Merkabah | Page 409 | INFJ Forum
A great article!
Enjoy!


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How well do you know yourself?

If you’re like most people, you probably have a decent idea about your own desires, values, beliefs, and opinions.

You have a personal code that you choose to follow that dictates whether you are being a “good” person.

If there is any one thing you can know in this universe, surely it is who you are.

But what if you’re wrong?


What if much of what you have come to believe about yourself, your morality, and what drives you is not an accurate reflection of who you truly are?

Now, before you launch into a, “Hey, you don’t know me, you don’t know my life, you don’t know what I’ve been through!”-style defense, ponder this for a second:

Have you ever said or done something really shitty, mostly on an impulse, that you later regretted?

After the damage was done and the other person involved was hurt, you couldn’t bury your shame fast enough. “Why did I say that?” you might have asked yourself in frustration.

It’s that “Why?” question that indicates the presence of a blind spot.
And though the reason for your reaction may have been obvious (perhaps even “justified”), the lack of control you had over yourself betrays the existence of a different person lurking beneath your carefully constructed idea of who you are.

If this person is coming into focus for you, congratulations—you’ve just met your shadow self.

The Shadow: A Formal Introduction

“The shadow is a moral problem that challenges the whole ego-personality, for no one can become conscious of the shadow without considerable moral effort. To become conscious of it involves recognizing the dark aspects of the personality as present and real. This act is the essential condition for any kind of self-knowledge.”

— Carl Jung, Aion (1951)​

The “shadow” is a concept first coined by Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung that describes those aspects of the personality that we choose to reject and repress.

For one reason or another, we all have parts of ourselves that we don’t like—or that we think society won’t like—so we push those parts down into our unconscious psyches.

It is this collection of repressed aspects of our identity that Jung referred to as our shadow.

If you’re one of those people who generally loves who they are, you might be wondering whether this is true of you. “I don’t reject myself,” you might be thinking. “I love everything about me.”


Carl Gustav Jung​

However, the problem is that you’re not necessarily aware of those parts of your personality that you reject.
According to Jung’s theory, we distance ourselves psychologically from those behaviors, emotions, and thoughts that we find dangerous.

Rather than confront something that we don’t like, our mind pretends it does not exist.
Aggressive impulses, taboo mental images, shameful experiences, immoral urges, fears, irrational wishes, unacceptable sexual desires—these are a few examples of shadow aspects, things people contain but do not admit to themselves that they contain.

Here are a few examples of common shadow behaviors:

1. A tendency to harshly judge others, especially if that judgment comes on an impulse.
You may have caught yourself doing this once or twice when you pointed out to a friend how “ridiculous” someone else’s outfit looked.
Deep down, you would hate to be singled out this way, so doing it to another reassures you that you’re smart enough not to take the same risks as the other person.

2. Pointing out one’s own insecurities as flaws in another.
The internet is notorious for hosting this.
Scan any comments section and you’ll find an abundance of trolls calling the author and other commenters “stupid,” “moron,” “idiot,” “untalented,” “brainwashed,” and so on.
Ironically, internet trolls are some of the most insecure people of all.

3. A quick temper with people in subordinate positions of power.
I caught this one all the time when I worked as a cashier, and it is the bane of all customer service employees.
People are quick to cop an attitude with people who don’t have the power to fight back.
Exercising power over another is the shadow’s way of compensating for one’s own feelings of helplessness in the face of greater force.

4. Frequently playing the “victim” of every situation.
Rather than admit wrongdoing, people go to amazing lengths to paint themselves as the poor, innocent bystander who never has to take responsibility.

5. A willingness to step on others to achieve one’s own ends.
People often celebrate their own greatness without acknowledging times that they may have cheated others to get to their success.
You can see this happen on the micro level as people vie for position in checkout lines and cut each other off in traffic.
On the macro level, corporations rig policy in their favor to gain tax cuts at the expense of the lower classes.

6. Unacknowledged biases and prejudices.
People form assumptions about others based on their appearance all the time—in fact, it’s a pretty natural (and often useful—e.g. noticing signs of a dangerous person) thing to do.
However, we can easily take this too far, veering into toxic prejudice.
But with so much social pressure to eradicate prejudice, people often find it easier to “pretend” that they’re not racist/homophobic/xenophobic/sexist, etc., than to do the deep work it would take to override or offset particularly destructive stereotypes they may be harboring.

7. A messiah complex.
Some people think they’re so “enlightened” that they can do no wrong.
They construe everything they do as an effort to “save” others—to help them “see the light,” so to speak.
This is actually an example of spiritual bypassing, yet another manifestation of the shadow.

Projection: Seeing Our Darkness in Others

“If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?”

― Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn​

Seeing the shadow within ourselves is extremely difficult, so it’s rarely done—but we’re really good at seeing undesirable shadow traits in others.
Truth be told, we revel in it.

We love calling out unsightly qualities in others—in fact, the entire celebrity gossip industry is built on this fundamental human tendency.

Seeing in others what we won’t admit also lies within is what Jung calls “projection.”
Although our conscious minds are avoiding our own flaws, they still want to deal with them on a deeper level, so we magnify those flaws in others.

First we reject, then we project.




One way that we all experience this dichotomy of rejection and projection, for example, is when we have a hard time admitting that we’re wrong.

When I was seven, I had the grand idea that my younger brother and I would run away.
Nothing was particularly unpleasant in our home lives at the time; when my brother asked why we were running away, I simply shrugged and said, “Because all the kids do it.”

We packed our blue Sesame Street suitcase with all the essentials: cookies, toys, and juice boxes.
After taking the screen down from our first-story bedroom window, we tossed the suitcase onto the ground below.

I urged my brother to jump out first and, with complete trust in me, he did.
As he crouched behind the thorny hedge just beneath the window, I swung my leg outside and sat poised between the safety of my bedroom and the open air of the outside world.

I looked at the cars driving by, suddenly aware of the boundary I was about to cross.
On one side of the window I was safe; my mom knew where I was and I was doing everything she expected me to.

On the other side of the window, however, rules were being broken.
If she knew that we were going outside without her knowledge, our mom would surely kill us.

This moment of panic inspired in me a sudden need to retreat into the safety zone.
I called down to my brother, telling him that I had forgotten something and would be right back—instead I hurried to tell my mom that he was running away.

She scrambled outside, where she found him in the bushes, still waiting for me.
The look of betrayal contorted his features as he gaped at me, and I parried with a self-righteous stare.

He was grounded, while I became his “savior.”

While it’s easy to see my behavior as simply that of a shitty, mean sister (which, trust me, I have assured myself repeatedly that I was being), there was actually an entire invisible psychological process happening beneath the surface.

As soon as I realized that my brother and I were doing something that wasn’t the fun and brazen endeavor I imagined and would actually land us in a massive heap of trouble, I had to devise a way to protect myself from the consequences.

My seven-year-old “big sister” ego identity wouldn’t permit me to admit that I was wrong—such an act would put my social status into question for me (and more importantly, my subservient little brother).

Instead, I projected the wrongness onto my brother and ran to tell my mom.
I suspect that my unconscious mind wanted to see the consequences of that wrongness played out in order to learn the lesson of how to avoid the trouble in the future… I just maybe didn’t want to experience those consequences for myself.

By projecting the deviant behavior onto my poor little brother (whom, I assure you, I spoil to death in our older age as penance), I avoided having to confront the dangerous behavior in myself.

And this is something that, in our own ways, we all do.

In this case, being in the wrong was the thing I rejected in myself.
Most people hate admitting when they’re wrong because doing so is accompanied by the uncomfortable emotions of embarrassment, guilt, and shame.

Rather than confront the possibility of being wrong, therefore, people often go to extreme lengths to prove to themselves and others that they are right—even if it means hurting someone else.

Unfortunately, our impulse to avoid the unpleasant confrontation with the truth is so strong that we remain completely unaware of what’s happening.
The mind ignores and buries all evidence of our shortcomings to protect itself—i.e. to prevent the experience of pain—storing it deep within our unconscious minds.

This doesn’t make those thoughts, memories, and emotions go away, but it does put them somewhere we don’t have to “see” them.

Our conscious minds are where our ego personality dwells—the “I” that walks around every day talking to other people.
When you think of who “you” are, this is the part of yourself you usually identify with.

However, that “you” is only the part of your identity that is visible to you.
Your conscious awareness is like a light enabling you to observe what is happening inside your mind.

Beneath that conscious “light” is a whole world of “darkness” containing those very aspects of ourselves that we have strived to ignore.
The ego is only the tip of the iceberg floating above the sea, but the unconscious mind is the vast mountain of ice lurking beneath the surface.



Much of that bulk consists of our repressed thoughts, memories, emotions, impulses, traits, and actions.
Jung envisioned those rejected pieces coming together to form a large, unseen piece of our personality beneath our awareness, secretly controlling much of what we say, believe, and do.

This secret piece of the personality is the shadow self.

Origins of the Shadow
Our society teaches us that certain behaviors, emotional patterns, sexual desires, lifestyle choices, etc. are inappropriate.
These “inappropriate” qualities are usually those that disrupt the flow of a functioning society—even if that disruption means challenging people to accept things that make them uncomfortable.

Anyone who is too challenging becomes outcast, and everyone else moves on.

Now, we humans are highly social creatures, and the last thing we want is to be excommunicated from the rest of our tribe.
So, in order to avoid being cast out, we do whatever it takes to fit in.

Early in our childhood development, we find where the line between what is socially “acceptable” and “unacceptable” is, and we spend the rest of our lives trying to toe it.

When we cross that line, as we all frequently do, we suffer the pain of society’s backlash.
People judge us, condemn us, gossip about us, and the unpleasant emotions that come with this experience can quickly become overwhelming.

However, we don’t actually need people to observe our deviances to suffer for them.
Eventually, we internalize society’s backlash so deeply that we inflict it on ourselves.

The only way to escape from this perpetual recurring pain is to mask it.
Enter the ego.

We tell ourselves stories about who we are, who we are not, and what we would never do to protect ourselves from suffering the consequences of being an outcast.

Ultimately, we believe these stories, and once we develop a firm belief about something, we unconsciously discard any information that contradicts that belief.

In the world of psychology, this is known as confirmation bias: humans tend to interpret and ignore information in ways that confirm what they already believe.

The problem is that literally everyone possesses qualities that society has deemed undesirable.
People fall short of others’ expectations, have a temper flare-up, are excessively gassy, etc.

The ideal individual in any society is one who lives up to impossible standards.

What no one wants to admit to others is that we are all secretly failing to meet those standards.
Women wear makeup, men use Axe deodorant, advertisers Photoshop celebrities, people filter their personalities with photos and status updates on social media—all to mask perceived flaws and project an image of “perfection.”

Jung called these social masks we all wear our “personas.”

“Unfortunately there can be no doubt that man is, on the whole, less good than he imagines himself or wants to be. Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is. If an inferiority is conscious, one always has a chance to correct it. Furthermore, it is constantly in contact with other interests, so that it is continually subjected to modifications. But if it is repressed and isolated from consciousness, it never gets corrected.”

— Carl Jung, Psychology and Religion (1938)​

Uncommon thoughts and emotions put us at an even higher risk of being alienated from society.
Ideas that are challenging or contrary to social norms are considered dangerous and are best left unexpressed if one wishes to “fit in.”

Emotionally, any mood other than happy, or at least neutral, is considered undesirable.
Rather than admit we are going through a difficult experience, thus making others uncomfortable with the knowledge that we are uncomfortable, we say that we’re fine when we’re really not.

Ironically, this need to avoid things that make us and others uncomfortable undermines our ability to confront and either heal or integrate them.
And if this failure to heal is bad for us as individuals, the effects of that failure on a mass scale are catastrophic.

When our cultures were in their infancies, past humans beheld their more animalistic tendencies (murder, rape, war, etc.) with revulsion and fear.
They developed a moral code, most often based on religious beliefs, about how the ideal, or “enlightened,” human should behave.

While these ideals were intended to be inspiring, giving humans a model for spiritual growth, they were challenging in their tendencies to go against fundamental aspects of human nature.

In many ways this is a good thing, since a society that allows rape, murder, and rampant violence does not tend to be a very good one to live in.

However, our collective moral codes fall short because they only offer ideals.
Religious and secular morals only tell us who to be, not how to become that person.

When solutions are offered, they are bogged down in esoteric practice that the average person has a hard time understanding—at least not without years of mentoring and study, something that not all of us have the luxury to undergo.

We can’t all be monks, after all.


We can’t all be this guy.​

The result is that we struggle to change in ways that require us to suppress our base animal instincts without giving them safe outlets through which to manifest.

In other words, we push our failures into the unconscious, where we can ignore them and go on pretending to be the people society wants us to be.
We get to pretend to be enlightened without actually doing the deep inner work that it takes to move through the developmental process.

Enlightenment: The Shadow Formula

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”

— Carl Jung​

Jung’s proposed solution to this schism is for the individual to undergo “shadow work.”
What we repress never stays repressed, it lives on in the unconscious—and, despite what our egos would have us believe, the unconscious mind is the one really running the show.

“Filling the conscious mind with ideal conceptions is a characteristic of Western theosophy, but not the confrontation with the shadow and the world of darkness. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”

— Carl Jung, “The Philosophical Tree,” Alchemical Studies (1945)​

Shadow work, then, is the process of making the unconscious conscious.
In doing so, we gain awareness of our unconscious impulses and can then choose whether and how to act on them.

We begin this process when we take a step back from our normal patterns of behavior and observe what is happening within us.
Meditation is a great way to develop this ability to step back from ourselves, with the goal being to gain the ability to do this as we go about our daily lives.

The next step is to question.
When we observe ourselves reacting to psychological triggers, or events that prompt an instant and uncontrolled reaction from us, we must learn to pause and ask ourselves, “Why am I reacting this way?”

This teaches us to backtrack through our emotions to our memories, which hold the origins of our emotional programming.

Identifying triggers can be a difficult process due to our natural desire to avoid acknowledging the shadow.
Our tendency is to justify our actions after the fact, when really the best thing we can do is avoid acting reactively or unconsciously in the first place.

Cultivating an awareness of the shadow is the first step to identifying our triggers—but before we can do that, we must first overcome our instinctive fear of our shadows.

Perhaps the biggest issue people face when confronted with the shadow is the question, “Am I a bad person?”
Acknowledging the shadow means acknowledging that we contain darkness, a capacity for malevolence.

As Jung wrote in Psychology of the Unconscious:

“It is a frightening thought that man also has a shadow side to him, consisting not just of little weaknesses and foibles, but of a positively demonic dynamism. The individual seldom knows anything of this; to him, as an individual, it is incredible that he should ever in any circumstances go beyond himself. But let these harmless creatures form a mass, and there emerges a raging monster; and each individual is only one tiny cell in the monster’s body, so that for better or worse he must accompany it on its bloody rampages and even assist it to the utmost. Having a dark suspicion of these grim possibilities, man turns a blind eye to the shadow-side of human nature.”

Jung indicates that under certain circumstances, all human beings have the capacity to do horrible, brutal things.
And somewhat paradoxically, familiarizing ourselves with these dark potentialities and accepting them as part of us is perhaps the best way to ensure that they are never actualized.

But again, it’s profoundly difficult to do this, particularly because we desperately don’t want to think of ourselves as “bad” people.

So, do taboo thoughts, hurtful actions, and the capacity to commit atrocities make you a bad person?
No, not necessarily.

Of course, everyone has a different definition of how “good” and “bad” people act—and those moral definitions are to some extent irreducibly subjective and arbitrary—but when it comes to the general consensus of “goodness,” you can make mistakes and hurt others without having an awareness of what you’re doing and still be a good person.

Beyond that, once you acknowledge the massive potential for both light and darkness within each human being, the dichotomy of “good” people vs “bad” people begins to seem reductive and misleading.

Above all, you’re human, and as such, too complex to be neatly categorized.

Nonetheless, the idea of being a good person is not without merit, and most of us intuitively understand that it’s a fine idea to move in the direction of greater self-awareness, self-mastery, and compassion.

Doing difficult shadow work—recognizing and correcting our unconscious destructive patterns—is a crucial aspect of becoming a better person.

Once we identify the original sources of our psychological triggers (e.g. repressed fear, pain, aggression, etc.), only then can we begin to heal and integrate those wounded parts of ourselves.

Integration, in Jung’s definition, means that we cease rejecting parts of our personalities and find ways to bring them forward into our everyday lives.
We accept our shadows and seek to unlock the wisdom they contain.

Fear becomes an opportunity for courage.
Pain is a catalyst for strength and resilience.

Aggression is transmuted into warrior-like passion.
This wisdom informs our actions, our decisions, and our interactions with others.

We understand how others feel and respond to them with compassion, knowing that they are being triggered themselves.

One aspect of integrating the shadow is healing our psychological wounds from early childhood and beyond.
As we embark on this work, we begin to understand that much of our shadow is the result of being hurt and trying to protect ourselves from re-experiencing that hurt.

We can accept what happened to us, acknowledge that we did not deserve the hurt and that these things were not our fault, and reclaim those lost pieces to move back into wholeness. (For especially deep traumas, it is advised to work with a trained psychologist on these issues.)

This is a very intensive and involved process and merits another separate article to cover, but those who wish to know more can find a myriad of information on the subject in books, videos, articles, and self-improvement groups.

Unfortunately, many philosophies insist that people can become enlightened without doing this deep inner work.
The proposed solution within these philosophies seems to be to actively ignore unconscious impulses rather than to dig in and understand them.

Not trying to point fingers, but many of these philosophies come from Newer (*cough, cough*, Age) ideas, which often misinterpret ancient teachings to fit into the modern desire for convenience and comfort.

I’d love to rip these teachings a new one in another article, but for now, it is good to be wary of anyone who insists that you can reach enlightenment without working on those parts of yourself that are messy and painful.

Ultimately, you’ll have to use your own discretion to decide what resonates most with you—but don’t be surprised to find yourself facing a crisis if you opt to take the path of avoidance.

As Jung points out, we can’t correct undesirable behaviors until we deal with them head on.
The shadow self acts out like a disobedient child until all aspects of the personality are acknowledged and integrated.

Whereas many spiritual philosophies often denounce the shadow as something to be overcome and transcended, Jung insists that the true aim is not to defeat the shadow self, but to incorporate it with the rest of the personality.

It is only through this merging that true wholeness can be attained, and when it is, that is enlightenment.



The Jungian model of the psyche. Here the shadow is referred to as the “shade.”​


If You Want to Save the World, Tend to Your Shadow

“If you imagine someone who is brave enough to withdraw all his projections, then you get an individual who is conscious of a pretty thick shadow. Such a man has saddled himself with new problems and conflicts. He has become a serious problem to himself, as he is now unable to say that they do this or that, they are wrong, and they must be fought against… Such a man knows that whatever is wrong in the world is in himself, and if he only learns to deal with his own shadow he has done something real for the world. He has succeeded in shouldering at least an infinitesimal part of the gigantic, unsolved social problems of our day.”

— Carl Jung, Psychology and Religion (1938)​

While shadow work is a rewarding way to cultivate a deep and intimate understanding of ourselves, and thus evolve as individuals, the truth is that the world needs us to embark on this journey sooner rather than later.

The collective shadow houses society’s basest impulses: those of greed, hatred, and violence.
If one person acting on these impulses can do a lot of harm to others, what happens when we act on them as a collective?

We can see the answer manifest in our world today.
Unfettered greed leads to a stop-at-nothing drive to boost profits, which takes its toll on the Earth as we alter ecosystems and climate patterns to exhaust natural resources.

Regional violence escalates in the areas affected by famine, drought, and climate disasters that irresponsible consumer practices, overpopulation, and industrialization create.

The poor become poorer as corporate interests sway public opinion to form policies that benefit the rich at the expense of everyone else—especially those who are most disadvantaged.

We hate and fear what we don’t understand, prompting us to pursue violence against people rather than seek diplomatic solutions with one another.
We project our own worst qualities onto our enemies to justify the violence against them.

We hoard resources, ignore the suffering of others, and continue the patterns of behavior that pollute the world we all call home.

These behaviors are not exclusive to the Western world, or to the Middle East, or South America, Africa, or any one region or people.
We all do it, either by participating in the entities directly involved in the conflicts, or by allowing them to continue through our own inaction.

While these large-scale problems may seem impossible for any one person to influence, we each have more power in this game than we may think.
For all our discussion of the abstract power of societies, they are still made up of individual people.

When two people connect, they form a relationship.
A group of relationships forms a community, and the place where communities intersect is what we come to know as society.

Each of us is responsible for forming the social codes of our communities.
Racism, for example, is a huge issue in the United States in the present moment and Americans are struggling to find a way to correct this prejudice and the inequality it creates.

Whereas previously racism was a way to structure American society, modern Americans have decided this racial hierarchy is no longer appropriate.
So, now, when people call out and denounce racism in their communities, they establish that racism is not an acceptable part of the social code.

On the other hand, people who practice racism establish that it is appropriate, and people who ignore racism enable it.

Every day, you are building the culture of your community.
When you smile at strangers, you promote a culture of kindness and connection.

If you avoid making eye contact or speak to others coldly, you build a community based on distrust and animosity.

Our actions extend far beyond ourselves—they have a ripple effect on society as a whole.
Consider cities like New York that have a reputation for being “rude.”

Can a city really be rude? No, of course not—but all the individual people living there can.

Unfriendly communities are not hostile because of just one or two people, but because the majority of people act that way.
When you have a large group of people living in close proximity all projecting and acting out their unconscious impulses on one another, the result is a toxic culture.

People who hurt each other stop trusting one another, and without trust, communities fall apart and individuals become isolated.

However, this wave can be countered with a conscious effort to breed trust, connection, and kindness.

These connections rebuild fragmented communities, helping us to overcome our isolation and tap into a collective or community mentality.
When this happens we stop thinking selfishly and start thinking empathetically and cooperatively.

As loving, healthy communities connect with one another, they work together to create public policies that benefit more people, extend help to those who need it, and work to preserve the natural world they inhabit.

And this all begins with you.

When you work to heal and integrate your shadow, you find that you stop living so reactively and unconsciously, thereby hurting others less.
You build trust in your relationships, and the people whose lives you touch open themselves to others, building even more healthy relationships.

Even random acts of kindness to strangers will increase the likelihood that they will be kind to strangers in turn, which will lighten the mood of a community overall.

You hold within you the power to catalyze a ripple that will vibrate through the lives of the people around you.
The world desperately needs more kindness, more trust, and more cooperation to heal divisions, address pressing global issues, and avoid catastrophes that could lead to the extinction of humanity and many other species.

Doing deep inner work may seem like a self-absorbed process, but you’ll come to find that, at its core, it truly becomes about so much more than just you.

Save your shadow self, save the world.
 
These are of course, rats.
Certainly not fully comparable to humans...but if the same is only partially true for our species, then many of these medications are not only disconnecting people from others to a certain extent, but we are also possibly causing negative changes within our society at large.

"Helping others could be your new drug. Go help some people and you’ll feel really good," said Mason. "I think that’s a mammalian trait that has developed through evolution. Helping another is good for the species.”

Anyhow...I think more study is warranted and could bring some interesting questions and conversations to light.
Enjoy!



Rats feel empathy for other rats – unless they're on anti-anxiety meds
Rats given midazolam were less likely to free a fellow rat from a locked cage




Rats are able to feel empathy for, and help out, other rats, new research claims – unless they've been given a dose of anti-anxiety medication.

Rats given midazolam, which is commonly used for anaesthesia, sedation and severe agitation, were less likely to free fellow rats from locked cages than counterparts who had not been given the drug.

Previous studies had found that rats were willing and able to free other rats from small containers.
But this research was not replicated when the free rats were given the midazolam.

They would, however, release the container when it contained a treat such as chocolate.

"We wanted to know what drives these rats," said Peggy Mason, who led the study. "And the rats help each other because they care."

"They need to share the affect of the trapped rat in order to help, and that’s a fundamental finding that tells us something about how we operate, because we’re mammals like rats too."

The team hypothesise that the rats were not motivated to help one another when medicated because their heart rates did not increase enough for them to experience distress.

"Helping others could be your new drug. Go help some people and you’ll feel really good," said Mason. "I think that’s a mammalian trait that has developed through evolution. Helping another is good for the species."

The study has been published by Frontiers in Psychology.


_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________



Anxiolytic Treatment Impairs Helping Behavior in Rats

Inbal Ben-Ami Bartal1†, Haozhe Shan1, Nora M. R. Molasky1,
newprofile_default_profileimage_new.jpg
Teresa M. Murray2†, Jasper Z. Williams1†, Jean Decety2,3 and Peggy Mason1*​
  • 1Department of Neurobiology, University of Chicago, Chicago, IL, USA
  • 2Department of Psychology, Pritzker School of Medicine, University of Chicago, Chicago, IL, USA
  • 3Psychiatry and Behavioral Neuroscience, University of Chicago, Chicago, IL, USA
Despite decades of research with humans, the biological mechanisms that motivate an individual to help others remain poorly understood.
In order to investigate the roots of pro-sociality in mammals, we established the helping behavior test, a paradigm in which rats are faced with a conspecific trapped in a restrainer that can only be opened from the outside.

Over the course of repeated test sessions, rats exposed to a trapped cagemate learn to open the door to the restrainer, thereby helping the trapped rat to escape (Ben-Ami Bartal et al., 2011).

The discovery of this natural behavior provides a unique opportunity to probe the motivation of rodent helping behavior, leading to a deeper understanding of biological influences on human pro-sociality.

To determine if an affective response motivates door-opening, rats receiving midazolam, a benzodiazepine anxiolytic, were tested in the helping behavior test.

Midazolam-treated rats showed less helping behavior than saline-treated rats or rats receiving no injection.
Yet, midazolam-treated rats opened a restrainer containing chocolate, highlighting the socially specific effects of the anxiolytic.

To determine if midazolam interferes with helping through a sympatholytic effect, the peripherally restricted beta-adrenergic receptor antagonist nadolol was administered; nadolol did not interfere with helping.

The corticosterone response of rats exposed to a trapped cagemate was measured and compared to the rats’ subsequent helping behavior.
Rats with the greatest corticosterone responses showed the least helping behavior and those with the smallest responses showed the most consistent helping at the shortest latency.

These results are discussed in terms of their implications for the interaction between stress and pro-social behavior.
Finally, we observed that door-opening appeared to be reinforcing.

A novel analytical tool was designed to interrogate the pattern of door-opening for signs that a rat’s behavior on one session influenced his behavior on the next session.

Results suggest that helping a trapped rat has a greater motivational value than does chocolate.
In sum, this series of experiments clearly demonstrates the fundamental role of affect in motivating pro-social behavior in rodents and the need for a helper to resonate with the affect of a victim.

 
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Sounds like I need to bash my head into a wall a few more times...
Lord knows I knocked myself out cold more than once as a child - according to this article, I should now be a genius...(my poor Mom) lol.
;)



A New Angle on the Mystery of Mind


Darold Treffert is a psychiatrist who studies the unexplained creative powers of children with savant-syndrome.
Kids who suffer from autism sometimes possess extraordinary mental abilities.

There is also something Treffert calls “sudden savant syndrome”—a phenomenon that really challenges our picture of the human mind.
We each may have a “guardian angel” in the form of latent genius that awaits the right stimulus to bring it forth.

Writes Treffert: “In sudden savant syndrome, an ordinary person with no such prior interest or ability and no precipitating injury or other CNS incident has an unanticipated, spontaneous epiphanylike moment where the rules and intricacies of music, art or mathematics, for example, are experienced and revealed, producing almost instantaneous giftedness and ability in the affected area of skill sets. Because there is no underlying disability such as that which occurs in congenital or acquired savant syndromes, technically sudden savant syndrome would be better termed sudden genius.”

This on the face of it is a complete mystery.
The stories of these sudden acquisitions of genius are astonishing.

One category of unexplained creativity involves head injuries.
Derek Amato dove into a pool and cracked his head on a concrete abutment; but after recovering in the hospital discovered he could play the piano and was inspired to make it the center of his life.

We also know that when some people have near-death experiences, and their brains go flat from sudden oxygen deprivation, they too have transformative experiences.

If these cases challenge our intuition of what is possible, suddenly being transformed into a genius without any apparent cause is even more challenging to mainstream science.

We’re confronted with a paradox.
Interference with normal brain function entails functional losses as one would predict.

But these injuries also produce unexplained expansions of mental capacity, which materialist neuroscience would never entertain.
No less challenging is the sudden savant syndrome where nothing happens to the brain.

The expansions of mind can be explained, however, if we assume that the brain canalizes or transmits—but does not create--our mental life.
In that case, reduction of brain function may entail an expansion of mental function, as a narrow canal that breaks open the space for an onrushing flood.

Treffert’s new book, Islands of Genius, suggests yet a new angle on the mystery of mind.
In the author’s latest study, we find accounts of perfectly normal human beings—genetically intact and free of any head traumas—who suddenly acquire high order knowledge and creative abilities, usually in mathematics and one of the arts.

These spontaneous uprushes of genius in ordinary persons or among those whose brains have in some way been damaged contradict the mainstream view of the brain as the cause and substance of our higher mental functions.

The more credible picture is that our mental life transcends the physical apparatus (i.e., brains) of our conscious lives.

It is as though we are immersed in and permeated by a sea of mind, not detectable by the senses, but given the right conditions, we may be flooded with creative force-- at a moment’s notice.

Normal consciousness serves our need to survive on earth, but there are transcendent pressures from above, poised to break into our mental space.
In short, in addition to our everyday minds, we are rooted in a greater mind.

There is plenty of evidence to justify—and clarify—this claim.
The process—the dance between our contracted and our expansive minds—is never-ending.

It’s part of the human adventure.
One moment we’re cringing like mice in the mud, the next we want to fly with the angels.

It’s our dual nature, being creatures of body and soul.
We can’t help it; we’re deeply mixed up.

In tune with our small minds we step timorously through life; if we awaken to our roots in the greater mind, the way forward will appear irresistible.
 



A Tear And A Smile


by Kahlil Gibran

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I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart
For the joys of the multitude.
And I would not have the tears that sadness makes
To flow from my every part turn into laughter.

I would that my life remain a tear and a smile.

A tear to purify my heart and give me understanding
Of life's secrets and hidden things.
A smile to draw me nigh to the sons of my kind and
To be a symbol of my glorification of the gods.

A tear to unite me with those of broken heart;
A smile to be a sign of my joy in existence.

I would rather that I died in yearning and longing than that I live Weary and despairing.

I want the hunger for love and beauty to be in the
Depths of my spirit, for I have seen those who are
Satisfied the most wretched of people.
I have heard the sigh of those in yearning and Longing, and it is sweeter than the sweetest melody.

With evening's coming the flower folds her petals
And sleeps, embracingher longing.
At morning's approach she opens her lips to meet
The sun's kiss.

The life of a flower is longing and fulfilment.
A tear and a smile.

The waters of the sea become vapor and rise and come
Together and area cloud.

And the cloud floats above the hills and valleys
Until it meets the gentle breeze, then falls weeping
To the fields and joins with brooks and rivers to Return to the sea, its home.

The life of clouds is a parting and a meeting.
A tear and a smile.

And so does the spirit become separated from
The greater spirit to move in the world of matter
And pass as a cloud over the mountain of sorrow
And the plains of joy to meet the breeze of death
And return whence it came.

To the ocean of Love and Beauty----to God.



 


A Tear And A Smile


by Kahlil Gibran

f83ccc08f0240b9cde721b3a387574b1.jpg

I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart
For the joys of the multitude.
And I would not have the tears that sadness makes
To flow from my every part turn into laughter.

I would that my life remain a tear and a smile.

A tear to purify my heart and give me understanding
Of life's secrets and hidden things.
A smile to draw me nigh to the sons of my kind and
To be a symbol of my glorification of the gods.

A tear to unite me with those of broken heart;
A smile to be a sign of my joy in existence.

I would rather that I died in yearning and longing than that I live Weary and despairing.

I want the hunger for love and beauty to be in the
Depths of my spirit, for I have seen those who are
Satisfied the most wretched of people.
I have heard the sigh of those in yearning and Longing, and it is sweeter than the sweetest melody.

With evening's coming the flower folds her petals
And sleeps, embracingher longing.
At morning's approach she opens her lips to meet
The sun's kiss.

The life of a flower is longing and fulfilment.
A tear and a smile.

The waters of the sea become vapor and rise and come
Together and area cloud.

And the cloud floats above the hills and valleys
Until it meets the gentle breeze, then falls weeping
To the fields and joins with brooks and rivers to Return to the sea, its home.

The life of clouds is a parting and a meeting.
A tear and a smile.

And so does the spirit become separated from
The greater spirit to move in the world of matter
And pass as a cloud over the mountain of sorrow
And the plains of joy to meet the breeze of death
And return whence it came.

To the ocean of Love and Beauty----to God.




Beautiful poem!
 
Beautiful poem!
Yes...Gibran is my absolute favorite!
I have a really nice leather-bound copy of his complete works that I loooooove.

His words have always struck a cord within me unlike others before him.
The way he is able to describe his unique perspective on life, love, and deep concepts like God without making the words themselves too heavy is something his is masterful at.
:<3white:
 
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Yes...Gibran is my absolute favorite!
I have a really nice leather-bound copy of his complete works that I loooooove.

His words have always struck a cord within me unlike others before him.
The way he is able to describe his unique perspective on life, love, and deep concepts like God without making the words too themselves too heavy is something his is masterful at.
:<3white:

I agree! He is quite unique. :)

I need to get into his work more! I have read a couple of his poems and always loved them. He has a beautiful way of reaching into your heartstrings and soul. I have had people recommend me Gibran and to look into him but I always manage to forget haha!

Not anymore! Literally writing in my agenda right now to check him more out! :D
 
I agree! He is quite unique. :)

I need to get into his work more! I have read a couple of his poems and always loved them. He has a beautiful way of reaching into your heartstrings and soul. I have had people recommend me Gibran and to look into him but I always manage to forget haha!

Not anymore! Literally writing in my agenda right now to check him more out! :D

Here is his best known work, “The Prophet” - http://www.katsandogz.com/gibran.html

Or if you like -
 
Here is his best known work, “The Prophet” - http://www.katsandogz.com/gibran.html

Or if you like -

Ooooooooh! I am excited to look into these! I will sometime either later tonight or tomorrow after I am done with some homework and readings. Have it bookmarked and saved into my watch list on YT! :blush::blush:

Thank you Skare! Much appreciated! :)
 
Ooooooooh! I am excited to look into these! I will sometime either later tonight or tomorrow after I am done with some homework and readings. Have it bookmarked and saved into my watch list on YT! :blush::blush:

Thank you Skare! Much appreciated! :)
For sure!
Imho, I think everyone should read "The Prophet" at least once!
:<3white::<3white::<3white:
 
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Well written and an enjoyable read.
Hmmmmm?





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"The key to growth is the introduction of higher dimensions of consciousness into our awareness.”

— Lao Tzu

Francis Crick was one of the most eminent scientists of the twentieth century.
In 1953, along with James Watson, he helped to ‘break’ the genetic code (by discovering the structure of the DNA molecule).

Later in his scientific career, Crick decided to turn his attention to what seemed to him to be the biggest remaining problem in science: consciousness.
He decided he was going to solve the riddle of how our brain produces our ‘inner life’ of thoughts and sensations.

Crick fully expected the riddle to be solved within a few years, with the help of the latest brain-scanning and imaging technology.
The issue seemed straightforward: human beings experience consciousness, and consciousness is produced by the brain.

After all, isn’t it clear that when the brain is damaged, consciousness is impaired?
And isn’t it clear that when the brain stops functioning — at the point of death — consciousness stops too?

As Crick put it graphically, ‘You, your joys and your sorrows, your memories and your ambitions, your sense of personal identity and free will, are in fact no more than the behavior of a vast assembly of nerve cells and their associated molecules.’

His task was therefore clear: to investigate exactly how these nerve cells and molecules gave rise to our conscious experience.

Unfortunately, consciousness proved to be much harder to ‘crack’ than the genetic code.
Working together with a young researcher called Cristof Koch, Crick devoted the last two decades of his life to the riddle of consciousness but made frustratingly little progress.

He made a number of suggestions — for example, that consciousness was related to the brain’s visual cortex, to short term memory or ‘some form of serial attentional mechanism’ — but none of these were confirmed by evidence.

Interestingly, although Crick never gave up his faith in a materialistic explanation of consciousness, his co-researcher did.
Cristof Koch eventually came to doubt the basic assumption of their work: that consciousness can be explained in terms of brain activity.

He began to investigate alternative ways of explaining consciousness, and adopted a panpsychist perspective, based on the idea that consciousness is an intrinsic property of the universe.

In this article, I will examine why Crick made – and many other scientists have made — so little progress in attempting to explain consciousness in terms of brain activity.

And we will see how, from a spiritual perspective, consciousness begins to seem much less problematic.

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The Brain as the Source of Consciousness
Francis Crick’s belief that consciousness is somehow the last remaining big question in science helps to explain the popularity of the study of consciousness over the last thirty years or so.

According to this narrative, we have now reached the point where we largely understand problems like evolution, the nature of life and the origins of the universe, so now it is time for us to turn our attention inside and solve the problem of consciousness.

Of course, this attitude was largely based on false confidence — it is very debatable that we dolargely understand the above phenomena, particularly in view of more recent findings.

For example, since the 1990s the discovery of dark matter and dark energy has shown that there is a great deal about the universe that we don’t understand.

Likewise, the mapping of the human genome has shown that we understand much less about the genetic basis of life than we presumed.

And as Francis Crick found, the belief that we would be able to solve the mystery of consciousness was also based on false confidence.
Many suggestions have been made, besides those of Crick.

For example, the Scottish philosopher Donald MacKay suggested that consciousness is related to interactions between cortical layer and other deeper layers of the brain; the neuroscientist, Rodney Cotterill has suggested that the site of consciousness is the anterior cingulate, while V.S. Ramachandran — one of the most famous of all neuroscientists — suggested that the ‘circuitry’ of consciousness lies in the temporal lobes as well as a part of the frontal lobes called the cingulate gyrus.

The wildly varying nature of these suggestions tells its own story.
When so little consensus exists in explanations, it suggests that the causal assumption underlying the explanations (in this case that the brain produces consciousness) is doubtful.

In fact, the idea that consciousness stems from one particular area of the brain has now been largely discarded by theorists, in favour of the view that consciousness is some way generated by the brain as a whole.

As the neuroscientist Giulio Tononi has put it, ‘Consciousness is associated with a distributed neural system: there is no single area where it all comes together.’

But still no one has put forward any viable theory of how the whole brain may produce consciousness.

There are other difficulties too.
As Tononi has also pointed out, brain cells fire almost as much in deep sleep as they do in the wakeful state, despite the lack of (or at least lower level of) consciousness in the former.

They also fire to a high degree in epileptic absence seizures (when a person blanks out) even though consciousness is lost.
In certain parts of the brain – such as the thalamocortical system – you can identify some neurons that correlate with conscious experience, while other neurons do not seem to have any affect on it.

Why should consciousness correlate with some neurons but not others?
All of this suggests a lack of a direct and reliable relationship between brain activity and conscious experience.

However, there is an even bigger issue.
Many philosophers have suggested that the very assumption that the brain produces consciousness should be abandoned.

If you held a brain in your hand, you would find it to be a soggy clump of grey matter, a bit like putty, and about as heavy as a packet of flour.
(Skarekrow -- obviously the author has never actually held a brain or brain material in real life...very poor description of what it actually feels and looks like.)
How is it possible that this grey (not grey irl) soggy stuff can give rise to the richness and depth of your conscious experience?

The physical matter of the brain – no matter how complicated the interactions between the cells are – belongs to one category of substance, and the non-physical qualia of conscious experience belong to another, so how can the latter be explained in terms of the former?

As the philosopher Colin McGinn has put it, to say that the brain produces consciousness is like saying that water can turn into wine.

Some philosophers have suggested that consciousness is an ’emergent’ property which naturally arises once matter reaches a certain level of complexity.

However, this is just a description rather than an explanation.
Since no one has been able to explain how consciousness might emerge from matter, it is just a restating of the problem.

And in any case, when a property emerges from the most basic components of a system, that property is normally inherent in those components, and can be deduced from them.

But there is nothing about conscious experience that is relatable to the physical stuff of the brain.
At the most microcosmic level, the brain consists of sub-atomic particles, which have qualities like mass, spin and charge.

There is nothing about these qualities that relates to the qualities associated with consciousness, such as thought, taste, pain or anxiety.
As Colin McGinn states graphically, ‘You might as well assert that that numbers emerge from biscuits or ethics from rhubarb’.

The Australian philosopher David Chalmers has referred to this as the ‘hard problem.’
As Chalmers sees it, there are some aspects of the relationship between cognitive activity and brain activity that psychologists and neuroscientists understand fairly well.

For example, we have a fairly good idea of the brain functions involved in memory, attention and information processing.
But these are just the ‘easy problems.’

The problem of how the brain might give rise to consciousness is on a completely different scale.
The ‘hard problem’ may not be soluble at all.

This has also been described as the ‘explanatory gap.’
Even if we did somehow manage to precisely identify the neural networks associated with consciousness, what would this tell us?

There would still be a gulf between the physical stuff of the brain and the richness of conscious experience.
(Essentially this is same problem that was expressed by Greek philosophers as ex nihilo nihil fit — out of nothing, comes nothing.)

As Francis Crick’s co-researcher, Cristof Koch, put it, explaining why he came to doubt neurological explanations of consciousness, the ’emergence of subjective feelings from physical stuff appears inconceivable…
The phenomenal hails from a kingdom other than the physical and is subject to different laws.
I see no way for the divide between unconscious and conscious states to be bridged by bigger brains or more complex neurons.’

Koch realised that panpsychism offered a way to transcend this problem, and now believes that, rather than being produced by the circuitry of the brain, consciousness is ‘inherent in the design of the universe.’

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Consciousness as an Illusion
Another possible approach to consciousness is to say that it doesn’t need to be explained because it’s an illusion.
The most well known advocate of this approach is the American philosopher Daniel Dennett.

He believes that we don’t need to explain how the physical stuff of the brain gives rise to consciousness, because it doesn’t.
In other words, there is no ‘hard problem.’

Dennett’s response to Chalmers’ concept of the zombie is to say that yes, we are zombies.
None of us are really conscious, even though we convince ourselves that we are.

What Dennett tries to do is not, therefore, to explain how consciousness arises, but to try to show how the illusion of consciousness arises.
He suggests that this illusion is closely related to the illusion of self.

In the exercise I described earlier, the self is the aspect of consciousness that observes our own mental processes, and ‘looks out’ at the world.
Dennett describes this as the illusion of the ‘Cartesian Theatre,’ based on Descartes’ famous phrase, ‘I think, therefore I am.’

It feels as if we are sitting in theatre, watching our thoughts pass by, but in reality no one is there.
According to Dennett, there are just mental processes, streams of thoughts, sensations and perceptions passing through our brains, without a central place where all of these phenomena are organized.

People only believe they are conscious when they look inside and take a snapshot of these processes.
But until that point there was nothing in consciousness.

However, there is a basic absurdity in the argument that consciousness is an illusion.
The argument can only be made via the consciousness of individual human beings, such as Daniel Dennett.

And these individuals are obviously assuming that their own consciousness is authentic and reliable — otherwise they would not bother to state its observations.

If they really believed that their own consciousness didn’t exist, then surely they would not trust its insights and ideas.
Dennett presupposes that there is a reliable observer inside him who is able to pass judgement on consciousness — and that very presumption contradicts his own arguments.

That is the very thing whose existence he is trying to disprove.
Would you trust the evidence of a witness who has been shown to be unreliable – indeed, a witness who you yourself have concluded does not exist?

In other words, the argument is caught in a loop.
Consciousness cannot prove that it does not exist.

The issue becomes even more absurd when we consider that, in order to argue that consciousness doesn’t exist, Dennett collects many examples of experiments showing how unreliable human awareness can be, how we often misperceive situations and make assumptions that turn out to be false.

All of these experiments were undertaken by human beings who believed they were conscious.
But if the individual consciousnesses which conducted these tests and described these findings are actually illusory, why should we trust their findings?

Related to this, there is a problem of subject/object confusion.
Dennett attempts to examine consciousness from the outside.

He treats it like a botanist examining a flower, as an object to scrutinize and categorize.
But of course, with consciousness, the subject is the object.

You are consciousness.
So it is fallacious to examine it as if it is something ‘other.’

Again, you are caught in a loop.
You can’t get outside consciousness.

And so any ‘objective’ pronouncements you make about it are fallacious from the start.
(This is an issue with attempts to explain consciousness in neurological terms too.)

In fact, what Dennett does is to simply ignore the subjective aspect of consciousness, including his own subjectivity.
Like behaviourists in psychology., he believes that subjectivity can just be disregarded.

But the very idea that consciousness is an illusion presupposes that there is someone to whom it is an illusion.
And that someone is the human subject itself.

All of this shows how problematic and bizarrely counterintuitive it is to argue that consciousness is an illusion.

(Skarekrow -- not to mention that there is no viable or good reason WHY the brain would need to give us a false sense of consciousness and more so - free choice where none would exist?
This so-called “illusion” of free will and free-cognizance only causes negative issues within the person and society...so why would it exist evolutionarily?
Imho that’s a giant gaping hole in the argument rarely addressed.)


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The Spiritual Alternative — “Panspiritism”
Some philosophers believe that because of the difficulties of explaining consciousness in terms of the brain – and the absurdity of pretending that it’s an illusion – we shouldn’t expect to understand it.

This is what is known as the ‘mysterian’ position, and in some ways it makes sense.
The human intellect is limited; there are surely some things that are beyond our understanding, some riddles that we will never be able to solve.

And the riddle of consciousness is especially problematic, since – as I’ve just noted – we are consciousness, and so it’s impossible for us to investigate it with clarity or objectivity.

Because of this, we may well be — as the philosopher Colin McGinn has put it — ‘cognitively closed’ to the problem of consciousness.
However, I believe that we can make some sense of the riddle of consciousness, if we look at it from the perspective of what I call “panspiritism.”

As its name suggests, panspiritism is similar to panpsychism.
Panpsychism suggests that the most basic particles of matter have some of form of inner being, and some form of experience, even if it is so basic and primitive that it is impossible for us to conceive of.

However, panspiritism differs slightly in that it suggests that there is a fundamental quality which is inherent in all space as well as in all material things. This quality – which could be called fundamental consciousness – is all-pervading.

It is everywhere and in everything.
It is the most fundamental quality in the universe, from which the universe – and hence all things in it – arose.

David Chalmers has suggested that consciousness is an irreducible quality with a similar status to fundamental forces like gravity and electromagnetism, which aren’t caused or produced by anything – they are simply are.

But according to panspiritism, consciousness may be even more fundamental than gravity or electromagnetism, because it precedes the formation of the universe, and the universe – with all of its material particles and forces and laws – is an expression of it.

From the panspiritist perspective, the brain does not produce consciousness, but acts a kind of receiver which transmits and canalises universal consciousness (or spirit-force, which is equivalent to it) into our own being.

Via the brain (not just the human brain, but that of every other animal), the raw essence of universal consciousness is canalised into our own individual consciousness.

And because the human brain is so large and complex, it is able to receive and canalise consciousness in a very intense and intricate way, so that we are (probably) more intensely and expansively conscious than most other animals.

As the philosopher Robert Forman has put it:

"Consciousness is more like a field than a localized point,
a field which transcends the body and yet somehow interacts with it…
Brain cells may receive, guide, arbitrate, or canalize an awareness which is somehow transcendental to them.
The brain may be more like a receiver or transformer for the field of awareness than its generator."

In contrast to panpsychism, therefore, panspiritism doesn’t hold that all material particles have their own mind, or inner being, and therefore their own experience.

Panspiritism suggests that although consciousness is in all things, all things do not have their own individuated consciousness.
Although fundamental consciousness pervades everything, all things are not conscious.

Only structures that have the necessary complexity and organisational form to receive and canalise fundamental consciousness into themselves are individually conscious, and individually alive.

As we saw at the beginning of this article, one of the most obvious reasons for assuming that the brain produces consciousness is that, if brain is damaged, consciousness may be impaired or altered.

And even if brain functioning is just altered to some degree – for example, by drugs – then consciousness is usually affected.
However, this doesn’t invalidate the spiritual explanation of consciousness.

Even if the brain doesn’t produce consciousness, but rather receives and transmits it, any damage or alteration will have an equally significant effect.
A radio doesn’t produce the music that comes through it, it just receives and transmits it.

Nevertheless, if the radio is damaged, then its ability to transmit the music will be impaired.
And if someone changes the tone control of the radio (which is analogous with taking drugs) or tampers with its inner circuitry, then its output will obviously be affected.

Panspiritism also fits well with neuroscientists’ finding that consciousness is associated with the brain as a whole, rather than located in one particular part or pattern of neurological activity.

If the brain’s role is not to produce consciousness but to receive and transmit it, then we would fully expect it to be widely distributed in this way. Consciousness does not depend on any particular part of the brain; the brain’s ‘receiving and transmitting’ role depends on it functioning as an integrated, interrelated whole.

It might be argued that panspiritism doesn’t really solve the riddle of consciousness, because it doesn’t explain where consciousness came from in the first place.

But in a sense it doesn’t need to do this.
Consciousness doesn’t come from anywhere – it just is.

Physicists don’t feel it necessary to try to explain where electromagnetism, mass or gravity come from – they are just built into the universe.
And the same is true of consciousness, or spirit-force.

In a similar way, you could argue that panspirtism cannot tell us how the brain receives and transmits consciousness.
It cannot identify the processes involved, just as materialists cannot identify the processes by which the brain might give rise to consciousness.

This is true, of course.
It could be that we will never know this – perhaps this is one sense in which the ‘mysterian’ argument holds true, in that there some things that our limited intellect and awareness will never be able to understand.

Nevertheless, on a theoretical level, the panspiritist argument seems very viable as an alternative to materialist explanations of consciousness.
According to panspiritism, it isn’t just a question of us having consciousness, but of us being consciousness.

And it isn’t a question of us being individually conscious, because we share the same consciousness.
This means that we are essentially one, part of a greater unity rather that separate individuals.

As I show in my book Spiritual Science, this perspective can help explain a number of other puzzling phenomena too, such as altruism, spiritual experiences, telepathy and even near-death experiences.

As soon as we accept the premise that consciousness is fundamental to the universe, rather than produced by the brain, a whole new realm of understanding opens up.
 

Sorry! and the Nature of Suffering


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Epictetus Has a Bad Day


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Well written and an enjoyable read.
Hmmmmm?






"The key to growth is the introduction of higher dimensions of consciousness into our awareness.”

— Lao Tzu

Francis Crick was one of the most eminent scientists of the twentieth century.
In 1953, along with James Watson, he helped to ‘break’ the genetic code (by discovering the structure of the DNA molecule).

Later in his scientific career, Crick decided to turn his attention to what seemed to him to be the biggest remaining problem in science: consciousness.
He decided he was going to solve the riddle of how our brain produces our ‘inner life’ of thoughts and sensations.

Crick fully expected the riddle to be solved within a few years, with the help of the latest brain-scanning and imaging technology.
The issue seemed straightforward: human beings experience consciousness, and consciousness is produced by the brain.

After all, isn’t it clear that when the brain is damaged, consciousness is impaired?
And isn’t it clear that when the brain stops functioning — at the point of death — consciousness stops too?

As Crick put it graphically, ‘You, your joys and your sorrows, your memories and your ambitions, your sense of personal identity and free will, are in fact no more than the behavior of a vast assembly of nerve cells and their associated molecules.’

His task was therefore clear: to investigate exactly how these nerve cells and molecules gave rise to our conscious experience.

Unfortunately, consciousness proved to be much harder to ‘crack’ than the genetic code.
Working together with a young researcher called Cristof Koch, Crick devoted the last two decades of his life to the riddle of consciousness but made frustratingly little progress.

He made a number of suggestions — for example, that consciousness was related to the brain’s visual cortex, to short term memory or ‘some form of serial attentional mechanism’ — but none of these were confirmed by evidence.

Interestingly, although Crick never gave up his faith in a materialistic explanation of consciousness, his co-researcher did.
Cristof Koch eventually came to doubt the basic assumption of their work: that consciousness can be explained in terms of brain activity.

He began to investigate alternative ways of explaining consciousness, and adopted a panpsychist perspective, based on the idea that consciousness is an intrinsic property of the universe.

In this article, I will examine why Crick made – and many other scientists have made — so little progress in attempting to explain consciousness in terms of brain activity.

And we will see how, from a spiritual perspective, consciousness begins to seem much less problematic.

mask.jpg


The Brain as the Source of Consciousness
Francis Crick’s belief that consciousness is somehow the last remaining big question in science helps to explain the popularity of the study of consciousness over the last thirty years or so.

According to this narrative, we have now reached the point where we largely understand problems like evolution, the nature of life and the origins of the universe, so now it is time for us to turn our attention inside and solve the problem of consciousness.

Of course, this attitude was largely based on false confidence — it is very debatable that we dolargely understand the above phenomena, particularly in view of more recent findings.

For example, since the 1990s the discovery of dark matter and dark energy has shown that there is a great deal about the universe that we don’t understand.

Likewise, the mapping of the human genome has shown that we understand much less about the genetic basis of life than we presumed.

And as Francis Crick found, the belief that we would be able to solve the mystery of consciousness was also based on false confidence.
Many suggestions have been made, besides those of Crick.

For example, the Scottish philosopher Donald MacKay suggested that consciousness is related to interactions between cortical layer and other deeper layers of the brain; the neuroscientist, Rodney Cotterill has suggested that the site of consciousness is the anterior cingulate, while V.S. Ramachandran — one of the most famous of all neuroscientists — suggested that the ‘circuitry’ of consciousness lies in the temporal lobes as well as a part of the frontal lobes called the cingulate gyrus.

The wildly varying nature of these suggestions tells its own story.
When so little consensus exists in explanations, it suggests that the causal assumption underlying the explanations (in this case that the brain produces consciousness) is doubtful.

In fact, the idea that consciousness stems from one particular area of the brain has now been largely discarded by theorists, in favour of the view that consciousness is some way generated by the brain as a whole.

As the neuroscientist Giulio Tononi has put it, ‘Consciousness is associated with a distributed neural system: there is no single area where it all comes together.’

But still no one has put forward any viable theory of how the whole brain may produce consciousness.

There are other difficulties too.
As Tononi has also pointed out, brain cells fire almost as much in deep sleep as they do in the wakeful state, despite the lack of (or at least lower level of) consciousness in the former.

They also fire to a high degree in epileptic absence seizures (when a person blanks out) even though consciousness is lost.
In certain parts of the brain – such as the thalamocortical system – you can identify some neurons that correlate with conscious experience, while other neurons do not seem to have any affect on it.

Why should consciousness correlate with some neurons but not others?
All of this suggests a lack of a direct and reliable relationship between brain activity and conscious experience.

However, there is an even bigger issue.
Many philosophers have suggested that the very assumption that the brain produces consciousness should be abandoned.

If you held a brain in your hand, you would find it to be a soggy clump of grey matter, a bit like putty, and about as heavy as a packet of flour.
(Skarekrow -- obviously the author has never actually held a brain or brain material in real life...very poor description of what it actually feels and looks like.)
How is it possible that this grey (not grey irl) soggy stuff can give rise to the richness and depth of your conscious experience?

The physical matter of the brain – no matter how complicated the interactions between the cells are – belongs to one category of substance, and the non-physical qualia of conscious experience belong to another, so how can the latter be explained in terms of the former?

As the philosopher Colin McGinn has put it, to say that the brain produces consciousness is like saying that water can turn into wine.

Some philosophers have suggested that consciousness is an ’emergent’ property which naturally arises once matter reaches a certain level of complexity.

However, this is just a description rather than an explanation.
Since no one has been able to explain how consciousness might emerge from matter, it is just a restating of the problem.

And in any case, when a property emerges from the most basic components of a system, that property is normally inherent in those components, and can be deduced from them.

But there is nothing about conscious experience that is relatable to the physical stuff of the brain.
At the most microcosmic level, the brain consists of sub-atomic particles, which have qualities like mass, spin and charge.

There is nothing about these qualities that relates to the qualities associated with consciousness, such as thought, taste, pain or anxiety.
As Colin McGinn states graphically, ‘You might as well assert that that numbers emerge from biscuits or ethics from rhubarb’.

The Australian philosopher David Chalmers has referred to this as the ‘hard problem.’
As Chalmers sees it, there are some aspects of the relationship between cognitive activity and brain activity that psychologists and neuroscientists understand fairly well.

For example, we have a fairly good idea of the brain functions involved in memory, attention and information processing.
But these are just the ‘easy problems.’

The problem of how the brain might give rise to consciousness is on a completely different scale.
The ‘hard problem’ may not be soluble at all.

This has also been described as the ‘explanatory gap.’
Even if we did somehow manage to precisely identify the neural networks associated with consciousness, what would this tell us?

There would still be a gulf between the physical stuff of the brain and the richness of conscious experience.
(Essentially this is same problem that was expressed by Greek philosophers as ex nihilo nihil fit — out of nothing, comes nothing.)

As Francis Crick’s co-researcher, Cristof Koch, put it, explaining why he came to doubt neurological explanations of consciousness, the ’emergence of subjective feelings from physical stuff appears inconceivable…
The phenomenal hails from a kingdom other than the physical and is subject to different laws.
I see no way for the divide between unconscious and conscious states to be bridged by bigger brains or more complex neurons.’

Koch realised that panpsychism offered a way to transcend this problem, and now believes that, rather than being produced by the circuitry of the brain, consciousness is ‘inherent in the design of the universe.’

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Consciousness as an Illusion
Another possible approach to consciousness is to say that it doesn’t need to be explained because it’s an illusion.
The most well known advocate of this approach is the American philosopher Daniel Dennett.

He believes that we don’t need to explain how the physical stuff of the brain gives rise to consciousness, because it doesn’t.
In other words, there is no ‘hard problem.’

Dennett’s response to Chalmers’ concept of the zombie is to say that yes, we are zombies.
None of us are really conscious, even though we convince ourselves that we are.

What Dennett tries to do is not, therefore, to explain how consciousness arises, but to try to show how the illusion of consciousness arises.
He suggests that this illusion is closely related to the illusion of self.

In the exercise I described earlier, the self is the aspect of consciousness that observes our own mental processes, and ‘looks out’ at the world.
Dennett describes this as the illusion of the ‘Cartesian Theatre,’ based on Descartes’ famous phrase, ‘I think, therefore I am.’

It feels as if we are sitting in theatre, watching our thoughts pass by, but in reality no one is there.
According to Dennett, there are just mental processes, streams of thoughts, sensations and perceptions passing through our brains, without a central place where all of these phenomena are organized.

People only believe they are conscious when they look inside and take a snapshot of these processes.
But until that point there was nothing in consciousness.

However, there is a basic absurdity in the argument that consciousness is an illusion.
The argument can only be made via the consciousness of individual human beings, such as Daniel Dennett.

And these individuals are obviously assuming that their own consciousness is authentic and reliable — otherwise they would not bother to state its observations.

If they really believed that their own consciousness didn’t exist, then surely they would not trust its insights and ideas.
Dennett presupposes that there is a reliable observer inside him who is able to pass judgement on consciousness — and that very presumption contradicts his own arguments.

That is the very thing whose existence he is trying to disprove.
Would you trust the evidence of a witness who has been shown to be unreliable – indeed, a witness who you yourself have concluded does not exist?

In other words, the argument is caught in a loop.
Consciousness cannot prove that it does not exist.

The issue becomes even more absurd when we consider that, in order to argue that consciousness doesn’t exist, Dennett collects many examples of experiments showing how unreliable human awareness can be, how we often misperceive situations and make assumptions that turn out to be false.

All of these experiments were undertaken by human beings who believed they were conscious.
But if the individual consciousnesses which conducted these tests and described these findings are actually illusory, why should we trust their findings?

Related to this, there is a problem of subject/object confusion.
Dennett attempts to examine consciousness from the outside.

He treats it like a botanist examining a flower, as an object to scrutinize and categorize.
But of course, with consciousness, the subject is the object.

You are consciousness.
So it is fallacious to examine it as if it is something ‘other.’

Again, you are caught in a loop.
You can’t get outside consciousness.

And so any ‘objective’ pronouncements you make about it are fallacious from the start.
(This is an issue with attempts to explain consciousness in neurological terms too.)

In fact, what Dennett does is to simply ignore the subjective aspect of consciousness, including his own subjectivity.
Like behaviourists in psychology., he believes that subjectivity can just be disregarded.

But the very idea that consciousness is an illusion presupposes that there is someone to whom it is an illusion.
And that someone is the human subject itself.

All of this shows how problematic and bizarrely counterintuitive it is to argue that consciousness is an illusion.

(Skarekrow -- not to mention that there is no viable or good reason WHY the brain would need to give us a false sense of consciousness and more so - free choice where none would exist?
This so-called “illusion” of free will and free-cognizance only causes negative issues within the person and society...so why would it exist evolutionarily?
Imho that’s a giant gaping hole in the argument rarely addressed.)


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The Spiritual Alternative — “Panspiritism”
Some philosophers believe that because of the difficulties of explaining consciousness in terms of the brain – and the absurdity of pretending that it’s an illusion – we shouldn’t expect to understand it.

This is what is known as the ‘mysterian’ position, and in some ways it makes sense.
The human intellect is limited; there are surely some things that are beyond our understanding, some riddles that we will never be able to solve.

And the riddle of consciousness is especially problematic, since – as I’ve just noted – we are consciousness, and so it’s impossible for us to investigate it with clarity or objectivity.

Because of this, we may well be — as the philosopher Colin McGinn has put it — ‘cognitively closed’ to the problem of consciousness.
However, I believe that we can make some sense of the riddle of consciousness, if we look at it from the perspective of what I call “panspiritism.”

As its name suggests, panspiritism is similar to panpsychism.
Panpsychism suggests that the most basic particles of matter have some of form of inner being, and some form of experience, even if it is so basic and primitive that it is impossible for us to conceive of.

However, panspiritism differs slightly in that it suggests that there is a fundamental quality which is inherent in all space as well as in all material things. This quality – which could be called fundamental consciousness – is all-pervading.

It is everywhere and in everything.
It is the most fundamental quality in the universe, from which the universe – and hence all things in it – arose.

David Chalmers has suggested that consciousness is an irreducible quality with a similar status to fundamental forces like gravity and electromagnetism, which aren’t caused or produced by anything – they are simply are.

But according to panspiritism, consciousness may be even more fundamental than gravity or electromagnetism, because it precedes the formation of the universe, and the universe – with all of its material particles and forces and laws – is an expression of it.

From the panspiritist perspective, the brain does not produce consciousness, but acts a kind of receiver which transmits and canalises universal consciousness (or spirit-force, which is equivalent to it) into our own being.

Via the brain (not just the human brain, but that of every other animal), the raw essence of universal consciousness is canalised into our own individual consciousness.

And because the human brain is so large and complex, it is able to receive and canalise consciousness in a very intense and intricate way, so that we are (probably) more intensely and expansively conscious than most other animals.

As the philosopher Robert Forman has put it:

"Consciousness is more like a field than a localized point,
a field which transcends the body and yet somehow interacts with it…
Brain cells may receive, guide, arbitrate, or canalize an awareness which is somehow transcendental to them.
The brain may be more like a receiver or transformer for the field of awareness than its generator."

In contrast to panpsychism, therefore, panspiritism doesn’t hold that all material particles have their own mind, or inner being, and therefore their own experience.

Panspiritism suggests that although consciousness is in all things, all things do not have their own individuated consciousness.
Although fundamental consciousness pervades everything, all things are not conscious.

Only structures that have the necessary complexity and organisational form to receive and canalise fundamental consciousness into themselves are individually conscious, and individually alive.

As we saw at the beginning of this article, one of the most obvious reasons for assuming that the brain produces consciousness is that, if brain is damaged, consciousness may be impaired or altered.

And even if brain functioning is just altered to some degree – for example, by drugs – then consciousness is usually affected.
However, this doesn’t invalidate the spiritual explanation of consciousness.

Even if the brain doesn’t produce consciousness, but rather receives and transmits it, any damage or alteration will have an equally significant effect.
A radio doesn’t produce the music that comes through it, it just receives and transmits it.

Nevertheless, if the radio is damaged, then its ability to transmit the music will be impaired.
And if someone changes the tone control of the radio (which is analogous with taking drugs) or tampers with its inner circuitry, then its output will obviously be affected.

Panspiritism also fits well with neuroscientists’ finding that consciousness is associated with the brain as a whole, rather than located in one particular part or pattern of neurological activity.

If the brain’s role is not to produce consciousness but to receive and transmit it, then we would fully expect it to be widely distributed in this way. Consciousness does not depend on any particular part of the brain; the brain’s ‘receiving and transmitting’ role depends on it functioning as an integrated, interrelated whole.

It might be argued that panspiritism doesn’t really solve the riddle of consciousness, because it doesn’t explain where consciousness came from in the first place.

But in a sense it doesn’t need to do this.
Consciousness doesn’t come from anywhere – it just is.

Physicists don’t feel it necessary to try to explain where electromagnetism, mass or gravity come from – they are just built into the universe.
And the same is true of consciousness, or spirit-force.

In a similar way, you could argue that panspirtism cannot tell us how the brain receives and transmits consciousness.
It cannot identify the processes involved, just as materialists cannot identify the processes by which the brain might give rise to consciousness.

This is true, of course.
It could be that we will never know this – perhaps this is one sense in which the ‘mysterian’ argument holds true, in that there some things that our limited intellect and awareness will never be able to understand.

Nevertheless, on a theoretical level, the panspiritist argument seems very viable as an alternative to materialist explanations of consciousness.
According to panspiritism, it isn’t just a question of us having consciousness, but of us being consciousness.

And it isn’t a question of us being individually conscious, because we share the same consciousness.
This means that we are essentially one, part of a greater unity rather that separate individuals.

As I show in my book Spiritual Science, this perspective can help explain a number of other puzzling phenomena too, such as altruism, spiritual experiences, telepathy and even near-death experiences.

As soon as we accept the premise that consciousness is fundamental to the universe, rather than produced by the brain, a whole new realm of understanding opens up.

Very interesting article and food for thought. Perhaps I'm misunderstanding the complexity of the consciousness problem, but I've never had any problems understanding the difference between executing software and the computer hardware it's running on. In analogy, what the nuts and bolts consciousness guys seem to be doing is trying to understand Microsoft Office and the Internet by dismantling their cpus and hard disks and mucking about with all the electronic components. It seems to me that we need to understand the "software" of our minds and how it runs on the hardware. I'm not saying this is any more than an analogy, but it seems a very important one to me because I feel the true nature of our conscious and unconscious minds is much more like software than hardware - sadly, I don't think I'll be able to re-boot myself with an emergency JohnK pendrive any time soon ;) - though maybe one day .....

It wouldn't surprise me if it turns out there is something inherent in matter that sets it off self-organising into structures of slowly increasing complexity in favourable circumstances - that there is the equivalent of a very low level "bios" built into it. I do like the idea of a consciousness field but I'd need more than just the bare idea to take it seriously - great idea to speculate and play about with though :)

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