police psy-
information about the creature being tracked
(Hibbard & Worring, 2002). A belief among the
Lakota claims that we can talk to the animals through
their trails (Young, 1995). While holding their hands
over a track and consciously trying to read its energy,
my students regularly perform better than chance
would predict in determining the creatures sex, age,
hunger, thirst, sleepiness, points of origin and destina-
tion, disease, and other characteristics. When an
Akamba tracker was asked why he was looking so
intently at a track, he replied,
I can look into this track and see this
animalwhere it is nowthe condition that it is
in. I know what it is doing right now. I know it
is lying down, looking out across the countryside. I
can see it there in the grass. I can see the size of it.
I can tell who it is. (cited in Young, 1995)
These flashes of where the animal is located at the
time, which are later verified, undoubtedly help
account for the term talking trails:
Isawsilver lines going across the landscape
three distinct silver lineslike duct tape.So I
said to my friend, Hey, what are these lines on the
ground? and she said, What lines?We contin-
ued on our way. I was trying to see foot-
printsbut you couldnt see a footprint because
the ground was baked hard. All of a
suddenthree deer butts appeared right in front of
my eyesas if someone was flashing a video.
You could reach through them, they werent real-
ly there. I sawthree deer butts, moving away
from me, laying down the silver lines. I found
myself jogging down these three lines. When we
enteredinto a little valleythree deer jumped up
out of their day beds and bounded away. (Young,
1995)
Metaphysical Ttracking 69
 According to a Mohawk belief, as soon as you look
at a wild animals track, it will raise its head and look
back over its shoulder (Young, 1995).
Thus, the trackers energy body appears to operate
like an antenna picking up the waves or vibrations
emitted by the residues of the creatures energy body.
Quite easily, it seems, the energy body of the tracker
connects with the residues of the energy body of the
tracked.
Spirit Tracking
Spirit tracking is said to occur when the tracker is
seized, or possessed, by the soul of the creature.
According to reports, it is becoming so engaged in the
energetics of the pathway that the physical tracks are
forgotten and one shapeshifts into the creature, mov-
ing over the landscape as it did at the time. This phe-
nomenon is said to enable the tracker to experience the
world as the creature did at the time it was making the
tracks. As one First Nations tracker, Charles
Goodfoote, has put it, A track is where the spirit of
the tracked, and thetracker, meet (cited in
Hanratty, 1997, p. 55).
One afternoon while in the zone tracking a red
fox, I suddenly started smelling wood smoke behind
me. This seemed very strange, since I was tracking into
the wind, there was no sign of fire anywhere, and I was
far from any human dwelling. I continued on for a
while, then started returning home by the same route.
On the way back, I passed the site where I had smelled
the smoke; then a few minutes later looked up and
saw, above me, smoke rising straight up from a farm-
house chimney several hundred yards away. Since I
had been tracking into the wind, and since the weath-
er was mild with no erratic prestorm winds, it seemed
highly unlikely that the smoke had been carried by the
breeze. It was difficult not to speculate that I had
smelled the smoke with the same olfactory power as
the fox I had been tracking.
Such experiences could still be dismissed as fantasy,
were it not for recent breakthroughs in humananimal
communication. Some experienced veterinary scien-
tists, for example, now speak of a magical connection
between species. Humans, they say, can create spiri-
tual bonds with animals (Schoen, 2001, pp. 154,
203).
When spirit tracking occurs, one appears to cross
the species barrier. The experience presumably
accounts for the Lakota legend about a boy who once
70 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
tracked a buffalo for so long that he became one. Spirit
tracking is thinking, feeling, and reacting exactly like
the creature being followed. According to one tracking
teacher, one must become the animal that is being
tracked in order to become a master tracker (Brown,
1996). Some tracking schools teach their students to
role-play the creature to be tracked, in order to experi-
ence the landscape as it does. Certainly this method
helps to physically understand the tracks of a given
species. But once spirit tracking happens, as my own
experience indicates, one is already way beyond any
game of lets pretend.
The first time spirit tracking occurs, most trackers
start questioning their sanity. For instance, Brown
(1996) has noted that when vegetarians engage in fox
tracking, they experience a desire to eat rabbit. The
students I train to spirit-track deer suddenly want, in
their words, to bed down under some pines or
munch on some buds (Smith, 1998). I have tried to
dismiss these reports as mere imaginings or simple
acoustical or other natural happenings (e.g., sounds
carry farther at night). Yet, in my judgment, the feats
were too unusualand in many cases verifiedand
experienced by too serious a group of students to be so
easily disregarded.
Spirit trackers, in short, seem to know exactly what it
is like to be another species. For good reason, it seems,
First Nations peoples have always claimed that wild
animals are our best teachers. Or, as I heard one mod-
ern tracker say, deer can teach you more about deer
than any biologist ever could.
Yet spirit tracking, while certainly fun, was hardly a
trivial pursuit for native peoples, who traditionally
used it to better survive (e.g., to sense danger farther
away than their limited physical sense perceptions
could reach). Spirit tracking, as with all metaphors of
native peoples, seems much more than simple poetry;
specifically, it seems to be about survivalas individ-
uals, peoples, and indeed the human species.
Further, because of the intensity of the experiences,
some spirit trackers recommend metaphysical or auric
shielding, especially when tracking humans (see
Braud, 1984). Since they seem to feel exactly what the
tracked creature felt at the time, trackers may unknow-
ingly pick up negative feelings and suffer the emotion-
al consequences. One afternoon in the woods a friend
and I followed human tracks that led to a pile of litter
left from a drinking party the night before. The place
reeked of beer from broken bottles. Within seconds we
were laughing uncontrollablyapparently a kind of
metaphysical contact highyet the place had a men-
acing feel as well. That night we both had dreams
about physical violence. The next day we learned there
had almost been a fight at the party. In a similar vein,
during hunting season I have occasionally felt the pain
of wounded animals whose blood trails I was follow-
ing. Although such impressions might be written off as
paranoia, fantasy, or just good guessing, they were only
experienced while tracking and certainly felt otherwise
in body and soul.
At the same time, spirit tracking seems an easy way to
ecstasy. Spirit trackers claim to lose egoic self-absorp-
tion, stepping out of ordinary reality to experience
oneness with another creatureindeed with another
species. According to one Bushmen tracker,
Tracking is like dancing, because your body is
happy. The hunter becomes the prey and knows
where it is.When I was running, I really was a
kudu.You feel it in your body.When you feel
you are getting close, you feel a tingling in your
armpitsyou have taken kudu into your own
mindyou see through its eyes. (Foster et al., n.d.)
The feelings appear to become more elaborate as
the tracker closes in on the quarry, as another account
of Bushmen trackers reveals:
The hunterwould say that a springbok seemed
to be coming, for he could feel the black hair (on
the sides of the springbok).The hunter could feel
a sensation in the calves of his legs when the spring-
boks blood was going to run down them, for he
would always feel blood when he was about to kill
a springbok.He would have a sensation in his
feet as he felt the feet of the springbok rustling
through the bushes. The hunter would have a sen-
sation in his face on account of the blackness of the
stripe on the face of the springbok, and he would
feel a sensation in his eyes on account of the black
marks on the eyes of the springbok. (Liebenberg,
1990, p. 94)
Such accounts, again, are often verified: the spring-
bok was in fact closer than before, and the observers
dined on wild steak that night.
Spirit tracking seems, in short, an intimate way to
know a species. When First Nations peoples refer to
wildlife as all their relations, they appear to be truly
talking about their energetic kin. Spirit tracking seems
tantamount to losing ones human identity and expe-
riencing the world as another species. The trackers
energy body, we might say, connectsor better,
mergeswith the energy body of the tracked. Perhaps
for this reason, the wild animals we track one day often
show up on our porch the next.
Soul Shift
Tracking, therefore, seems to present a doorway to
transcendence. Indeed, experiences of metaphysical
tracking often result in psychospiritual transformation
of the deepest kind in the soul of the tracker. Like
near-death experiencers, trackers often undergo a
metamorphosis resulting in substantial life changes
(Moody, 1975, 1977, 1988). Stories abound in track-
er circles about abandoned jobs, marriages, friend-
ships, residences, and so on. After telling a Paiute
tracker about seeing these kinds of soul shift in my
friends, he confirmed: Yup, your life changes a lot
when you really start looking. The mountain recluse
of today may well be the tracking novice of yesterday.
As a result, many teachers feel obligated to advise their
new students, Do not leave your day job!
Why the transformation? The key lies, I believe, in
the energetics of tracking. It is one thing to follow
physical tracks; its another thing entirely to follow
energetic ones. When doing so, the creatures trail on a
landscape becomes a metaphor for ones own life path.
After following creatures energy bodies with ones
own, one gradually becomes an expert tracker of ener-
gy itself. Before long, unsurprisingly, one begins to
track ones own energy, ones inscape, and eventually to
compile an energy audit of ones life. One starts to
track oneself.
In particular, a wild creature exposes civilized ills, as
trackers compare its awareness, and especially its sheer
exuberance, with their own. They begin to find, as one
teacher put it, the wild within (Rezendez, 1998; see
also Plotkin, 2003). According to the many stories I
have heard, the process goes something like this. These
trackers no longer feel comfortable energetically with
their old lives, and begin to long for a new oneone
of maximum energy, which some metaphysical teach-
ers might call the path toward their destiny. In short,
they begin to track their lifes purpose, and many part-
ners, colleagues, friends, and the like no longer fit on
that path. Or, in a Jungian word, they track down their
rejected wild soul parts and reintegrate them into their
psyche, such that they literally become new energetic
Metaphysical Ttracking 71
beings at odds with their old lives. Civilization itself
becomes increasingly intolerable after de-domesticat-
ing and re-wilding themselves. After engaging the wild
soul parts they abandoned for civilization, they start to
realize the ecstasy they had been missing. They see that
they have sold their destiny for a civilized illusion. The
wild trail, it seems, is a royal road to authenticity.
Yet usually this realization is only a temporary dark
night of the soul. When trackers discover that the very
wildlife whose energy they have come to experience so
intimately is threatened by that very civilization they
were starting to reject, most choose to delay the moun-
tain-man lifestyle for one of service to save that wildlife
from that civilization. Their psychology leads to ecol-
ogy. Put another way, they become ecopsychologists
(Roszak et al., 1995). As one tracker told me,
Tracking is finding the rest of yourself. At that point,
they realize that human destiny is a mighty crooked
roadand one that leads full circle.
Conclusion
Without doubt, such claims will cause some skep-
tics to rub their hands in glee. Yet the following points
may bring a little sobriety. First, skeptics have to
explain the cross-spatial and cross-temporal continuity
of accounts. Metaphysical tracking phenomena seem
universal, having being reported across the world
across the centuries. How so? Did all these respondents
somehow meet in secret just to put one over on the
anthropologists? (If they did, the fact alone might con-
stitute corroborating evidence.) More likely, humans
are hard-wired for metaphysical tracking and similar
phenomena via the brains ability to produce the alpha
and theta waves generating altered states of conscious-
ness to serve survival. Metaphysical tracking, it seems
clear, can make the hungry human truly awesome at
huntinga basic survival skillregardless of personal
physical limitations, difficult substrates, weather dis-
turbances, or other banes of the tracker. Metaphysical
tracking, one could hypothesize, is evolutions way of
serving our species.
Second, some skeptics will claim that the reports
simply reflect a magical thinking of primitives. Yet
the most modern and scientific of todays humans,
including computer technicians, biologists, engineers,
and the like, are perfectly capablealbeit to their great
surpriseof tapping into metaphysical tracks. These
humans would have loathed being called magical
thinkers, yet they still had the metaphysical experi-
72 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
ences.
Third, some skeptics will claim that the reports
simply result from an acquired ability to read very sub-
tle physical cues on a landscape. This objection must
be taken seriously. After years of dirt time, trackers
do in fact show a heightened physical awareness,
enabling them to see tiny signs like leaf nibbles, over-
turned pebbles, and the like, to which the average civ-
ilized human is totally oblivious. Yet this awareness
remains at the physical level and does vary strongly
with amount of time spent tracking. Metaphysical
tracking, on the other hand, seems completely inde-
pendent of years of experience and may occur at very
young ages. According to a compendium of research
on metaphysical phenomena, At an early age, most
Native Americansexperience the supernatural
communicate with animals (Guiley, 1991, p. 389).
Consider, for example, this English trackers account
from Africa:
[T]he best native trackersact more from instinct
than reasoning.I have seen aten year-old who
was a marvelous tracker. His eyes were as sharp as
needles.I have never seen his equal.Such a
youngster could not have had time to learn much
in his short life, so his proficiency must have been
instinctive. (Lyell, 1929, pp. 35-36)
I myself, as suggested above, have enabled at least a few
completely neophyte young trackers to experience
such phenomena.
Fourth, some skeptics will claim that the reports
simply arise from an unconscious familiarity with a
landscape after years of living there. Yet I have heard
many accounts from trackers, including my own stu-
dents, of metaphysical experiences that occurred on
totally or fairly new landscapes. Indeed, these accounts
are consistent with findings from studies of the para-
normal. Metaphysical experiences are in fact more like-
ly in new than old situations, where the well-known
decline effect from boredom sets in (Guiley, 1991). In
short, metaphysical tracking experiences are more like-
ly on unfamiliar than familiar landscapes.
Finally, some may claim that the experiences result
from telepathic communication with other trackers.
While this cannot be ruled out in group tracking situ-
ations, all the types of mystical tracking also occur
while tracking alone.
Still, some skeptics will demand more conclusive
evidence, preferably in the form of scientific studies.
Such research could easily be designed. For example,
two groups of equally experienced trackers could track
the same landscape; one group, however, could be
trained in the skills of remote viewing (Guiley, 1991),
seeing auras (Andrews, 1995), and the like. The suc-
cess rates of the two groups, such as percentage of
tracks detected, could then be statistically compared.
Likewise, trackers could be surveyed to measure (1)
metaphysical experiences and (2) number of major life
changes. The two variables could then be correlated
for statistical significance.
Some skeptics, however, will remain unconvinced.
I invite them to just start tracking. In any case their
doubts, undoubtedly, will fail to bring an end to
reports of mystical tracking. The landscape will con-
tinue teaching trackers about their inscapes.
References
Andrews, T. (1995). How to see and read the aura. St.
Paul, MN: Llewellyn.
Benor, D. (1992). Healing research. Oxfordshire, UK:
Helix.
Braden, G. (2000). The Isaiah effect: Decoding the lost
science of prayer and prophecy. New York: Harmony.
Braud, W. (1984). Blocking/shielding psychic func-
tioning through psychological and psychic tech-
niques: A report of three preliminary studies. In R.
White & I. Solfvin (Eds.), Research in parapsychol-
ogy 1984 (pp. 42-44). Metuchen, NY: Scarecrow.
Brown, T., Jr. (1978). The tracker. Englewood Cliffs,
NJ: Prentice-Hall.
Brown, T., Jr. (1996). Advanced tracking course.
Asbury, NJ: Tracker School.
Burr, H. (1972). Fields of life. New York: Ballantine.
Castaneda, C. (1998). Magical passes: The practical
wisdom of the shamans of ancient Mexico. New York:
Harper Collins.
Cortesi, L. (1987). Psychic tracks a killer. Fate, 40, 68-
75.
Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1990). Flow: The psychology of
optimal experience. San Francisco: Harper & Row.
DeMallie, R. (1984). Sixth grandfather: Black Elks
teachings given to John Neihardt. Lincoln:
University of Nebraska Press.
Druffel, A., with Marcotte, A. (1983). The psychic and
the detective. San Diego, CA: AC.
Eden, D., & Feinstein, D. (1998). Energy medicine.
New York: Tarcher-Putnam.
Elkin, A.P. (1994). Aboriginal men of high degree.
Rochester, VT: Inner Traditions.
Foster, C., Foster, D., & Hersov, J. (n.d.). Great dance:
A hunters story [Videotape]. Cape Town, South
Africa: Refinery.
Fuller, G., Johnson, E., & Koester, R. (2000). Man-
trackers and dog-handlers in search-and-rescue.
Charlottesville, VA: dRS.
Gerber, R. (2000). Vibrational medicine for the twenti-
eth century. New York: Harper Collins.
Goswami, A. (1996). Quantum consciousness and the
future. [Audiotape]. San Francisco: New
Dimensions.
Gray, L. (1995). Ecopsychology and shamanism.
Workshop at Rowe Conference Center, Rowe,
MA.
Guiley, R. (1991). Encyclopedia of mystical and para-
normal experience. San Francisco: Harper.
Harner, M. (1990). Way of the shaman. San Francisco:
HarperCollins.
Hibbard, W., & Worring, R. (2002). Psychic criminol-
ogy. Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas.
Ingerman, S. (2001). Workshop in advanced shaman-
ism. Santa Fe, NM.
Jenny, H. (2001). Cymatics: A study of wave phenomena
and vibration. Newmarket, NH: MACROmedia.
Kalweit, H. (1988). Dreamtime and inner space.
Boston: Shambhala.
Katz, R. (1982). Boiling energy: Community healing
among the Kalahari Kung.
Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Kowalewski, D. (2000). Deep power: The political ecol-
ogy of wilderness and civilization. Huntington, NY:
Nova Science.
Kowalewski, D. (2002a). Teaching deep ecology: A
student assessment. Journal of Environmental
Education, 33, 20-27.
Kowalewski, D. (2002b). Tracking and stalking the
wild: A course description. Green Teacher, 69, 7-14.
Lamb, F. (1971). Wizard of the upper Amazon. Boston:
Houghton-Mifflin.
Liebenberg, L. (1990).The art of tracking: The origin of
science. Claremont, South Africa: David Philip.
Lyell, D. (1929). Hunting and spoor of Central African
game. London: Seeley & Service.
McMoneagle, J. (1993). Mind trek. Charlottesville,
VA: Hampton Roads.
McTaggart, L. (2002). The field: The quest for the secret
force of the universe. New York: Harper Collins.
Metaphysical Ttracking 73
Meili, D. (1991). Those who know: Profiles of Albertas Correspondence regarding this article should be
native elders. Edmonton, Alberta: Newest. directed to the author at Division of Environmental
Moody, R. (1975). Life after life. New York: Bantam. Studies and Social Sciences, Alfred University, Alfred,
Moody, R. (1977) Reflections on life after life. NY, 14802; or e-mail: fkowalewski@alfred.edu.
Harrisburg, PA: Stackpole.
Moody, R. (1988) Light beyond. New York: Bantam.
Morehouse, D. (1998). Psychic warriors. New York: St.
Martins.
Morgan, M. (1994). Mutant message down under. New
York: HarperCollins.
Murphy, M. (1992). The future of the body:
Explorations into the further evolution of human
nature. Los Angeles: Jeremy Tarcher.
Nerburn, K. (1993). The soul of an Indian and other
writings. San Rafael, CA: New World Library.
Ostrander, S., & Schroeder, L. (1997). Psychic discov-
eries. New York: Marlowe.
Peat, F. (1995). Blackfoot physics. London: Fourth
Estate.
Plotkin, B. (2003). Soulcraft: Crossing into the mysteries
of nature and psyche. Novato, CA: New World
Library.
Radin, D. (1997). The conscious universe: The scientif-
ic truth of psychic phenomena. New York: Harper
Edge
Rezendez, P. (1998). Wild within. New York: Tarcher-
Putnam.
Roszak, T., Gomes, M., & Kramer, A. (1995).
Ecopsychology. San Francisco, Sierra Club.
Schoen, A. (2001). Kindred spirits. New York:
Broadway.
Schnabel, J. (1997). Remote viewers: The secret history
of Americas psychic spies. New York: Dell.
Sheldrake, R. (1981). A new science of life. London:
Blond & Briggs.
Sheldrake, R. (1995). Seven experiments that could
change the world. New York: Riverhead.
Smith, D. (1998). On the right track. Laureate, 2, 5.
Speck, F. (1935). Neskapi: The savage hunters of the
Labrador peninsula. Norman: University of
Oklahoma Press.
Targ, R., & Puthoff, H. (1977). Mind-reach: Scientists
look at psychic ability. New York: Delacorte.
Vogt, N., & Vogt, M. (1995). La foret du Rhine. Paris:
Authors publication.
Young, J. (1995). Spiritual tracking. Duvall, WA:
Wilderness Awareness School. Audiotape.
Young, J. (1999). Advanced bird language: Reading the
concentric rings of nature. [Audiotape]. Redmond,
WA: Taweya.

74 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

 The Trans/Trans Fallacy and the Dichotomy Debate

Burton Daniels

This paper presents an integration of transpersonal structural theory. It is claimed that a

dichotomy debate is currently taking place within transpersonal psychology, which involves
what Wilber has called the pre/trans fallacy (1993) and the ascender/descender debate
(1995). The pre/trans fallacy states that early, prepersonal life experiences are confused for
transpersonal experiences of higher consciousness. Yet Grof (1985, 2000) and Washburn (1995)
contend that early, prenatal, life experiences are legitimate sources of transpersonal experience,
and can be thought of as the presence of deeper consciousness. Consequently, it is suggested that
confusing prepersonal life experiences for prenatal life experiencesas well as preferring higher
stages over deeper stages of transpersonal consciousnesscommits the trans/trans fallacy.
Finally, it is claimed that Avatar Adi Das (1997, McDonnell, 1997) spiritual revelation provides
the missing link whereby transpersonal structural theory can be integrated: the conjoining of
the prenatal and prepersonal selves.

erhaps the greatest difficulty for transpersonal one over the other is simply a mistaken notion, one

P psychology at this time is that it is embroiled in

a dispute that can be described as follows: a
dichotomy debate. Actually, dichotomy debates are
taking place all throughout society, among all kinds of
people and within all types of professions. A dichoto-
my debate can be described as follows: taking one end
of a particular continuum and arguing on its behalf
to the exclusion of its polar opposite (if not, indeed,
some other aspect of the continuum). However,
because the opposite end (or other aspect) still actual-
ly exists, one is committed to fabricating some sort of
alternative to it, to account for itwhile yet denying
it exists all the while. Unfortunately, dichotomy
debates all too often form the basis of academic argu-
ment, where participants only end up working their
own side of the street.1
A troublesome dichotomy debate currently at issue
within the field of transpersonal psychology has been
characterized by Wilber in two ways: the pre/trans fal-
lacy (1993), and the ascender/descender debate
(1995). In this debate (and fallacy), Wilber claims that
prior periods of development are confused for higher
periods of development. In other words, most develop-
mental theories fail to appreciate the integral nature of
reality. Both sides of the debate are necessary for the
overall process to occur (Puhakka, 1998). To choose
that can exist only as an exclusive attachment or pref-
erence for one over the other. Either way is a grievous
mistake, necessarily committing individuals to a par-
tial understanding of reality.
Wilber puts the difficulty this way:
The great dualism of all dualisms, I have suggested,
is between this world and an other world. It has
infected our spirituality, our philosophy, our sci-
ence; it runs as equally through the repressive
Ascenders who wish only the other world of eter-
nal release, as through the shadow-hugging
Descenders, proper troglodytes each and all, who
want salvation solely in the passing glories of this
world. It slices through every Age of
Enlightenment with its upward-yearning Reason
and every Romantic reaction that seeks instead to
explore every downward-turning darkness and
depth. It governs where we seek our salvation, and
which world we will ignore or destroy in order to
get it. It is the cause of bitter, bitter acrimony
between the two camps, with each formally accus-
ing the other of being the epitome and essence of
evil (literally). And they are both right. Or, we
might say, they are both half right and half wrong.
(1995, pp. 345-346)

Trans/Trans Fallacy 75
 Wilber suggests that the positions represented here
are untenable and essentially based on mistaken
notions about what it means for the individual to
develop and grow. Wilber states that an immense, all-
inclusive hierarchy (i.e., holarchy) outlines the various
possible levels of being. He maintains that the devel-
opmental purpose of human beings is to ascend and
evolveby integrating and enfolding the various lev-
els of being as they go along. Consequently, the indi-
vidual is thought to scale a great ladder of being, in
which her/his various levels spread out in an ascending
continuum overhead, reaching ever higher into lofty
states of awareness and consciousness.
However, others contend that the reverse is actual-
ly the case (Washburn, 1995; Grof, 1985, 2000): the
developmental purpose of human beings is to descend
and recover lost aspects of themselves somehow jetti-
soned in the process of their coming into being. Thus,
in the process of growth, the individual invariably loses
aspects of his/her being (perhaps due to repression, if
not some form of dissociation). Consequently, the
purpose of individuals is to heal these divisive
wounds and, in the process, recover those aspects of
being that have been split off from awareness
again, integrating their various levels of being as they
go along. In so doing, the individual actually regains
the original and pristine states of consciousness buried
deep within, from which they are otherwise estranged.
The essential dynamic of the dichotomy debate
could perhaps be put this way: one persons apex is
another persons apogee. The two exist diametrically
opposed to one another, heading in opposite direc-
tions, in fact. Yet, no matter how at odds they might
be, they can never escape the fact that each inheres sig-
nificantly in the other. Certain aspects of each are as
true for one as for the other. Nonetheless, reconciling
the dispute is not easy to do. Certain aspects of their
positions are also unacceptable. Perhaps better said,
each side of the dichotomy debate is threatening to the
other, for good reason: it represents the antithesis
and, therefore, annihilationof the other. As a result,
they end up mortal enemies, utterly at cross-purposes
to one another. This explains a good deal of the debate
currently taking place in transpersonal psychology.
To address this issue, a review of the debate is
offered, focusing on those theorists who most exempli-
fy its dynamics. Most of the notable insights have
come from a handful of theorists already identified in
a previous review (Washburn, 1995), in which their
76 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
specific contributions have been acknowledged: Jung,
Maslow, Assagioli, Grof, and Wilber.
Indeed, Washburn is also a significant contributor
to the debate and compares the positions of the partic-
ipants this way:
Similar to the views of Jung, Grof, and Levin,2 the
view presented here is one that postulates the exis-
tence of an original dynamic, creative, spontaneous
source out of which the ego emerges, from which
the ego then becomes estranged, to which, during
the stages of ego transcendence, the ego returns,
and with which, ultimately, the ego is integrated.
Jung, Grof, Levin, and I differ in the specific ways
in which we describe the basic source of the egos
existence and the egos spiral journey of departure
from and higher return to this source; nevertheless,
the underlying paradigm is substantially the same.
Basically, I think Wilber loses sight of the transper-
sonal potentials of the deep unconscious and con-
sequently mistakenly conceives of the course of
(ontogenetic) development as a straight ascent to
higher levels rather than as a spiral loop that, after
departing from origins, bends back through origins
on the way to transpersonal integration. (1995, p. 4)
In other words, whereas Wilber advocates ascend-
ing to higher consciousness (a view extending the
basic position of Maslow), Jung, Grof, and Washburn
(not to mention Assagioli, in a manner of speaking)
advocate descending to deeper consciousness.
However, neither side represents a more accurate por-
trayal of consciousness, because both are actually two
sides of the same reality. Perhaps better said, the two
are not properly conceived of as alternatives to one
another. Rather, the essential dynamics of existence
encompass them both. Indeed, an essential task for
transpersonal theory will be to set Wilbers paradigm
in dialogue with those of Grof (1985) and Washburn
(1995), currently the two most substantial alternatives
to Wilbers paradigm (Kelly, 1998, p. 128). At pres-
ent, the respective positions can be contrasted as fol-
lows: whereas Washburn/Grof understate the case for
the levels of being involving involution and the deep-
er Self, Wilber overstates the case for the levels of being
involving evolution and the higher Self. Indeed, the
debate results precisely from the fact that each side
defines the transpersonal Self according to whether it
is thought of as deeper or higherand that over
against the portion of the individual typically referred
to as the lower self. Consequently, the amalgam of
lower self and deeper Self can be best indicated by the
following nomenclature: the S/self.
However, this dichotomy does not fully encompass
the debate. An important piece is left out. Although
Wilber, Washburn, and Grof engage in an exhaustive
review of transpersonal and spiritual literature, they do
not include a specific spiritual master whose revelation
contributes significantly to the discussion: The
Ruchira Avatar, Adi Da Samraj. Nonetheless, of equal
importance to the notion of the Dynamic Ground and
involution and evolution is Avatar Adi Das (1997,
McDonnell, 1997) revelation on the conjoining of the
deeper and gross personalities (i.e., deeper and lower
S/self ). This conjoining is the link that closes the gap
between the positions of Wilber and Washburn/Grof.
Without this link, there is no basis for a reconciliation
of their positionswhich only leaves transpersonal
psychology embroiled in a seemingly intractable argu-
ment over provincialism and perennialism (Ferrer,
2000). Indeed, at times, their differences seem almost
acrimonious. It is precisely this distinction (and rift) in
transpersonal psychology that the present work is
intended to overcome.
The Trans/Trans Fallacy
Wilbers (1995, 2000) account of human develop-
ment can be seen to elaborate upon and offer further
refinements to the peak experiences at the top of
Maslows (1964, 1971) need hierarchy. His spectrum
theory of consciousnessthe nesting of various levels
within a hierarchyalso has a strong correlation with
an arrangement in consciousness posited by Advaita
Vedanta (Deutsche, 1966) and Mahayana Buddhism
(Suzuki, 1968; Conze, 1962). In these spiritual tradi-
tions, the vertical development of evolution, climbing
up the ladder of ascentitself resulting from a prior,
vertical deployment of involution, sliding down the lad-
dercan be traced through a hierarchy involving sev-
eral levels (or else sheaths) of being. In other words,
reality most fundamentally exists as an involution/evo-
lution hierarchy: whereas involution indicates preexist-
ing states of deeper consciousness, evolution initiates
states of higher consciousness presently coming into
being.
In this sacred tradition, human beings are thought
to descend through a sequence of causal, subtle, and
vital manifestations as they enter the material realm of
substantive being. From there, ones spiritual objective
is to retrace ones steps and return through this chain,
ascending and recovering the lost elements of their
compound being that have been jettisoned, or else ren-
dered unconscious, along the way. In involution, each
level is utterly pertinent to every other level, subsum-
ing the next descending level that has, itself, passed
through each of the others along the way.
Wilber explains the progression this way:
According to the perennial philosophyor the
common core of the worlds great wisdom tradi-
tionsSpirit manifests a universe by throwing
itself out or emptying itself to create soul, which
condenses into mind, which condenses into body,
which condenses into matter, the densest form of
all. Each of those levels is still a level of Spirit, but
each is a reduced or stepped down version of
Spirit. At the end of that process of involution, all
of the higher dimensions are enfolded, as potential,
in the lowest material realm. And once the materi-
al world blows into existence (with, say, the Big
Bang), then the reverse processor evolution
can occur, moving from matter to living bodies to
symbolic minds to luminous souls to pure Spirit
itself. . . . In other words, each evolutionary unfold-
ing transcends but includes its predecessor(s), with
Spirit transcending and including absolutely every-
thing. (1999, p. 10)
This process has been called the Great Path of
Return by Avatar Adi Da (2000b, in press). As can be
seen, the compound human is composed of five fun-
damental levels (or sheaths) of being.3 Evolution
could be thought of as occurring when the lower lev-
els integrate into a single, unified whole. As a result, an
opening to higher consciousness is awakened. In pass-
ing through this portal, individuals are inexplicably
transformed into the very spiritual levels of being that
preceded them as the deeper Self. The experience of
the higher levels is ineffable and transcendental to
ordinary awareness, and generally said to be utterly
and exquisitely blissfulalthough visitations to these
realms, without proper preparation, can be intensely
painful and terrifying as well.
Overall, Wilber sees the progress of evolution as
something like a rubber ball, bouncing back up the
same trajectory outlined in the course of involution.
However, the linearity of this position presents a prob-
lem for evolution, in as much as simply moving back
up the ladder of prior involution and descent is
Trans/Trans Fallacy 77
untenable. In fact, numerous difficulties attend ones
rising up through the hierarchy, starting from the very
beginning with birth (Kelly, 1998; Rothberg, 1998).
Repression is practically the first obstacle to greet indi-
viduals as they begin their ascent, whereby they jetti-
son further aspects of self to join those already lost in
involution. Precisely because of the enormous difficul-
ties the self encounters as it struggles with incarnation,
one cannot simply recover the self and retrace
through evolution their prior steps of involution. The
point of ascent commonly attained by humanitythe
personal, self-conscious selfis only tentatively affili-
ated with the involuted levels of being, given that
much of the evoluted self has been lost to repression.
In fact, by this time, the evoluted levels have very little
to do with the involuted levels at all. Indeed, these lev-
els have come ever more undone the further evolu-
tion has proceeded.
Consequently, the real question for Wilbers theory
is this: How does the self get to the position where it
can enter the transpersonal realm of higher conscious-
ness, if the very involuted rungsthat is, vital, ether-
ic, mentalupon which it must climb are something
from which it is repressed? Perhaps better said, why did
we leave the involuted levels of being in the first place?
And, therefore, why dont we just leave them again, as
soon as we recover them? Everything about repression
indicates that we have no intention of simply climbing
back up the involuted ladderno matter how com-
pelling the potential benefits for doing so. In reality,
the individual wants no part of development or evolu-
tion. The very nature of humanity is to enter into the
process of growth and maturity kicking and scream-
ingas parents guiding their childs development will
surely attest (e.g., terrible twos, adolescent angst).
In fact, the very nature of the psyche acts as an
impediment to evolution. Grof suggests that this
greatly impacts things:
Finally, I should mention Wilbers emphasis on lin-
earity and on the radical difference between
prephenomena and transphenomena (prepersonal
versus transpersonal, or preegoic versus postegoic).
As much as I agree with him in principle, the
absoluteness of his statements seems to me too
extreme. The psyche has a multidimensional, holo-
graphic nature, and using a linear model to
describe it will produce distortions and inaccura-
cies. My own observations suggest that, as con-
sciousness evolution proceeds from the centauric to
78 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
the subtle realms and beyond it, it does not follow
a linear trajectory, but in a sense enfolds into itself.
(1985, p. 137)
However, Wilber does not see this criticism as a dif-
ficulty with his model and has sought to assuage Grof s
concerns in a number of ways. But most of these
efforts have been unsuccessful (see Wilber, 1996; Grof,
1996), as Wilbers comments on linearity are actually
beside the point to answering Grof s concerns. The
context in which Grof is using the term linearity (and,
therefore, enfold) is entirely different from that of
Wilber. Nonetheless, their dispute can be easily
resolved by making use of nomenclature already laid
out in the pre/trans fallacy. In countering Grof s claims
regarding the interpenetrated nature of reality, such
that individuals are seemingly transposed to states of
superconsciousness the deeper into their unconscious
they delve, Wilber describes the pre/trans fallacy this
way:
Not a single prepersonal structure can itself, in
itself, generate intrinsic transpersonal awareness,
but it can become the object, so to speak, of
transpersonal consciousness, and thus be reen-
tered and reworked, and it then becomes a type
of used vehicle of transpersonal awareness, but
never its source. The pre/trans fallacy, however
occasionally paradoxical, remains firmly in place.
(1995, p. 743)
However, in this passage, Wilber has side-stepped
the nature of the transpersonal Self that Grof has pro-
posed. Although his comments are true enough, they
do not address the nature of the transpersonal Self as
Grof intends it. Grof and Wilber each conceive of the
transpersonal Self in different ways. Grof s schema
involves a triphasic S/self, taking place on three levels:
transpersonal, perinatal, personal. Wilbers schema, on
the other hand, involves a triphasic self taking place on
a different three levels: prepersonal, personal, transper-
sonal. In other words, their dispute comes down to a
simple misunderstanding: the two schemas do not
match. The transpersonal Self of Grof is pre-
perinatalthat is to say, pre-prepersonal. Although
Wilber rightly states that the prepersonal self has no
transpersonal qualities (at least in and of itself ), Grof
is suggesting that another aspect of self altogether is
transpersonalthat which is prenatal.
Wilber claims that the transpersonal attributes of
the higher Self arise and exclusively reside in the post-
personal domain, which forms the ascending end of his
triphasic self. In other words, their controversy can be
put this way: they see the transpersonal Self as if book-
ends, on opposite ends of ones lifeeither prior to
birth or else subsequent to adulthood (i.e., ones pres-
ent developmental status, in most cases).
Consequently they are each talking about the transper-
sonal Self in two entirely different ways, at cross-pur-
poses to one another. As a result, whereas Wilber sees
Grof as committing the pre/trans fallacy, Wilber can
rightly be seen as committing the trans/trans falla-
cyapplying the attributes of transpersonal Self sole-
ly to the evolution of higher consciousness, while
excluding entirely the involution of deeper conscious-
ness.
These two schemas can be contrasted as follows
_________________________________________
_________________________________________
TIME OF
DEVELOPMENT GROF WILBER
_________________________________________
before birth transpersonal
birth perinatal
1-7 years personal prepersonal
7-21+ years personal personal
beyond adult transpersonal
_________________________________________
_________________________________________
Obviously, the question for their schemas is this:
How can the transpersonal realm both be before birth
and beyond adulthood? As mentioned, this ambiguity
has become a troublesome dichotomy debate for
transpersonal psychology in which the deeper and
higher Selves are confused for one another.
Nonetheless, given Grof s use of nomenclature, a clar-
ification is possible. It is suggested that the term
transpersonal should be used exclusively for the
deeper Self, as it applies to the entire range of involu-
tioncausal, subtle, mental, etheric, and vital levels of
being; while the terms prepersonal and personal ther growth and development. The situation for indi-
should be used exclusively for the lower self, as it
applies to the evoluted levels of vital, etheric, and men-
tal being. In addition, perinatal should be used as is
already generally agreed uponthe period of transi-
tion involving birth.
However, Wilbers depiction of the transpersonal
Self obviously has relevant applications as well. Wilber
maintains that the transpersonal Self is actually the
higher Self about to come into being. Consequently,
Wilbers use of the term transpersonal, although
phenomenologically appropriate enough (as can also
be said of Grof s usage), nonetheless, seems out of
place in comparison. Therefore, more appropriate
nomenclature is required. It is suggested here that the
subtle and causal aspects of ones levels of higher Self
should be referred to as transcendental.4 It is precise-
ly in the sense of transcendence that Wilber speaks of
entering the higher stages of evolution. In sum, where-
as the preexisting deeper Self structure of ones involut-
ed levels of being is most properly thought of as
transpersonal, that is to say, extending beyond the per-
sonal (and prepersonal), the higher Self structure of
the evoluted levels about to come into being is most
properly thought of as transcendental, that is to say,
extending beyond both the personal and transperson-
al. In this way, there is no confusing the two.
Consequently, Grof and Wilbers schemas can be
combined as follows: Before birth: transpersonal;
birth: perinatal: 17 years: prepersonal; 721 years:
personal; and beyond adult: transcendental.
The Return of the Repressed
At times, Wilber quotes Wordsworth, suggesting
that the infant enters the world trailing clouds of
glory (2000, p. 141), such as the involuted remnants
of the deeper Self might be thought to be. However,
this is a limited account of the actual state of affairs for
the infant. As Grof (1987, 2000) has indicated, the
deeper into the repressed memories of infancy one
goes, the more full and expansive these clouds of
glory actually become. This greatly impacts the
prospects for ones development. Although Wilber
allows for the significance of recovering and repairing
infantile repressive states (i.e., curative spiral), he
does not really appreciate how far into infancy one
must go to really do the job.
It could be said that the individual actually has two
childhoods, the recovery of both being critical to fur-
viduals could be put like this: they are separated and
estranged (i.e., repressed) from the involuted levels of
beingas a condition of events leading to birthand
become even further separated and estranged as they
evolve through their present levels of being.
Consequently, there are two orders of repressionone
Trans/Trans Fallacy 79
for involution and one for evolutionand both need
repair.5
This set of circumstances can be diagramed as fol-
lows (see Figure 1):
Wilber is correct in stating that the individual
develops up through evolution (Axis II)at this
point, to the level of rational, self-conscious awareness.
However, in doing so, they only partially reclaim the
axis of the involuted levels (Axis I). A portion of the
involuted self remains separated from Axis II, resulting
from involuted repression. Further, attenuating this
original estrangement, evoluted repression peels away
additional aspects of the self and deposits them into
the personal unconscious, creating Axis III in the
process. To proceed with further development beyond
the mental level, therefore, one must recover aspects
from both realms of unconsciousnessthat which is
personal and that which is transpersonal. And, in so
doing, one ultimately returns to ones prior, involuted
substratewhich has been waiting on him/her all the
while.
This concept of repression has precedence in con-
temporary psychoanalysis:
Using Lacanian theory one can distinguish
between the ego and the subject. The ego is the
small mind-self of Zen Buddhism, while the sub-
ject of the unconscious is the Big Mind-Self. This
distinction corresponds to a large degree with
Figure 1. The two orders of repression.
80 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
Jungs distinction between ego and the self.
(Moncayo, 1998, p. 402)
The deeper Self is what comprises the individuals
fundamental subjectivitymost of which, however, is
diluted in egoic consciousness (Axis II). Yet this situa-
tion is unstable, because repressed contentfrom both
Axis I and Axis IIIcontinually seep into awareness
and could, therefore, be rightly referred to as the
return of the repressed (Lacan, 1966). As a result,
individuals do not merely exist in a conflictual tension
between repression and the return of the repressed
they do so from two sides. Wilbers clouds of glory
could be thought of as the return of the repressed that
enters into conscious awareness from the transperson-
al unconscious, the presence of which created in the
process of involution.
But these concurrent processes require a careful
reworking to be understood properly. This situation
can be best explained by comparing Washburn and
Wilbers theories of development. A number of things
can be said about Washburns (1994, 1995) formula-
tions. First of all, except for his regression in the serv-
ice of transcendence (i.e., U-turn), his schema is
essentially in agreement with that of Wilber. Both
indicate that the mental/rational ego goes through an
emancipatory process, wherein personal (i.e., pri-
mal) repression is set in place. Further, both suggest
that an integration potentially takes place at this point
in development, whereby the repression is overcome
and unconscious material emerges into awareness. The
real difference between the two is whether the ego
stays put, so to speak, and allows the previously
repressed material to enter into its sphere (i.e.,
enfold/unfold), and thereby be integratedor
whether the ego regresses and enters into the ids
sphere (i.e., return/recover), and thereby becomes inte-
grated. Once it is integrated, however, Washburn and
Wilber are, again, essentially in agreement about it: the
integrated ego continues its ascent.
However, of course, their disagreement over the U-
turn that takes place in Washburns regression in the
service of transcendence is precisely what makes the
difference.6 Washburn comments on their disagree-
ment this way:
Wilbers argument against the U-turn notion begs
a central question, namely, whether preegoic and
transegoic correlates have anything necessary or
essential in common. However, Wilber does not
establish this point; he merely assumes it. He offers
no argument that refutes the possibility that pre
and trans share common ground or derive from a
common source. Accordingly, his argument against
the U-turn notion is faulty. It assumes a major
point at issue. . . . The spiral view denies that pree-
goic and transegoic correlates have only illusory
affinities . . . and advances the contrary position
that these correlates are intimately related, indeed
that they reflect the very same potentials at two dif-
ferent levels of expression. (1990, p. 94)
Wilber, however, rejects this claim, replying as follows:
But if this is soif pre and trans are the same thing
at two different levels (a strange notion itself )it
is true in no other area of development that we
know. For example, pre-conventional and post
conventional moral stages have virtually nothing in
common; they are poles apart; they are most defi-
nitely not the very same potentials at two different
levels of expression. This would be like saying a
Hells Angel and Mahatma Gandhi are really doing
the same thing from a different angle. Likewise,
pre-operational and post-operational (or formal
operational) cognitions share virtually no poten-
tials at all, any more than, say, pre-school and grad-
uate school are the same thing seen differently. And
similarly in the development of object-relations,
motivation, ego development, and interpersonal
relations, the pre stages and the trans (or post)
stages have very little in common. The evidence for
this is almost overwhelming, so it is rather hard for
me [to] see how Washburn states that this view is
unproved and questionable. (1990, p. 131)
However, Wilber is, in a sense, comparing apples
with oranges. The reason he finds Washburns position
so hard to see is his commitment to the transpersonal
Self as being solely a later stage of development (i.e.,
trans/trans fallacy), as was also the case with his argu-
ment against Grof. All of the examples given by Wilber
in this passage compare one level of evolution to anoth-
er. Yet (at least in part), Washburn is suggesting that
the transpersonal (i.e., transegoic) Self is a component
of an entirely different structural process: involution.
What makes this so difficult to see is that Washburn
neither refers to nor conceives of the Dynamic Ground
in terms of the involuted levels of beingwhich, as
Wilber rightly points out, is a principle failing of his
theory.
Further, Washburn describes the Dynamic Ground
as being a part of the prepersonal unconscious:
The unconscious that is created by primal repres-
sion is the prepersonal collective unconscious, so
called because this deepest realm of the uncon-
scious is made up of species-wide powers, poten-
tials, and predispositions that derive from the
nonegoic or physicodynamic pole of the psyche as
it is repressively organized in pre- form. The
first and most basic level is the Dynamic Ground,
the source of psychic power: libido, energy, spirit.
(1995, p. 119)
Consequently, the regression in the service of tran-
scendence and regeneration in spirit that Washburn
speaks of involve prepersonal structures of uncon-
sciousness and the overcoming of repression set in
place by the prepersonal ego. Indeed, Washburns sec-
ond, and final, stage of regression in the service of
transcendence specifically refers to an encounter with
the prepersonal unconscious. Nonetheless, he clearly
intends to include realities of a truly spiritual nature as
part of the Dynamic Ground, defining the preperson-
al, psychic powers as follows: Contrary to the
Freudian view, then, according to which spirit is only
sublimated libido, the view I am proposing is that
libido is repressed spirit (Washburn, 1995, p. 129).
The real difficulty with Washburns position is
Trans/Trans Fallacy 81
twofold: He has conflated the evoluted and involuted
dimensions of prepersonal, vital being into a single
domain, which he calls the Dynamic Ground, and he
has conflated the entire continuum of involuted
transpersonal being into the involuted side of this
domain. Although Wilber is entirely correct to point
out a violation of the pre/trans fallacy in Washburns
attempt to derive a common source for both preegoic
and transegoic (i.e., transcendental) structures, his
own commitment to the trans/trans fallacy seems to
prevent him from noticing an even graver transgres-
sion: Washburns account of spirit (i.e., transpersonal
Self ) is an utterly truncated and impoverished affair.
Indeed, it is hardly the tip of the iceberg of the invo-
luted levels of being. In a manner of speaking, it is
nothing more than the precipice of the descending
apex of involution, from which the lowest levels of the
deeper Self make their leap into the vital level of evo-
luted being. Referring to the Dynamic Ground as
spiritual, especially given that he affiliates the
Dynamic Ground with the prepersonal self, is exceed-
ingly inadequate.
Further, Washburns account of the process of
regeneration in spirit that leads to integration gives a
similarly tepid account of what the traditions of spiri-
tuality typically refer to as enlightenment. In fact, the
enlightenment (i.e., integration) that comes from
Washburns regeneration in spirit closely resembles the
level of evolution that Wilber refers to as the centaur:
Integrated people are the true individuals so laud-
ed in existentialist literature. As we have seen,
only a small minority are prophets, saints, or mys-
tical illuminati. The only requirement for attain-
ing integrated existence is that one have an ego that
is strong enough to reunite with the Ground.
(1995, p. 248)
However, all this does is conflate the different lev-
els of the transcendental Self, ascribing entire ranges of
extraordinary spiritual attainment into a kind of post-
script to or subset of the self-actualized level of the per-
sonal self (ala Maslow). Although Washburn clearly
wants to indicate an extraordinary spiritual potential
with his concept of the Dynamic Ground and regen-
eration in spirit, his depiction of the resplendent
beings at this stage of development pales in compari-
son to other accounts offered in the spiritual traditions
(see Lee, 1987; Steinberg, 1990). In fact, his depiction
hardly enters into the spiritual realms at all.
82 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
Nonetheless, if Washburns position incorporated
the entire continuum of the involuted levels of being
into his concept of the Dynamic Ground, it would be
able to overcome these difficulties and provide a more
accurate account of the individuals psychic structure.
If Washburns position were expanded to include the
idea that ones progression through involution and
evolution results in the formation of dual continua,
then it could properly be said that the transpersonal
and prepersonal (and personal) S/selves end up exist-
ing side by side in precisely the manner Wilber finds
so curious. They are, indeed, the same thing at two
different levels, for they participate in the exact same
levels of beingmental, etheric, and vitalalbeit
within their respective continua, either that of involu-
tion or that of evolution. In fact, they are actually the
same thing at three different levels, for there are three
continua overall (i.e., the three Axes). The continua of
transpersonal and personal unconsciousness surround
the continuum of conscious awareness like shadows,
comprising the eschewed and jettisonedyet still inti-
mately connectedcontents of the personal (and
prepersonal) self. Only by understanding these con-
nections between the continua can Wilber and
Washburns theories be reconciled.
Conjoining the S/self
Wilbers dispute with Washburn comes down to a
particular point of contention: whereas Wilber claims
we have completely recovered the transpersonal levels
of vital, etheric, and mental being along the Great Path
of Return, Washburn rightly asserts that the recovery
has only been partial thus far, that some returning is
still left to do. Grof also agrees that a need to recover
lost aspects of ones S/self is required in order to recon-
cile the two stages of separation and alienation.
However, the process whereby this might be done is
not easy to comprehend. Indeed, it is rife with para-
dox. As Grof puts it, if individuals go deep enough into
their unconsciousness, they suddenly pop out the
other end into higher consciousness (i.e., super-con-
sciousness). This situation is something like the worm-
holes that contemporary physicists speculate exist
inside black holes, where the gravitation is so immense
that the universe itself is sucked into it, such that
somehowventuring into one suddenly traverses one
to the other side of the universe.
Perinatal experiences seem to represent an intersec-
tion or frontier between the personal and transper-
 sonala fact reflected in their connection with
birth and death, the beginning and end of individ-
ual existence. Transpersonal phenomena reveal
connections between the individual and the cos-
mos that seem at present to be beyond comprehen-
sion. All we can say in this respect is that, some-
where in the process of perinatal unfolding, a
strange qualitative Mbiuslike leap seems to occur
in which deep exploration of the individual uncon-
scious turns into a process of experiential adven-
tures in the universe-at-large, involving what can
best be described as the superconscious mind.
(Grof, 1985, p. 127)
In other words, deeper and higher consciousness
are inextricably bound together, for the one leads to
the other. Consequently, the idea of return and recov-
ery is really something of a misnomer, for individuals
dont have to pursue higher consciousnessdeeper
consciousness is already seeking them out. Thus, the indi-
vidual need not literally return and recover any- together in the process of integration, as their shared
thing, because the deeper Self is already in the process
of emerging from within. Indeed, such a use of lan-
guage is somewhat misleading. What is really required
is that the individual simply submit to (i.e., stop resist-
ing) a process that is already taking place. The process
of an already existing emergence is actually the indi-
viduals impetus toward evolution. This is precisely
why spiritual transmission and the use of altered states
of consciousness are so universally recommended for
spiritual growth (Kasprow & Scotton, 1999). They
facilitate the process.
Wilber occasionally speaks in similar terms:
At each stage of this process of Spirits return to
itself, weyou and Inonetheless remember, per-
haps vaguely, perhaps intensely, that we were once
consciously one with the very Divine itself. It is
there, this memory trace, in the back of our aware-
ness, pulling and pushing us to realize, to awaken,
to remember who and what we always already are.
In fact, all things, we might surmise, intuit to one
degree or another that their very Ground is Spirit
itself. All things are driven, urged, pushed and
pulled to manifest this realization. (1997, p. 9)
Consequently, recovery is probably better thought
of as reparation. This is what non-linearity (i.e., Grof s
enfold into itself ) really means for the individual:
integrating the lower self with the deeper Self as it
emerges. Yet for this to occur, the lower self must
maintain its basic structure, thereby enjoining the
basic structure of the deeper Self to evolve into that of
the higher Self. The lower self provides a kind of plat-
form for the deeper Self, guiding and directing its
eventual progress. Indeed, a reciprocal interaction
takes place between the two, in which each gives way
to the other. Grof puts it this way:
In this process, the individual returns to earlier
stages of development, but evaluates them from the
point of view of a mature adult. At the same time,
he or she becomes consciously aware of certain
aspects and qualities of these stages that were
implicit, but unrecognized when confronted in the
context of linear evolution. (1985, p. 137)
In a manner of speaking, therefore, the relationship
between involution and evolution is not so much that
of climbing a ladder as it is zipping a zipper. The two
are separate lines of development that get meshed
features fold together. Simply put, zipping is how the
Great Path of Return does its process of return.
However, two notable contingencies attenuate this
analogy: 1) there are all kinds of kinks (e.g., repres-
sion) that prevent a smooth meshing of the two,
requiring considerable resolution along the way; and
2), more importantly, the evoluted side of the zipper is
not entirely existent, for the higher Self has yet to
emerge. In other words, the higher Self comes into
being precisely because of the two sides of the zipper
joining together. Consequently, the evoluted side
remains only a partial (i.e., potential) zipper, as the
higher Self, so to speak, waits on the joining of its
lower and deeper parts.
For this to happen, the process of development
must return to its base, the vital levels of being, and
begin its integrating ascentzipping the two sides
together. However, doing so is not a strictly linear
process, as Wilber has so often noted. The zipper can
mesh at any point along the way. Nonetheless, it must
return to its vital base at some point for the process to
be complete. Grof indicates the dynamic at work at
this incipient level of development:
The perinatal level of the unconscious thus repre-
sents an important intersection between the indi-
vidual and the collective unconscious, or between
traditional psychology and mysticism or transper-
sonal psychology. It proved very usefulto pos-
Trans/Trans Fallacy 83
 tulate the existence of hypothetical dynamic matri-
ces governing the processes related to the perinatal
level of the unconscious and to refer to them as
Basic Perinatal Matrices (BPM). (1985, p. 100)
There is every indication that the BPM provide the
integrative dynamic operating at the vital level
which corresponds to the foundation level referred to
by Wilber (1986, 2000) as fulcrum-0.7 The BPM are
likely the conduit that connects the involuted and evo-
luted realms at their vital base (Bache, 1996).
However, the BPM are intended by Grof to refer to
three entirely separate dynamics of being: the portal
between the personal and transpersonal continua of
unconsciousness, the memories of a specific sequence
of experiences within the birth process, and the proto-
type for the COEX (Condensed Experience) 8 system
of death and rebirth experiences for the individual
throughout life. The BPM are primarily a prototype.
Grof s (1975, 1985) research and clinical practice indi-
cate that individuals go through four distinct phases in
the birth process, each one of which is intimately relat-
ed through COEX systems to death and rebirth expe-
riences throughout their life. Yet more than this
sequence of experiences is remembered by individual
as they are subjected to Grof s holographic rebirthing
techniques. Indeed, extraordinary spiritual motifs and
encounters with mythological beings and events are
likely to attenuate the actual biographical memories.
Grof sees the motifs and encounters taking place
within the BPM as a prototype, linking experiences
spread throughout the personal (and prepersonal) and
transpersonal domains:
The perinatal unfolding is also frequently associat-
ed with various transpersonal elements, such as
archetypal visions of the Great Mother or the
Terrible Mother Goddess, Hell, Purgatory,
Paradise, or Heaven, mythological or historical
scenes, identification with animals, and past incar-
nation experiences. The perinatal matrices also
have specific relations to different aspects of the
activities of the Freudian erogenous areasthe
oral, anal, urethral, and phallic zones. (1985, p.
101)
These events suggest that there are COEX systems
and, indeed, fulcrumsalong both the involuted and
evoluted axes.
Although Wilber (e.g., 1996) criticizes Grof s con-
84 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
cept of the BPM at length for being a prototype, the
real issue is actually its being a portal. Apparently
because of his commitment to the trans/trans fallacy,
Wilber has overlooked the fact that the spiritual affili-
ations of Grof s BPM are transpersonal in nature,
reaching into the involuted domain of the overall
COEX system. But, more importantly, what Wilber
and Grof have both overlooked is this: How can that
happen? What is the dynamic by which there is a por-
tal between the lower self and the deeper Selfand,
more to the point, where is it located?
The deeper personality [i.e., deeper Self ] is the
reincarnate, or the reincarnating personality. Like
the gross being, it is also a karmic entity, a product
of cosmic exchanges. Just as the body has a karmic
destiny by virtue of its lineage, so also the lineage
of the deeper personality determines its karmic des-
tiny. In the birth of any individual this deeper
personality conjoins with a gross personality [i.e.,
lower self ], but it functions outside the brain,
appearing as tendencies and destinies that it adds to
the gross personality. Thus, although this body has
inherited many qualities that are like its parents,
many other qualities have been demonstrated in
the Lifetime of this apparent personality that are
nothing like My mother and father. That deep-
er personality also has its own destiny, and it has
been showing its own signs throughout this life.
(Adi Da, 1989, p. 46)
As a result, human infants conjoin with the spir-
itual being of the deeper Self. Together, they embark on
the journey of ones life. The gross, lower self is com-
posed of genetic material and any congenital features
that might have been formed throughout the gestation
period. Soon added to the born human being are the
displays of the physical world, impressing upon
her/him their necessity and urgency. Therefore, it is
the self aspect of the S/self that can be thought of as a
tabala rosa. Yet the deeper Self has been present, too.
Indeed, it is within the deeper Self that all this impres-
sionable display arises. This experiential bombardment
occurs, initially, as a figment of the deeper Self s imag-
inationprecisely because the lower self hardly even
exists, at this point, except for the merest filaments of
genetics. The one exists within the otherbut only for
a while, for the lower self quickly begins to breed
and take over the deeper vehicle (McDonnell, 1997).
Although Grof makes much of the biological birth
process, the conjoining (i.e., portal) can take place at
any point during the gestation period, indeed, perhaps
not even until well after biological birth (which great-
ly compromises the individuals chances for surviving
his/her birth or developing properly). This raises two
points that significantly impact the discussion. First,
the portal and the prototype of the BPM are not the
same thing, as the stages of biological birth are very spe-
cific and focused in a particular, physical act, while the
conjoining of the lower self and deeper Self involves a
transpersonal act, which can take place at any point
along the perinatal continuum. Second, Wilbers con-
ception of involution can be seen to take a startling
turn at this point, for the progression of the involuted
levels of being does not quite reach the vital level of
being. This situation has enormous implications for
both the BPM and the Great Path of Return.
Avatar Adi Da describes the portal aspect of the
BPM, and its relation to the process of birth, as fol-
lows:
All right, here comes the definitive statement.
[laughter] The ego, or what is traditionally pre-
sumed to be an entity, is an activity. The entity is
not a something, but a process. That process is
reflected in the causal realm, in the subtle realm,
and in the gross realm. The so- called entity, or
process, does not connect with the gross, bodily life
of a birth until it begins to dream, or conceive figure
of, 2 p85 w27
that form.
There is no fixed date for that event because it
is not an entity which enters the body. Rather, it is
a process of associating with, conceiving of, even
hallucinating the gross form. . . . Not everyone
enters into association with the physical being at
the same point in his or her development. In
general, it does occur within the fetal development
state. It can correspond to conception. It can
correspond to the point in which the heart begins
to work. It can correspond to the development of
the physical body itself around the sixth month, or
to the mental accretions in the last three months.
The entity may become associated with the body at
any of those periods of development. (1997b, p.
53)
or follow biological birth (1985, p. 435). Therefore,
associating the portal of the BPM with the perinatal
period is appropriate so long as the events immediate-
ly preceding birth include the entire gestation period
following conception, and even extend for at least
some period beyond the actual birth itself. It is during
this window of opportunity of the perinatal period
that the deeper Self conjoins with the lower self.
However, the deeper Self must be understood to be
an entirely separate process (i.e., entity) from the
lower self, with whom it conjoins during the perinatal
period. The deeper Self includes everything that is
called the subtle dimension of the being and every-
thing that is called the causal dimension of the being
(McDonnell 1997, p. 38). Consequently, the deeper
Self includes the entire continuum of involuted levels
of beingexcept for the vital. That is to say, the deep-
er Self includes the causal, subtle, mental, and etheric
levels of involuted being. It is this composite that con-
joins with the lower self (i.e., gross personality), which
includes the vital, etheric, and mental levels of evolut-
ed being.
Altogether, these sets of relations can be dia-
grammed as follows (see Figure 2). As can be seen,
confusing the higher Self for the lower self commits
the pre/trans fallacy; while confusing the higher Self
for the deeper Self commits the trans/trans fallacy.
Figure 2. The relations between the lower self, the deeper
self, and the higher self
Deeper Self Higher Self
(transpersonal) (transcendental)
Involution Evolution
zips
Causal (Causal)
Subtle (Subtle)
Mental Mental
Etheric Etheric
Vital

Grof defines the perinatal period as follows: The Lower Self

prefix peri- means literally around or near, and (prepersonal/personal)

natalis translates as pertaining to delivery. It suggests Dynamic BPM Great Path

events that immediately precede, are associated with, Ground (conjoining) of Return

Trans/Trans Fallacy 85
 As a portal, the BPM represent the conjoining of
the lower self and the deeper Selfitself representing
the Dynamic Ground of being. As a prototype, the
BPM are best thought of as the initiating instance of a
pattern (i.e., the various fulcrums) of death and rebirth
that is replicated throughout the Great Path of Return.
As can be seen, the two sides exist in tandem. The
Dynamic Ground and the Great Path of Return both
have their place, surrounding the conjoining interface
of the BPM.
Conclusion
Obviously, these circumstances have significant
implications for clinical practice. If the presence of
spiritual experience in prepersonal awareness is under-
stood to be the presence of deeper states of conscious-
ness, then there is a possibility for the return of the
repressed of the transpersonal unconsciousor what
could be called spiritual emergencies (Grof, 1985,
2000). In a sense, the positions of Wilber and
Washburn/Grof represent a staking out of the territo-
ry, with each, in his own way, siding with the emanci-
patory ego. That is to say, each sees the developmental
process from the point of view of the ego, as it engages
in the arduous ordeal of emancipation and ultimate
recovery. Yet, the real significance of the process must
be seen from the point of view of the deeper Self, try-
ing to regain admittance into the poor circumstances
of the rational egos limited awareness. The deeper Self
is a living entity unto itself, with its own awareness and
identity (Adi Da, 1997, McDonnell, 1997). In other
words, developmental theory presupposes issues of
clinical practice. The transpersonal Self has been
injured in the process of involution. The dynamics tak-
ing place in evolution are not merely those of develop-
ment but also those of healing. Only upon these aus-
pices can further development be engaged (Daniels,
2003a, b).
Grof s entire purpose is to heal the breach created
during birth that allows the transpersonal unconscious
to seep into awareness during such emergencies.
Ideally, this healing involves a reparation with the
transpersonal unconscious, much in the way of
Washburns regression in the service of transcen-
dence. In these cases, spiritual reality emerges into
awareness from prior psychic structure already present
within, as opposed to higher psychic structure in the
process of being created. Nonetheless, higher psychic
86 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
structure in the process of being created presents its
own difficulties. Indeed, these realities represent two
entirely different situations for the individual, which
could, therefore, be thought of as different kinds of
spiritual emergence-ies.
Consequently, Wilber, Washburn, and Grof can
each be seen as providing a different piece of the clin-
ical picture:
1. Grof: One must descend through the stages of
evolution and return to the initiating breach sus-
tained in birth (i.e., BPM), to heal the trauma
inflicted in that process.
2. Washburn: Having thus descended and reunited
with the spiritual auspices of the Dynamic Ground
(via the conjoining), one must then continue ones
ascent through the stages of evolution.
3. Wilber: In continuing ones evolution, one must
do so by virtue of tracing out the exact same struc-
tural dynamics created in the process of involu-
tionwhich originally produced the Dynamic
Ground and, therefore, ones birth in the first
place.
As can be seen, Wilber, Washburn, and Grof have
simply split up the territory among them, with each
emphasizing the particular continuum (i.e., Axis) he
prefers. In other words, the dichotomy debate is
extremely insidious and easy to make. The ascension
aspect of the individuals evolution has held much of
humanity captive in its allure throughout history, sug-
gesting the primacy of an other-worldly paradise, apart
and away from the travails of this world. Traditional
explanations of spirituality tend to see this process as
an immense hierarchy, with God residing at the top,
His intervention into human affairs descending down-
wardwhile the individuals spiritual ordeal is to
ascend upward, toward that God pinnacle (e.g.,
Griffiths, 1991). Consequently, men and women have
frequently sought out this reparative succor, while
repudiating the pleasures of this world. Those interest-
ed in furthering their ambitions to include higher
states of consciousness have frequently attempted to
climb the ladder of ascent, aspiring to the beckoning
realms of consciousness ahead that await us.
On the other hand, the descension aspect of the
individuals involution has beguiled some men and
women to forsake the genuine progression of develop-
ment for levels already acquired, mistaking them for
realms of highest aspiration (see Wilber, 1995). Lower
levels can, indeed, be misunderstood to be the sole
instance of an unspoiled, pristine purity, unsullied by
later developments that only serve to corrupt their
innocence. However, such romantic notions of unde-
filed beauty can exist only as instances of naivet, at
best, simply overlooking the obvious, carnivorous
down-side of such increasingly vital realms, departed
in the first place precisely because of their unsavory
aspects. Such wistful remembrances can be held only
in an atmosphere subscribing to the notion that igno-
rance is bliss, for true understanding, obviously, reveals
more complex realities than this.
One must release the deeper Selfto become the
higher Self. Yet, the reverse is equally true: one cannot
hope to reach the higher Self, if one holds the deeper
Self at bay. In psychology, doing the latter is known as
denial. On the other hand, preferring an imaginary
world over that which is real also has its psychological
designate: delusion. One way of outlining the differ-
ence between ascenders and descenders is their rela-
tionships to hierarchy. For the ascender, reality consists
of a single hierarchy, headed one-way overhead into
the higher stages of life. However, the descender finds
this ascent insufficient to account for all aspects of
reality and, if this is her/his only choice, prefers no
hierarchy at all. But, of course, this situation results in
nothing but a dichotomy debate. Consequently, to
give reality its due, a greater understanding must take
place. Manifest reality is actually this: two hierarchies,
headed in opposite directions. As a result of this basi-
cally isometric situation, humanity is in a truly unen-
viable position: caught in the middle.
However, Wilber has attempted to resolve the
dilemma:
In my system[t]he relation between levels is hier-
archical, with each senior level transcending and
including its juniors, but not vice versaand that
not vice versa establishes an asymmetrical hierar-
chy of increasing holistic capacity (which simply
means that the senior dimension embraces the jun-
ior, but not vice versa, so that the senior is more
holistic and encompassing). (2000, p. 31; emphasis
in the original)
In other words, Wilbers spectrum theory actually aug-
ments the ascender/descender aspects of the debate, by
offering a tertiary option: the enfolder. This option
suggests that integrating the entire range of involution
and evolution in an all-encompassing fold is possible.
In this view, the entire expanse of existence is a single
systemic reality, incorporating both tracks of develop-
ment by virtue of a simple fact: they are really just two
sides of the same coin.
Perhaps the easiest way to tease out the distinction
between deeper and higher consciousness is to
realize that they are not really so much a distinction in
kind as they are a distinction in point of view. In other
words, the prior sequence of involuted, transpersonal
being is most properly referred to as deeper, whereas
the subsequent sequence of evoluted, transcendental
being is most properly referred to as higher.
However, as it turns out, to get higher, one must go
deeper. It is the relationship of the individual to these
different realities that is significantly different,
depending on whether the Self is conceived of as com-
ing into being before or after the lower self. Therefore,
neither aspect of the Self rightly deserves prominence
over the other, for both are equally essential to human
growth and, perhaps more to the point, both equally
inhere in reality. The two are really nothing more than
the twin prongs of a single, all-inclusive expanse of
Being.
End Notes
1. For example, in the field of psychoanalysis, the
dispute between Freud and Jung is well documented
(e.g., Freud & Jung, 1974). Further, Carl Rogers and
B.F. Skinner actually engaged in a formal, public
debate of their respective positions. Skinner claimed
afterwards to have intentionally reinforced Rogers
behavior during the debate, by smiling and nodding
his head at certain intervalsrather than attending to
Rogers comments and integrating them with his own
point of view.
2. The author believes that Levin (1985) does not
contribute particularly to this discussion; therefore, his
theory is not included.
3. Indeed, the ego could be understood as fol-
lows: when the Selfin either its sentience or volition
aspectbecomes identified with the lower three
sheaths, dominated by the body and sensual/perceptu-
al experience. In this case, the Self is no longer able to
operate as simple witness consciousness (or even the
native intelligence taking place at the level of volition)
but, rather, mistakenly sees itself implicated by the
interests and concerns of the body/mind and its fun-
damental imperatives: survival and the pleasure princi-
ple. These are the directives governing the operation of
Trans/Trans Fallacy 87
the ego. For a further account of this process, see
Daniels (2003a, b).
4. Indeed, the term Transcendental Self has been
applied by Avatar Adi Da to the very highest instance
of the causal Self: And only the Transcendental
Witness-Consciousness, ItselfIs the true turiya
state, or the true fourth state (beyond the three ordi-
nary states, of waking, dreaming, and sleeping). And
only the Transcendental Witness-Consciousness, Itself
Is the Domain of the only-by-Me Revealed and
Given seventh stage Realization of the True Divine
Self, Which Is the Self-Evidently Divine Self-
Condition, and Which Is the One and Only True
Divine State of TuriyatitaBeyond the fourth of which represents a milestone of the
state, and, thus Beyond all exclusiveness, and Beyond
all bondage to illusions, and Beyond point of view (or
egoic separateness) itself, and, therefore, Beyond all
conditional efforts, supports, and dependencies
(2000a, p. 204). From this point of view, the
Transcendental Self is Realized prior to the causal knot
that defines the separate being, and pertains exclusive-
ly to that level of spirituality, as opposed to the entire
range of spiritual being possible.
5. This account addresses the concerns of Wilbers
critics who believe his theory is too linear. For example:
If all levels of the Great Chain manifest the same
principles of holarchical integration, why is it pos-
sible for transpersonal influxes to occur at any lower
level of organizationwhereas it is impossible for
someone at, say, cognitive stage 2 (preop) to expe-
rience, again however fleetingly, an influx from
cognitive stage 4 (formop)? (Kelly, 1998, p. 122)
However, this confusion is easily resolved. Two kinds
of transpersonal states exist: involuted and evoluted.
Those of involution involve the return of the repressed
of the deeper Self, whereas those of evolution are actu-
ally incipientindeed, perhaps even precocious
developments of the higher Self. Either state can
appear within the prepersonal and personal levels and
is easily confused with the another (i.e., trans/trans fal-
lacy).
6. Wilbers objection to Washburns theory is not so
much the presence of a U-turn as its location. In other
words, Wilber has a U-turn in his theory too.
Wilber puts the point of maximum separation
from the ultimate Ground at conception, following
involution, modeling the entire trajectory of evolu-
tion as the path of return. Furthermore, he con-
88 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
tends, Washburn is led falsely to postulate the state
of maximum alienationi.e., distance from the
Ground/Spiritas occurring at the mental-egoic
level. (Goddard, 1997)
Yet both are partly right. Whereas separation and
alienation are greatest at birth for the involuted levels
of being, separation and alienation are greatest at the
mental-egoic level for the evoluted levels of being. The
two are really just different stages of an overall process
of separation and alienation.
7. Wilber sees the course of development as taking
place throughout a succession of fulcrums, each one
enfolding/unfolding continuum. Fulcrum-0 begins
the ascent and is grounded in the processes of the
infants birth, ultimately progressing from there
through a developmental sequence to the realms of
higher consciousness, ultimately represented by the
subtle and causal levels of being.
8. The COEX system includes all embedded struc-
tures that are products of a primary or core experience,
which can be negative or positive. In order for this core
experience to be the ground of a COEX system, it
must significantly impact the individual. As a result,
the COEX system establishes highly defined expecta-
tions for and responses to similar experiences. I
coined for them the name COEX systems, which is
short for systems of condensed experience
[COndensed EXperience]. Each COEX has a basic
theme that permeates all its layers and represents their
common denominator (Grof, 2000, p. 7).
References
Adi Da. (1989). The Love-Ananda Gita (the wisdom-
song of non-separateness). Middletown, CA: Dawn
Horse Press.
Adi Da. (1997). Drifted in the deeper land.
Middletown, CA: Dawn Horse Press.
Adi Da. (2000a). Aham Da Asmi (Beloved, I Am Da).
In The seventeen companions of the true dawn horse
(Book One). Middletown, CA: Dawn Horse Press.
Adi Da. (2000b). The seven stages of life. In The sev-
enteen companions of the true dawn horse (Book
Ten). Middletown, CA: Dawn Horse Press.
Adi Da. (in press). The unique sixth stage foreshadow-
ings of the Only-By-Me revealed and demonstrat-
ed and given seventh stage of life. In The basket of
tolerance. Middletown, CA: Dawn Horse Press.
Bache, C. (1996). Expanding Grof s concept of the
perinatal: Deepening the inquiry into frightening
NDE. Journal of Near-Death Studies, 15(2), 115-139.
Conze, E. (1962). Buddhist thought in India. London:
Allen and Unwin.
Daniels, B. (2003a). The Apex Paradox: The role of
the ego in psychology and spirituality and its implica-
tions for clinical practice (Vol. I: The abundant ego).
Lincoln, NE: Writers Showcase.
Daniels, B. (2003b). The Apex Paradox: The role of
the ego in psychology and spirituality and its implica-
tions for clinical practice (Vol. II: The aberrant ego).
Lincoln, NE: Writers Showcase.
Deutsche, E. (1966). Advaita Vedanta. Honolulu, HI:
East-West Center Press.
Ferrer, J. (2000). The perennial psychology revisited.
Journal of Transpersonal Psychology, 32(1), 7-30.
Freud, S., & Jung, C.G. (1974). The Freud/Jung letters
(W. McGuire, Ed.). Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press.
Goddard, G. (1997). Airing our transpersonal differ-
ences. Internet: Members.ams.chello.nl.
Griffiths, B. (1991). Vedanta and Christian faith.
Clearlake, CA: Dawn Horse Press.
Grof, S. (1975). Realms of the human unconscious. New
York: Viking.
Grof, S. (1985). Beyond the brain. Albany, NY: State
University of New York Press.
Grof, S. (1987). The adventure of self-discovery. Albany,
NY: State University of New York Press.
Grof, S. (1996). Ken Wilbers spectrum psychology:
Observations from clinical consciousness research.
ReVision: A Journal of Consciousness and
Transformation, 19(1), 11-24.
Grof, S. (2000). Beyond psychoanalysis. Internet:
Home.att.net.
Kasprow, M.C., & Scotton, B.W. (1999). A review of
transpersonal theory and its application to the
practice of psychotherapy. Journal of Psychotherapy
Practice and Research, 8, 12-23.
Kelly, S. (1998). Revisioning the mandala of con-
sciousness. In D. Rothberg & S. Kelly (Eds.), Ken
Wilber in dialogue (pp. 117-130). Wheaton, IL:
Quest Books.
Lacan, J. (1966). crits (A. Sheridan, Trans.). New
York: Norton.
Lee, C. (1987). Growth beyond self: Traditional
approaches to spiritual preparation. The laughing
man: The alternative to scientific materialism and
religious provincialism, 7(2), n.p.
Levin, M. (1985). The bodys recollection of being.
London: Routledge and Kegan-Paul.
Maslow, A. (1964). Religions, values and peak-experi-
ences. New York: Viking
Maslow, A. (1971). The farthest reaches of human
nature. New York: Viking.
McDonnell, M. (Ed.) (1997). The scale of the very
small. Clearlake, CA: The Vision of Mulund
Institute.
Moncayo, R. (1998). True subject is no-subject: The
real, imaginary, and symbolic in psychoanalysis and
Zen Buddhism. Psychoanalysis and Contemporary
Thought, 21(3), 383-422.
Puhakka, K. (1998). Contemplating everything:
Wilbers evolutionary theory in dialectical perspec-
tive. In D. Rothberg & S. Kelly (Eds.), Ken Wilber
in dialogue (pp. 283-304). Wheaton, IL: Quest
Books.
Rothberg, D. (1998). How straight is the spiritual
path? In D. Rothberg & S. Kelly (Eds.), Ken
Wilber in dialogue (pp. 131-145). Wheaton, IL:
Quest Books.
Steinberg, J. (1990). Love of the God-Man. Clearlake,
CA: Dawn Horse Press.
Suzuki, D.T. (1968). Studies in the Lankavatara Sutra.
London: Routledge and Kegan-Paul.
Washburn, M. (1990). Two patterns of transcendence.
Journal of Humanistic Psychology, 30(3), 84-112.
Washburn, M. (1994). Transpersonal psychology in psy-
choanalytic perspective. Albany, NY: State University
of New York Press.
Washburn, M. (1995). The ego and the dynamic
ground (2nd ed.). Albany, NY: State University of
New York Press.
Wilber, K. (1990). Two patterns of transcendence: A
reply to Washburn. Journal of Humanistic
Psychology, 30(3), 113-136.
Wilber, K. (1993). The pre/trans fallacy. In R. Walsh
& F. Vaughan (Eds.), Paths beyond ego (pp. 124-
130). Los Angeles: Tarcher.
Wilber, K. (1995). Sex, ecology, spirituality. Boston &
London: Shambhala.
Wilber, K. (1996). A more integral approach: A
response to the ReVision authors. ReVision: A Journal
of Consciousness and Transformation, 19(2), 10-34.
Wilber, K. (1997). The eye of spirit. Boston & London:
Shambhala.
Wilber, K. (1999). Introduction. In The collected works
of Ken Wilber, volume two (n.p). Boston & London:
Shambhala.
Trans/Trans Fallacy 89
Wilber, K. (2000). Integral psychology. Boston &
London: Shambhala.
Wilber, K., Engler, J., & Brown, D. (1986).
Transformations in consciousness. Boston & London:
Shambhala.

Correspondence on this article should be directed to

author at Daniel_Sleeth@adidam.org.

90 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

 A Secret Poem for You

Jorge N. Ferrer, Ph.D.

California Institute of Integral Studies

In this paper, the author presents a poem entitled Plenitude. The poem, originally written by
the authors father (Jos Antonio Noguera Gimenez) in Spanish, is offered by the author as a vehi-
cle for the exploration of self, life, spirit, and nature. Both the Spanish and English versions of the
poem are provided.

want to share a secret poem with you today. I call parents where we can many times find the pearls that

I this poem secret not because of its hermetic or

esoteric meaning, but simply because it secretly
held me for years, giving me strength and hope in
times of crisis and difficulty. My father, its author,1
was born and raised in the orchards of Murcia, that
fertile region of the south of Spain that prides itself
in that charmingly exaggerated way so defining of the
Murcian spiriton providing fruits and vegetables for
the rest of the European continent. As my father
moved to the culturally vibrant but highly industrial-
ized city of Barcelona to work and start his new mar-
ried life, essential seeds of his soul apparently decided
to stay at the orchards. And, as so often happens with-
in the poets heart, versed beauty began to sprout from
the pain and isolation of a dismembered soul.
This is why the poem you are about to read was
originally called Solitude. Some years ago, with the
authors consent, I changed its title from Solitude to
Plenitude, for a poemas is true of anything that
carries meaning for what mattersis never an indiffer-
ent or static object, but rather a living presence whose
inner nature metamorphoses as it encounters a recep-
tive heart. As I rescued those essential seeds that my
fathers soul left in Murcian soil, it became obvious
that a change of title was not only justified, but actu-
ally called for by the poem itself. In these times of ram-
pant uprootedness from ancestry and tradition, we
often forget that it is in the unfulfilled dreams of our
offer our souls the guidance they are longing for. And
what a magnificent miracle it is to discover that as we
walk that path, not only the dreams but also the
dreamer can at a deep level begin to be realized.
Although containing many layers of meaning, this
is a very simple poem. My father, as Charles Bukowski
once said of himself, does not have grandiose
thoughts, or thoughts of a philosophical nature, and so
when he writes poems, they tell us about very ordinary
things. As do many visionary texts, however, this poem
lures us into a journey. But this is not an invitation to
the heros journey, where a masculinized self leaves its
motherland, encounters pitfalls and battles monsters,
and triumphantly returns with a renewed sense of
empowered solar identity. I believe that this poem tells
us about a much lesser known kind of initiation,
where the soul leaves her social, psychological, and
even spiritual routines to delve anew and without
struggle into the deeper sources of life, of spirit, and of
nature, so that we can return in peace, with the flavor
of the winds, between our hands.
But before I leave you to enjoy the poem, let me
tell you another secret. For its magical power to be
conjured, this poem needs to be read out loud, and
with both tenderness and passion. So I invite you to
take a deep breath, drop deep into your heart, and
allow these words to perhaps narrow the gap between
you and your own boundless potential.

A Secret Poem 91
 Plenitud

Si un da no me encuentras Oir la voz que viene de lejos

no pienses que me he vuelto loco del campesino que canta
sino cuerdo. coplas de amor a su amada,
y las campanas de bronce
Bscame lejos que suenan en el lejano pueblo,
donde los hombres vuelan como pajaros oir la voz de los rboles,
sobre los valles inmensos, de la brisa y del agua
donde los tristes escarabajos
baan su cuerpo de roco Estrenar ojos nuevos
y se visten de terciopelo negro. para mirar a mis anchas
donde cantan los grillos,
Bscame lejos donde duermen las cigarras
donce las vacas dan leche a cantaros
y lnguidas ovejas se agrupan Y cuando t me encuentres,
como nubes blancas, besar tu aliento
donce los bueyes te miran con ternura con ms calor humano,
y los caballos de cola pacifica y te contar lo que me ha enseado,
sienten la caricia del viento, el viento, el da, la noche,
donde mi frente descanse la luz y las estrellas,
sin reloj que mida el tiempo y aprenderemos juntos de una vez para siempre
montaa arriba a vivir en paz
hacia la luz y el silencio. con el sabor de los aires
entre nuestras manos
All me encontrars
tendido en la yerba
con la flor de tomillo entre labios,
mirando al condor
y a las aguilas reales volar
y volar

All me encontrars
aprendiendo a vivir de los insectos
y de las aves silvestres,
de los animales domsticos,
aprendiendo de los pajaros

(No me da vergenza!)

Y puede que hasta aprenda

el cuelo de las abejas,
a dormir con las gallinas
y a conversar con lagartos
y respirar libre, al viento,
por los picos mas altos.

92 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

 Plenitude

If one day you cannot find me I will listen for the voice from afar
do not think that I have gone crazy, of the countryman who sings
but sane. love songs to his beloved,
and the bronze bells
Look for me far away sounding in the far village,
where men fly like birds I will listen to the voice of the trees,
over immense valleys, of the breeze, and of the water.
where the sad beetles
bathe their bodies in dew I will use my new eyes for the first time
and clothe themselves in black velvet. to look as far as my gaze roams
where the crickets sing,
Look for me far away where the cicadas sleep
where the cows give milk in abundance
and the languid sheep gather And when you find me,
like white clouds, I will kiss your breath
where the oxen gaze with gentleness, with human warmth,
and the horses with peaceful tails and I will tell you what they have taught me,
feel the caressing of the wind, the wind, the day, the night,
where I lay my head down the light, and the stars,
without a watch measuring the time and we will learn together for all time
up the mountain to live in peace
towards the light, and the silence. with the flavor of the winds
between our hands
There you will find me
lying in the grass
with thyme blossoms between my lips,
gazing at the condor
and at the royal eagles flying
and flying

There you will find me

learning to live from the insects
and from the wild birds,
from the domestic animals,
learning from the birds

(I do not feel ashamed!) End Note

And it may be that I even learn
to fly like the bees,
to sleep with the hens
and to converse with the lizards
and I will breathe freely, against the wind,
through the highest peaks.
The poems author, Jos Antonio Noguera Gimenez, is
a retired Spanish artist and poet based in Torrevieja,
Spain.
Correspondence regarding this article should be
directed to the author at JorgeNF@aol.com.

A Secret Poem 93
 A Revised Paranormal Belief Scale

Jerome J. Tobacyk, Ph.D.

Louisiana Tech University

A 26-item Revised Paranormal Belief Scale is introduced which provides a measure of degree of
belief in each of seven dimensions: Traditional Religious Belief, Psi, Witchcraft, Superstition,
Spiritualism, Extraordinary Life Forms, and Precognition. Improvements from the original 25-
item Paranormal Belief Scale (Tobacyk & Milford, 1983) include adoption of a seven-point rat-
ing scale as well as item changes for three subscales: Precognition, Witchcraft, and Extraordinary
Life Forms. These improvements provide greater reliability and validity, less restriction of range,
and greater cross-cultural validity.

major emphasis of current theory and research 1987b; Tobacyk, Nagot, & Miller, 1987).

A in transpersonal psychology is the investigation

of spiritualityits nature, phenomenology, and
assessment (MacDonald, 2000; MacDonald,
Friedman, & Kuentzel, 1999; MacDonald, Kuentzel,
& Friedman, 1999; MacDonald, LeClair, Holland,
Alter, & Friedman, 1995). An essential requirement
for the empirical investigation of spirituality is the
articulation of the structure or dimensionality of this
construct. MacDonald (2000) has reported a factor
analytic investigation of the structure of spirituality
that demonstrates five robust dimensions: Cognitive
Orientation Toward Spirituality, Experiential/
Phenomenological Dimensions, Existential Well-
Being, Religiousness, and Paranormal Beliefs. This
article reports the development of a Revised
Paranormal Belief Scale that can be used to assess para-
normal and religious beliefs, allowing the researcher to
examine the nature of these beliefs and their implica-
tions for spirituality.
Considerable research concerning paranormal
beliefs has employed the original Paranormal Belief
Scale (PBS; Tobacyk & Milford, 1983), a measure of
self-reported degree of belief in paranormal phenome-
na. Much evidence supports the reliability and dis-
criminant validity of the PBS and its subscales
(Tobacyk, 1983; Tobacyk, 1984a; 1984b; Tobacyk &
Jones, 1984; Tobacyk & Milford, 1984; Tobacyk,
1985a; Tobacyk, 1985b; Tobacyk & Mitchell, 1987a;
Paranormal phenomena are defined as those that, if
genuine, would violate basic limiting principles of sci-
ence (Broad, 1953). An example of a basic limiting
principle is It is unlikely that a mental event can direct-
ly affect a physical event except for one in the experients
own brain. Thus, psychosomatic and hypnotically
induced phenomena are not classified as paranormal,
but psychokinetic phenomena, if authentic, would be
so classified.
The PBS provides a separate score on each of seven
factorially derived subscales, with each subscale reflect-
ing a major dimension of paranormal belief. The PBS
subscales are Traditional Religious Belief, Psi,
Witchcraft, Superstition, Spiritualism, Extraordinary
Life Forms, and Precognition. Respondents indicate
degree of belief for each of 25 items by using a five-
point rating scale.
Although the original PBS shows satisfactory relia-
bility and validity, a Revised Paranormal Belief Scale
(R-PBS) has been constructed with changes in the rat-
ing scale and in item content for three subscales. More
specifically, these changes involve (1) use of a seven-
point rating scale, (2) construction of a new
Precognition subscale, (3) replacement of two of four
Witchcraft subscale items, and (4) replacement of one
of three Extraordinary Life Forms subscale items.
These changes were made to lessen restriction in range
and to improve subscale reliability and validity, partic-

94 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

ularly cross-cultural validity.
Seven-Point Rating Scale
Some restriction in range occurred on the original
PBS, particularly on the Traditional Religious Belief
and Superstition subscales. To reduce restriction in
range, a seven-point rating scale is used with the R-
PBS. Table 1 lists the means, standard deviations, and
maximum and minimum scores for both the original
PBS and the R-PBS.
As indicated in Table 1, the minimum and maximum
mean item scores for each of the R-PBS subscales sug-
gest that respondents generally use the full seven-point
rating scale. Also, as indicated in Table 1, the standard
deviations have approximately doubled for four sub-
scales: Traditional Religious Belief, Psi, Witchcraft,
and Spiritualism. A seven-point rating scale allows
respondents to more precisely describe their beliefs,
and will lessen restriction of range.
Precognition Subscale
The original Precognition subscale had the lowest
test-retest reliability of the seven original PBS subscales
(rtt = .60 over a four-week interval). The three PBS
Precognition subscale items are as follows:
Item 1 Dreams can provide information about the
future;
Item 2 Some people have the ability to predict the
future; and
Item 3 The idea of predicting the future is foolish.
Each of the PBS Precognition subscale items is
ambiguous and could be endorsed for reasons that do
or do not reflect belief in paranormal precognition.
For example, regarding Item 1, a dream could pro-
vide accurate information about the future simply
owing to coincidence or through normal cognitive
processes (e.g., remembering the location of a lost
object in a dream). Thus, endorsement of Item 1

Table 1
A Comparison of Norms on the Original and Revised Paranormal Belief for University Students
in the Southern United States
_____________________________________________________________________________
Original Paranormal Revised Paranormal
Belief Scale Belief Scale
PBS Score (n=460) (n=217)
_______________________________________________________________________
M SD Min Max M SD Min Max
______________________ _______________________

Full Scale 72.9 11.1 41 104 89.1 21.9 40 165

Subscales
Traditional
Religious Belief 4.5 0.6 1.0 5.0 6.3 1.2 1.0 7.0
Psi 2.8 0.7 1.0 5.0 3.1 1.5 1.0 7.0
Witchcraft 2.5 0.8 1.0 5.0 3.4 1.7 1.0 7.0
Superstition 1.7 0.7 1.0 4.0 1.6 1.2 1.0 5.0
Spiritualism 2.4 0.7 1.0 5.0 2.8 1.4 1.0 7.0
Extraordinary
Life Forms 2.4 0.8 1.0 5.0 3.3 1.3 1.0 7.0
Precognition 3.5 0.7 1.0 5.0 3.0 1.3 1.0 7.0
________________________________________________________________________
Note. Mean scores refer to sum of item scores for Full Scale and mean item scores for subscales.

Paranormal Belief Scale 95

might or might not reflect belief in paranormal pre-
cognition. Concerning Item 2, trained scientists (e.g.,
meteorologists, medical diagnosticians) use scientifi-
cally validated procedures to predict future events.
Thus, endorsement of Item 2 might reflect either
belief in paranormal precognition or belief in the accu-
racy of predictions made by such scientifically validat-
ed prognosticators as medical diagnosticians or meteo-
rologists. Item 3 is also ambiguous in meaning. For
example, are all human attempts at predicting the
future foolish, including saving for retirement or pur-
chasing insurance policies? Alternatively, Item 3 might

Table 2

Revised Paranormal Belief Scale

___________________________________________________________________________________
Please put a number next to each item to indicate how much you agree or disagree with that item. Use the
numbers as indicated below. There are no right or wrong answers. This is a sample of your own beliefs and
attitudes. Thank you.

1=Strongly Disagree 2=Moderately Disagree 3=Slightly Disagree

4=Uncertain 5=Slightly Agree 6=Moderately Agree 7=Strongly Agree

1. The soul continues to exist though the body may die.

2. Some individuals are able to levitate (lift) objects through mental forces.
3. Black magic really exists.
4. Black cats can bring bad luck.
5. Your mind or soul can leave your body and travel (astral projection).
6. The abominable snowman of Tibet exists.
7. Astrology is a way to accurately predict the future.
8. There is a devil.
9. Psychokinesis, the movement of objects through psychic powers, does exist.
10. Witches do exist.
11. If you break a mirror, you will have bad luck.
12. During altered states, such as sleep or trances, the spirit can leave the body.
13. The Loch Ness monster of Scotland exists.
14. The horoscope accurately tells a persons future.
15. I believe in God
16. A persons thoughts can influence the movement of a physical object.
17. Through the use of formulas and incantations, it is possible to cast spells on persons.
18. The number 13 is unlucky.
19. Reincarnation does occur.
20. There is life on other planets.
21. Some psychics can accurately predict the future.
22. There is a heaven and a hell.
23. Mind reading is not possible.
24. There are actual cases of witchcraft.
25. It is possible to communicate with the dead.
26. Some people have an unexplained ability to predict the future.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Note. Item 23 is reverse scored. Traditional Religious Belief = Mean of Items (1, 8, 15, 22);
Psi = Mean of Items (2, 9, 16, 23); Witchcraft = Mean of Items (3, 10, 17, 24);
Superstition = Mean of Items (4, 11, 18); Spiritualism = Mean of Items (5, 12, 19, 25)
Extraordinary Life Forms = Mean of Items (6, 13, 20); Precognition = Mean of Items (7, 14, 21, 26).

96 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

be construed as meaning that only paranormal meth-
ods of predicting the future are foolish. Thus all three
items comprising the Precognition subscale on the
original PBS are problematic.
In a study of the cognitive dimensions used in pre-
dicting future events (Tobacyk & Nagot, 1987), 349
college students rated 60 beliefs about predicting
future events. The 60 items were intercorrelated and
factor analyzed, revealing seven basic dimensions used
to predict future events. The two clearest marker items
were selected from each of the two largest paranormal
precognition dimensions to form a new Precognition
subscale. These dimensions and items were
Paranormal Divinatory Systems (Astrology is a way to
accurately predict the future. The horoscope accurately
tells a persons future.) and Psychically Gifted Persons
(Some psychics can accurately predict the future. Some
people have an unexplained ability to predict the future.).
These four new Precognition items replaced the three
original PBS Precognition items. The test-retest relia-
bility of this revised Precognition subscale over a four-
week interval was .81, a substantial improvement over
the reliability of the original PBS Precognition sub-
scale (rtt = .60).
Witchcraft and Extraordinary Life Forms Subscales
Changes were made in the Witchcraft and
Extraordinary Life Forms subscales to improve cross-
cultural validity in Western cultures. Research with the
original PBS in Finland, Germany, and Poland,
showed that many European respondents were unfa-
miliar with such ostensibly paranormal phenomena as
voodoo and Bigfoot. Therefore, on the Witchcraft
subscale, the two items concerning belief in voodoo
(Voodoo is a real method to use paranormal powers. There
are actual cases of voodoo death.) were replaced with two
items that more generally concerned witchcraft
(Through the use of formulas and incantations, it is pos-
sible to cast spells on persons. There are actual cases of
witchcraft.) It is noted that the two replacement
Witchcraft subscale items were marker variables defin-
ing the Witchcraft factor in the original factor analyt-
ic PBS study (Tobacyk & Milford, 1983), loading .68
and .55 respectively on the Witchcraft factor. The test-
retest reliability of the revised Witchcraft subscale is
.93 over a four-week interval, while that of the original
Witchcraft subscale is .69.
Also, to improve cross-cultural validity, the item
Bigfoot does exist from the original Extraordinary Life
Forms subscale was replaced by the item There is life on
other planets. Although the item Bigfoot does exist had a
stronger factor loading than the replacement item in
the original factor analytic study (.74 versus .41), the
new item was also a marker variable for the
Extraordinary Life Forms factor. This change was nec-
essary because familiarity with the Bigfoot phenomena
appears largely limited to the United States. The
revised Extraordinary Life Forms subscale has a four-
week test-retest reliability of .91, compared to .82 for
the original subscale.
It is noted that Extraordinary Life Forms is the
only paranormal belief dimension that does not strict-
ly conform to the paranormality criterion violation of
a basic limiting principle of science (e.g., the mere exis-
tence of extraterrestrial life would not violate a basic
limiting principle). However, belief in extraordinary
life forms is often considered a component of a more
general paranormal or occult ideology (Zusne & Jones,
1982) and was therefore included as a paranormal
belief dimension.
Revised Paranormal Belief Scale Items
The remaining 18 items from the original PBS
were retained in the R-PBS. The four-week test-retest
reliabilities for the remaining R-PBS subscales for a
sample of forty university students are as follows: Full
Scale .92, Traditional Religious Belief .95, Psi .71,
Superstition .89, and Spiritualism .91.
Validity Issues
Although there has been some disagreement about
the nature and number of the belief dimensions
assessed by the R-PBS (Lawrence, 1995a, 1995b,
Lawrence, Roe, & Williams, 1997; Tobacyk, 1995a,
Tobacyk, 1995b, Tobacyk & Thomas, 1997), this scale
appears to be a conceptually and psychometrically sat-
isfactory measure of paranormal beliefs.
Summary
The original 25-item, five-point PBS was modified
into a 26-item, seven-point R-PBS. The changes
include replacement of the three-item PBS
Precognition subscale, replacement of two of the four
PBS Witchcraft subscale items, and replacement of
one of the three PBS Extraordinary Life Forms sub-
scale items. In total, seven new items replaced a total
of six original PBS items. These changes are expected
Paranormal Belief Scale 97
to improve reliability and validity, reduce restrictions
in range, and increase the cross-cultural validity in the
measurement of paranormal beliefs in Western cul-
tures. It is recommended that researchers in the areas
of paranormal beliefs and spirituality consider the use
of the R-PBS in their investigations.
References
Broad, C. D. (1953). The relevance of psychical
research to philosophy. In J. Ludwig (Ed.),
Philosophy and parapsychology (pp. 43- 63). Buffalo,
NY: Prometheus.
Lawrence, T. (1995a). How many factors of paranor-
mal belief are there?: A critique of the PBS. Journal
of Parapsychology, 59, 3 25.
Lawrence, T. (1995b). Moving on from the PBS: A
final reply to Tobacyk. Journal of Parapsychology,
59, 131-140.
Lawrence, T., Roe, C., & Williams, C. (1997).
Confirming the factor structure of the Paranormal
Beliefs Scale: Big orthogonal seven or oblique five?
Journal of Parapsychology, 61, 13-31.
MacDonald, D. A. (2000). Spirituality: Description,
measurement and relation to the five factor model
of personality. Journal of Personality, 68(1), 153-197.
MacDonald, D. A., Friedman, H. L., & Kuentzel, J.
G. (1999). A survey of measures of spiritual and
transpersonal constructs: Part oneResearch
update. Journal of Transpersonal Psychology, 31(2),
137-154.
MacDonald, D. A., Kuentzel, J. G., & Friedman, H.
L. (1999). A survey of measures of spiritual and
transpersonal constructs: Part twoAdditional
instruments. Journal of Transpersonal Psychology,
31(2), 155-177.
MacDonald, D. A., LeClair, L., Holland, C. J., Alter,
A., & Friedman, H. L. (1995). A survey of meas-
ures of transpersonal constructs. Journal of
Transpersonal Psychology, 27(2), 171-235.
Tobacyk, J. (1983). Paranormal beliefs, interpersonal
trust and social interest. Psychological Reports, 53,
229-230.
Tobacyk, J. (1984a). Death threat, death concerns and
paranormal belief. In F. R. Epting & R. A.
Neimeyer (Eds.), Personal meanings of death (pp.
29-38). New York: Hemisphere.
Tobacyk, J. (1984b). Paranormal belief and college
grade point average. Psychological Reports, 54,
98 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
217218.
Tobacyk, J. (1985a). Paranormal beliefs, alienation,
and anomie in college students. Psychological
Reports, 57, 844846.
Tobacyk, J. (1985b). The paranormal belief scale and
social desirability. Psychological Reports, 57, 624.
Tobacyk, J. (1995a). What is the correct dimensional-
ity of paranormal beliefs?: A reply to Lawrences
critique of the Paranormal Belief Scale. Journal of
Parapsychology, 59, 2746.
Tobacyk, J. (1995b). Final thoughts on issues in the
measurement of paranormal beliefs. Journal of
Parapsychology, 59, 141145.
Tobacyk, J., & Jones, G. (1984). Paranormal beliefs of
high school students. Psychological Reports, 55, 255-
261.
Tobacyk, J., & Milford, G. (1983). Belief in paranor-
mal phenomena: Assessment instrument develop-
ment and implications for personality functioning.
Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 44,
648655.
Tobacyk, J., & Milford, G. (1984). Superstition and
intentionality. Psychological Reports, 55, 513-514.
Tobacyk, J., & Mitchell, T. (1987a). Out-of-body
experience status as a moderator of effects of narcis-
sism on paranormal beliefs. Psychological Reports,
60, 440-442.
Tobacyk, J., & Mitchell, T. (1987b). The out-of-body
experience and personality adjustment. Journal of
Nervous and Mental Disease, 175(6), 367-370.
Tobacyk, J., Nagot, E., & Miller, M. (1987).
Paranormal beliefs and locus of control: A multidi-
mensional examination. Journal of Personality
Assessment, 52(2), 241-246.
Tobacyk, J., & Thomas, A. (1997). How the big
orthogonal seven is really the oblique seven.
Journal of Parapsychology, 61, 337-342.
Zusne, L., & Jones, W. H. (1982). Anomalistic psychol-
ogy. Hillsdale, N. J.: Erlbaum.
Correspondence regarding this article should be
directed to the author at the following address:
Louisiana Tech University, Department of Psychology
and Behavioral Sciences, Box 10048, Ruston,
Louisiana 71272. e-mail: Jerryt@vm.cc.latech.edu
 Lightly Swimming

Don Diespecker, Ph.D.

Earthrise, Thora, NSW, Australia

Essays on consciousness and the contents of consciousness are generally written in conventional
prose. Academics and scholars tend to write that way and in the present tense or the past tense
and sometimes in subtle mixes of tenses. Literary styles may also be appropriate to such writings
and consciousness writing (in literary fiction) seems both relevant and appropriate. The two prin-
cipal forms and techniques of consciousness writing are interior monologue and free indirect
style. Interior monologue represents the thoughts of a character as if narrated by a character as
I. In free indirect style the thoughts of a character are represented as reported speech in the third
person, past tense (after Lodge, 1992). An author may use one or both forms, and combinations
of the forms together with conventional styles of narration. William Jamess stream of conscious-
ness is implied in this essay.

riters write, many will insist, because they walk. Sometimes complete sentences arise innocently

W cannot help themselves. At Sounion, a bus

ride from Athens, there are the remains of a
column, lapped by the ocean, and chiselled darkly into
the marble is the inelegant but artistic word BYRON.
Paul Auster (1992) begins an essay (Native Son) with
these words:
America swallows up its poets, hides them away,
forgets them. Except for the few who become
famous (often those of meagre talent), the poet
with no axe to grind or vogue to follow can expect
little but neglector, at best, the admiration of his
peers. No one is to blame for this. We are simply
too vast, too chaotic to notice everything that pass-
es before our eyes. Much of the finest poetry writ-
ten today is published by small presses and seen by
no more than a few hundred readers. (p. 140)
Auster might as easily have written writers for
poets because writings are works of artlike poems
and pictures and sculptures and music and even graffi-
ti. Often, writings are the extended consequences of
solitary ideas alighting as if from nowhereor are the
results of intentional reasoningand they may be
inspired by contrary or paradoxical notions: a quirky
sentence in a text, a particular television news item, or
an overheard fragmented conversation on a busy side-
from the writers busy brain and whirl about demand-
ingly until the scribe scribbles them determinedly on
something. Frequently, wordless images will appear in
the picture-show theatre of the mindand be so com-
pelling as to cause the writer to attempt their capture,
to fix them with those symbols that we call words.
Some of the fleeting amalgams of images and words
rushing by in the stream of consciousness become
rounded up and written down, and sometimes, if the
writer is good enough, a reader of those written words
will also be able to see something of the imagery that
came first into the mind of the journeyman writer.
Writers want that to happen, especially the fiction
writers and the poets; they want the reader to see the
images that the writers words may trigger or engender
or inspire: whether or not the idea is fully in their
awareness, the writers want to share contents of con-
sciousness with readers.
Shapiro, Grace, and Gross (2002), in discussing
transpersonal psychologya major field in the
transpersonal domainshowed that the notion of
consciousness is important to scholars and
researchers. Defining consciousness has always been a
huge difficulty for all who ponder the mystery. It was
William James (1890/1950) who thought about and
wrote about consciousness as a stream and the

Lightly Swimming 99
notion has long been associated, too, with a particular
genre: consciousness writing. Lodge (1992) offers this
explanation:
The stream of consciousness, was a phrase coined
by William James, psychologist brother of the nov-
elist, Henry, to characterise the continuous flow of
thought and sensation in the human mind. Later it
was borrowed by literary critics to describe a partic-
ular kind of modern fiction which tried to imitate
this process exemplified by, among others, James
Joyce, Dorothy Richardson and Virginia Woolf.
The novel always was, of course, noted for its
interiorised rendering of experience. Cogito ergo
sum (I think, therefore I am) could be its motto,
though the novelists cogito includes not only rea-
soning but also emotions, sensations, memories
and fantasies. Defoes autobiographers, and
Richardsons letter-writers, at the beginning of the
novels development as a literary form, were obses-
sively introspective. The classic nineteenth-century
novel, from Jane Austen to George Eliot, combined
the presentation of its characters as social beings
with a subtle and sensitive analysis of their moral
and emotional inner lives. Towards the turn of the
century, however (you can see it happening in
Henry James), reality was increasingly located in
the private subjective consciousness of individual
selves, unable to communicate the fullness of their
experience to others. It has been said that the
stream-of-consciousness novel is the literary expres-
sion of solipsism, the philosophical doctrine that
nothing is certainly real except ones own existence;
but we could equally well argue that it offers some
relief from the daunting hypothesis by offering us
imaginative access to the lives of other human
beings, even if they are fictions. (p. 42)
Because researchers and scholars exploring that
which is transpersonal are concerned with conscious-
ness and with the contents of consciousness, there may
be good reasons for them to make some explorations
via so-called consciousness writing. While the form
and process are best known in literary fiction, they also
lend themselves to essays that appear as subjective or
biographical. Whatever writers use to construct lan-
guagethe syntax or grammar, all of the lexical and
rhetorical tools in their armamentariumthey employ
one style or another, including mixes of styles. Style
may not seem everything to a writer but without a
defined or a developing style the writer may experience
100 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
being at sea in a tumult of words as symbols in which
there is little sense of control or discipline. A variety of
styles will always be available to writers. When the
writer gets the syntax right and employs a relevant and
appropriate style, meaning and often accompanying
imagery will jitter into the awareness of the reader and
may even enable the reader to enjoy a range of experi-
ences: aesthetic ones, happy and sad and fearful and
excited feelings, and the reader may become aware of
profound feelings that move him or her to tears,
thanks to the writer having written particular arrange-
ments of words. For the writer, the task, magically, is
to organize words in ways such that these diverse sym-
bols, these many disparate parts comprising the writ-
ing, become not only an emerging whole, but may
seem ultimately to the reader to also be a whole which
is much more than the sum of the word parts when
even some of the those words seem almost to be that
which they describe.
An Illustration of Consciousness Writing
He knew he would remember much because the
Bellinger flowing by was means enough, at least for
him. Once in it the flow would open lines to memory
and real connections to imagination. The river was like
that. Perhaps it was like that for everybody who got
into the flow or perhaps it happened only in this river
and only on hot days. He would keep it in mind.
Over the salad-green lawn he went, carefully
watching for any lone snake in the still-damp grass
where it remained shady. Snaky days became warm
early and hot in no time. Although it was barely mid-
morning when he stepped down to the grey metalled
road the heat smote him in the face heavily. It remind-
ed him of being hit by a fist inside a pillow glove. Like
that, he thought, gasping ah!
For him memory was as odd a thing as could be
imagined. It was also sometimes certain and sure and
at other times memory faltered, usually in the short
term, but sometimes the old images looked a bit
ragged around the edges too. Despite age and accom-
panying occasional confusions most of his memory
was instantly available, or so he thought, and it was
also as clear as crystalas shining, as sparkling as flick-
ers of early morning sunlight twinkling downstream
on the dark surface of the river. He supposed that the
flickering of light was universal and that it would
probably be a reasonable sort of general description of
the universe. How could that be explained to some-
body from a different universe? We have light here: it
shines and beams and glows and illuminates and flick-
ers. Is it like that where you come from? What would
the other being sayassuming that were possible?
Probably: Yep, weve got that stuff too. Something
like that, he supposed. Humans seemed always so
anthropocentric and that kind of thing seemed
absolutely like a human signature, a Homo sapiens
footprint in the cosmos. Could the other guys not be
anthropocentric also? Perhaps they could be in their
own particular ways.
The heat was a stifling blanket descendingand it
kept coming down. He had had to interrupt his think-
ing because extreme heat made him concerned about
animals trying to survive extreme weather. At least
there was no desert here. Here there was abundant
growth and rich forests. There were subtropical rain-
forest creeks. There was everything that most creatures
neededbut now global weather was extreme and
here the heat was stifling. There were billions of
microbes in the baking soil. There were infrequently
seen birds trying to survive. Brush turkeys continued
to stalk his garden like black peacocks. Wallabies still
bounded across the early morning lawns. They had
that thick fur though. Night and dawn were better for
them. Bandicoots liked the night and the fruit bats
always worked in the cool dark. In September the
damp air flashed greenly with fireflies. That green
glowing seemed hot to his mind. He was projecting his
own concerns onto creatures more sensibly adapted
than he was. He would have to be more aware about
that, more knowing.
He went slowly over the timber bridge, by his reck-
oning feeling about 150 years old and wilting, then he
carefully stepped down to the water on the other side
of the river, shedding years. He again wondered about
snakes in places variousthey could appear suddenly,
even on a reasonably clear path at any time of the day
or night and in all kinds of weather. Strangely, and
although predicting the manifestations of snakes, he
knew, would never be a science, exact or otherwise,
there certainly were (in his experience, anyway) days
that were undoubtedly snaky. On a snaky day there
would be early heat in the air, usually dry heat, but not
invariably. He would walk extremely carefully on those
days, obsessively so, and use his eyes excessivelyand
sometimes hed have been correct: there would have
been a snake and hed have avoided it. The snake usu-
ally reacted in much the same way. Neither of them
had been looking for trouble. There was that time in
far-off Durban when he damned near shot himself
coming out the back door to find the black mamba
because the mechanism was faulty and the shotgun
discharged as he closed the breech. Damn, that was
close. What was it old Daniel Defoe wrote long ago:
the good die early, and the bad die late? He knew he
wasnt entirely bad or completely good but somewhere
in between as most people surely were and he knew
that he was continuing to amass experiences of many
kinds. What could one do with amassed experiences all
so varied, if not use thembut how best to use them
if they were to be used at all? That was the question.
Well thenthere were various answers to that but he
knew exactly which one he invariably wanted to
employ because it was obvious, easy and wonderfully
compelling: to write from ones experience, ones expe-
riences, rather. Indeed, yesand not forgetting to do it
creatively. There were probably many other answers to
the question, but the writing one worked for him.
It was still warm, the river, from yesterdays com-
fortable run down the valley although at first it seemed
cool on his skin and then in no time at all it was
acceptably cooling and soothing because ones whole
entire body would be in it, moving, and the water
moving too, against one or with one if onewho is
this silly one? Never mind that for now. There were
conventions in all things. There had been only storm
rains to keep it moving moderately and the fresh run-
ning through the black rock rapids bubbled brightly
and went rushing away to the dark of the forest down-
stream. The mainstream flow swirling through the
rocks looked full and felt good once he got close to it
and could feel its swirl against his legs. More years fell
from him and seemed swept away flowingly, like flow-
ers cast memorially. The lower the river was the slow-
er it travelled and the more it was warmed on its pas-
sage. Today the fresh was pointing to the left, to port
as you might say, pushed that way by the channelling
mainstream that came out angled in a metre-deep
trench through the bedrock. On days when the river
got up higher the fresh was conducted across to star-
board, to the right, and sparkled a lot moremore
widely, more expansively, the front of it waving from
side to side like a big questing creature. And in the
early morning it was also a beautiful white from the
rapids.
He would step in from the sloping gravelled bank
and wade so far until the mainstream pushed him out
Lightly Swimming 101
of control and then he might dive, barely a teenager
again, eyes open to see the coloured sand and gravel
made more clear by rounded pieces of singular white
quartzor he would breast it in the strong morning
sunlight feeling the caressing cool as it swept up his
protective old T-shirt ballooning it for moments while
the swirl tried to shove his hat off. He always wore a
hat and T-shirt and old tennis shoes as well as a fancy
pair of black trunks he once bought for a float in the
Dead Sea. There was nothing dead about this river: it
was full of lifeeven the exposed bedrock pieces that
made the rapids had small creatures ambling about on
them. Dressing up to have a swim always made sense
in New South Wales. There was the roasting sun and
there were spiky creatures with spines that broke off in
your foot. He often thought the same thing repeated-
ly: the river is more than its surface, moving. This mar-
vellous live thing has length and width and depth. It
was necessary to be in it, it was essential to penetrate
that surface to experience it properly. There were a few
magic places in the windowed house where if he stood,
barely breathing, and squinted a bit, he could just
glimpse the upriver bend beyond the bridge, see also
the bridge in front of him, see the pool as well, and,
straining his eyes to the right, see the green top of it
rolling down to the next bend through the forest. He
was surely the only human standing in one of those
cosmic places where so much of the river could be seen
in one breadth of seeing. It was quite the same, he
decided, as having divine powers. Why else had seeing
been bestowed upon us? But that was from up there
in the house. Once you were in it the experiencing was
penetratingly different.
In the late summer days of humid February and
contained by a few airy metres above the water there
were white butterflies that moved slowly, bobbing
gracefully, even languidly, and they sometimes came
lower toward the surface but never touched, never
landed and there were whirring dragonflies, heads
down like dipping helicopters, always really close to
the water, seeming to touch it every so often and they
all flew about like that, whenever he glanced at the
water, all through the day. Although they all moved
endlessly and were busily alive they also all seemed
movingly embedded in the supporting air. The butter-
flies reminded him of other ones, yellow, so much
quicker, that bounced, bobbed and weaved for most of
the late summer days up there over his garden, sta-
tioned in different, waterless air and they in turn
102 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
reminded him of the Welcome Swallows cutting
through their other pockets of air down at
Richardsons, the next bridge along the road. The swal-
lows seemed to be feeding on the wing but there was
surely some free time too, some need for flighted
games perhaps, an ego-like thing that compelled flying
displayseven under the bridge they swooped and
then dashed straight up before breaking away like Air
Force acrobatic teams. The yellow garden butterflies
bobbed differently and so surprisingly fast, changing
direction, seldom solo and almost always there were
two, three or four of themand sometimes more than
that. At such frantic rates of climb and darting
manoeuvre they were hardly feeding and what they
seemed to be doing in their 10 to 20 metres of altitude
and airspacenever higher, strangelyaround the
gardens was being intent on mating and maybe evad-
ing mating. Was that like flirting? They were really
fast. Maybe the gardens were a sort of butterfly reserve
or a trysting place, a pick-up joint for yellow butter-
flies. And maybe the Welcome Swallows were mating
too. Would they do that in winter, which was when he
saw them being most active? He didnt think so. Were
those yellow butterflies choosing to mate in the late
summer, in the hot and humid February? He simply
didnt know the answers. He had lived there for 20
yearslonger than he had lived anywhere in the
worldand although he had learned a few things in
that time he really knew very little. In the house he
sometimes reflected on a river-stone paperweight on
his table when he paused in his writing and he would
see laminations and striations and little pinprick holes
and think mudstone or maybe sandstone and won-
der why the original strata were not all paralleland
he would always enjoy the colour and the clean surface
untarnished. How had it come to be? For all his varied
experience he knew how little he really knew about
anything but he daily thanked God that he was able to
see the world.
The butterflies and the remembered swallows also
reminded him of the big pool next to Jasmine below
Richardsons where several hundred years ago, it
seemed, he and the Gestalt group always swam and
after the last session of the day there were often one or
two who did some river-work therethose who
were blocked or stuck in resistance and they were
invited to pose for themselves appropriate liberating
questions then dive deep to the bottom and stay there
till they had their answers and after a while theyd burst
up to the surface, gasping. Those were the days of
express-like ways to super-quick awareness. How use-
ful the wise river could be! River-work always succeed-
ed, spectacularly.
Theres the big pool here too, he kept thinking. We
used to call it the Champagne Pool because there were
bubbles in front of the rapids and you had only to dive
under, eyes open, to have a champagne experience,
tickled.
In the water swimming or floating in and out of
sunlight and shadowsparticularly in the changing
lights of mid or late afternoonhe sometimes imag-
ined himself upstairs in the house, writing and pausing
between sentences and when pausing glancing out the
window to see the white top of the water and lines of
light across its surface, depending on the time of day.
When he was in the river swimming he would some-
times look up to where his writing window was and
even seem to see himself sitting there thoughtfully
looking out and down to the watereven imagining
then that he could also see himself down there in the
river as well. He knew too that being too free with his
well-connected imagination was wildly narcissistic but
he ignored that because he knew that in the years of
being alivebutterfly, bird, water dragon, manthe
contents of all lives lived were also lenses, windows on
the world, the universe, everything. One had to be not
only there, but fully present too. The imagination was
not something to be stifled, or even attenuated. It had
always made sense to use what could be used. It had
always seemed almost a duty.
If he timed his river visits well he sometimes had
the place almost to himself. He allowed his own high
river banks to remain well covered in everything
growth-full that might deter crazed fishermen from
plunging along them or up and down them struggling
withsnakes for exampleor other unknown hor-
rors. But that seldom worked well because the fisher-
men (one seldom saw a fisherwoman) would simply
scramble over his stone river wall and invade his gar-
denover the gravity wall he had intended as a stone
fence, coming in determinedly from the road and then
marching with profane aplomb through his private
paradise. Damnthe nerve of some people! The
River was popular with visitors, naturally, who often
turned up in droves (it was everybodys rivernobody
had personal swimming rights except all the creatures
of the natural world who lived in it, on it, over it),
especially in the summer holidays.
Thus, having exclusive use of the riverand on a
hot Saturday afternoonwas a surprise to him. Where
were they all and was there something demanding
(tennis perhaps) on TV to have kept them away? For
then he could do exhibitionistic laps and he could
swim in place at the edge of the mainstream, his face
in the water, his soaked hat keeping the sun off his
head, seeing down to the bottom of the flow where
there were snags and sunken logs in the gravel, some-
times the flash of a small fish going by. When he float-
ed he sometimes had the company of little fish that
flopped about on the mainstream surface, always the
mainstream rather than the smaller flows burbling
through the rapids running right across the river and
curiously the bright silver flashing of the fish remind-
ed him of his cabin boy days on the old Bencleugh
and the time when she was hove to on a still
Caribbean, the south part of it, near Venezuela and
because it was deep there and the boy was fascinated
more than fascinated: in thrall, to and by the deep
oceanhe begged some empty flat cigarette tins from
the crew, opened them out, skipped some over the rails
into the sunlight to see them flutter down to the fear-
some dark, reflecting the sun briefly, winking then
dwindling to the black abyssyet here the deepest
pools were only three metres or so except there by the
rapids (the stepping-stone rapids also much used by
hopelessly addicted fishermen who absolutely had to
hop over and across if they could without slipping and
falling or hooking themselves in one of his riverside
trees because they always paused and perched and
tried, unbalanced, to cast a lure) and just below the
same rapids, if it were quiet enough and not too many
people going by in cars or walking he could prop him-
self on part of the bedrock right in front of the rapids
and hang out there getting buffeted and patted and
massaged on the back because he had to face down-
stream bracing himself, his feet up against another big
broken part of the bedrock so he wouldnt be swept
away. Then in the later afternoon with the light pat-
terns changing constantly shade from the garden trees
high up on the starboard bank and the big 80 metres
eucalypts casting blurred shadows he could sink down
a bit in the swirl of green water and see what life there
was in that narrow zone 200- or 300-millimetres above
the surface (the yellow butterflies had more degrees of
freedom): there were the dragonflies and other kinds
of fly that reminded him of his trout fishing daysfly
fishing in the Snowy, all over New South Wales and
Lightly Swimming 103
before that in Africa. Exciting it all was but deadly for
the fishand that was why he stopped fishing alto-
gether. In that narrow band of air he could see there
was a wonderful variety of winged small life moving
constantly, drawn to the moving water, flitting in and
out of the dappled light.
There was something moving on him, on his arm.
He bent his head solemnly, straining to see politely
and without fuss, without making too great a demand
on focus. Now his chin rested on the top of his T-shirt
where squinting he could also see part of the faded
green design where the words Gestalt Training
Centre, Wollongong remained a solemn, teasing and
faded emblem. Somehow a tiny green spider had man-
ifested on his left forearm, plodding through and
across and along his curved hairs, seemingly uncon-
cerned and perhaps blown down from the banks or
possibly even brought to this unexplained and surpris-
ing meeting, midstream, an unexpected traveller along
what must have been an oceanic river, and so feeling
compassion and care flow through him he floated
away considerately to the port-side bank, arm up dry
to the dry shore and let himor possibly heroff
where the wee beastie might be safer, perhaps
although in this wild world who could say if the spider
might have been happier left alone? He remembered
that days ago in midday heat he had met a snake swim-
ming toward himnot that he knew what it was until
close because there was only this odd little upstart head
like a periscope that made him veer to starboard to
find out and of course it was a black snakegasp
but only a metre or so long so hardly a monster yet and
it seemed that the snake had much the same idea
because of its breaking away to starboard too and so it
came for a closer look and they each in their own odd
ways checked each other out, in passing (in the mans
mind, at least) and then resumed their courses and
swam on. Mutual curiosity. Perhaps that was how one
should exchange courtesies with snakes, both on land
and in rivers: simply smile and nod politely and keep
going (although that water-borne snake had not
smiled). Meetings with snakes were otherwise fraught,
he mused in the embracing water. For really, there had
been no problems at all with the young black snake
it seemed almost a congenial encounter. Four metres of
thick red-bellied black snake in the waterthat would
have been somewhat different. Up above on the river-
side edge of his lawn where he frequently sat there was
very often a single water dragon who began the season
104 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
a surprising orange and had only two or three bars of
it left but in the early days of spring and summer when
the stinging flies were hunting tasty humans, this little
dragon became almost tame, using the mans boot as a
hunting perch. He sometimes fed a kill to the dragon
and chatted a bit, casually swinging his leg, the dragon
looking up at him, unblinking, while boot riding. The
dragon was most friendly, he thought. He knew that
reptiles werent invariably badeven the younger
goannas (who ate big snakes for breakfast) were decent
enough not to single him out for a snack. Respect, the
man thought guardedly, (and always keeping a sensibly
safe distance), respect was the key.
Now in the late afternoon and during the third
or was it the fourthswim of the day with the surface
water quite warm and the lower levels of the river deli-
ciously cool and still nobodyamazinglyarriving to
join him the sun had turned widely and now was cast-
ing its late afternoon light through the old trees high
on the crest of the hill downstream and he remem-
bered that of course it was the end of February and the
light at that time of year was always wondrous because
when the late sun glowed reflectively on the down-
stream surface the soft colours made the rivers surface
in long stretches seem like beaten gold, like gold leaf
with some soft green there too. What might that look
like from beneath the surface, eyes open, looking to
heaven? Drunk with words he could see that the lights
of the late afternoons of late Februaries were seeming-
ly beyond words.
He swam again through the swirling fresh, remem-
bering the little spider now further removed in its great
travels, and from the corner of his eye, splashing
through the surface he saw in clear light a bigger perch
jump, not once, but some five or six times, high like a
trout and coming upstream toward him but on the far
side of the river in the sunlight and he thought of see-
ing salmon running in the bigger rivers and greater
torrents of Vancouver Island, long ago, and trout in
the Cowichan, in the Princes Pool downstream from
the cabin in the woods long ago, and then he made a
slow breast-stroking swim toward the shadowing
rapids and changed halfway to the old side-stroke that
his father used when they all went swimming in the
Cowichan in the mid-30s and by 1937, when swim-
ming too in the Blyde, high in the Transvaal, long,
long ago also, and then he got to the rapids again and
was about to perch himself there once more for the
cool refreshing feelings offered by the familiar river of
the 80s and 90s and the new century present and so Correspondence regarding this article should be
without realizing it at first he felt the rapids efferves- directed to the author at don@midcoast.com.au.
cence running giddily up his legs, the lighted bubbles
at the head of the pool by the rapids that so irresistibly 2005 Don Diespecker
enabled he and Olejay to call that part of the river the
Champagne Pool, so then he stopped, remembering
images, and then turned around carefully again,
remembering his way anew into that layered ambient
place that seemed less well remembered a mere 20
years before, that lively zone of filled space now unmis-
takably visible immediately over the water in 04,
immersed in the luminance of it, the luminosity of
whirring life, the greens of designer bodies, the
translucent blues of wings, the congregation of tiny
creatures blurring without collisions, the multi engage-
ments of the aerial micro-world there in the rivers
aurasomething he was a part of and also in
because when he used his eyes gratefully he saw that he
was seeing a divine world transparent, a filled thin
space he could both see and also be part of seeing into
and through life that was only as high as his head in
the water in that long lighted place like a glowing por-
tal that was simply a living layer of the earth and an
ambient window too, that was filled with flying life
flying in and out and along and through a long lens of
afternoon air just above the surface of the river on a
late sunny afternoon in February and so he continued
moving about in it instead of sitting and watching
apart from it all because he knew he could never be
separate from any of it and then he also knew that he
knew much more because he could see he was lightly
swimming in light

References
Auster, P. (1992). The art of hunger: Essays, prefaces,
interviews and The Red Notebook. New York:
Penguin Books.
James, W. (1950). The principles of psychology. New
York: Dover. Originally published in 1890.
Lodge, D. (1992). The art of fiction. London: Penguin
Books.
Shapiro, S. I., Grace, W. L., & Gross, P. L. (2002). The
essence of transpersonal psychology:
Contemporary views. International Journal of
Transpersonal Studies, 21, 19-32.

Lightly Swimming 105

 SPECIAL TOPIC:
TRANSPERSONAL STUDIES APPLIED TO ORGANIZATIONAL/CULTURAL CHANGE

Images of the Intrapersonal Organization:

Soul Making at Work

Mary Ann Hazen, Ph.D. and Jo Anne Isbey

University of Detroit Mercy

In this paper, the authors use archetypal theory to explore the relationship between personal and
organizational development and the role of tacit knowledge and active imagination in such devel-
opment. The authors claim that organizational change occurs within each person as well as at the
more frequently studied levels of small group and large system; and that individuals and their rela-
tionship with work and the organization as experienced develop concurrently. The authors posi-
tion is illustrated through a case taken from a larger qualitative study using methods of data col-
lection and analysis rooted in an interpretive framework.

he postmodern organization calls us to per- modifies the perceptual screen through which infor-

T ceive, appreciate, and even cherish variety, dif-

ference, heterogeneity, and conflict. Multitudes
of images and voices exist in each organization. Each
person embodies many voices, perspectives, stances,
emotions, ego states, and ways of understanding.
Grounded in the body, formed by experience, and
shaped by perception, this multiplicity challenges us to
see, hear, and feel who we and others are as we work
together. An archetypal, transpersonal framework,
which goes beyond postmodernism to embrace the
spiritual aspects of the person, can support such aware-
ness.
In this paper, we use an archetypal perspective to
explore the relationship between personal and organi-
zational development and the role of tacit knowledge
and active imagination in such development. We claim
that organizational change occurs within each person
as well as at the more frequently studied levels of dyad,
small group, and large system; and that the person and
his or her relationship with work and the organization
as experienced develop concurrently. Such organiza-
tional change happens when an individual becomes
aware of knowledge about the organization that was
previously unconscious, integrates this learning, and so
mation about the organization is filtered. We illustrate
our assertions through a case taken from a larger qual-
itative study using methods of data collection and
analysis rooted in an archetypal transpersonal para-
digm.
First, we define the terms from archetypal psychol-
ogy that we will use in our case study. We then review
the organizational literature regarding spirituality and
archetypal theory in the workplace. We describe the
qualitative methodology used and portray the case that
we have chosen to illustrate our claims, with the analy-
sis based on an archetypal framework.
Terms from Archetypal Theory
In this section, we define the terms from archetyp-
al theory that we use in the following case analysis.
Jungian psychologists understand soul as the
human process that connects the pleasures and pains
of material existence with that which transcends them,
allowing people to find meaning. Soul is midway
between understanding and unconsciousness. Its
instrument is the imagination. The soul integrates
spirit and matter and prevents them from polarizing
(Moore, 1992, p. 232). Soul making is the work that

106 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

holds and bears the tension between opposites, creat-
ing spaces for the transcendent function.
The transcendent function is the symbol-making
action of the psyche that reconciles and integrates con-
scious and unconscious material (Moore, 1992;
Hollwitz, 1992; Olson, 1990). In 1916, Jung (in
Read, Fordham, Adler, & McGuire, 19531979)
described the ground of the transcendent function as
not only intellectual knowing but also a way of under-
standing through experience.
Individuation is the process of development and
maturation through which a person integrates and
binds aspects of the inner and outer lives to the core of
being. When an individual realizes, recognizes, or
remembers those aspects of the self that have been lost,
overlooked, denounced, silenced, or hidden in shad-
ow; and listens to their stories, heeds their desires, or
meets their needs, that person changes and individu-
ates (Hillman, 1983). The ego broadens and deepens
through individuation.
Active imagination is a process that was developed
by Jung and elaborated by Progoff (1975) and
Hillman (1983). When it is applied, a person becomes
aware of, listens to, and learns from the various aspects
of the self. It supports the process of individuation.
Active imagination is entered into in a variety of ways.
For example, active imagination is used when a person
remembers and pays attention to a dream and heeds its
message. In another use of active imagination, Jung
(1965) drew and asked his patients to draw mandalas,
squared circles that represent the whole self. Moore
(1992) and Hillman (1983) proposed using the imag-
ination to attend to the meaning of the bodys pain,
symptoms, and disease. Progoff (1975) suggested a
journal writing method in which an aspect of ones life
is imagined as a person with whom one engages in dia-
logue.
As it is used in this paper, dialogue is the symbolic
interaction that happens between people when they
name their experience in a relationship of mutuality,
reciprocity, and co-inquiry (Hazen, 1987). This means
that each person perceives the self and the other as able
to change, learn, and teach the other in the relation-
ship. Further, each recognizes that a rich understand-
ing of a situation includes the perceptions of each per-
son in the situation, not only ones own. Although
Senge, Kleiner, Roberts, Ross, and Smith (1994) and
Isaacs (1999) have portrayed a model of dialogue that
is popular among organizational development practi-
tioners and managers, emphasizing dialogue as a large-
group phenomenon that occurs in stages with speci-
fied behaviors in relationship, the accent in this paper
is on dialogue as an interpersonal phenomenon in
which the ongoing present moment is vital. From
whatever perspective dialogue is viewed, it leads to a
flow of meaning and creativity. Dialogue allows the
soul to work.
In the following two sections, we give an overview
of organization literature related to spirituality and
archetypal theory that is applicable to our case analysis.
Spirituality and the Workplace
Spirituality and work have been examined exten-
sively in the management literature. Cavanagh (1999)
observed that a recent bibliography listed 72 books on
business and spirituality, 54 of which were published
between 1992 and 1998. Fornaciari and Dean (2002)
noted that at least two management journals, the
Journal of Organizational Change Management and the
Journal of Management Education, have devoted special
issues to the topic of spirituality and organizations, in
1999 and 2000, respectively.
Definitions of spirituality at work differ. For exam-
ple, Burack (1999) held that spiritual growth involves
mental growth and reflects the fulfillment of higher-
order individual needs such as achievement and
belonging. Mitroff and Denton (1999) reported find-
ings from a study of human resources executives and
managers, who defined spirituality as the basic feeling
of being connected with ones complete self, others,
and the entire universe (p. 83). These managers dif-
ferentiated between religion and spirituality, saying
that religious expression was out of place in the work-
place, while spirituality was appropriate for discussion.
While emphasizing that religion and spirituality are
not necessarily synonymous, McCormack (1994), in
his discussion of workplace spirituality, looked at spir-
ituality as the experience of a person in relationship to
that which is transcendent. In this paper, we draw
from these definitions and understand spirituality to
be related to belonging and being connected to that
which transcends the ego, and to seeking or finding a
sense of meaning in ones life.
Gozdz (2000) wrote that the worldview of
transpersonal psychology, with its emphasis on spiritu-
ality, has much to offer to the field of organizational
learning. It is with this emphasis in mind that we use
the lens of archetypal theory to more fully understand
Soul Making at Work 107
the way that organizational change takes place within
the individual.
Archetypal Theory and the Workplace
One stream of literature regarding spirituality,
work, and organizations is related to archetypal theo-
ry. Management theorists have used an archetypal
framework to shed light on leadership (Frost & Egri,
1990; Egri & Frost, 1991; Smith & Elmes, 2002),
organizations (Moxnes, 1999), organizational culture
(Kaarst-Brown & Robey, 1999), organizational devel-
opment and change (Olson, 1990; Goldberg, 2001;
Starr-Glass, 2002; Carr, 2002), and organizational
environments (Matthews, 2002).
Regarding the person at work, Stein (1992)
declared that organizational life as a spiritual practice
offers opportunities for individuation and develop-
ment. Hollwitz (1992) examined individuation at
work, identifying organizations as sites for soul mak-
ing. Palmer (1994) emphasized the importance of ele-
vating the value of inner work, such as journaling,
reflective reading, and meditation, in work organiza-
tions.
Others have applied the technique of active imagi-
nation in organizations. Barry (1994) used the cre-
ation of sculptures by work groups as a way to elicit
organizational change on a military base. Wisely and
Lynn (1994) described ways to cultivate hospitable
spaces for disciplined reflection in organizational life
(p. 103). They list dialogue, story telling, reading
together, and considering mission and history as ways
of doing so.
This paper extends such work. We report part of a
study of three organizations. We use concepts and
methodology founded in archetypal theory to explore
how individual and organizational change can happen
concurrently. We show how the use of a dialogue-
based journal writing technique evoked images that
represent archetypes, creating soul and activating the
transcendent function to integrate unconscious and
conscious material and support individuation.
Methodology
Organizations can be understood as socially con-
structed systems of stories, discourses, or texts (Boje,
1991; Boje & Dennehy, 1993; Denzin, 1989) that are
interpreted. This research project uses an interpretive
or constructivist paradigm (Denzin & Lincoln, 2000,
pp. 2022) to understand organizational change and
108 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
development at the intrapersonal as well as interper-
sonal levels. We explored individuals images of their
organizations and their discourse about them.
Fornaciari and Dean (2001) set forth two concerns
regarding the increasing interest in research in spiritu-
ality and the workplace: the inadequacy of the tradi-
tional, monological tools of positivist social science to
examine spirituality and business, and the possibility
that knowledge about this area could be used to
manipulate employees. They suggested that research
sustained in a framework of dialogue speaks to both of
these concerns, as it recognizes the complexity of the
whole person and defies short-term, easily quantified
results. In our study, the qualitative methodology, the
methods of data collection, and the process of data
analysis of this study are grounded in dialogue and
respond to such concerns. Further, they are consistent
with not only the values of dialogue but also the pur-
pose of the research.
Each of the three groups that participated in the
larger research project represents a different organiza-
tion and was made up of members of that organiza-
tion. The three organizations included one whose mis-
sion was to educate about justice; another founded to
inform people about the work of Jung; and an under-
graduate university writing class that met at a manu-
facturing site.
Data were collected through individual written
exercises as well as observations of group meetings at
which extensive notes were taken. Progoff (1975), a
follower of Jung, developed a complex journal writing
process to engage active imagination. As one means of
data collection to study the role that active imagina-
tion can play in understanding organizational process-
es and change, the first author developed an exercise
based on this journal writing process (see Appendix).
The purpose of the exercise was to allow each partici-
pant to consciously process his or her images of work
using intrapersonal and interpersonal dialogue.
Additional data were collected through observation of
the group dialogues centered on the results of the writ-
ing exercise. Data from the first workshop were the-
matically analyzed by the first author, and then por-
trayed to the participants in the second workshop.
Participants either consensually validated the
researchers interpretation or offered differing analyses.
The group on which we focus in this paper is the
first, the organization founded to educate about jus-
tice. At the time of the research project, the organiza-
tion was rethinking the relationship among various
membersrecipients of their services, board, and paid
staff. Three staff members and a member of the board
participated in both workshops. At the first meeting at
which data were collected, participants wrote a state-
ment of their relationship with the organization at the
present moment, surfaced an image of the organiza-
tion as a person, listed ten steps in the organizations
history, then imagined a dialogue with the organiza-
tion. Participants volunteered to read aloud what they
had written. The group then identified common
themes among the pieces that they had written.
Participants gave their written work to the researcher
(the first author of this paper), who completed a more
detailed thematic analysis of their responses.
Several weeks later, the group met again. The
researcher fed back to them a tentative analysis of their
work. They discussed these findings and offered alter-
native interpretations. The group members then
repeated the journal writing exercise and the researcher
again collected and thematically analyzed the written
work. Later, the two authors of this paper reviewed the
written data and used an archetypal framework to
interpret and amplify the images, histories, and dia-
logues. A similar process was followed with the other
two organizational groups, each of which was also fac-
ing changes.
The interpretation of the data grew from carefully
considered dialogue between the two authors. The first
author is trained as a Gestalt therapist and earned a
Ph.D. in organizational behavior, which she teaches at
a university business school; the second author is an
English professor and has a deep knowledge of and
extensive experience with Jungian analysis. In our
interpretations, we have used the Jungian and arche-
typal concepts indicated earlier, our own experiences
with the practice of active imagination and dream
work, and our knowledge of the people and organiza-
tions involved in this research. We acknowledge that
our interpretations of these data are shaped by our
own professional and personal backgrounds, and oth-
ers might differ in their interpretations. Since we are
working within an interpretive or constructivist para-
digm, we make no claim that our results can be gener-
alized to other organizations. However, we are confi-
dent that our results are credible and that others could
use similar methods in other organizations and discov-
er individual and organizational changes particular to
their situation. We believe that our insights and per-
spectives are valuable to people working in and study-
ing organizations and contribute to knowledge about
organizational change and personal and managerial
development.
Results
The process in the workshops allowed organization
members to imagine their organizations in a way that
is somewhat uncommon and to engage in group dia-
logue about their images, thoughts, feelings, and intu-
itions about the organization. Images and dialogues
generated during the second workshop were different
from those that emerged in the first. Amplification of
these images using archetypal theory indicated that
change was evident in many individuals relationship
with their organization. One pattern emerged from all
three organizations: many of the images generated in
the second workshop tended to be more grounded,
human, and differentiated and less numinous or up in
the air than those in the first, suggesting that these
individuals and their relationships with their work and
one another had developed concurrently. This process
also contributed to organizational development, as
people dialogued with one another about their images
and the implications that they had for their collective
life, which was in a state of transition. In this paper, we
concentrate on one case that represents this pattern.
The individual has been given a fictitious name in
order to ensure confidentiality.
Illustrative Case
Douglas was a staff member with the organization
whose mission was to educate about justice. He wrote
that, although his workplace was not the primary
organization with which he was affiliated, [i]t
hasenlightened, enlivened, and moved me
[and]has allowed me expression, growth, and affir-
mation.
In the first exercise, he imagined the organization
as a dancing woman who expresses grief, struggle,
hope, and solidarity. The dance ends with the body
arched heavenward, hands outstretchedin connec-
tion between earth and heaven.
In dialogue with this image, he wrote: Sometimes
I feel like I am working in a vacuum. You seem most
associated with me when we have a common success. I
think you are ready to support and connect yourself
with me when you like my work and when that work
is successful. At other times, I feel like our relationship
Soul Making at Work 109
is floundering. She replied, Part of my problem is
that I have so many voices in my head and so many
dreams, ambitions, preoccupations, and responsibili-
ties. I dont feel so unified. . . . Its as if my cells are
exploding in hundreds of tiny directions. He reflect-
ed that he felt frustrated and tense about the direction
of the organization, and identified several conflicts
and perspectives.
Two weeks later, at the second workshop, Douglas
described his relationship to the organization in this
way: Over and over again these past six years I have
been amazed and thankful for this job. I really love this
work, this place, this style! The image and dialogue
that he generated during the second workshop were
quite different than those of the first workshop. He
described his image:
I see a circle of hundredspeople, predominantly
women, gathered aroundlarge picnic shelters, in
a small sunny village in Guatemalaat a barn rais-
ing., at a mass rally in [Africa]. I see bright
colors, sunshine, happiness, children, musicians,
large tables of native foods.
He imagined that he heard the organization speak
in a series of voices, remarks coming from every direc-
tion. He wrote that he felt overwhelmed but still
wanted to hear it all. He ended by writing, I love the
way you continue to teach me by your word and exam-
ple. I am proud to be part of an organization that
includes [many individuals that I respect]. At the end
of the exercise, he described feelings of peacefulness,
satisfaction, happiness, excitement, mystery rather
than confusion, creative diversity rather than conflict.
Douglas statements of relationship expressed both
connection and detachment. His first image, the danc-
ing woman, was numinous, almost goddess-like. Their
dialogue expressed ambiguity, confusion, and conflict.
His second, more multifaceted but less ambiguous
image, of a vibrant circle of hundreds, focused those
voices, dreams, and responsibilities. It is as if they
moved from their existence in the dancers head to
have a life of their own. Douglas was in the center of
the image, at the heart of the vital, diverse, noisy gath-
ering he imagined. This second image is less god-like,
more human, and more differentiated. Douglas is
more fully a part of it.
Organizational Results
In both workshops, when participants in the group
110 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
read and discussed the images and dialogues that they
had generated, several tensions and issues emerged
that, they reported, had not been fully voiced and
explored among them. They revealed a sense of mys-
tery, adaptability, and flexibility. They noticed patterns
about which they had not been aware previously. They
shared dilemmas, values, and beliefs that had been
unspoken among them. This conversation probably
influenced the images of and dialogues with the organ-
ization during the second meeting. When the organi-
zation was at a crossroads, each member listened to her
or his own spirit and to the creative life of the others.
There was also some evidence of collective change
following the second workshop. For example, the
homogeneity of the staff was talked about. The two
staff members hired after the workshops reflected
greater diversity. Also discussed was the relative
emphasis of the organization on one urban area of the
state. Later, projects reported in the newsletter pro-
duced by the organization portrayed somewhat less
emphasis on the urban region and more on rural issues
and other geographical areas of the state.
While Douglas and his colleagues were members of
the same denomination, none of the images that
emerged in the workshops were specifically related to
their religious tradition. This suggests that the process
of soul making in organizations, linking spirit and
matter, mind and body, is a spiritual one that is not
necessarily linked to a specific religion and can be rel-
evant to all people in a variety of organizations.
The images of the workplace that emerged, the
ensuing intrapersonal dialogues, and the interpersonal
dialogues among organizational members that fol-
lowed were soul-making. They facilitated the integra-
tion of conscious and unconscious material about the
organization and Douglass relationship with work.
They enabled Douglas to create meaning individually
as well as collectively with his peers. The workshops
provided space for the rational and the imaginal to
play together and acted as a vessel for the process of
individuation in the person and for the development
of soul.
Discussion
Of the four people who participated in the two
workshops from this organization, three of them
demonstrated a pattern of development in relationship
to the organization similar to Douglas. The fourth per-
son, another full-time staff member, was leaving the
organization to do other work; her results indicated
emotional disengagement. We noticed similar patterns
among many of the participants in the other two
organizations that we studied.
The participants tacit knowledge of their organiza-
tions was evoked by their engagement with the images
generated in this exercise, as well as the interpersonal
dialogues about the images among people who worked
together. The material was first expressed in numinous
archetypal images and then in more realistic, complex,
balanced images that allowed for adaptation to the
external world of the workplace. Uncovering the
archetypal ground of the organization and surfacing
the individuals lived relationship to that workplace
created space for the transcendent function, thereby
transforming mundane ordinary activity into extraor-
dinary soul making. Specific experiences of the ego, in
this case the conscious processing of the archetypal
images of work, activated the transcendent function.
That symbol-making action of the psyche reconciled
and incorporated conscious and unconscious material,
creating not simply intellectual comprehension but
also apprehension, that is, understanding through
experience. The intrapersonal and interpersonal dia-
logues helped people to feel more included in their
organizations and to find meaning in their work.
Organizational change and development is fre-
quently studied at the levels of the small work group
and the organization as a whole. The data presented
and interpreted in this paper suggest that organization-
al change can be investigated at the personal level of
the organization, as well. We suggest that using a qual-
itative methodology that supports dialogue and the
practice of active imagination can help not only to
uncover new knowledge about spirituality and work
but also support individuation and organizational
change.
Change happens within people as they become
aware of knowledge about the organization of which
they were previously unconscious, integrate that learn-
ing, and thus modify the perceptual screens through
which they filter information about the organization.
As people engage in soul making in the workplace
that is, as they integrate spirit and matterthey dis-
cover meaning in the activities and interactions of
their labor and engage in the process of individuation.
Through this process, they can also connect with oth-
ers in their organization around values and issues that
are important to them, thus creating a sense of inclu-
sion and belonging. Such a sense of meaning and
belonging can help them to connect to that which
transcends the ego. The person and her or his relation-
ship with work and the organization develop concur-
rently.
When we envision ourselves and organizations as a
pandemonium of images, we know ourselves and see
our world from a variety of perspectives (Hillman,
1983). If we conceive of ourselves, our work relation-
ships, and organizations as many voices and dia-
loguesas polyphony we hear differences and pos-
sibilities within and among us. We discover that each
person, each perspective, each voice, is one center of
any organization (Hazen, 1993). It is from each of
these dynamic centers that collective change can flow.
Author Note
The authors wish to thank co-editor Douglas
MacDonald and two anonymous reviewers for their
helpful suggestions. Earlier versions of this paper were
presented in 1994 at the National Academy of
Management Meeting, Organizational Development
and Change Division, Dallas; and the Conference on
Organizational Applications of Jungian Analytical
Psychology, Creighton University, Omaha. Research
was supported in part by a Summer Research Grant
from the College of Business Administration,
University of Detroit Mercy.
References
Barry, D. (1994). Making the invisible visible: Using
analogically-based methods to surface the organiza-
tional unconscious. Academy of Management: Best
Papers Proceedings (Dallas, TX: Organizational
Development and Change Division).
Boje, D. M. (1991). The storytelling organization: A
study of story performance in an office-supply
firm. Administrative Science Quarterly, 36(1),
10626.
Boje, D. M., & Dennehy, R. E (1993). Managing in
the postmodern world: Americas revolution against
exploitation. Dubuque, IA: Kendall/Hunt.
Burack, E. H. (1999). Spirituality in the workplace.
Journal of Organizational Change
Management, 12(4), 280291.
Carr, A. (2002). Jung, archetypes and mirroring in
organizational change management. Journal of
Soul Making at Work 111
 Organizational Change Management, 15(5),
477489.
Cavanagh, G. F. (1999). Spirituality for managers:
Context and critique. Journal of Organizational
Change Management, 12(3), 186199.
Denzin, N. K. (1989). Interpretative interactionism.
Newbury Park, CA: Sage.
Denzin, N. K., & Lincoln, Y. S. (Eds.). (2002).
Handbook of qualitative research (2nd edition).
Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Egri, C. P., & Frost, P.J. (1991). Shamanism and
change: Bringing back the magic in organizational
transformation. In R. W. Woodman & W. A.
Pasmore, W.A. (Eds.), Research in organizational
change and development (Vol. 5, pp. 175221).
Greenwich, CT: JAI Press.
Fornaciari, C. J., & Dean, K. L. (2002). Making the
quantum leap: Lessons from physics on studying
spirituality and religion in organizations. Journal of
Organizational Change Management, 14(4), 335.
Frost, P.J., & Egri, C.P. (1990). Appreciating executive
action. In S. Srivastva, D.L. Cooperrider, et al.
(Eds.), Appreciative management and leadership:
The power of positive thought and action in organi-
zations (pp. 289322). San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.
Goldberg, R. A. (2001). The consultant as hero.
Organization Development Journal, 19(3), 8287.
Gozdz, K. (2000). Toward transpersonal learning com-
munities in business. The American Behavioral
Scientist, 43(8), 12621285.
Hazen, M.A. (1993). Towards polyphonic organiza-
tion. Journal of Organizational Change
Management, 6(5), 1526.
Hillman, J. (1983). Healing fiction. Barrytown, NY:
Station Hill Press.
Hollwitz, J. (1992). Individuation at work:
Considerations for prediction and evaluation. In
M. Stein & J. Hollwitz (Eds.), Psyche at work:
Workplace applications of Jungian analytical psychol-
ogy (pp. 1937). Wilmette, IL: Chiron.
Isaacs, W. (1999). Dialogue and the art of thinking
together. New York: Currency.
Jung, C. (1965). Memories, dreams, reflections. New
York: Vintage Books.
Kaarst-Brown, M. L., & Robey, D. (1999). More on
myth, magic and metaphor: Cultural insights into
the management of information technology in
organizations. Information Technology & People,
12(2), 192217.
Matthews, R. (2002). Competition archetypes and
112 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
creative imagination. Journal of Organizational
Change Management, 15(5), 461476.
McCormack, D. W. (1994). Spirituality and manage-
ment. Journal of Managerial Psychology, 9(6), 58.
Mitroff, I. I., & Denton, E. A. (1999). A study of spir-
ituality in the workplace. Sloan Management
Review, 40(4), 8392
Moore, T. (1992). Care of the soul: A guide for cultivat-
ing depth and sacredness in everyday life. New York:
HarperCollins.
Moxnes, P. (1999). Deep roles: Twelve primordial roles
of mind and organization. Human Relations,
52(11), 14271444.
Olson, E.E. (1990). The transcendent function in
organizational change. The Journal of Applied
Behavioral Science, 26(1), 6981.
Palmer, P.J. (1994). Leading from within: Out of the
shadow, into the light. In J. A. Conger &
Associates (Eds.), Spirit at work: Discovering the
spirituality in leadership (pp. 1940). San
Francisco: Jossey-Bass.
Progoff, I. (1975). At a journal workshop. New York:
Dialogue House.
Read, H., Fordham, M., Adler, G., & McGuire, W.
(Eds.). (19531979). Collected Works of C.G. Jung.
Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Senge, P., Kleiner, A., Roberts, C., Ross, R.B., &
Smith, B. J. (1994). The fifth discipline fieldbook:
Strategies and tools for building a learning organiza-
tion. New York: Doubleday.
Smith, C., & Elmes, M. (2002) Leading change:
Insights from Jungian interpretations of the Book
of Job. Journal of Organizational Change
Management, 15(5), 448460.
Starr-Glass, D. (2002). The voice of the shuttle:
Mythical and organizational transformations.
Journal of Organizational Change Management,
15(5), 512522.
Stein, M. (1992). Organizational life as spiritual prac-
tice. In M. Stein & J. Hollwitz.(Eds.), Psyche at
work: Workplace applications of Jungian analytical
psychology (pp. 118). Wilmette, IL: Chiron.
Wisely, D.S., & Lynn, E.M. (1994). Spirited connec-
tions: Learning to tap the spiritual resources in our
lives and work. In J. A. Conger & Associates (Eds.),
Spirit at work: Discovering the spirituality in leader-
ship (pp. 100131). San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.
Correspondence regarding this article should be
addressed to Mary Ann Hazen, Associate Professor,
Management College of Business Administration,
University of Detroit Mercy, 4001 W. McNichols
Road, P.O. Box 19900, Detroit, Michigan 48219-
0900. Phone 313.993.3356, Fax 313.993.1052, Email
hazenma@udmercy.edu

Appendix

Dialogue with Your Organization

1. Relax. Close your eyes and let the chair and floor
support you. Breathe deeply. Do not go into a deep
meditative statejust relax enough to enter your
imagination. (5 minutes)
2. Write a statement of your relationship with this
organization at the present moment. (5 minutes)
3. Imagine the organization as a being with whom you
can communicate. Use all of your senses. What
does this individual look like? What do you hear?
Smell? Taste? Sense kinesthetically? If the image
shifts or changes, that is fine. Just note it. When
you are ready, write down your description of the
organization as you have imagined it. (10 minutes)
4. Now give this being a voice and a history. Using the
first person, write down the eight or ten most
important events in his or her life, beginning with
the words, I was born . . . (1015 minutes)
5. Imagine the organization again. Now imagine a
conversation or dialogue with this being. Begin by
introducing yourself. Write down your conversa-
tion as if it is a dialogue in a play. (1520 minutes)
Bring your conversation to an end. If you are not
finished, agree to complete the dialogue later.
6. Relax again. Read what you have written. If you
would like to add or take away anything, do so
now. (10 minutes)
7. How are you feeling? Of what are you aware now?
Write your feelings, thoughts, and observations. (5
minutes)
8. Decide what you will read aloud to others in the
group.

Soul Making at Work 113

 Integral Psychology and Foreign Policy:
Lessons From the Fulbright Scholars Program

Daniel Holland, Ph.D.

University of Arkansas at Little Rock

Humanistic, transpersonal, and integral psychological principles have many applications for social
and foreign policy, but concrete examples are needed to illustrate this connection. The Fulbright
Scholars Program represents one concrete example of an effort in U.S. foreign policy that closely
reflects the values of humanistic, transpersonal, and integral psychology. The implications that
such a program has for the purposeful involvement of humanistic, transpersonal, and integral psy-
chologists in other social policy efforts is discussed. The need for integral psychologists to expand
beyond the traditional boundaries of professional psychological practice into such realms as for-
eign policy is emphasized.

It is the task of education, more than of any
other instrument of public policy, to help close the
dangerous gap between the economical and tech-
nological interdependence of the peoples of the
world and their psychological, political, and
spiritual alienation.
U.S. Senator J. William Fulbright (D-AR)
1963
When we seek the well-being of one country
at the expense of other countries, it leads to
exploitation and imperialism. As long as we
think exclusively of our own country, it is bound
to create conflict and war.
Krishnamurti
1963
he suggestion that a particular element of U.S.
Arkansas who, in 1945, began to seek a plan for the
promotion of peace following the destruction of
World War II. Senator J. William Fulbright arrived at
an idea that involved an exchange of scholars from
throughout the world communityscholars who
would foster good will and nonviolent international
solutions by gaining a greater understanding of cul-
tures outside their own. Fulbright believed that by
promoting cross-cultural understanding, even (or par-
ticularly) among nations with sociopolitical tensions,
future conflicts, and even wars could be avoided. This
understanding would be gained, according to
Fulbrights vision, through a process of direct experi-
ence in other nations and cultures. The result of this
idea has been the most prominent cross-cultural
exchange program in the world, a program that repre-
sents a hybrid of foreign policy and humanistic princi-
ples that are well represented in humanistic, transper-

T foreign policy constitutes a clear example of

humanistic, transpersonal, and integral psy-
chology might initially sound like a forced juxtaposi-
tion. It is the case, however, that one of the most suc-
cessful innovations in U.S. foreign policy was con-
ceived as a humanistic mission, and was largely articu-
lated in psychological, as well as educational, terms.
This effort, the Fulbright Scholars Program, was
shaped 58 years ago by a freshman U.S. senator from
sonal, and integral psychology. This hybrid policy can
serve to encourage the integral psychologies to seek
involvement and influence in realms far removed from
those typically associated with professional psychology
or clinical practice. A profile of the Fulbright Scholars
Program provides evidence that the same principles
that inform humanistic, transpersonal, and integral
psychology also informed the development of this
exemplary effort in foreign policy, suggesting more

114 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

overlap between these domains than is typically recog-
nized, and suggesting that integral psychologies have
the potential to influence other aspects of social policy
if those who are invested in this realm of psychology
pursue these opportunities.
The Fulbright Scholars Program
The idea for the Fulbright Scholars Program
emerged in 1945, when Democratic Senator J.
William Fulbright of Arkansas began looking for a
means to promote peace and mutual understanding in
the wake of World War II. Fulbright reflected upon his
own experience as a Rhodes Scholar at Oxford and as
an American participant in a 1944 conference on the
restoration of Europes educational system (Powell,
1996, p. 43). Based on these personal experiences, he
began to consider how international collaboration and
exchange might occur among scholars from many
countries, across many disciplines. His vision was one
of a program that would foster a constant search for
understanding among all peoples and all culturesa
search that can only be effective when learning is pur-
sued on a worldwide basis (Powell, 1996, p.45). This
search for understanding would occur through
American scholars studying or teaching abroad for
extended periods, and scholars from other nations
coming to the United States to do the same.
Fulbrights idea was dependent upon public fund-
ing, but he also knew that proposing a new budget
item appropriation would meet with resistance, partic-
ularly for what was already likely to be a controversial
program during the post-war period of heightened
nationalism, ongoing economic recovery, and emerg-
ing McCarthyism. Fulbright therefore proposed that
the massive amount of tangible American surplus
assets still stored in other nations from during the
wartrucks, jeeps, railroad equipment, bulldozers,
and so forth.represented a significant amount of
potential currency located abroad (Arndt & Rubin,
1993; Powell, 1996, p. 46). If the countries in which
this surplus equipment was stored were given the
option of purchasing it with their own currency, that
source of revenue would serve to support much of the
Scholars Program, and would circumvent the need for
appropriations from the treasury (Powell, 1996 p.
463). Paradoxically, then, it was largely surplus war
equipment that served to initially fund a humanistic
program to promote education and peace. On August
1, 1946, President Truman signed Fulbrights bill into
law, and with the Fulbright Act, the Fulbright Scholars
Program was born.
Since its inception, the Fulbright Scholars Program
has grown significantly, weathering numerous threats
to its existence from those who consider it a risk to
national security or an unnecessary expenditure (the
Fulbright Program is now funded by the U.S.
Information Agency, as well as through public funding
provided by participating
countries). By 1995, the Fulbright Scholars Program
had provided more than 210,000 scholarships, with
72,000 Americans and 140,000 international scholars
receiving them. Approximately 140 countries have
participated in the program, and alumni include high-
ly distinguished names in diplomacy, journalism,
health care, and education from across the globe
(Powell, 1996, p. 456). The Fulbright Scholarship
Program has come to represent a highly visible exam-
ple of successful international cooperation and cross-
cultural exchange based on humanistic principles.
The Fulbright Programs Relationship to
Humanistic, Transpersonal, and Integral Psychology
When considering the broadest goals of humanis-
tic, transpersonal, and integral psychology, the
Fulbright Program serves as an example of how the val-
ues that inform these psychologies have virtually lim-
itless application. Ken Wilber (1981) has pointed out
in his last chapter of Up From Eden, entitled
Republicans, Democrats, and Mystics, men and
women are unfree not primarily because of horrid
appetites or oppressive institutions, but because they
manufacture both of those forms of unfreedom as a
substitute for transcendence (p. 338). If this is so,
then it becomes necessary to identify those occasional
institutions that have been created to be anything but
oppressive, and that serve to promote various forms of
transcendence rather than pander to hollow substitu-
tions for it. The Fulbright Scholars Program is one
such example, and therefore serves as a useful case
study of the form and function some policy institu-
tions might take if guided by humanistic, transperson-
al, and integral psychological perspectives.
In the case of the U.S. Senator from Arkansas, it
appears he shaped his ideas for an international
exchange program based on ideas and principles
drawn from liberal arts education; a value for personal
growth through direct experience; and the belief that
mutual respect and understanding are bred through
Integral Psychology and Foreign Policy 115
the promotion of empathy, even (or especially) on an
international and cross-cultural level. These are some
of the same core principles upon which integral,
transpersonal, and humanistic psychologies have been
built. This fact suggests there is a potential for integral
psychology to influence seemingly distant realms of
endeavor, including social welfare and foreign policy,
when the potential application of humanistic values is
present in those realms. In other words, what appear
on the surface to be distantly related realms of endeav-
orintegral psychology and foreign policy, in this
casemay actually be quite closely related when they
share the same underlying humanistic convictions,
intellectual roots, and goals of transcending the typi-
cal. It follows, then, that by continuously identifying
other realms of endeavor that might share these values,
integral psychologists can become engaged in efforts
that do not look much like the practice of profession-
al psychology on the surface at all, but in fact benefit
tremendously from the involvement of integral psy-
chologists in their conceptualization and execution.
The unwittingly close correspondence between the
values promoted by both the Fulbright Scholars
Program and humanistic, transpersonal, and integral
psychology serves as an example of the relevance these
psychologies might have for something as presumably
far afield as a foreign policy program.
As pointed out by Art Lyons (2001), If humanis-
tic psychology is going to make a profound impact on
the way in which citizens of the world live their lives
during the 21st century, then it must focus on the larg-
er social arena in some fashion (p. 633). Indeed, this
will not require unwanted visitation on the part of the
humanistic, transpersonal, and integral psychologies in
public affairs, since an increasingly vocal call for the
greater inclusion of psychology into realms such as
social policy, including foreign policy, is already evi-
dent. For example, the Rabbi Michael Lerner (1996)
articulates an approach to political and societal healing
that is very much in concert with humanistic,
transpersonal, and integral psychological principles:
Many of the distortions of daily life are rooted in
our responses to misrecognition and the denial of
our desire for meaning, and in our accommodation
to a society based on selfishness and materialism. If
one could look at all other people, and oneself, as
having lives that are in part shaped by this dynam-
ic, one could then take a much more compassion-
ate attitude toward people drawn to xenophobic
116 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
nationalism, racism, anti-Semitism, sexism, homo-
phobia, or religious fundamentalism.
I do not propose here to take a tolerant atti-
tude toward the manifestations of any of these
hateful behaviors. To be compassionate toward the
people involved does not mean accepting their
behavior. A central element in a meaning-oriented
strategy for societal healing is compassion. If one
can learn to see oneself, ones parents, and eventu-
ally all people as having been denied the opportu-
nity to actualize their most fundamental ethical
and spiritual needs, one can develop this compas-
sionate attitude. (p. 156)
In advocating meaning-oriented change in our politi-
cal and social system, Lerner is essentially promoting
an integration of humanistic, transpersonal, and inte-
gral psychological principles into public life. One
could point to this proposal for social change as one
that depends upon an interdisciplinary knowledge of
(at least) spirituality, sociology, political science, and
psychology for sustenance. It is also a contemporary
proposal that is highly consistent with the aims of the
58 year-old Fulbright Scholars Program, since both
approaches advocate the need to improve widespread
cross-cultural understanding through individual trans-
formative change, and both draw upon the same intel-
lectual and moral roots as do the integral psychologies.
The point here is that since the Fulbright Scholars
Program can be conceptualized as representing one of
the first Anglo-American examples of an integral psy-
chologyoriented effort at foreign policy, the potential
for greater involvement of integral psychologists in the
shaping of foreign policy must be recognized. So,
while the Fulbright Program was never explicitly
defined as an extension of humanistic, transpersonal,
or integral psychology, it can, based on the principles
that inform it, be defined as such now. Furthermore,
current proposals for innovative social policysuch as
Rabbi Lernerssome of which are more or less
descendents of Fulbrights efforts, are explicit in their
promotion of humanistic, transpersonal, and integral
psychological concepts. Therefore, the possibility can
be said to clearly exist for integral psychology to
become more explicitly involved in contemporary for-
eign and social policy efforts, building upon
Fulbrights intuition and foresight, recognizing Ken
Wilbers proposed etiology for why so many institu-
tions lack a transpersonal purpose, acknowledging the
urgency of Lerners contemporary proposal for mean-
ing-oriented politics, and fulfilling Art Lyons call to
social action.
Humanistic, transpersonal, and integral psycholo-
gists, however, will need to be highly attentive in order
to recognize potential avenues for social policy
involvement. They will also need to be open to engag-
ing in these endeavors, which have not traditionally
been defined as pertaining to professional psychology.
This evolution of perspective and action will require
an extension of the interdisciplinarity that marks the
field of humanistic, transpersonal, and integral psy-
chology, as well as a relaxation of professional identity.
This relaxation of professional identity will need to
occur during a period when the profession of psychol-
ogy as a whole is actually engaged in efforts to further
cordon off professional turf and fortify professional
identity. Interestingly, this professional siege mentality
is not unlike some aspects of the political environment
in which Fulbright found himself when he first pur-
sued his idea for the Fulbright Scholars Program, when
American nationalism served as a potential barrier to
gaining support for a cross-cultural scholars program.
As in Senator Fulbrights case, however, only a willing-
ness to break with convention, and pursue collabora-
tion rather than isolation, will result in the innovative
change that is most needed.
Conclusion
The point in reviewing the nature of the Fulbright
Scholars Program in the context of humanistic,
transpersonal, and integral psychology is to emphasize
the potential reach of these psychological principles
into foreign policy programming, and to provide a
concrete example of a foreign policy effort that reflects
these principles. If an innovation in foreign policy
such as the Fulbright Scholars Program can reflect
integral psychological principles, the potential clearly
exists for integral psychologists to
contribute to social policy and foreign policy endeav-
ors in various ways. While this involvement will likely
require additional interdisciplinary knowledge for
those psychologists who choose to pursue such direc-
tions, humanistic, transpersonal and integral psycholo-
gies have the advantage of already being unusually
interdisciplinary in their perspective and adventure-
some in their orientation. The unusual breadth of
humanistic, transpersonal, and integral psychologists
makes involvement in an interdisciplinary realm like
foreign or social policy an ambitious but natural step.
Furthermore, as the need for new perspectives on
broad and complex social issues becomes increasingly
urgent, humanistic, transpersonal, and integral psy-
chologists will have an obligation (indeed, possibly a
moral imperative) to become engaged in the promo-
tion of quality of life across many realms and at many
levels. Fortunately, the realm of integral psychology is
well suited to such evolution, even when the profes-
sion of psychology in general remains turf-bound. The
challenge at this time, however, may be convincing
humanistic, transpersonal, and integral psychologists
themselves that their relevance extends far beyond the
boundaries circumscribed by the conventions of any
single profession.
References
Arndt, R.T., & Rubin, D.L.(Eds.). (1993). The
Fulbright difference, 19481992. New Brunswick,
NJ: Transaction Publishers.
Lerner, M. (1996). The politics of meaning. Reading,
MA: Perseus Books.
Lyons, A. (2001). Humanistic psychology and social
action. In: K. J. Schneider, J.F.T. Bugental, & J. F.
Pierson (Eds.), The handbook of humanistic psychol-
ogy (pp. 625-634). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Powell, L.R. (1996). J. William Fulbright and his time.
Memphis, TN: Guild Bindery Press.
Wilber, K. (1981). Up from Eden. Boulder, CO:
Shambhala Press.
Correspondence regarding this article should be
directed to the author at Department of Psychology,
University of Arkansas at Little Rock, 2801 South
University Ave. Little Rock, AR 72204. Email dchol-
land@ualr.edu
Integral Psychology and Foreign Policy 117
 Reframing the Conflict in Fiji:
Economic and Transpersonal Frameworks for Peace

Harris Friedman, Ph.D.

Saybrook Graduate School and Research Center

Reframing is presented as a psychological technique applicable to facilitating change leading to

conflict resolution and the achievement of peace. The current conflict in Fiji is discussed as a case
study of one such application. Fijian problems have been commonly attributed to racial and eth-
nic divides that are not easily amenable to change. An intervention providing an alternative
understanding of these conflicts, namely that they are better seen as due to competing economic
models, is described. The scientific transpersonal perspective is presented as another alternative
framework, seen as especially applicable to religious conflicts, which potentially provides an inclu-
sive way to reconcile differences. It is concluded that reframing might be useful in a wide range
of conflicts through providing integrative frameworks that change the level and content of divi-
sive discourse.

atzlawick, Weakland, and Fisch defined (1985) expanded this notion into action identification

W reframing as to change the conceptual

and/or emotional setting or viewpoint in
relation to which a situation is experienced and to
place it in another frame which fits the facts of the
same situation equally well or even better, and thereby
changes its entire meaning (in Segal, 2001, p. 90).
Reframing has been used in many counseling and psy-
chotherapy interventions, most notably Eriksonian
approaches (e.g., Haley, 1973), and has important
implications for facilitating peace. When oppositional
sides become polarized to the point where violence is
seen not only as a viable but perhaps the only available
option, often the underlying dynamic is an impasse in
the worldviews of the participants in the conflict.
These require more than mere bargaining in which
conflicting sides are compromising. Rather they
require solutions changing the dynamics from
loselose, which are always part of mutual compro-
mise, into winwin outcomes. Reframing is a tech-
nique that can provide such synergy.
One research approach to understanding how this
can operate stems from the classic model proposed by
Lewin (1951) in which successful change involves
three stages: unfreezingmoving to the new
leveland freezing (p. 228). Vallacher and Wegner
theory in which an existing equilibrium, such as a sta-
ble worldview, must first be disrupted in order to have
a meaningful change that allows regaining a new equi-
librium. A recent example demonstrating how this can
be applied is the work of Davis and Knowles (1999) in
which reframing is shown as effective in influencing
behavioral change.
In this paper, I discuss reframing as a psychological
tool to address some of the complex difficulties in Fiji,
a nation demographically polarized and torn by result-
ing conflicts, in order to facilitate peaceful solutions of
its many problems. The approach offered stems from
my research (e.g., Van Deusen, Mueller, Jones, &
Friedman, 2002) and consulting involvements over
the past decade in Fiji, including my involvement as
one of the founders of an organization in Fiji that has
provided intensive training to the majority of the cur-
rent Fijian cabinet members, as well as to many of the
countrys top business leaders. This consulting has
focused on designing and implementing appropriate
models for economic development at the local and
national level. I also speculate about the possible role
of transpersonal psychology in providing an overarch-
ing perspective through which reframing religious
conflicts, some of the most daunting bases of global

118 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

strife, could lead to a more peaceful world. Finally, I
discuss how the type of solution applied in Fiji can be
expanded, for example to the Israeli-Palestinian con-
flict, in ways that could be similarly useful.
Background on Fiji
Fiji has a bifurcated ethnic composition in which a lit-
tle more than half of the population are native Fijians
and slightly more than 40 percent are Fijian Indians,
based on an estimated population of under a million
people. There are also various minorities, including
Chinese, Europeans, and other Pacific Islanders. These
demographics are the consequence of British colonial-
ism, in which indentured Asian Indians were brought
to Fiji to work in agriculture and other industries
since the native Fijians could not be coerced into such
roles. Native Fijians typically resisted Westernization,
pursuing more traditional village ways, while the Fijian
Indians emulated the Britishresulting in the emer-
gence of two divergent Fijian cultures.
When the British left Fiji, many conflicts ensued.
For example, the Fijian Indians became, as a group,
more Western in culture, and controlled the majority
of professional and business endeavors in the nation.
However, the majority of native Fijians retained their
traditional village lifestyle, as well as collective owner-
ship by villages of more than 80 percent of the land
(Finin & Wesley-Smith, 2001). This disparity became
the basis for much of the ongoing national conflicts.
Although the majority of the Western press, as well as
many Fijians (both native and Indian) attribute the
various crises in Fiji as due to racial and ethnic ten-
sions, there are other more useful interpretations.
It is undeniable, however, that racial and ethnic
factors are at play in these conflicts. For example, the
differential appearance of the two peoples is striking.
Though both tend to be dark skinned, the native
Fijians are a large people among whom males are com-
monly heavily muscled and females are admired for
their size. In contrast, the Fijian Indians are, on aver-
age, a small and slender people. This lends to ready
stereotyping across the two cultures. Also, despite that
there are some noteworthy cultural similarities, ethnic
differences are often magnified by members of the two
groups. For example, both cultures share in the rich
religious tradition of fire walking. However, this is
often seen as a source of contention rather than being
perceived as common ground. Specifically, I witnessed
both sides, rather than mutually respecting the similar-
ities of their rituals, frequently disparaging each others
fire walking as inauthentic. For example, there were
accusations from the native Fijians that the coals used
by the Fijian Indians were prepared in a way such that
they were not really very hot (by being covered with
ashes) and corresponding accusations from the Fijian
Indians that the native Fijians used a protective balm
on their feet.
When first visiting Fiji while involved in consult-
ing to the hospitality industry during the early 1990s,
I met with a group of Fijian hotel workers and imme-
diately hit the impasse between the two cultures.
When, in a team-building group I was facilitating, I
referred to a Fijian Indian using the term, Fijian
Indian, I was rebuffed, as follows: Sir, I am not a
Fijian Indian, just a Fijian. My family has lived in Fiji
for many generations. In contrast, a native Fijian
replied, I partially agree; you are not a Fijian Indian.
You are an Indian whose ancestors were brought to my
country by the British. And you are a guest in my land
who must recognize you are neither Fijian nor Fijian
Indian, just Indian. Similarly, I noticed how the
prevalent division of labor in hotels mirrored rifts in
Fijian society. For example, tourists who come to Fiji
are often greeted by native Fijians in traditional garb
with warm Bulas, the indigenous hello and good-
bye. Likewise, the majority of the front office workers,
wait staff, and others who interact directly with visitors
are native Fijiancommunicating the sense of place
to tourists. However, the Fijian Indian workers, who
perform the majority of the professional and technical
functions, mainly worked behind the public scene.
With the recent coup in Fiji, in which a democratical-
ly elected Fijian Indian leader was replaced with a
native Fijian, conflicts have reached precipitous pro-
portions. Without going into the complex dynamics
behind the change in government, it is sufficient to
state that the situation there is extremely difficult and
both sides of the divide have legitimate concerns and
grievances.
Reframing the Fijian Conflict
When problems are blamed on immutable racial
categories, there is no room for reconciliation.
Similarly, when difficulties are blamed on ethnicity,
the situation is also change resistant. In the case of Fiji,
if the conflict remains defined as one of race and eth-
nicity, little positive is likely to emergesince these are
deeply ascribed characteristics not amenable to
Reframing Peace 119
change. One potentially useful strategy is to reframe
these problems into a less emotional discourse through
looking for common ground to synergistically pose
solutions.
Much of my work in Fiji has focused on reframing
the fundamental differences between the Fijian
Indians and native Fijians as due to culturally different
and competing economic modelssince such models
can be discussed relatively dispassionately, and recon-
ciled, whereas discussing racial and ethnic attributions
is typically counterproductive. This work has occurred
in a variety of settings, including in one-on-one coach-
ing, small groups, and large workshops. Specifically, I
have advocated that the primary differences between
the Fijian Indian and native Fijian groups are better
seen as due to a conflict between individual and collec-
tive capitalism (Friedman, Glover, & Avegalio, 2002).
In this sense, the traditional collective economy of the
native Fijian village, despite the ever-growing influ-
ence of modernism, is currently a form of collective
capitalism. In contrast, the Fijian Indians have
assumed a British individualistic form of capitalism.
These competing economic models result in many
conflicts that are too easily misattributed to racial and
ethnic causes.
I previously illustrated this in a case study through
describing how a Western expatriate manager in Fiji
perceived problems with the native Fijian work ethic
(Glover, Friedman, & Jones, 2002). The manager stat-
ed he had asked a local village chief to send three men
to clear a field, with each man to receive a payment for
eight hours work. However, the entire group of 40
able-bodied men from the village showed up. The
expatriate wanted only three and consequently asked
the chief to send the remainder back to the village. The
chief, however, requested that all 40 could do the work
quickly and the payment could be made to the com-
munal fund that helped all in the village collectively.
Not understanding this collective approach, the expa-
triate sent all the men away and, instead, hired three
Fijian Indian workers from the city who were more
comfortable with an individual model of capitalism,
illustrating the clash of different work values and pro-
ductivity models. The result was that the managers
selection of the Fijian Indians fueled mutual resent-
mentsfrom the native Fijians toward both the man-
ager and the Fijian Indians whose competing labor
deprived the village of needed resources, and back
from the manager and Fijian Indians, who perceived
120 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
the native Fijian behavior through the stereotypes of
Western culture as laziness (i.e., not individually will-
ing to do a full days work for a full days pay).
Adding to the problem of competing economic
models is a deep Western-based ethnocentrism that
tends to deprecate native Fijian culture. I previously
illustrated this in a case study comparing native Fijian
ways of fishing with modern ways embraced by Fijian
Indians (Friedman, Glover, & Avegalio, 2002).
Traditionally, all able-bodied members of a native
Fijian village will collectively go into the ocean, form-
ing a large circle as the tide recedes. Gradually they
close their circle, trapping the fish as they become
stranded with the withdrawing tide; then, all that is
needed is to gather the fish. This method provides
much greater yield than using individual fishing poles
and is likely one of the worlds most productive
resource-gathering techniques. Yet many Indian
Fijians scoff at this primitive fishing technique.
Valuing cultural differences, rather than devaluing
them, is essential for the type of reframing that can
lead to peace. In Lewins (1951) model, which starts
with unfreezing, first the ethnocentric belief that
my way is the best way has to be challenged. Again,
it is easier to challenge, or unfreeze, economic models
that are less central to core worldview than assump-
tions about race or ethnicity. However, I am not
implying that these are easy to confront, since they are
implicitly held, but they are less value-laden than attri-
butions based on race or ethnicity.
Applying reframing, during Lewins (1951) second
stage of establishing change, I have advocated that Fiji
needs to free itself of the burden of other cultures eco-
nomic models and create its own unique unifying
model that is sustainable among all of its constituents
(Friedman, Glover, & Avegalio, 2002). This is quite
different from accepting uncritically the extant
Western models that are culturally inappropriate for
Fiji. I have illustrated this by presenting a number of
alternative economic models to those prevailing in the
Westsuch as ones that are demonstrating success in
non-Western cultures (e.g., the government-directed
capitalism of Singapore) or that are emerging with
promise of success (e.g., the modified Communist
model in the Peoples Republic of China). Hopefully,
as a uniquely Fijian economic model emerges, the divi-
siveness within Fiji will ameliorate, facilitated through
reframing the bases of Fijian conflict as primarily eco-
nomic.
Reframing Using a Transpersonal Perspective
Economics, however, is not the whole story. The
role of spirituality is also crucial to any successful
reframing of Fijis conflicts. For example, Williksen-
Bakker (2002) recognized that, though economic dif-
ferences underlie many of Fijis conflict, this fact has to
be viewed in a wider frame than economics as usually
understood in the West. For example, the importance
of the native Fijian sense of vanua, emphasizing a
spiritual connection between people and the land, has
to be considered, in contrast to the more Western
notion of land held by most Fijian Indians, which
views it primarily as a resource from which to profit.
The implications of these differences are profound
when it comes to decisions such as whether or not to
timber old-growth forests.
Similarly, Ewins (1998) emphasized how the Fijian
conflicts have roots in deep traditions more than in
race or ethnicity. Likewise, Brison (2001) discussed
how native Fijian identity is constructed through such
traditions, particularly the kava (yaqona) cere-
moniesand, incidentally, how native Fijians use
reframing as a traditional way of reconciling regional,
tribal, and social class conflicts. Bosson (2000) also
explored the role of traditions, mainly through festi-
vals, as part of nation-building and reconciliation in
Fiji. And Norton (2000) discussed how reconciliation
at the Fijian national level must occur through dia-
logue that allows for accommodation of contending
worldviews. Thus there are a number of convergent
strands of thought pointing in a common direction for
healing the rifts in Fiji, namely through the use of
reframing emphasizing the role of spirituality.
I speculate that transpersonal psychology, which
addresses spirituality from a scientific perspective, pro-
vides a possible avenue for establishing the most solid
common ground on which to deeply reframe Fijian
conflicts. The focus of transpersonal psychology
involves an expansion of the perceived self as being
beyond (trans) the individual or personal to encom-
pass wider aspects of humankind, life, psyche, and cos-
mos (Walsh & Vaughan, 1993, p. 3). Grof, for exam-
ple, discussed his view of transpersonal psychology as
involving a temporal-spatial expansion of the self
beyond that of the corporeal-physical boundaries of
the skin-encapsulated ego existing in a world of sepa-
rate beings and objects (1992, p. 91). After reviewing
37 definitions of transpersonal psychology, Lajoie and
Shapiro (1992) concluded that they commonly
focused on the study of humanitys highest potential,
and with the recognition, understanding, and realiza-
tion of unitive, spiritual, and transcendental states of
consciousness (p. 91). Braud (1998) aptly described
the meanings of trans in transpersonal psychology
with a metaphor:
The visible parts of trees in a dense forest seem to
be separate entities until one looks beneath the sur-
face of the earth and finds the extensive, intercon-
nected root systems that bind the trees together.
The peaks of mountains shrouded in mist seem iso-
lated and unconnected until the mist melts away,
revealing the common lower continuities that pre-
viously had been obscured. (p. 39)
Congruent with these approaches to transpersonal
psychology, I proposed a transpersonal construct called
self-expansiveness both to describe the potential of
personal identity to expand through self-conception
and to provide a corresponding empirical method to
research the self-concept from such a perspective
(Friedman, 1983). Studies done to critically examine
the validity of the construct and its associated measure
(i.e., the Self-Expansiveness Level Form; Friedman,
1983) have generally provided support for its scientif-
ic utility (e.g., Friedman & MacDonald, 2002;
MacDonald, Gagnier, & Friedman, 2000).
I have become increasingly convinced that the
human capacity to construct itself in ways that tran-
scend individualistic limitations is salient to addressing
Fijian conflicts. Specifically, there are no limits to how
we conceptualize ourselves. As we can identify with
only our isolated selves, as biological beings, we can
also narrowly identify with our allegedly racial or eth-
nic roots. Alternatively, we can learn to identify in
more expansive ways, such as with a sense of national
patriotismwhich could unify a conflicted nation
such as Fiji.
The construct of self-expansiveness also allows
understanding how to expand our identity beyond the
limits of what is typically understood as the personal
self, and even beyond the collective self of national
identity, in a way that can have profound implications
for peace. The model I developed for understanding
this uses space-time cartography. From this approach,
individuals can identify in the present with just their
own behaviors, thoughts, feelings, and physical bod-
iesthe usual Western sense of isolated self. They can,
however, also expand their identification in enlarged
Reframing Peace 121
or contracted spatial ways. One could manifest an
enlarged spatial identification through, for example,
embracing others as a component of ones sense of self,
as in love, or could manifest a contracted spatial iden-
tification through feeling resonant with body parts,
such as identifying with ones heart feelings.
Individuals can also expand their identification in
temporal ways, through feeling identified with their
pasts or with their anticipated futures. When such
identification, either spatial or temporal, goes beyond
connections with the individual as customarily under-
stood in the West, it may be said to transcend the iso-
lated individual level and enter into a transpersonal
domain. Examples of such include identifying with
possible future descendents who might be citizens of a
unified world or even with the environment as a whole
that sustains all life on earth. This transpersonal per-
spective allows for a way to reframe narrow identifica-
tions fueling much of the pain in the world.
Consequently, a transpersonal reframing could involve
native Fijians and Fijian Indians finding ways of hon-
oring their past identifications, or differences, without
rigidly holding on to them, leading to an expanded
transpersonal identification that would include but
also transcend the more limited identifications.
In the case of Fiji, there are strong extant spiritual
traditions, both among the native Fijians, who now are
mostly Methodist Christian but also adhere to many
traditional beliefs (Katz, 1999) and the Fijian Indians,
who are mostly Hindu, Muslim, and Sikh. These tra-
ditions are clearly related to their other prevailing
worldviews, including competing economic models,
and are germane to the nations conflicts. One clear
advantage of a transpersonal perspective is that it could
lead to reconciliation based on a scientific integration
of religious divisiveness through providing a common
ground. Many have called for seeking peace through
scientific understandings (e.g., Fliestra, 2002) and
some have hypothesized how this could possibly hap-
pen (e.g., Burnell, 2002). Transpersonal psychology
has made significant progress in scientifically exploring
some areas (e.g., MacDonald & Friedman, 2002) and
I have previously suggested how this could occur more
broadly, including its potential practical applications
to areas such as peace (Friedman, 2002). In this vein,
perhaps reframing the most daunting cultural dilem-
mas into transpersonal perspectives would facilitate
the emergence of peace in Fiji.
122 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
Conclusion
I have discussed the potential of the psychological
technique of reframing for addressing cultural dilem-
mas in Fiji related to resolving conflicts and achieving
peace. I presented my efforts in Fiji to reframe differ-
ences widely perceived as based on race and ethnicity
into being seen as due to competing economic models,
enabling a less divisive discourse to emerge. I also pre-
sented what I consider the widest possible lens that can
be used to reframe conflicts threatening peace, the
transpersonal perspective. When I think about the
many current conflicts that are leading to so much suf-
fering, I surmise that it is time to begin to reframe
antiquated identifications into more universalistic
understandings. I advocate unfreezing and reframing
these identifications in ways that support innovative
dialogue, equally honoring the narratives of different
peoples as both truebut in limited senses that need
to be transcended to find a deeper commonality.
The discussion about reframing these dilemmas in
Fiji can also apply more broadly. For example, similar
conflicts are found in other South Pacific nations
(including in Papua New Guinea, the Solomon
Islands, and Vauatu). In addition, conflicts based on
similar dynamics also occur in other societies in which
the British introduced indentured Indian laborers,
such as in Trinidad and Tobago. Finally, perhaps all
conflicts that are currently framed as ethnic or racial
can be seen in similar ways. Using the Israeli-
Palestinian conflict as an example, as long as Israeli
Jews somehow see themselves as part of a distinct
Jewish state or promised Jewish homeland, they sepa-
rate themselves from their Palestinian brethren in ways
that cannot be sustained, and vice versa. One possible
approach is to look for common ground within the
divergent Jewish Israeli and Muslim Palestinian views
of history and destiny so that each side can come to
appreciate the differences of the other. It is asking a lot,
however, to encourage simultaneous belief in contra-
dictory stories or respect for ones story that demeans
anothers. For example, the current IsraeliPalestinian
conflict has been widely seen as due to religious differ-
ences, though both sides have essentially the same
scriptural base and worship the same deity. Some have
argued that the similarities of the traditions should be
stressed, for example, through focus on the common
agreed-upon ancestor, Abraham, to facilitate peace
(Biema, 2002). Unfortunately, both traditions inter-
pret Abrahams role in mutually disadvantageous
lights. Instead, perhaps an economic reframing of the
two traditions might be more useful, similar to what I
have used in Fiji. Clearly, Westernized Jews who are
dominant in Israel have different implicit economic
models than the Muslims who are dominant among
the Palestinians. Likewise, both sides are economically
suffering because of the continuing conflictsa situa-
tion that could provide a powerful motivational basis
for accepting such reframing. However, for the most
potent reframing of this conflict, I suggest a transper-
sonal perspective in which both sides can be encour-
aged to understand a deeper view congruent with the
highest teaching of both traditions.
The world is filled with conflicts among peoples
who hold on to narrow identifications. In some ways,
Fiji is a microcosm of the wider conflicts that are most
globally threatening. As an insular nation, it is some-
what less subject to the immediate influences of
adjoining nations and, in this sense, I have come to
appreciate island nations as natural laboratories for
studying phenomena related to social change, particu-
larly involving issues such as social justice, sustainabil-
ity, and peacesince external influences, though
always present, are usually less pressing. Consequently,
extrapolating from the methods of reframing I have
used in Fiji, and my speculation about the potential
worth of reframing into transpersonal perspectives,
may have relevance to conflicts elsewhere. It is my
hope that reframing in this fashion could lead to rec-
onciliations among those most threatened in our great-
ly challenged world, namely all of us.
References
Biema, D. (2002). The legacy of Abraham. Time,
September 30, 64-75.
Bosson, C. (2000). Festival mania, tourism and nation
building in Fiji: The case of the Hibiscus Festival,
1956-1970 [Electronic version]. The Contemporary
Pacific, 12, 123-154.
Braud, W. (1998). Integral inquiry: Complementary
ways of knowing, being, and expression. In W.
Braud & R. Anderson (Eds.), Transpersonal research
methods for the social sciences: Honoring human
experience (pp. 35-67). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage
Publications.
Brison, K. (2001). Constructing identity through cer-
emonial language in rural Fiji [Electronic version].
Ethnology, 40, 309-327.
Burnell, J. (2002). The peace hypothesis. Science and
Spirit, September-October, 37-42.
Davis, B., & Knowles, E. (1999). A disrupt-then-
reframe technique of social influence. Journal of
Personality and Social Psychology, 76, 192-199.
Ewins, R. (1998). Changing their minds: Traditions
and politics in contemporary Fiji and Tonga.
Christchurch, NZ: MacMillan Brown Center for
Pacific Studies.
Finin, G., & Wesley-Smith, T. (2001). More than eth-
nicity behind Fijis unrest [Electronic version].
Population Today, 29, 10.
Fliestra, R. (2002). World religions seek peace through
science. Research News & Opportunities in Science
and Theology, 3, 1, 28.
Friedman, H. (1983). The Self-Expansiveness Level
Form: A conceptualization and measurement of a
transpersonal construct. Journal of Transpersonal
Psychology, 15, 37-50.
Friedman, H. (2002). Transpersonal psychology as a
scientific field. International Journal of Transper-
sonal Studies, 21, 175-187.
Friedman, H., Glover, G., & Avegalio, F. (2002). The
burdens of other peoples models: A cultural per-
spective on the current Fiji crisis. Harvard Asia
Pacific Review, 6, 86-90.
Friedman, H., & MacDonald, D. (Eds.). (2002).
Transpersonal measurement and assessment. San
Francisco: The Transpersonal Institute, 2002.
Glover, G., Friedman, H., & Jones, G. (2002).
Adaptive leadership: When change is not
enoughPart One. Organizational Development
Journal, 20, 15-31.
Grof, S. (1992). The Holotropic mind: The three levels
of human consciousness and how they shape our
minds. New York: Harper.
Haley, J. (1973). Uncommon therapy: The psychiatric
techniques of Milton H. Erickson, M.D. New York:
Norton.
Katz, R. (1999). The straight path of the spirit: Ancestral
wisdom and the healing tradition in Fiji. Rochester,
VT: Park Street.
Lajoie, D., & Shapiro, S. (1992). Definitions of
transpersonal psychology: The first twenty-three
years. Journal of Transpersonal Psychology, 24, 79-98.
Lewin, K. (1951). Frontiers in group dynamics. In D.
Cartwright (Ed.), Field Theory in Social Science (pp.
188-237). New York: Harper.
Reframing Peace 123
MacDonald, D., & Friedman, H. (2002). Assessment
of transpersonal and spiritual constructs: State of
the science. Journal of Humanistic Psychology,
42,102-125.
MacDonald, D., Gagnier, J., & Friedman, H. (2000).
Transpersonal self-concept and the five-factor
model of personality: Evidence for a sixth stable
dimension of personality. Psychological Reports, 86,
707-726.
Norton, R. (2000). Reconciling ethnicity and nation:
Contending discourses in Fijis constitutional
reform [Electronic version]. The Contemporary
Pacific, 12, 83-122.
Segal, L. (2001). Brief psychotherapy. In Corsini, R.
(Ed.), Handbook of innovative therapy (pp. 86-94).
New York: Wiley.
Vallacher, R., & Wegner, D. (1985). A theory of action
identification. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Van Deusen, C., Mueller, C., Jones, G., & Friedman,
H. (2002). A cross-cultural comparison of problem
solving beliefs and behaviors: Helping managers
understand country differences. International
Journal of Management and Decision Making, 3, 52-
66.
Walsh, R., & Vaughan, F. (1993). On transpersonal
definitions. Journal of Transpersonal Psychology,
25, 199-207.
Williksen-Bakker, S. (2002). Fijian businessa bone
of contention. Was it one of the factors leading to
the political crisis of 2000? [Electronic version].
Australian Journal of Anthropology, 13, 72-87.

Correspondence regarding this article should be direct-

ed to the author at harrisfriedman@floraglades.org.

124 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

 READERS COMMENTARY
Surfing the Absolute:
Comments on Volume 22 of the IJTS
Don Diespecker, Ph.D.
Earthrise, Thora, NSW, Australia
Here and there in the woods I come across
such beautiful rocks, covered with such soft green
mosses that they make me want to lay my face
against them.
John Jerome
(in Stone Work, 1989, p. 143)
ld academics and scholars who once were
O experimental psychologists and who now live
in the bush where they build hand-made
houses and stone walls and paddle canoes when not
writing fiction are almost certainly not to be trusted in
such a journal as the IJTS. Not only do we pretend to
have retired and to have slipped away into obscurity,
but we sometimes talk cheerfully to water dragons and
coaxingly to rosebuds, we secretly read esoteric and
even scholarly journals, and some of us continue the
hopeless struggle against being opinionated. This is an
opinion piece and I suggest that should it be published
in Reader Comments. I may not be entirely alone as
a writer of opinionsthis means that I am including
the Volume 22 authors as writers of opinions too.
I have been rereading John Jeromes Stone Work
because I like the writing and because I, like Jerome,
build stone walls too. Building gravity walls from river
stones is not a kind of work. As the publishers blurb
indicates: it is not so much an account of stacking
stones as it is a meditation about mind and matter,
obsession and compulsion, and the shifting seasons. I
want to suggest that when we read about a man build-
ing stone walls in the countryand written by a writer
who is both eloquent and lyricalwe will be com-
pelled to visualise some of what he describes. To see
what an author has been seeing is to magically derive
something special and something extra from the
writing. When reading essays that are academic and
scholarly (and are not memoirs of doing ordinary or
even adventurous work) we can expect to visualise less.
Remember Butch and Sundance peering anxiously
toward the oncoming posse? Who are those guys?
The approaching riders had this in common: they
could all ride and they were all bent on catching the
bad guys. When we look at a journal-full of academic
and scholarly writers, they may all have been intent on
achieving publication, and what they all share is writ-
ing. There are many kinds of writers making many
kinds of writing. It takes some doing to write well
enough that the reader can see what the writer sees.
This is not to suggest that scholars should write more
vividly or that they emulate the movie scriptwriters
it is to decry scholarly writing that is mindlessly bur-
dened with jargon and is flowery, confusing, and com-
posed of tortured language. Surely these academic and
scholarly writers are not as precious as their writings
often imply? Surely they are not in the terminal stages
of hubris? Or is there a scholarly conspiracy to write
impenetrable prose?
In my opinion Volume 22 of the IJTS looks good
and even feels goodI measured itand it not only
is about 4 mm shorter than the preceding volume, it
seems less likely to flop about when held limply. The
design and layout and the subheadings in the text
(which succeed in not interrupting the narratives)
indicate very good design and editing. While I did like
some of what I read, most of the essays were difficult
for me to adequately comprehendperhaps because I
was often speed-reading through fear of being over-
whelmed by prose that was sometimes dense and
Readers Commentary 125
sometimes convoluted. It gives me no pleasure to write
thatbut then much of the text gave me no pleasure
to read. Most of these materials were not entertaining
and I see no reason on earth why scholarly essays
should not also entertainwhatever else they do. To
put this differently: the writings in Volume 22 have
been made to look their best through good editing and
production processes.
While the quality of references listed at the end of
each essay generally is impressive, the quantity of ref-
erences appears excessive. Academics and scholars
(A/Ss) are confidant as well as competent researchers
and all have opinions. We are all free to state opinions
and to argue for points of view without needing so
much backup.
Further, the writing styles of some Volume 22
scholars also contain some unnecessary authorial con-
ceits and silly self-indulgences. If it is appropriate for
A/Ss to chide, as well as praise, other researchers, it is
surely OK for an ex A/S to criticise critical A/Ss. I do
so. Some A/Ss have either passed away or will not have
read Volume 22 .
For example: Elaborating somewhat from what we
wrote elsewhere, below are some of the elements that
would seem to be characteristic of the eidetic cosmol-
ogy, and hence may serve in differing degrees to pat-
tern the content of various world views around the
globe. (p. 9).
What Durkheim failed to grasp, however, was that
the ritual procedures that produced collective efferves-
cence, produced adherence as much to physical reali-
ty as to social reality. (p. 10).
Our argument is fairly complete and reasonably
straightforward. Let us briefly summarize the high
points of the theory, and then we can close with some
few inferences drawn from it. (p. 19).
Inner-worldly mysticism in the modern west has
its historical shadow in Hellenistic Gnosticism, for
Weber the multifaceted spiritual response of disenfran-
chised educated classes to Roman hegemony. (p. 27).
From the point of view of the unitive, nondual mys-
ticism of Plotinus, those he called Gnostics were
unwittingly enshrining and fixating a spiritual pathol-
ogy. (p. 29).
Of course, a transpersonalist like Ken Wilber
(1995), working from the more inclusive spiritual
monism of Plotinus and Vedanta, rightly labels all
such cognitive and neuropsychological approaches as a
subtle reductionismor worsesince they falsely
126 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
subordinate the primacy of direct experience to mate-
rialism. (p. 36).
First, let us proceed to the matter of evolution,
asking specifically whether psychological ontogeny
recapitulates phylogeny: does the course of individual
psychological development follow a pattern similar to
that seen in the history of the human mind? (p. 52).
Let us again note, as well, that no matter what
state of consciousness, or realm of being, an individual
might experience, we can expect that upon returning
to ordinary waking consciousness he or she will inter-
pret that experience according to his or her own level
of development. (p. 57).
Before I begin with this, however, I ought to
define exactly what (or who) I mean by primal peo-
ples. (p. 63).
However, I must first say that in some respects I
agree with Wilber and Habermas. I believe that its jus-
tifiable to say that primal peoples were at a pre-ration-
al level, or at least did not possess rational-logical
powers to the same extent that we do. (p. 63).
What we really need, in order to fully substantiate
the argument of this essay, are two things. First, we
need a different view of spirituality, which could
account for the fact that primal peoples are spiritual
and pre-rational at the same time. (p. 73).
These excerpts, taken unfairly out of context, are
not, in my opinion, dazzling insights into anything.
They are, rather, fanciful and pretentious phrases and
sentences presumably intended to demonstrate schol-
arship.
Some of these writings were easy to read and were
also informative (e.g., Walshs essay), and the Valpy
quotation from The Globe and Mail (in Hunts essay)
was like a breath of fresh air. The Llabrs description
of Transpersonal so interested me that I read it a sec-
ond time.
In studying transpersonal studies I want also to
read for pleasure. I want to see A/Ss words so
arranged, after their having been found, as to afford
me more opportunities to see images, to experience
something of the pictures that once were in the writ-
ers minds. All too often when I read scholarly articles,
I resort to seeing images of my own simply because
the scholars mode is one that spins words past me in
picture-less jumbles. Where is there any pleasure in
leaden and twisted prose?
As if that were not bad enough, I caution myself
(from habit) when glancing at About our
Contributors because I want to know a part or two of there too? If those writing about consciousness and
the A/S that is human enough to be somewhere that which is transpersonal are going to flit about
beyond ego. Sigh. And I suspect that we have all writ- wordily at different levels when there are expectations
ten inflated and arrogant paragraphs about ourselves of their being steadfast at one level, then those exam-
that make us seem less like spiritually inclined scholars ining transpersonal writings may begin to suspect that
and more like ambitious gunfighters. Is this one a some scholars will experience conflicts of interest. This
philosopher who enjoys canoeing? Does she photo- is not to say that our A/Ss should always wear flow-
graph dewed spiders webs at sunrise? How might I ing robes and emit golden light or that they ought to
recognise a certain A/S who wrote a particular essay chant and pray a lot, as respite from the elevated work
should I meet him or her? What hope do I have when of scholarship, but that they become more aware of
they catalogue, not their loves or attributes or recre- how they present their essays, as well as increasing their
ations but only their publications? Indicating many awareness of how they describe themselves.
articles means only that the author is saying, I wrote Being an A/S is an honourable profession. Those of
this essay and I have written many other essays. So us who once were A/Ss and now are simply writers of
what? Several essays and books, over 50 articles, one kind or another will perhaps want transpersonal
chapters and books related to consciousness, several studies scholars to be more respectful of that level of
essays and some 20 books, numerous empirical and identity (and awareness)and to please treat the
theoretical articles, written, edited, co-authored, or English language more lovingly.
co-edited over 1,000 articles and 15 books, author or There is no special place for writers on the spec-
co-author of about 140 articles are ego-level examples trum of consciousness. If there were, then writers,
of A/S madness. What does he has been involved in including academics and scholars of transpersonal
the transpersonal movement in a holistic and integral studies, would, I would hope, take a greater interest in
way really mean? How exciting or possibly strange that form of creative writing called literary fiction. In
might it be to practice psychoanalysis and psy- literary fiction there is a kind or a category of writing
chotherapy with a transpersonal approach? This called consciousness writing, of which there are two
makes psychotherapy seem a monster having one foot principal techniques: (1) interior monologue; and (2)
cemented at the ego level and the other foot seeking free indirect style. Interior monologue enables us to
purchase somewhere in the transpersonal bands. Less share the most intimate thoughts represented as
would certainly be more in some of these biographical silent, spontaneous, unceasing streams of conscious-
romances. I would applaud the editors presenting just ness of characters (Lodge, 1992, p. 47). The free indi-
one About our Contributors which is entirely free of rect style renders thought as reported speech (in the
noted publications. Let us know the authors by other third person, past tense) (Lodge, 1992, p. 43). These
of their qualities, by their quirks and foibles, by any- are not only appealing and creative ways in which to
thing that is endearing or surprising (always wears write; the writer may become so engrossed as to expe-
black clothes, keeps a pet wolf, builds lute-harpsi- rience a state of consciousness other than consensus
chords, glides, is a throat singer, a sculptor, reality or ordinary consciousness. I mention this
grows Venus fly traps, restores vintage motor because Im inclined to think that some of my A/S col-
cycles, dances the tango). Is writing scholarly essays leagues will be attracted to sometimes write different-
and opinion pieces all that A/Ss do? ly. We can all learn something from each other.
Readers familiar with Wilbers (1979) spectrum of Writing creatively by novelists and by academics and
consciousness model and of there being therapies scholars may be the experience of appreciating a differ-
appropriate to the different levels of consciousness will ent state of consciousness. We all have writing in com-
recall that schools and techniques of psychotherapy mon. Are there scholars who might experiment with
offer possibilities of effecting change in ones con- consciousness writing?
sciousness. A/Ss, like everybody else, live at one or Golden, golden, the woods are golden now. The
another of these levels. A/Ss, it seems, do not all dwell days stretch on into Indian summer, the air gone
at the same level (neither did Freud and Jung). Would plummy with woodsmoke and windfall apples,
it be unreasonable of those attempting to live within Stradivari air (Jerome, 1989, p 139).
the transpersonal bands to expect that our A/Ss live If you see what I mean.

Readers Commentary 127

 References
Jerome, J. (1989). Stone work: Reflections on serious
play and other aspects of country life. New York:
Viking Penguin.
Lodge, D. (1992). The art of fiction. London: Penguin.
Wilber, K. (1979). No boundary: Eastern and Western
approaches to personal growth. Los Angeles: Center
Publications.

Correspondence regarding this article should be

directed to the author at don@midcoast.com.au.

2005 Don Diespecker

128 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

 Two Suitors: A Parable
Richard Tarnas, Ph.D.
California Institute of Integral Studies
he postmodern mind has come to recognize the
T many ways in which our often hidden presup-
positions play a critical role in constellating the
reality we seek to know. If we have learned anything
from the multidisciplinary wellsprings of postmodern
thoughtwhether from psychology, anthropology,
philosophy of science, sociology of knowledge, reli-
gious studies, linguistics, physics, or feminismit is
that what we believe to be our objective knowledge of
the world is radically shaped and forged by a complex
multitude of subjective factors, most of which are alto-
gether unconscious. Even this is not quite accurate, for
we now recognize subject and object to be so deeply
mutually implicated as to render problematic the very
structure of a subject knowing an object. vision) transforms what should be means into ends in
Such a recognition can engender humility, disori-
entation, or despair. Each of these responses has its
place. But ultimately this recognition can also call
forth in us a fortifying sense of joyful co-responsibility
for the world we enact through the participatory,
cocreative power of the world view we commit our-
selves to and evolve with.
But what is the current situation? The modern
world view that first emerged during the European
Enlightenment of the 17th and 18th centuries still
effectively structures the context for most of the
worlds activities and values. In this powerful vision,
we live in a universe that is ultimately understood to
be the random consequence of exclusively material
evolutionary processesa universe devoid of intrinsic
meaning and purpose, soulless and unconscious, indif-
ferent to humanitys spiritual and moral aspirations.
From the time of Bacon and Descartes on, meaning
and purpose, spiritual and moral values, are all seen as
human qualities, and to perceive these in the universe
apart from the human is regarded as a delusory projec-
tion.
In the course of our complex history, this vision has
in certain respects been deeply emancipatory, freeing
us from pre-given structures of cosmic meaning and
purpose that in important respects had become exis-
tentially constraining, and were usually carried and
enforced by traditional cultural authorities, both polit-
ical and religious. However, we are now coming to
realize the loss as well. A disenchanted world view
essentially empowers the utilitarian mindset. The larg-
er cosmological context within which all human activ-
ity takes place provides no encompassing ground for
transcendent valuesmoral, spiritual, aesthetic
which are therefore seen as only human constructs. In
the resulting void, the values of the market and mass
media freely colonize the collective human imagina-
tion and drain it of all depth. Such a vision (or lack of
themselves: Political power, financial profit, techno-
logical prowess are the overriding values. The bottom
line rules all. In turn, anxiety in the face of a meaning-
less cosmos creates a spiritual hunger and disorienta-
tion, an engulfing fear of death, and a major self-image
problem, which lead to an addictive hunger for ever
more material goods to fill the inner emptiness, pro-
ducing a manic technoconsumerism that cannibalizes
the planet in a kind of self-destructive frenzy. Highly
pragmatic consequences ensue from the disenchanted
modern world view.
But, as we assimilate the deepening insights of our
time into the nature of our knowledge of the world,
must we not ask ourselves whether this disenchanted
world view is, in the end, all that plausible?
Let us consider a thought experiment:
Imagine that you are the universe, a deep, beauti-
ful, profoundly intelligent and ensouled universe. And
imagine that you are being approached by two differ-
ent epistemologiestwo suitors, as it were, who seek
to know you. To whom would you open your deepest
secrets? Would you open most deeply to the suitor
the epistemology, the methodologywho approached
you as though you were utterly lacking in intelligence
Readers Commentary 129
or purpose, as though you had no inner dimension to
speak of, no spiritual capacity or value; who thus saw
you as radically inferior in being to himself (let us ran-
domly give the suitor a masculine gender); who relat-
ed to you as though your existence was valuable prima-
rily to the extent that he could exploit your resources
to satisfy his various needs; and whose motivation for
knowing you was driven ultimately by a desire for
increased mental mastery, prediction, and control over
you for his own self-enhancement?
Or would you, the cosmos, open your deepest
secrets to that suitorto that epistemology, that
approach to the nature of thingswho viewed you as
being at least as intelligent and valuable, as worthy a
being, as permeated with mind and soul, as endowed
with spiritual depths and mystery, as he; who sought
to know you not to better exploit you, but rather to
unite with you and thereby bring forth something
new; whose ultimate goals of knowledge were not
mental mastery, prediction, and control but rather a
participatory cocreation, an honoring of your deepest
being, bringing an intellectual fulfillment that was
intimately linked with imaginative and poetic vision,
moral transformation, aesthetic and sensuous pleasure,
empathic understanding; whose act of knowledge was
essentially an act of love and trust, and, as it were,
mutual delight? To whom would you reveal your deep-
est interior glory?
This is not to say that you, the universe, would
reveal nothing to the first suitor, under the duress of
his objectifying, disenchanting approach. That suitor
would undoubtedly elicit, filter, and constellate a cer-
tain reality which he would naturally regard as
authentic knowledge of the true universeobjective
knowledge as compared with the subjective delusions
of everyone elses approach. But we might allow our-
selves to doubt just how profound a truth, how gen-
uinely reflective of the universes deeper reality, this
approach might be. And if this objectifying, disen-
chanted vision were elevated to the status of being the
only legitimate vision of the nature of the cosmos
upheld by an entire civilization, what a loss, an
impoverishment, a grief, would ultimately be suffered,
by both knower and known, with tragic, deforming,
and destructive consequences that would run their
fateful course on every planeintellectual, psycholog-
ical, social, political, economic, ecological, spiritual.
To assume that purpose, meaning, conscious intel-
ligence, and spiritual depth are solely attributes of the
130 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
human being, and that the great cosmos itself is a soul-
less void within which our multidimensional con-
sciousness is a random accident, reflects an invisible
act of cosmic hubris on the part of the modern self.
And hubris and fall are as indissolubly linked now as
they were in ancient Greek tragedy. Our search for the
true cannot be separated from our search for the good.
We need to radically expand our ways of knowing.
We need a larger and truer empiricism and rational-
ism. We need to move beyond the relentlessly objecti-
fying, unconsciously constructive epistemological
strategies, the restrictive empiricism and rationalism
that emerged appropriately during the Enlightenment,
but that still dominate mainstream science and mod-
ern thought today, and that, in their narrowness and
one-sidedness, now dangerously occlude our full
vision. We need to build on those, while drawing as
well onto use a single encompassing termthe epis-
temologies of the heart. We need ways of knowing that
integrate the imagination, the aesthetic sensibility, the
moral faculty, revelatory or epiphanic experience, the
spiritual intuition, the capacity for archetypal insight,
for kinesthetic and sensuous knowing, for empathic
understanding, the capacity to open to the other, to
listen, to listen even to our own otherour uncon-
scious, in all its plenitude of forms. A developed sense
of empathyof loving, trusting, receptive observation
and analysisis critical if we are to overcome the great
modern chasm between subject and object, psyche and
cosmos. We need to be able to enter into that which
we seek to know, and not keep it ultimately distanced
as an object. We need, in the end, to transform our
relationship to the universe from one of I and It to
one of I and Thou.
Our best philosophy of science has taught us the
extent to which our epistemology cocreates our world.
Not only reason and empiricism but faith, hope, and
compassion play a major role in constellating the real-
ity we seek to know. And this is perhaps the underly-
ing message of our modern Enlightenments unexpect-
ed darkening of the world: At the heart of cognition is
a moral dimension. The progress of knowledge and
the evolution of consciousness have too often been
characterized as if our task were to ascend an immense-
ly tall cognitive ladder, solving increasingly challenging
mental riddles, like advanced problems in a graduate
engineering exam. But our hearts must be trans-
formed, not just our minds. We must go down and
deep as well as high and far. Our world view and our
cosmology, which define the context for everything
else, are profoundly affected by the degree to which all
our facultiesintellectual, emotional, somatic, imagi-
native, spiritualenter the process of our knowing.
How we approach the Other, and how we approach
each other, will shape everything, including our own
self.
We have a choice. There are many possible univers-
es, many possible meanings, living within us in poten-
tia, moving through us, awaiting enactment. We are
not solitary separate subjects in a meaningless universe
of objects upon which we can and must impose our
egocentric will. Nor are we just empty vessels, as it
were, on automatic, passively playing out the inten-
tions of the universe, of God, of our social-linguistic
community, of our class, our race, our gender, our
unconscious, our stage in evolution. Rather, we are
miraculously autonomous yet embedded participants,
each a creative nexus of action and interpretation,
microcosms of the creative and intelligent macrocosm,
enacting a complexly and richly coevolutionary
unfolding of reality.
And critical to that participation is the capacity for
radical openness to the other, an openness to mystery,
an affirmation of the universe as Thou rather than It.
With that insight, once again our knowledge of truth
will be seen to be intimately connected with our moral
and aesthetic aspirations for the good and the beauti-
ful. Only then might we discover our deeper oneness
with the whole. Only then might we finally trust
death, in all its forms, as a threshold to the mystery of
greater life. And only then might we discover just how
thrillingly the True, the Good, and the Beautiful are all
ultimately, intricately united.

Correspondence regarding this article should be

directed to the author at rtarnas@ciis.edu.

2004 Richard Tarnas

Readers Commentary 131

 Natural Crazy Wisdom
Kidder Smith and Susan Burggraf, Ph.D.
ur craziness is our most powerful wisdom. No,
O I dont mean Crazy, man, like Far out, lets
go, I mean the psychiatric disarray of the
Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders,
the dysfunctions we call psychopathology. These are
precious not because they show us what most needs
repair but because they are authentic manifestations of
our native wisdom.
We can understand that most easily if we approach
it through the crazy wisdom that Tibetan traditions
speak of. Actually, a better translation would be wise
crazinesscraziness gone wise. This differs from
William Blakes dictum that a fool who persists in his
folly will become wise. It is more direct: a fool fully in
his folly is wise already. But crazy wisdom does not
mean celebrating only the symptoms, the shrieks and
twitches. Those are end points of a cosmic shudder,
the fast-stiffening corpses of something that is by
nature mutable, energetic, and alive.
If this is wisdom, then why do we suffer? Not from
wants and needs, our misplaced anger or delusions,
nor even for our attachment to any of those. It is rather
that so often we cannot bear our own experience. We
hope fervently that we might possess another nearby
substitute identity, more authentic than this painful
self, perhaps as blessed innocent or good intention or
Buddha-nature or even as a vast emptiness. We won-
der whether a discipline of self-withdrawal might
relieve us of our suffering, because then we could
adopt the right perspective on ourselves.
But Im not referring us to practice, means by
which we might employ to nullify, purify, or trans-
mute an undesirable state, but to how we might recog-
nize ourselves now, even in our overwhelming distress;
to the ways that wisdom arises in everything, just as
music happens through whatever instrument, mouth,
or talent is made available to it. Nor is music separate
from those things. Can we accept that the bliss of wis-
dom mind, that which we seek, can be found only
here, in our experience? Still more: that this bliss is
already present in everything we do. It requires us to
do nothing.
132 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
Anger
My emotions are always right. How could it be other-
wise? They are no different in kind from my seeing,
tasting, or feeling. To question their basic wisdom is to
doubt the ground of my existence.
Yet emotions are always right in a particular way.
They are infallible representatives of my momentary
state of being, but they can be hijacked by an elaborate
tale I tell about myself. Then my anger self-inflates and
steps out to fill the world, advancing hideous verdicts
about people and things far removed from me.
But what if I return to the immediate truth, to the
emotion itself? What is here, before the stories begin to
speak? What if I stop right now, in my body? What if,
whenever a word shows up to name, describe, and
then explain things, I just fall back into my belly?
Resting here, the struggle taking place without me.
Within the torturous compression is something huge,
something good, whatever else I might say about it,
good past naming, vaster than aspiration or imagina-
tion, more powerful, yet more silent, than any of its
manifested turbulence. It is joy, a joy from nowhere.
Resting here.
How did I accomplish this joy? Cannot. How do I
reach it? No: rather, it reaches out to me. But only
when I can entrust myself to doing nothing for it.
Seeking it sets me stumping through a shallow pond to
find one good spot of calm: my search precludes my
finding. When I stop, or when I am stopped dead by
impossibility or utter helplessness, or when I simply
rest, I may notice, finally, a completion. It comes up
from below, from under the ponds calm surface, licks
my bowels, presses through my tender skin in all
dimensions, out of nowhere, a silent joy that is of the
nature of everything. It is more real than any suffering.
My anger arose from that. Its not just self-inflicted
petulant rage, its also a precise conviction that Im
being cut off from my joyful beginnings. This anger
can happen only because I already know the bigger
truth of love. My passionate attachments are all born
of this same innocence.
But none of this belongs to me. Nothing of it lasts
beyond an instant. Fits of fury, all volatile emotions,
are solar flares of wisdom mind, briefly illuminating
the spaces we inhabit. To imagine their sharp edges as
messages that somethings gone wrong would be like
rushing my baby son to the hospital when he cried
from hunger because his insistent need made me for-
get my own lactating breast.
When I simply admire their clangor, unmoving, I
am queen and king. The stronger the emotion, the
more powerful the truth. The more roiling, the more
energy, the greater realization. At base its only love.
And only in that knowledge am I alive in this
world.
Depression
The wisdom of depression lies in its complete aban-
donment of all volition. Even this act is nonvolitional:
I simply cannot do a single thing. I lie upon the bed
(not in bed, that relationship is too intimate, but upon
it). Even to consider the possibility of movement is
painful. Everything has come to a halt.
This weightin my blood, all through my viscous
thoughtis more than anything I can imagine. I have
to pee, but I am forced back down by something big-
ger. A useful plan flickers, I launch my aspiration, and
it dies.
Weighing as much as the earth, and this is my own
weight. Its power is my power, unassailable. Its utter
immovability overcomes any distraction, never pulls
me away from or off my ground. It is incapable of
wavering, blank to the fires, fears and freeze-outs of
monkey mind. And anything is dwarfed by the power
of this great nothing happening.
The perfection of such stillness is utter relaxation,
the bliss of silence. I ride the earth in its diurnal rota-
tion, and neither one of us can be apprehended. Here
I am completely free.
Now I arise and act without ever leaving that space.
Boundaries
But after all, there are no boundaries. There is only
room for play. Instantly I can touch anything in the
universe. There is immediately here.
This outraged assault on boundaries is my horror at
anything seeking to interrupt the perfect continuity of
space, interject itself between itself and itself, as if a
game of peekaboo had hardened into chess, constant
objects following predetermined trajectories to a rep-
utable, replicable conclusion.
I extend my hand as I extend my breath. I enter
your space, your body. I see your mind from its
insides, I look out at your world. We dont exchange
our thoughts, because there is no difference between
us that could be bridged. Suddenly we are cry-laugh-
ing, unimpeded because we arent two of us.
The oak-tree growing in my yard is my own mind.
We are hundreds of years old, we are older than this
universe.
Only in that knowledge can I put temporary shift-
ing obstacles in the way of those who would harm my
child, can I keep safely to the right of the yellow lines
on Main Street, can I use our English language to write
exquisite grocery lists with peanut butter and fresh
spinach inscribed in them.
Self-hatred
I hate. I hate myself. I hate each particle of air Im
forced to breathe. Wherever driven, I meet only pain.
I lift my eyes looking for a sky and find it only five
inches above my forehead, like an expanse of grey
foam, tactile egg-crate, it compresses as I push it back,
but still it hovers there, presses back into its place.
I find a desiccated memory of joy. I follow it as if it
were a tatty scrap of red yarn lying on the ground, but
it disappears into the dirt.
I see other people smile, I cant penetrate their lips
and teeth, cant get past their distorting faces, their
deliberate dissimulations.
Resting here in full-hatched hell, longing for auto-
immolation, the finish of everything, and all the
worlds pain pokes discriminantly into any feeling
place that still survives. How is it that Im alive at all,
that theres any tenderness that hasnt been cauterized
and charred and blown off into the Gobi? Whats left
to feel it with?
All this is my wisdom mind. This intensity of pain
is the same capacity that can manifest with equal ease
as overpowering bliss, or casual indifference. Letting
go into its vastness, this is its power, immediate, dev-
astating, all-consuming. Everything falls before it.
It doesnt matter how such pain first came to me.
Did something once break me open, crack the whole,
hear my shriek, teach me that the human sense of a
personal self is lies, a monstrous fiction that is too
small, deforming, violent, reductive, a thing that only
brings me hatred and must be obliterated? Or did the
earth itself open, and I leapt in and seized its sunder-
ing power?
This ruination of the self is my wisdom mind, ris-
Readers Commentary 133
ing from a premature interment. I rest here as flames
engulf its upper structure, I am the fire and its eye of
silent purity, burning out illusion and impediments to
illuminate the universe.
For all of this is love, mind refusing falsehood,
unable to deny the goodness of my origin, of the root
of all existence, rapturously intolerant of lies, resting in
the true heart beauty of our world. Knowing this, I can
move through my full range and depth in fierceness,
nakedness, unprotected, kindly, relentless in my
nonaccommodation of deceit.
Attention Deficit Disorder
Im all over the place. I wish I could fit into the
lovely shoe boxes they have for good children. My
mind never goes anywhere I want. Everyone else is
solid and Im gaseous. The depressed person feels like
a solid citizen, and youre not, youre a gaseous citizen,
and nobody wants those. I wish I could be deep! My
roads dry up too easily, they end, they just go into
grassy meadows. I get on a road, its like a super high-
way for one hundred yards, and then it deteriorates
into this grassy, wooded field, and everybodys sitting
around having a picnic. Thats why I like to drive on
real roads, because those roads go somewhere. My
mind is like the sky. The bodhisattva of compassion,
Avalokiteshvara, has A.D.D. I know this because
Robert has a photograph of his son and the boys arms
were moving and it looked like he had one thousand
arms. But it was just movement, the way
Avalokiteshvara has A.D.D., like hes always into
everything, hes all over the place, his parents are say-
ing this kids too much, he notices everything. Kids
with A.D.D. are the first to notice things because
theyre very external-locus-of-control. I cant keep the
stuff in the cabinets at home, it just spills out.
Everything flies around, it just becomes fluid. The
people at the credit union just gave me a new check-
book. Money just isnt meant to have a fluid quality,
you have to save it in a pile. If you have money, and its
not in a pile, you are wrong, you are totally wrong,
right? Thats probably the worst thing you could have
thats not in a pile. I have never since I have been an
adult folded my underwear or made my bed on a day
that I know no one is coming. Julie makes her bed
every day. Shes not rigid. I like it that way, then I can
use the bed for other things. She thinks Im a night-
mare, but the thing that I never do is keep something
sloppy if someone has to share with someone. This is
because my motives for things are really driven by
134 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
other people. Its like being really weak and lazy. I
think my motives for doing absolutely everything are
other people. I cant believe how incredibly wise
A.D.D. is. Its thought of as being maladaptive, but
thats only from the point of view of samsara, of igno-
rance. Finding dzogchen or Buddhamind is like find-
ing the place where A.D.D. is exactly right. You walk
into a meditation retreat where everyone is trying to
do the thing that you do naturally, and that is hilari-
ous. I love the fact that theres no shortage.
Avalokiteshvara is the fruition of A.D.D. Heres how I
say his mantra, in the shower with the water coming
into my mouth:
om amoga shila
sam badda sam badda
badda badda
mahashuda sattva
pema bee boo shita bunsa
dada dada
samanta avalokita
hung pay so ha
When I first heard this, I couldnt get through it with-
out laughing. Thats the secret part of the mantra.
Write it on plastic, take it into the shower, do it fast,
and youll love me for it. This is my dream come true,
I am my nine-year-old A.D.D. self, for the benefit of
all beings. WHO KNEW!
Crazy Wisdom
Our wisdom mind is like the sun. Even indoors we
see by it, radiation transformed now into electron
movement and fired into incandescence. Its the only
source of, the only way we come to be the worlds
shape and color. Without this wisdom mind there
would be no experience at all.
Crazy wisdom is this wisdoms purest form of love.
It manifests inseparably from us, in total indifference
to reactions that we may have to it. Whatever we are,
it never turns away from its own sometimes horrifying
face, in full enjoyment. It couldnt care less for us, nor
less than perfectly. And while we may regard it as out-
rageous, thats only for its refusal to engage the dramas
we seek to embroil it in. From the perspective of crazy
wisdom, nothing happens. Nothing ever happens. It is
already completely good.
Correspondence regarding this comment should be
directed to Kidder Smith (kidder@bowdoin.edu).
 Toward a Participative Integral Philosophy
Daryl S. Paulson, Ph.D.
participative integral philosophy, as I view it, is
A broad-based, drawing from multiple disci-
plines. It is inclusive yet discriminating in valu-
ing and ranking different perspectives. That valuing is
not achieved through texts or algorithms but by each
individual.
One of the first to articulate such a philosophy
from a psychological perspective was Roberto
Assagioli, founder of the humanistic-transpersonal
psychology, psychosynthesis (Assagioli, 1965, 1973).
He envisioned psychosynthesis as a positive and partic-
ipative psychology for the whole person, that is,
encompassing physical, emotional, mental, existential,
social, and spiritual domains. Assagioli argued that
each individual, based on his or her perspective, needs
to choose authentically how growth and development
will be completed.
In the east, Sri Aurobindo, an Indian educated in
Britain in the late 19th century, returned to India,
became a political radical trying to oust British rule
from India, and was jailed as a terrorist for a year,
awaiting his trial (Iyengar, 1985). While in the Alipore
jail, he had a number of transcendental experiences,
and they served as a catalyst for him to synthesize
purna (Integral) yoga. Aurobindo developed purna
yoga based on his interpretation of the Bhagavad Gita,
as well as other Vedanta texts. Its fundamental goal was
to integrate both mundane and spiritual aspects of life
(Aurobindo, 1970, 1997; Sharma, 2000). Prior to this
time, yoga traditionally had been separated into vari-
ous subpractices, including physical development
(hatha yoga), emotional development (bhakti yoga),
mental development (jnana yoga), and behavior devel-
opment (karma yoga) (Narvane, 1964; Puligandlar,
1975). Purna yoga blended these yogic subdisciplines
into a unified and balanced system that also included
a two-directional life flowan ascent toward the
supermind and a descent of supermind into ones lived
life (Aurobindo, 1999).
Previously, yoga systems had focused on transcend-
ing mundane life to merge with the Divine, for exam-
ple, Sankaras Advaita Vandanta (Satchid nandendra,
1997). Interestingly, this two-directional flow is also
found in the expressed thoughts of Plato (Lovejoy,
1964) and Plotinus (1992). Aurobindos integral phi-
losophy was ably presented in the United States by
Haridas Chaudhuri. Chaudhuri and his wife estab-
lished the Cultural Integration Fellowship, from which
emerged an educational branch, later to become the
present California Institute of Integral Studies
(Chaudhuri, personal communication, 1992).
Chaudhuri presented the major concepts of
Aurobindos work through several books, including
Integral Yoga (1965).
Robert Gerard, a one-time associate of Roberto
Assagioli, developed an Integral Psychology that was
a blend of psychosynthesis, depth psychology, human-
istic-existential psychology, transpersonal psychology,
and western esoteric traditions (Gerard, 1974; person-
al communication, 2004).
Ken Wilber has, since 1977, been a leader in
transpersonal thought, but has officially abandoned it
in favor of his version of integral thought (Wilber,
2000a, 2002a). In 1995, Wilbers book, Sex, Ecology,
Spirituality (SES) presented an expansive and inclusive
philosophic view that included a quadrant perspective
encompassing Platos three life dimensions: the good
(intersubjective dimension of shared meaning, values,
and beliefs), the true (empirical dimension of observ-
able truth), and the beautiful (personal subjective
dimension of values, beliefs, meaning, and goals).
Wilber soon expanded the concepts presented in SES
through a series of other books, including A Brief
History of Everything (1996), The Eye of Spirit (1997),
The Marriage of Sense and Soul (1998), Integral
Psychology (1999), A Theory of Everything (2000b), and
Boomeritis (2002b).
Integral Philosophy
So far, we have discussed spiritual and psychologi-
cal aspects of integral philosophy; now let us look at
philosophy.
Readers Commentary 135
 Philosophy has been defined as the pursuit of wis-
dom, but this seems no longer true, at least for main-
stream academic philosophers, because they must
demonstrate proof of their philosophical progress
through publications, if they are to survive in acade-
mia. It is far easier to accomplish this with small steps,
rather than addressing head-on the ineffable what is.
As James Ogilvy stated (1992, p. xv), Philosophy as
the love of wisdom is as ridiculous in the academy as
romantic love in a bordello. Nevertheless, from an
integral perspective, a theoretical philosophical goal is
to integrate the Good, the True, and the Beautiful into
a seamless whole. And, although the Platonic terms
good, true, and beautiful are rarely used in contempo-
rary discourse, the concepts are (Smith, 1997). For
example, the Frankfurt School of Critical Theory char-
acterizes these terms as technical understanding (the
true); practical understanding (the good), also termed
mutual understanding; and emancipatory understand-
ing (the beautiful) (Habermas, 2003; McCarthy,
1978; Wilber, 1995). By the way, the good, the true,
and the beautiful, in this paper, correlate to three
world domains: intersubjectivity, objectivity, and sub-
jectivity.
Wisdom is also an important characteristic of par-
ticipatory integral philosophy, particularly in terms of
its praxis (Ferrer, 2000). It includes the ability to man-
age secular aspects of life, in a context of knowledge
and lived experience, grounded in spiritual themes
(Holiday & Chandler, 1986). Participatory wisdom, as
applied in contemporary life, seems to require both
pragmatism and resilience in order to work through
experiences of frustration, successfully dealing with
existential issues in ones life. This includes dealing
with problems that arise and learning to revise ones
own cherished concepts in light of new discoveries
(Daniels & Horowitz, 1984; Habermas, 2003;
Paulson, 2001). From a humanistic perspective,
humans want to make sense of their lives and to know
and feel that their pursuits are both significant and
worthwhile (Washburn, 2003). Yet, participatory wis-
dom is not the pursuit of happiness, per se. It is,
instead, a knowing of what produces happiness and
what produces results, combined with the ability and
desire to act in relation to that knowledge (Holiday &
Chandler, 1986). The action component is often dis-
missed, as if the acquisition of knowledge were good
enough. Action, or application, is fundamental to the
practice of participatory integralism (Paulson, 2002).
136 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
Philosophies have developed, more or less, as
closed theoretical systems, exemplified in the works of
great luminaries down through the ages. These lumi-
naries and their work include Confucius; the Vedic
Scholars; the logic of the Sophists and Protagoras;
Socrates and the dialectic process; Plato and justice,
the state, and virtue; Aristotle and material, formal,
efficient, and final causes; Buddha and the four noble
truths; the hedonistic visions of Epicurus; the stoic
visions of Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius; the religious
scholarship of Aquinas; Descartes and rationalism; the
skepticism of Hume, Locke, and Berkeley; the univer-
salism of Kant; the pragmatism of Williams James; the
class struggle and materialism of Marx; the nihilism
and will to power of Nietzsche; the existential perspec-
tives of Kierkegaard and Sartre; and the relativistic
themes of many postmodern advocates, such as
Foucault, Deleuze, Barthes, and Lyotard (Beck &
Holmes, 1968; Best & Kellner, 1991). These various
philosophies contain interesting and important theo-
retical propositions, but for individual application,
many of the concepts are too abstract.
From the end of the Greek state to the present,
humans have tended to value one worldview domain
over the other two (Tarnas, 1991; Toynbee, 1995;
Wilber, 1998, 2002b). In fact, these domains were no
longer distinct in theory or praxis until around the six-
teenth century. Western civilization, it seems, tacitly
viewed intersubjectivity, the domain of religion, as the
real and ignored the other two domains. Religion
provided the purpose and meaning to life, codes for
ethical living, a justice system, and an intellectually
satisfying hierarchical map of the world, seen and
unseen, beginning with matter, then plants, animals,
humans, the clergy, the angelic hierarchy, and, finally,
God. This structure was known as the great chain of
being (Lovejoy, 1964). Subjectivity and objectivity,
for the most part, seem to have been but appendages
of religious intersubjectivity. This is a rather general
statement, for there certainly was more to the intersub-
jectivity perspective than merely church doctrine: for
example, state doctrine, which was also grounded in
intersubjectivity. Individual meaning and beliefs seem
to be injunctions of church doctrine (Frend, 1984;
Tillich, 1968). When people expressed this individual
view too forcefully, they were viewed with suspicion
and scorn, and sometimes even roasted at the stake.
Objective reality was also explained in terms of religious
doctrine, which described creation (Lindberg, 1992).
 Yet by the sixteenth century, a few radicals began to
question church doctrine, not with another doctrine,
but by actually observing physical phenomena
(Gower, 1997). To the chagrin of both they and the
Church, their observations of the world and the
church doctrine describing it did not generally agree.
Something had to give, and it ultimately was religion.
Science began its ascent as the torch-bearer of reality,
grounded in observation and measurement. Over
time, religion gave way to science as reality. The
importance of personal independent subjectivity also
emerged, particularly in pursuits such as phenomenol-
ogy and psychology (Smith, 1997).
Yet, even today, proponent disciplines within each
life domain have generally ignored proponent disci-
plines grounded in the others, or attacked them
through polemic discourse (Davidson, 2001;
McCarthy, 1978). The latter has occurred vehemently
in academia, as departments grounded in each of the
three worldviews argue to justify their existence, that
is, funding. Objective empirical science, however, is
currently the main academic reality. Science, as a way
of acquiring objective knowledge, is extremely power-
ful, and contemporary societies rest on its technical
applications. From computers to cell phones, from jet
travel to backpacking with global positioning systems,
to landing probes on Mars, science has impacted and
changed our lives more than any of the other two
domains.
Humanistic-existential, depth, and transpersonal
psychologists often privilege subjectivity as the most
real domain, contending that subjective values and
meaning cannot be ignored without peril (Vaillant,
1993). In fact, they point out that the majority of peo-
ple they counsel have become dysfunctional,
depressed, anxious, unhappy, and unfulfilled because
of the lack of feeling genuine self-acceptance, a subjec-
tive concern (Bugental, 1981; Paulson, 2004;
Schneider & May, 1995). Additionally, some argue
that phenomena do not exist if there is not someone to
perceive and experience them. For example, Yalom
(1980), some years ago, realized, while snorkeling in
the ocean, that its beautiful life forms were beautiful
only because he viewed them so. Similarly, Nietzsche
(1995) described Zarathustras reentry into the world
from a ten-year retreat as stopping before the sun and
saying: You great star, what would your happiness be
had you not those for whom you shine? (p. 9).
Some postmodern philosophersdeconstruction-
alists, in particularview intersubjectivity as the most
real. But they also claim that there is no solid reality,
because everything is relative. For them, meaning
exists in the universe only via constructed language, a
shared system of linguistic codes and signs (Best &
Kellner, 1991; Culler, 1982). Humans use language to
construe meaning, not the reverse. The linguistic
turn has convinced most that, to a very large degree,
it is language, not observation or subjective awareness,
that constructs ones perceived reality. Inner reality is
mediated by shared linguistic codes (Best & Kellner,
1991; Katz, 1978). Yet, the objective world, in a fun-
damental sense, is pregiven and not dependent on
ones inner reality. Humans did not construct the
objective world, but, instead, find themselves here in
it. No matter how linguistically one construes being
shot in the head, the result is the same: the end. It is
humans who construct intersubjective, social
realitystatus, monetary exchange, social rules of con-
duct, and cultural beliefs. Let us now turn our atten-
tion to practical life concerns.
Contemporary Life
Our contemporary life is claimed to overload
humans with information, choice, responsibility, and
contingency. For many, just to pay their bills and taxes
requires holding multiple jobs. Governmental agencies
impose ever more control over citizens through sur-
veillance and laws. Contemporary life requires work-
force members to witness the vaporization by the
thousands of traditional full-time, full-benefit jobs,
perhaps even their own, to make way for part-time,
no-benefit jobs. Contemporary life is permeated by an
ominous, yet elusive, threat of yet another deadly ter-
rorist attack. It requires citizens to accept the tram-
pling of ecological systems and their stewardship
under the guise of progress. But what is this
progress? It is unrestrained urban sprawl? Is it dump-
ing industrial waste without regard for future conse-
quences?
We find that the world presented to us by our par-
ents, teachers, and religions does not exist, and many
cannot find a substitute with merit. So, like the mass-
es described in Dosteovskys (1949) The Brothers
Karamazov, all too often, we rely on the voice of
authority to shoulder the problems. Instead of accept-
ing freedom, choice, and the responsibility, too many
allow todays Grand Inquisitorspolitical, scientific,
and religious leaders, to tell them what to believe, what
Readers Commentary 137
is true, what to do, who is good, who is bad or evil,
what their duties are, and even who they are. Yet too
many continue to be unhappy, unfulfilled, self-depre-
ciated, and empty.
There is no escape from our increasing responsibil-
ities and the risks accompanying them, but to cope, we
often need to compartmentalize many areas of our
lives. We construct professional roles to isolate us from
subordinates. We ignore the homeless, even shun them
as being lazy, while knowing, deep in our hearts, that
we, too, tragically could be there. We tend to view the
truth from a partial perspective and claim it is The
Truth. But too often, we cannot even find partial
truth, only a story. At some point, we tire of the sto-
ries and justifications provided by others. It is then
that one must decide to see for oneself what is. But
where does one begin? Integral philosophy states it is
within oneself, where one is situated (Assagioli, 1965;
Ferrer, 2000).
With this said, let us return to Wilbers theoretical
perspective, because his model has much to offer to a
participatory integral philosophy. Wilber, as does
Arthur Koestler (1964), views phenomena as at once
both whole and part; that is, a holon. An electron,
for example, is a whole electron but part of an atom;
an atom is a whole atom but part of a molecule; a mol-
ecule is a whole molecule but part of an organelle; an
organelle is a whole organelle but part of an organ
(Wilber, 1995). Additionally, humans experience both
a subjective (interior) and objective (exterior) perspec-
tive of existence. Humans live as individuals, as well as
in collectives of humans (Wilber, 1999). Moreover, the
collective consists of an interior intersubjective and an
exterior interobjective domain generally referred to as
culture and society. Putting these concepts together, a
four-domain reality emerges, which can be mapped as
a square divided into four equal quadrants.
The part represents an individual human being and
the collective, a society. The subjective characterizes
both the interior of an individual and that of the col-
lective (intersubjective), while the objective character-
izes the exterior domain of both an individual and the
collective (interobjective). However, the concept of
collective is a relative one, for it can consist of several
humans, a small social group, an age group, a commu-
nity, or even all of humanity.
Wilbers upper left quadrant (the individual subjec-
tive domain) represents the first-person (I) interior
perspective, experienced through ones conscious
138 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
awareness, sense of self, emotions, goals, meaning,
aspirations, values, and memory (Wilber, 1995).
Wilbers upper right quadrant (the individual objective
domain) is a third-person, singular view, described in
it terms. It includes ones physical body, organ sys-
tems, cells, and brain structures, and ones overt behav-
ior. The lower left quadrant (the intersubjective collec-
tive domain) is expressed in second-personal, plural,
we terms, representing shared values, goals, mean-
ing, worldviews, beliefs, aspirations, and language.
The lower right quadrant (the interobjective collective
domain) is described in third-person plural terms and
represents things, such as geophysical structures
(mountains), geopolitical structures (India), laws,
social structures, social behaviors, and social systems.
Each of these quadrants interacts with the others.
So reality must take into account all four domains.
No quadrant domain can be reduced and explained
solely in terms of another quadrant domain. For exam-
ple, our subjective feelings have physical biochemical
correlates but cannot be completely explained by bio-
chemistry.
Wilbers quadrant model is theoretically satisfying,
but so what? By itself, is it not merely one more way of
constructing a worldview, albeit a larger one? What
positive applied or participative value does it provide?
Wilber asserts his theories are applicable and that they
have been applied (Wilber, 2000b). This is certainly
true. This author has applied his theoretical models to
business, clinical trials of antimicrobial products used
in surgical environments, biostatistical research
designs, marketing strategies, and near death studies
(Paulson, 1996, 1998, 1999a, 1999b, 2002, 2003a,
2003b). Yet there is a problem in that Wilbers model
lacks emphasis to empower an individual to authenti-
cally coparticipate in life.
Wilbers integral philosophy, in its theoretical
form, is a ready-made system, not one codeveloped by
the individual participating in life through lived expe-
riences. It thus falls short of a participatory integral
philosophy. To be a participatory philosophy and,
hence, of more personally authentic value, it needs to
empower individuals to find their own authentic ways
of knowing, learning, and dealing with life, and to
value them (Ferrer, 2003a,b; Paulson, 2001).
 Conclusion
A participatory philosophy of integralism is one
that is to be authentically applied mindfully in ones
life process. There is the ever-present need to learn
from other views, from other individuals, and from
history (Tarnas, 1991). This learning can lead not just
to the accumulation of knowledge or of construed sys-
tems but also to acquired practical wisdom. A partici-
patory integral philosophy, then, is a living philoso-
phy, one that never becomes a finished product. It is a
multi-perspective philosophy, providing an enlarged
view of what is, but a what is from the inner refer- Frend, W. H. C. (1984). The rise of Christianity.
ence of a human agent, not from highjacking textual
doctrine (Ferrer, 2003a,b; Murphy, 1992; Paulson,
2001). There is no one, in the end, who can own
responsibility for ones life except oneself, the individ-
ual. This paper is not a final answer but a plea for oth-
ers to join into dialogue in search of developing a par-
ticipatory integral philosophy.
References
Assagioli, R. (1965). Psychosynthesis. New York:
Hobbs, Dorman.
Assagioli, R. (1973). The act of will. New York: Viking.
Aurobindo. (1970). The life divine (5th ed.).
Pondicherry, India: Sri Aurobindo Ashram Trust.
Aurobindo. (1997). Essays on the Gita. The complete
works of Sri Aurobindo (Vol. 19). Pondicherry,
India: Sri Aurobindo Ashram Trust.
Aurobindo. (1999). The synthesis of yoga. The complete
works of Sri Aurobindo (Vols. 23 & 24).
Pondicherry, India: Sri Aurobindo Ashram Trust.
Beck, L. W., & Holmes, R. L. (1968). Philosophical
inquiry (2nd ed.). Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-
Hall.
Best, S., & Kellner, D. (1991). Postmodern theory. New
York: Guilford Press.
Bugental, J. F. T. (1981). The search for authenticity
(Enlarged ed.). New York: Irvington.
Chaudhuri, H. (1965). Integral yoga. Liverpool:
George Allen & Unwin.
Culler, J. D. (1982). On deconstruction: Theory and
criticism after structuralism. Ithaca, NY: Cornell
University Press.
Daniels, V., & Horowitz, L. J. (1984). Being and car-
ing: A psychology for living. (2nd ed.). Mountain
View, CA: Mayfield Publishing.
Davidson, D. (2001). Subjective, intersubjective, objec-
tive. New York: Oxford University Press.
Dosteovsky, F. (1949). The brothers Karamazov. New
York: Plenum Press.
Ferrer, J. N. (2000). Transpersonal knowledge. In T.
Hart, P. Nelson, & K. Puhakka (Eds.),
Transpersonal knowing (pp. 213-252). Albany, NY:
SUNY.
Ferrer, J. N. (2003a). Integral transformative practice:
A participatory perspective. Journal of
Transpersonal Psychology, 34(1), 2142.
Ferrer, J. N. (2003b). Revisioning transpersonal theory.
Albany, NY: SUNY.
Philadelphia: Fortress.
Gerard, R. (1974). Symbolic apperception and integral
psychology. Paper presented at the meeting of the
9th International Congress on Psychotherapy,
University of Oslo, Norway.
Gower, B. (1997). Scientific method. New York:
Routledge.
Habermas, J. (2003). Truth and justification. (B.
Fultner, Trans.). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Holiday, S. G., & Chandler, M. J. (1986). Wisdom:
Exploration of adult competence. New York: Karger.
Iyengar, K. R. S. (1985). Sri Aurobindo: A biography
and a history (Vols 1 & 2). Pondicherry, India: Sri
Aurobindo Centre of Education.
Katz, S. T. (Ed.). (1978). Mysticism and philosophical
analysis. New York: Oxford University Press.
Koestler, A. (1964). The act of creation. New York:
Dell.
Lindberg, D. C. (1992). The beginnings of Western sci-
ence. Chicago: Chicago University Press.
Lovejoy, A. (1964). The great chain of being.
Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
McCarthy, T. (1978). The critical theory of Jrgen
Habermas. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Murphy, M. (1992). The future of the body. Los
Angeles: Tarcher.
Narvane, V. S. (1964). Modern Indian thought.
Bombay: Asian Publishing House.
Nietzsche, F. (1995). Thus spoke Zarathustra (W.
Kaufman, Trans.). New York: Modern Library.
Ogilvy, J. (Ed.). (1992). Revisioning philosophy.
Albany, NY: SUNY.
Paulson, D. S. (1996). A broad-based approach to
evaluating topical antimicrobial products. In
Ascenzi, J. M. (Ed.). Handbook of disinfectants and
antiseptics (pp. 19-42). New York: Marcel Dekker.
Paulson, D. S. (1998). Successfully marketing topical
antimicrobial products. Soaps/ Cosmetics/Chemical
Readers Commentary 139
 Specialties, 2, 51-58. Boston: Shambhala.
Paulson, D. S. (1999a). The near death experience: Wilber, K. (1999). Integral psychology. Boston:
Integration of cultural, spiritual, and physical per- Shambhala.
spectives. Journal of Near Death Studies, 18(1), 13- Wilber, K. (2000a). Waves, streams and self: A summa-
25. ry of my psychological model (or outline) of an inte-
Paulson, D. S. (1999b). Topical antimicrobial testing gral psychology. Appendix C: The death of psychol-
and evaluation. New York: Marcel Dekker, Inc. ogy and the birth of the integral. Retrieved April
Paulson, D. S. (2001). The hard issues of life. Pastoral 18, 2004 from
Psychology, 49(5), 385-394. http://wilber.shambhala.com/html/books/psych_
Paulson, D. S. (2002). Competitive business, caring model8.CFA/xid,99180607.
business: An integral perspective for the 21st century. Wilber, K. (2000b). A theory of everything. Boston:
New York: Paraview Press. Shambhala.
Paulson, D. S. (2003a). Applied statistical designs for the Wilber, K. (2002a). On critics, integral institute, my
researcher. New York: Marcel Dekker. recent writings, and other matters of little conse-
Paulson, D. S. (2003b). Handbook of topical antimicro- quence. A Shambhala interview with Ken Wilber.
bials. New York: Marcel Dekker. Retrieved July 3, 2004, from http://wilber.shamb-
Paulson, D. S. (2004). Taking care of patients and car- hala.com/html/interviews1220.CMF/xid.2932119
ing for them are not the same. AORN Journal, /id, 34866009.
79(2), 259-366. Wilber, K. (2002b). Boomeritis. Boston: Shambhala.
Plotinus. (1992). Enneads (S. MacKenna, Trans.). Yalom, I. D. (1980). Existential psychotherapy. New
Burdett, NY: Larson. York: Basic Books.
Puligandlar, R. (1975). Fundamentals of Indian philos-
ophy. New Dehli, India: D. K. Print World.
Satchid?nandendra. (1997). The method of the Correspondence regarding this paper should be direct-
Vendanta (A. J. Alston, Trans.). Delhi, India: ed to the author at Daryl S. Paulson, 605 Park Place,
Motilal Banarsidass. Bozeman, MT 59715. (406) 5875735. daryl@mcn.net
Schneider, K. J., & May, R. (1995). The psychology of
existence: An interpretive clinical perspective. New
York: McGraw-Hill.
Sharma, R. N. (2000). Integral thought of Sri
Aurobindo. Delhi, India: Subhi Publishing.
Smith, R. (1997). The Norton history of the human sci-
ences. New York: W. W. Norton.
Tarnas, R. (1991). The passion of the western mind.
New York: Harmony.
Tillich, P. (1968). A history of Christian thought. New
York: Harper & Row.
Toynbee, A. (1995). A study of history. New York:
Barnes & Noble.
Vaillant, G. E. (1993). The wisdom of the ego.
Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Washburn, M. (2003). Embodied spirituality in a
sacred world. Albany: SUNY.
Wilber, K. (1995). Sex, ecology, spirituality. Boston:
Shambhala.
Wilber, K. (1996). A brief history of everything. Boston:
Shambhala.
Wilber, K. (1997). The eye of spirit. Boston:
Shambhala.
Wilber, K. (1998). The marriage of sense and soul.

140 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

 ABOUT OUR CONTRIBUTORS
Burton Daniels (United States) has been a counselor
since 1987. He has had a wide range of training from
psychodynamic to transpersonal psychotherapy, and is
currently working as a family therapist. He received his
masters degrees in psychology from Sonoma State
University and Argosy University. He has also been a
practitioner of Adidam since 1983 and currently lives
with his wife in the ashram of his spiritual master,
Avatar Adi Da Samraj.
Don Diespecker (Australia) introduced humanistic
psychology, health psychology, and consciousness as
teaching subjects in The University of Wollongong
before retiring to build a house in the bush. He found-
ed The Australian Journal of Transpersonal Psychology in
1981, which has now evolved into the International
Journal of Transpersonal Studies, and is the author of
One Mind; An Introduction to Transpersonal Psychology
(1991). Homosapien Books (Canberra) recently pub-
lished two of his novellas, The Agreement and its
sequel, Loureno Marques, written in mixed styles in
which much of the narrative is consciousness writing.
Jorge N. Ferrer (United States) teaches in the East-
West Psychology program at the California Institute of
Integral Studies, San Francisco. He is the author of
Revisioning Transpersonal Theory: A Participatory Vision
of Human Spirituality (SUNY Press, 2002).
Harris Friedman (United States) is professor emeritus
at Saybrook Graduate School and professor of psychol-
ogy (courtesy) at University of Florida, as well as a
licensed psychologist. He authored the Self-
Expansiveness Level Form, and coedits the International
Journal of Transpersonal Studies. He has published
mainly in the areas of transpersonal psychology and
organizational studies.
Mary Ann Hazen (United States) is associate profes-
sor, management, in the College of Business
Administration, University of Detroit Mercy. She has
published research on dialogue in organizations and
consulted with health care and service organizations.
Her current research interests are grief in organizations
and the effects of perinatal loss on womens work lives.
Sirkku M. Sky Hiltunen, (United States/Finland) is a
master teacher of NohKiDo and Therapeutic Noh
Theater. She is a native of Finland. In 1998, she
received her Ph.D. in transpersonal psychology from
the Union Institute, and her Ed.D. from the Catholic
University of America in 1983. She is a registered art
and drama therapist and board certified trainer of
drama therapy. She is a visual artist/performer, design-
er, choreographer, and director. She is the co-founder,
executive vice president of the Art and Drama Therapy
Institute, Inc. in Washington, D.C. She is the
CEO/president of Beyond Mask, Inc. She has a black
belt in tai chi. She has trained professionally in the
United States as well as Canada, England, Finland,
Japan, Lithuania, and Russia. She has published in the
United States and Japan. She has founded Ilmatar
Institute in Finland, where she will begin her
NohKiDo training in 2004.
Daniel Holland (United States) graduated from
Oberlin College with a degree in literature. He earned
a Ph.D. in clinical psychology from Southern Illinois
University, was an intern in clinical health psychology
at the University of Missouri School of Medicine, and
a resident in clinical neuropsychology at the University
of Washington School of Medicine. Dan was a con-
templative practice fellow of the American Council of
Learned Societies in 2001, a Fulbright senior scholar
in post-Communist Eastern Europe in 2002, and a fel-
low of the Solomon Asch Center for the Study of
Ethnopolitical Conflict in Summer 2003. Much of his
work involves identifying and creating innovative
health promotion programs that are purposefully
About Our Contributors 141
inclusive of people with disabilities, and uniting vari-
ous disciplines to create interdisciplinary and interna-
tional educational models. He is on the faculty of the
Psychology Department of the University of Arkansas
at Little Rock.
Jo Anne Isbey (United States) is associate professor of
English in the College of Liberal Arts and Education,
University of Detroit Mercy, where she teaches lan-
guage and literature. Her professional presentations
focus on theoretical applications to medieval literature.
Currently, she is doing phenomenological research on
student growth in reading and writing. Recently she
has been attracted to works that are more inclusive:
bridging workplace and community service with the
academy. She has a passion and commitment to social
justice issues. Her dissertation topic is The Shadow
Archetype in Grettis saga Asmundarsouar.
David Kowalewski (United States) is professor of envi-
ronmental studies and social sciences at Alfred
University. He has taught at the University of Texas,
and as a Fulbright scholar at the University of the
Philippines and Nairobi University. He teaches cours-
es on tracking, wilderness survival, deep ecology, polit-
ical psychology, and psychic policing. He has studied
with many of trackings luminaries in diverse locales
across North America and Africa. His articles have
appeared in the Journal of Environmental Education,
Green Teacher, Environmental Politics, Social Science
Quarterly, Journal of Psychohistory and other journals.
He is the author of Deep Power: The Political Ecology of
Wilderness and Civilization (Nova Science, 2000).
Stanley Krippner (United States) is a faculty member
at Saybrook Graduate School. He is a psychologist best
known for his research in such fields as altered states of
consciousness, anomolous dreams, and shamanism.
He has authored, coauthored, edited, and coedited
numerous books and articles. Among his many books
are The Mythic Path; The Psychological Effects of War
Trauma on Civilians; Varieties of Anomolous Experience;
Extraordinary Dreams; and Broken Images, Broken
Selves. In 2002, he received the American
Psychological Assocation Award for Distinguished
Contributions to the International Development of
Psychology.
142 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
Ervin Laszlo (Italy/Hungary) is the author or editor of
69 books translated into as many as 19 languages, and
has over 400 articles and research papers and six vol-
umes of piano recordings to his credit. He serves as
editor of the monthly World Futures: The Journal of
General Evolution and of its associated General
Evolution Studies book series. Laszlo is generally recog-
nized as the founder of systems philosophy and gener-
al evolution theory, serving as founder-director of the
General Evolution Research Group and as past presi-
dent of the International Society for the Systems
Sciences. He is the recipient of the highest degree in
philosophy and human sciences from the Sorbonne,
the University of Paris, as well as of the coveted Artist
Diploma of the Franz Liszt Academy of Budapest. His
numerous prizes and awards include four honorary
doctorates. His appointments have included research
grants at Yale and Princeton Universities and profes-
sorships for philosophy, systems sciences, and future
sciences at the Universities of Houston, Portland State,
and Indiana, as well as Northwestern University and
the State University of New York. His career has also
included guest professorships at various universities in
Europe and the Far East. In addition, Laszlo worked as
program director for the United Nations Institute for
Training and Research (UNITAR). In 1999, he was
awarded an honorary doctorate by the Canadian
International Institute of Advanced Studies in Systems
Research and Cybernetics. Laszlo serves as president of
the Club of Budapest and head of the General
Evolution Research Group, which he founded. He is
an advisor to the UNESCO Director General, ambas-
sador of the International Delphic Council, member
of both the International Academy of Science, World
Academy of Arts and Science, and the International
Academy of Philosophy. He is the former president of
the International Society for Systems Sciences. Among
his most recent well-known books are Science and the
Akashic Field: An Integral Theory of Everything; You
Can Change the World: The Global Citizens Handbook
for Living on Planet Earth: A Report of the Club of
Budapest; and The Connectivity Hypothesis: Foundations
of an Integral Science of Quantum, Cosmos, Life, and
Consciousness.
Charles D. Laughlin (Canada/United States) is an EDITORS
emeritus professor of anthropology and religion in the
Department of Sociology and Anthropology, Carleton Harris Friedman, Ph.D.
University. He is coauthor of Biogenetic Structuralism Professor Emeritus
(1974), The Spectrum of Ritual (1979), and Brain, Saybrook Graduate School and Research Center
Symbol and Experience (1990), all from Columbia
University Press. He has done ethnographic fieldwork Douglas A. MacDonald, Ph.D.
among the So of Northeastern Uganda, Tibetan lamas Associate Professor
University of Detroit Mercy
in Nepal and India, Chinese Buddhists in Southeast
Asia, and most recently the Navajo people of the BOARD OF EDITORS
American Southwest.
Manuel Almendro, Spain
Axel A. Randrup (Denmark) earned his master of sci-
ence degree (chemistry) at the Danish Technical Jacek Brewczynski, USA
University and Dr. phil at Copenhagen University He Sren Brier, Denmark
is currently president of the International Center for
Interdisciplinary Psychiatric Research and was for Elias Capriles, Venezuela
many years head of the Psychopharmacological Michael Daniels, Great Britain
Reesearch Laboratory, Sct. Hans Mental Hospital,
Roskilde, Denmark. He has performed research in bio- John Davis, USA
chemistry and published approximately 140 articles Don Diespecker, Australia
on virus research, blood lipids, psychopharmacology,
and the dopamine hypothesis of psychoses. During the Wlodzislaw Duch, Poland
past year, he has published articles on the relations James Fadiman, USA
between science, idealist philosophy, collective con-
scious experience, and spirituality in collections on the David Fontana, Great Britain
Internet. Joachim Galuska, Germany

Jerome J. Tobacyk (United States) is a professor of Laura Boggio Gilot, Italy

psychology at Louisiana Tech University, where he has Loyd Henriksen, Norway
worked since receiving his Ph.D. in personality psy-
chology from the University of Florida in 1977. His Daniel Holland, USA
scholarly interests include topics in Jungian psycholo- Bruno Just, Australia
gy, organizational psychology, cross-cultural psycholo-
gy, and philosophical psychology. He has twice been Sean Kelly, Canada/USA
awarded a Fulbright professorship to Polish universi- Jeffrey Kuentzel, USA
ties. He has a strong interest in integrating transper-
sonal studies and traditional psychological theory and S. K. Kiran Kumar, India
research. Some of his research concerns paranormal Charles Laughlin, Canada
beliefs, implications of religious belief, and the phe-
nomena of collective religious experiences. Olga Louchakova, USA
Axel Randrup, Denmark
Mario Simes, Portugal
Charles Tart, USA
Rosanna Vitale, Canada
John Welwood, USA

Board of Editors 143

 EDITORIAL POLICY AND MANUSCRIPT SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies
(IJTS) is dedicated to theory, research, practice, and
discourse in the area of transpersonal studies.
Transpersonal studies may be generally described as a
multidisciplinary movement concerned with the
exploration of higher consciousness, expanded
self/identity, spirituality, and human potential.
The IJTS publishes original theoretical, analytic,
methodological, empirical (both qualitative and quan-
titative), practice-oriented, and artistic articles which
focus upon topics falling within the domain of
transpersonal studies. The Journal is committed to
maintaining a focus on transpersonal experience, con-
cepts, and practices while embracing theoretical,
methodological, and cross-disciplinary pluralism; that
is, IJTS is committed to ensure that the fullest possible
range of approaches to inquiry and expression are rep-
resented in the articles published. Though there is no
restriction on who may publish in the IJTS, emphasis
is given to the publication of articles from a spectrum
of international contributors.
Each edition of the IJTS consists of three sections:
General: The General section is dedicated to original
articles of high quality which are judged to be of
potential interest to a wide audience of readers.
Articles published in this section embody eclectic top-
ics of study and/or approaches to inquiry and expres-
sion. Ideally, a diversity of articles on theory, research,
and practice/application will find representation in
each edition of the journal.
144 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23
Special Topics: The second section contains several
articles dedicated to a specific theme or topic germane
to transpersonal studies. Examples of potential
themes/topics include the following: Qualitative and
quantitative methodologies in transpersonal studies,
contributions of specific disciplines to transpersonal
studies (e.g., transpersonal approaches in anthropolo-
gy, psychology, medicine, sociology, ecology, biology,
art, and music); conceptions of consciousness; ecstatic
experience; systems of knowing; entheogenic/psyche-
delic research; applications of transpersonal theory
and/or practice (e.g., related to global sustainability,
health care, organizational systems, and psychothera-
py); issues important to the development of transper-
sonal studies (e.g., history of transpersonal studies,
transpersonal studies in designated geographically or
politically bounded areas such as in Europe or China);
and postmodern perspectives on transpersonal studies.
Reader Comments: A third section of the journal is
dedicated primarily to reader reactions, responses, and
comments to articles published in IJTS. Emphasis is
given to reader comments that are scholarly in nature
and which clarify and/or extend concepts and/or ideas
discussed in published articles. However, also included
are reviews of notable recently published books, arti-
cles from other journals, and special events (e.g., profes-
sional conferences).
 Manuscript Submission copy, on disk, or, most preferably, through electronic
All manuscripts should be written in English and pre- means. The Publisher and Editors are not responsible
pared in accordance with the guidelines of the most for the loss or damage of materials sent to them.
recent edition of the Publication Manual of the Electronic submissions should be emailed to
American Psychological Association. When submit- Douglas A. MacDonald, Editor, at the following email
ting manuscripts for the General or Special Topics sec- address: macdonda@udmercy.edu Please send manu-
tions, include an abstract (up to 120 words) and a scripts as an IBM PC-compatible attachment in Word
biographical statement for each author (up to 175 or Wordperfect format.
words). For manuscripts submitted to the Reader If submitting on disk, send an IBM PC formatted
Comments section, an abstract and biography are not CD rom or 3.5" floppy disk containing a copy of the
required. manuscript to the address below. The disk should be
Manuscripts for the General and Special Topics clearly labeled with authors names, title of submitted
sections should not exceed 10,000 words (including manuscript, file name, and format (e.g., Word,
text, references, notes, etc.). Submissions for the Wordperfect).
Reader Comments section should not exceed 4,000 For hardcopy submissions, send four copies of
words (including text, references, etc.) and the cover manuscripts to the address below:
letter should specify the IJTS article, book, article
from another source, or special event which is the basis Douglas A. MacDonald, Ph.D. Editor
of the manuscript. International Journal of Transpersonal Studies
Manuscripts submitted to IJTS must be original Department of Psychology
and neither previously published nor under considera- University of Detroit Mercy
tion for publication elsewhere. Submission of a manu- 4001 West McNichols Road
script assumes commitment to publish it in the IJTS if Detroit, Michigan, USA 48221
it is accepted. All statements are the responsibility of
the authors and do not necessarily represent the views
of the editors or staff of IJTS. Contributing authors
are responsible for obtaining written permission,
where appropriate, to reprint copywritten material.
Editors review all manuscripts at time of submis-
sion to assess their general suitability for publication in
the IJTS. Manuscripts submitted for the General or
Special Topics sections which are deemed suitable for
consideration for publication are subsequently peer-
reviewed. Manuscripts deemed unsuitable are returned
to the corresponding author without undergoing the
peer-review process. Manuscripts submitted for the
Reader Comments section may or may not receive
peer review.
When a manuscript is accepted for publication, the
author will be asked to send a hard copy of the final
draft accompanied by a matching disk or, if possible,
provide the final draft to the editors in the form of an
e-submission. Thereafter, page proofs and a copyright
transfer agreement will be sent to the first author and
must be returned within one week.
Manuscripts may initially be submitted in hard

Editorial Policy 145

 Subscriptions Back Issues
Rates: The following back issues are available:
Individual/Institution:
US $25 for one year; IJTS Packet 1 $50
US $45 for two years. Volumes:- 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, and 22
Students: US $20 for one year;
US $38 for two years IJTS Packet 2 $30
Volumes: 17, 18, and 19
Subscriptions to the 2004 edition of IJTS (volume 23)
and all subsequent editions can be made by contacting
Subscriptions at ijts@saybrook.edu or by calling 1- To Order: www.saybrook.edu,415.249.1380, or
415-394-5220. Send Order Request to:
Payment for subscriptions can be made by check, Saybrook Graduate School and Research Center
money order, or credit card (VISA or Mastercard). 747 Front Street, 3rd Floor
Make checks and money orders payable to Saybrook San Francisco, CA 94111
Graduate School and Research Center and mail them
to Destinations in the USA are sent via media mail. For
Launita Robinson Priority mail, add US$3.95 per volume, or US$7.50
Saybrook Graduate School and Research Center per IJTS packet. Non-USA destinations are sent via
747 Front Street, Third Floor surface mail. For airmail, add US$15.00 per volume,
San Francisco, CA 94111-1920 or US$20.00 per IJTS packet. (Canada and Mexico
add US$4.00 per volume or US$6.00 per packet).
Checks and money orders must be made out in
American funds. Make checks or money orders payable to:
If paying by credit card via mail, please send the Saybrook Graduate School and Research Center
following information to IJTS Subscriptions at the
address above: Name, type of subscription (e.g., indi-
vidual/institutional, student, one or two year), address,
daytime telephone number, fax number, email address,
name of credit card (i.e., VISA or Mastercard), expira-
tion date of credit card, and signature.

146 The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2004, Volume 23

 M.A. and Ph.D. degrees in
Psychology or Human Science
with a concentration in

Integrative Health Studies

Study with pioneers of
Complementary and Alternative Medicine (CAM)

Lyn Freeman, Don Moss

and Saybrooks outstanding faculty

Experience the power and convenience of

Saybrooks individualized mentored distance study

Create your own unique program integrating your

personal learning journey at the frontiers of CAM

Learn the skills and strategies to compete

successfully for NIH research funding of CAM
and mind-body topics

Work with research faculty exploring human

energy fields, traditional healing, imagery and Lynn Freeman, Ph.D.
distant healing intentionality

GRADUATE SCHOOL RESEARCH CENTER WASC Accredited

877.729.2766 San Francisco www.saybrook.edu

 Passion for Ideas, Knowledge for Change
Saybrook

Transformational education for over 36 years

At-a-distance M.A., Ph.D. and certificate programs
for the adult learner ready to go further

Contact us today about

Our September Enrollment!

Flexible individualized programs, mentoring,

web-classes, and in-person experiential training
Conscious spirituality, integrative health, and social
transformation
Relevant organizational consulting, expressive arts,
humanistic and transpersonal psychotherapy,
marriage and family, sexuality, addiction and more

WASC Accredited

GRADUATE SCHOOL RESEARCH CENTER

San Francisco 877.729.2766 www.saybrook.edu