The Winding Path

In my previous post I mentioned that the feeling of connectedness between all humans is a metaphor for the awareness of the similarities between all humans. It’s the connectedness of similar biological makeup, and of shared ancestral social development. Over the centuries we’ve diverged, but fundamentally we are still all capable of relating to each other at a deeper level than most of us do on a daily basis.

There is much scientific evidence for the neurological basis of feelings, including those feelings often described as spiritual. But it’s unfair to label the pursuit of that evidence, and the understanding it imparts, as degradingly reductionist, concerned only with taking apart something beautiful. Likewise it’s unfair to look at the component parts and say that the beautiful thing is only a bunch of other, more mundane building blocks. As Richard Feynmann said:

I have a friend who’s an artist, and he sometimes takes a view which I don’t agree with. He’ll hold up a flower and say, “Look how beautiful it is,” and I’ll agree. But then he’ll say, “I, as an artist, can see how beautiful a flower is. But you, as a scientist, take it all apart and it becomes dull.” I think he’s kind of nutty. [...] There are all kinds of interesting questions that come from a knowledge of science, which only adds to the excitement and mystery and awe of a flower. It only adds. I don’t understand how it subtracts.

Likewise, an important point as made by Antonio Damasio in his book, Descartes’ Error.

To discover that a particular feeling depends on activity in a number of specific brain systems interacting with a number of body organs does not diminish that feeling as a human phenomenon. Neither anguish nor the elation that love or art can bring about are devalued by understanding some of the myriad biological processes that make them what they are. Precisely the opposite should be true: Our sense of wonder should increase before the intricate mechanisms that make such magic possible. Feelings form the base for what humans have described for millennia as the human soul or spirit.

As with the feeling of connectedness, the metaphors of spirituality which we intuit as a result of our personal experiences can provide guidelines by which to act, but like some metaphors they don’t necessarily define the source of that guiding force. It’s common to consider the ambiguous nature of the metaphor, and the often intangible yet certain nature of the feeling, and define the source as equally ambiguous, intangible, yet certain.

And ultimately that may be the case, yet we would miss out on much of the “excitement and mystery and awe” that this universe has to offer if we ignore the tangible basis of those things we might ascribe to an intangible source. Likewise if we ignore the intangible we ignore an alternate source of inspiration, mystery and beauty, and a potentially beneficial alternate perspective on the tangible elements of our existence.

I asked previously if spirituality were necessary. My conclusion is still the same; no it is not. But life would be far less enjoyable in the absence of the things many consider spiritual; love, beauty, compassion, etc. For some people it is beneficial to consider the essence of these things to be spiritual. That is fine as long as they don’t deny the same benefit to those who have different beliefs.

Likewise being scientific in your approach to life is not strictly necessary; one could happily live a life unconcerned with objectively verifiable evidence. Yet even if you’re happy to do away with all the benefits science has provided, I doubt many people would enjoy a life totally reliant upon instincts alone. Even building a simple shelter, even if it doesn’t require study, does require using scientific principles, as does anything else that effectively exploits an understanding of the way the world works.

What do you think? What’s your opinion of the scientific explanations of spiritual concepts, and of the spiritual aspects of “ordinary” experiences? Are they additive or subtractive, irreconcilable or complimentary?

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You probably know the scene from The Matrix in which Morpheus offers Neo a choice between the red pill or the blue pill. This was symbolic of the choice between knowledge and ignorance, between truth and willful self-deception. As we know, Neo took the red pill, then set off on a difficult, yet action packed journey of discovery.

Most of us would probably say we’d take the red pill too, but as Cypher showed, the choice wouldn’t be so easy, and may be regretted:

“I know what you’re thinking, ’cause right now I’m thinking the same thing. Actually, I’ve been thinking it ever since I got here: Why oh why didn’t I take the blue pill?”

Like Neo we all have the choice between trying to understand how our world truly works, pushing on despite any obstacles in our path, or choosing to remain comfortably ignorant, if perhaps unsatisfied. I’ll leave the Matrix analogy there, there’s more than enough analysis of that movie and the concepts it (re)presents.

What I’d like to discuss is not the choice itself, but the context within which we make the choice, or more specifically, how the choice can mislead us. So to that end I’ll assume the choice is made, for knowledge over ignorance.

A question that we need to ask ourselves is, what kind of knowledge are we looking for? Are we looking for knowledge that reflects the reality of this universe, even if it’s painful? Do we believe we’ll find the truth in powerful personal experiences, even if someone else has a contradictory experience?

Many ideas of how the universe works are highly appealing. They make us feel as if everything is fine, no matter what happens, such as the belief in an immortal spirit. That’s a very powerful suggestion, that we ultimately can’t be harmed, that we truly have nothing to fear. Others suggest that our abilities are limitless, as long as we believe they are, that the power of thought is paramount. Another unarguably empowering suggestion.

But beware of placing too much faith in such extreme beliefs, because if they don’t align with reality, discovering how could be a terminal experience. There are extremes in any form of beliefs, which are most dangerous when the believer feels they are the only relevant beliefs. Even if the believer acknowledges that they are extreme beliefs, if they also denounce all counter beliefs then suffering will be the result.

Last year by Robin Hogarth reviewed a number of cases of scientists refusing to consider evidence which contradicted their own strongly held beliefs. This has happened throughout history, as described in detail by Thomas Khun in 1962, and as noted by Max Planck:

A new scientific truth does not triumph by convincing its opponents and making them see the light, but rather because its opponents eventually die, and a new generation grows up that is familiar with it.

But if scientists, for whom the careful, unbiased consideration of all evidence is supposedly a requirement, if they can be so biased in their beliefs, what about the rest of us? As Eliezer Yudkowsky’s review paper shows, it’s not only scientists who are subject to cognitive bias; it affects all of us.

As an example, try this exercise, then read page 6 of Yudkowsky’s paper to see how your answer compared to the university students who took part in a study in which this exercise was used:

Consider a regular six-sided die with four green faces and two red faces. The die will be rolled 20 times and the sequence of greens (G) and reds (R) will be recorded. You are asked to select one sequence, from a set of three, and you will win $25 if the sequence you chose appears on successive rolls of the die. Please check the sequence of greens and reds on which you prefer to bet.

1. RGRRR
2. GRGRRR
3. GRRRRR

Did you pick number 2? Don’t be ashamed if you did; so did I. If you didn’t, congratulations, but don’t rejoice before checking all the other types of bias you might unknowingly employ. And if you continued to read this before trying the example yourself, then picked the correct answer, you’ve just demonstrated another form of cognitive bias. Do you know which?

If some people can maintain a belief in the face of clear, contradictory evidence, it’s no surprise that we can all be so sure some of our beliefs are valid. Especially when we have a strong emotional attachment to those beliefs, and no one else can truly confirm nor deny them. After all we can’t measure our experiences with a ruler, nor plot them on a graph, nor calculate their confidence intervals. The only person who can analyse a personal experience, is the person doing the experiencing. And as those two papers show, that will lead to bias.

So consider your own beliefs. Did you take the red pill, or was it really the blue pill in disguise?

Most people come into contact with some form of spirituality every day. By spirituality I mean everything considered somehow greater than the tangible, physical nature of the world. For some spirituality is an intrinsic part of their day-to-day life. For most that means religion, most likely Christianity if you’re part of Western society. That means that spirituality, or spiritual influences, pervade many aspects of everyone’s life. Personal development is no exception.

As a previous entry mentioned, I’ve explored some aspects of spirituality in the past few years. I’ve also had a Catholic upbringing. I believe I’ve spent enough time in rational analysis of spirituality, and other people’s beliefs, to form a conceptual understanding of many aspects of spirituality, however my personal experiences with spiritual practices have been few.

I’ve been semi-regularly meditating for around two years, and have experienced some interesting states of mind as a result.

I practice yoga regularly, and while my instructor is very spiritually minded, the practice is not a spiritual one for me.

I’ve considered spiritual systems of belief, and tried to see if my own experiences will allow me to intergrate them, but there has inevitably been something that just doesn’t fit. Of course there is still much to be learned from any system of belief, and even if I haven’t been convinced to adopt a new one, I have at least been able to reaffirm my own and be sure they’re appropriate in my life.

I often wonder why others adopt certain beliefs and so I also consider why I hold my own, and why mine are different to theirs, especially when an apparently similar experience reinforces very different beliefs.

Take meditation for example. Generally meditation is thought of as a spiritual practice. In my high school days other kids thought meditation was something only hippies did. It wasn’t until one Religious Education teacher incorporated meditation into class that people started to see it differently. Unfortunately most just saw it as a way to not do any work for 15 minutes.

However, texts discussing meditation inevitably lead to “connecting with the divine” or “becoming attuned to your higher self” or something of a similar spiritual nature. It’s quite possible that my practice hasn’t reached the level where such revelations occur, but I also think it’s possible that such revelations are an emergent property of the physical state which deep meditation grants. Nothing spiritual about it, but at the simplest level, a combination of reduced brain activity, and activity in the central and peripheral nervous systems.

I write this not to dismiss the spiritual aspects of meditation, but to record my thoughts so that once my meditation does reach a deeper level, I can know what I thought before that point.

However this apparent lack of spirituality does lead me to question if there is any need for spirituality at all. What is it about meditation that leads people to believe that it is anything more than an altered state of their physical mind and body? Is it just the context under which they encounter meditation? I.e., they first practice meditation with a spiritual teacher and thus absorb his/her beliefs along with the practice. And if that’s the case, what effect does it have on the practice? Can one meditate more effectively if one believes it is a communion with God? And if that’s not the case, where does such a belief lead?

Amongst other things spiritual beliefs give people a sense of safety, certainty, and purpose. Safety could be the belief that no matter what happens to their physical being, their spiritual being is beyond harm, that there is something greater looking over them. Certainty could be the belief that all is intended as it is, and therefore there’s a reason for everything, even if one is unaware of what that reason is. Purpose could be a sense of what one is meant to do with one’s life.

All this can create powerful positive emotions. Certainly not a bad thing. So I have no question of the positive role spirituality plays in people’s lives. But since I don’t share those beliefs, and thus don’t gain the same benefits, at least not through those beliefs, I can’t help but ask if it is necessary.

Of course people can choose to believe whatever they want, but it is when practicing one’s beliefs interferes with the lives of others that problems arise. So in terms of my own life, spirituality has little place, but that’s no reason it can’t have a valid place in other people’s lives.