Month: December 2024

I can’t help but think that thought, words and messages create those same realities which were “accessed” by Steiner in “Akashic records” and thus held truth for him, because he was impressed by the totality of words. He says himself

“If we let the Pauline Epistles work upon us, we have finally something which, through its extraordinary simplicity and through the deeply penetrating quality of the words and sentences, makes a most significant impression. But this is so only because Paul, through his own initiation, had worked his way up to that simplicity which is not the starting-point of what is true, but the consequence, the goal. If we wish to penetrate into what Paul was able finally to express in wonderful, monumental, simple words concerning the Christ-Being, we must come nearer to an understanding of human nature, for whose further development on Earth the Christ-Impulse came. Let us therefore consider what we already know concerning human nature, as shown through occult sight.” (Steiner, 1912)

In spiritual literature, we can encounter the concept of a “multivariant universe” (Zeland, 1999), which posits that reality is composed of numerous valid perspectives shaped by individual experiences. This framework invites us to move beyond the simplistic ideas of right and wrong, acknowledging that truth can be subjective and relative to one’s worldview. Cognitive science explains how our brains construct our perception of reality. Our experiences are filtered through our senses, interpreted by our cognitive schemes, and influenced by our emotions and past experiences (see: Eagleman, D. (2015). The Brain: The Story of You. Pantheon). This highlights the subjective aspect of perception and suggests that multiple valid interpretations of reality are possible.

If we consider the teachings found in both ACIM and Rudolf Steiner, we can see that these approaches represent distinct variants within this type of multivariant universe, each providing its own path toward understanding and transformation. ACIM presents our physical reality as an illusion that can be escaped by pardoning the guilt one imposes on oneself and others, while Steiner’s Anthroposophy encourages individuals to cultivate spiritual awareness through an integration of self-knowledge with cosmic principles. Neither perspective holds absolute correctness, but their value lies within the specific frameworks they offer for those seeking deeper meaning in their own lives.

Each person’s understanding of themselves influences how they relate to these varied paths. When individuals resonate with a particular spiritual practice or teaching, it often reflects their current beliefs and developmental stage.

It can be risky to neglect one’s chosen variant or force alignment with conflicting beliefs. Attempting to adopt a spiritual path that contradicts one’s current values or unconscious preferences can lead to internal conflict and dissonance. Forcing an integration of incompatible approaches can result in superficiality rather than genuine understanding; it is important to recognize that each variant possesses its uniqueness and integrity within its proper sphere. The danger lies not in exploring diverse teachings but in negating one’s authentic intuitions or beliefs in pursuit of a certain pathway. This is not a trivial point. Impressed by Steiner’s legacy in many practical areas of life and his real scientific knowledge in many fields, added to his obvious spiritual abilities, people who resonate with both types of cognition can try to find truth via Steiner. They will find what their current level of knowledge and intuition suggests, and they will find as much truth as is contained in the sciences they studied and morphic fields they connect to (Bartlett, 2012; Sheldrake 2001)—no more, no less.

Coherence emerges as a vital element for personal well-being within the suggested framework of a multivariant universe. An individual must cultivate a sense of inner harmony—a consistency between belief systems and lived experiences—to thrive spiritually. When considering the writings of Steiner versus ACIM through this lens, we should focus on understanding how each reimagines Christ consciousness differently based on distinct spiritual needs and inclinations. While some may find solace in ACIM’s emphasis on love and forgiveness at the expense of physical reality during times of emotional turmoil, others may resonate more with Steiner’s holistic view that integrates physical existence with spiritual evolution.

Cultivating self-awareness and one’s own path towards self-discovery is the real work within this multivariant universe. It requires thoughtful reflection on one’s inner world—considering which beliefs resonate most profoundly—and discerning pathways that align with one’s yearnings for growth and coherence. This conclusion may seem boring and clichéd; however, it is ultimately the one I arrive at after engaging deeply with ACIM as well as many texts by Steiner and reports about his unbelievably great personality. Both ACIM and Anthroposophy—each rich with original concepts—have contributed to humanity’s spiritual-intellectual library from which seekers can draw to lead more fulfilled lives. I have one last comment: a person raised in Zomia doesn’t need these frameworks for integrating themselves; their collective and individual unconscious is not contaminated by notions like original sin or guilt. When we move even beyond ACIM and Steiner, we can encounter an undisturbed primeval landscape where we can begin anew. That will be the real start of something beautiful.

Here are two different views on the same subject presented in two articles with the same title, “Mysticism and Schizophrenia.”

The first article¹ is produced by the Center of Subjectivity Research (CSR), led by Dan Zahavi of Copenhagen University. Professor Josef Parnas, the article’s main contributor, is co-founder and senior researcher at the CSR, as well as a chief physician at Hvidovre Hospital’s psychiatric department.

The second article is written by Kenneth Wapnick, Ph.D. in Clinical Psychology, who was a close friend and associate of Helen Schucman and William Thetford—the two individuals whose collaboration was the immediate stimulus for the scribing (their term for transmission or channeling) of A Course in Miracles. Kenneth had been involved with A Course in Miracles since 1973, writing, teaching, and integrating its principles with his practice of psychotherapy.

As demonstrated below, the two articles surprisingly convey the same message, although they use different frameworks and case studies that are not similar. The conclusions reached differ only slightly: mainly in the interpretation of the results.

The first article compares mystical experiences, specifically the feeling of complete oneness with the universe (“unio mystica”⁵), to the experiences of people with schizophrenia. It’s important to understand upfront: the authors aren’t saying that mystics are schizophrenic or vice versa.

They look at how these very different experiences share some surprising similarities in how they affect the mind, even if the content of the experiences is completely different.

They focus on three key areas:

(1) Mental attitudes². Mystics prepare for their experiences through practices like meditation and withdrawing from everyday life to quiet their minds. People who develop schizophrenia sometimes show similar behaviors, like being withdrawn and isolated. The difference is that these behaviors are intended by the mystic, but come of themselves and are distressing for the person with schizophrenia.

(2) The experience³. Both mystical and schizophrenic experiences can feel like sudden, overwhelming revelations—like a light bulb going off in your head, but on a much deeper level. They both involve a shift away from normal ways of thinking about the world and the self. While schizophrenia involves hallucinations and delusions (false beliefs), these often start from a feeling of something being profoundly wrong or different, similar to the feeling of shifting into a different state of consciousness during a mystical experience. Both are very hard to explain in words (ineffable).

(3) A different reality⁴: Both mystics and some people with schizophrenia report feeling connected to something beyond ordinary reality. Mystics think it to be spiritual truth; people with schizophrenia report the experience as hallucinations or delusions. The mystical experience is often seen as positive and transformative, meanwhile the schizophrenic experience is usually frightening and upsetting.

The authors also talk about the “minimal self”—the basic sense of being yourself. They argue that schizophrenia may involve a fundamental problem with this core sense of self, explaining many of the strange experiences people with the illness have. This is different from other mental illnesses where the problem is more about how you think about yourself, rather than this core sense of self.

Phenomenological approach is used by the authors to compare these two very different states of mind, experienced by a mystic, on one hand, and a person on the schizophrenic scale, on the other. It finds structural similarities in how consciousness is altered, even though the content and impact are different.

Kenneth Wapnick’s article, “Mysticism and Schizophrenia”, also considers similarities and differences between mystical experiences and schizophrenic episodes. Wapnick acknowledges the tendency in psychiatric research to link these two phenomena: some suggest that mysticism is a form of psychopathology and others present schizophrenia as a valuable, even desirable experience. Wapnick clarifies both the shared aspects and main distinctions between the two types of inner state.

The article begins by referencing William James’ distinction between “higher” and “lower” mysticism, with the latter bordering on insanity, and then presents the typical mystical experience, outlining stages of development often described in mystical literature (using Underhill’s five stages as a framework, adding a sixth stage of reintegration into society). These stages generally include an (1) awakening, (2) purification, (3) illumination, (4) a “dark night of the soul”, (5) a “unitive” life (oneness with the universe), and finally, (6) a return to the world. St. Teresa of Avila’s mystical experiences are used as a detailed case study, illustrating these stages through her metaphorical descriptions of a “castle” within the soul.

Next, the article turns to schizophrenia, adopting a more recent perspective that views psychotic episodes as purposeful attempts at self-correction, rather than simply symptoms of a disease. Wapnick cites the work of Bateson, Laing, and Kaplan, who emphasize the subjective, intensely personal nature of schizophrenic experiences. An excerpt from Lara Jefferson’s first-person account of a schizophrenic episode is analyzed to demonstrate the phenomenological similarities and differences with mystical experiences. Lara’s experience is characterized by a “death” of her former self, a descent into “total madness,” and a subsequent emergence into a sense of peace and reintegration, though with significant lingering effects.

The core of Wapnick’s argument lies in the comparison of these case studies. Both St. Teresa and Lara experienced a dichotomy between inner and outer worlds, a breakdown of social attachments, periods of intense fear and pain, and eventual peace. However, the process in these two cases is not the same. The mystic, through a long, deliberate, and often self-imposed journey, gradually develops the capacity to withstand and integrate the “inner world” with social life. The schizophrenic, in contrast, experiences a sudden, involuntary breakdown, lacking the preparation and support to navigate the overwhelming inner experiences. The absence of this gradual strengthening process leaves the schizophrenic vulnerable and unable to manage the experience without a significant disruption of social functioning.

The article concludes by highlighting that while both mysticism and schizophrenia involve a journey into the “inner world,” the main distinction lies in the preparation, control, and integration of this experience within a social context. The mystic’s journey is a conscious, purposeful process; the schizophrenic’s is often a traumatic and involuntary one. The article emphasizes the importance of balancing inner and outer experiences for healthy functioning, with the mystic representing a successful integration, and the schizophrenic demonstrating the tragic consequences of separation.

Parnas’ article leans towards a more objectively scientific comparison, while Wapnick’s analysis is more interpretive and arguably more influenced by his spiritual background. Parnas ascribes less direct correlation between mystical states and schizophrenia, focusing on shared phenomenological structures rather than developmental trajectories. He seems to be more interested in the similarities of the experiences without necessarily linking them to a progression or path, while Dr. Wapnick may be more focused on the implications of those experiences for spiritual growth, be it mystical or otherwise.

As a proponent of A Course in Miracles (ACIM), Dr. Wapnick’s perspective is likely influenced by his belief system, which could lead him to interpret both mystical and schizophrenic experiences through the lens of spiritual development, potentially downplaying the pathological aspects of schizophrenia. He might also be more inclined to see a positive outcome in both, even if the paths differ drastically.

On the other hand, Prof. Josef Parnas and his colleagues might be biased towards a purely materialistic understanding of consciousness, overlooking potentiality for non-material extrasensory experiences. Their focus on structural analogies might stem from a desire to explain these experiences through purely neurological or psychological mechanisms, potentially neglecting the spiritual or existential dimensions that Wapnick highlights. This bias could lead them to minimize the transformative aspects of mystical experiences.

Endnotes

1. Josef Parnas and Mads Gram Henriksen, “Mysticism and Schizophrenia: A Phenomenological Exploration of the Structure of Consciousness in the Schizophrenia Spectrum Disorders,” Consciousness and Cognition 43, no. 1 (May 1, 2016): 75–88, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.concog.2016.05.010.
2. Parnas and Henriksen, “Mysticism and Schizophrenia: A Phenomenological Exploration of the Structure of Consciousness in the Schizophrenia Spectrum Disorders.”, p. 76
3. Ibid., p. 78
4. Ibid, p. 81.
5. Ibid., p.79

Let us take a case of George Muller of Bristol, who died in 1898. Muller’s prayers were of the crassest petitionary order. Early in life he resolved on taking certain Bible promises in literal sincerity, and on letting himself be fed, not by his own worldly foresight, but by the Lord’s hand. He had an extraordinarily active and successful career, among the fruits of which were the distribution of over two million copies of the Scripture text, in different languages; the equipment of several hundred missionaries; the circulation of more than a hundred and eleven million of scriptural books, pamphlets, and tracts; the building of five large orphanages, and the keeping and educating of thousands of orphans; finally, the establishment of schools in which over a hundred and twenty-one thousand youthful and adult pupils were taught. In the course of this work Mr. Muller received and administered nearly a million and a half of pounds sterling, and traveled over two hundred thousand miles of sea and land. During the sixty-eight years of his ministry, he never owned any property except his clothes and furniture, and cash in hand; and he left, at the age of eighty-six, an estate worth only a hundred and sixty pounds. His method was to let his general wants be publicly known, but not to acquaint other people with the details of his temporary necessities. For the relief of the latter, he prayed directly to the Lord, believing that sooner or later prayers are always answered if one have trust enough. “When I lose such a thing as a key,” he writes, “I ask the Lord to direct me to it, and I look for an answer to my prayer; when a person with whom I have made an appointment does not come, according to the fixed time, and I begin to be inconvenienced by it, I ask the Lord to be pleased to hasten him to me, and I look for an answer; when I do not understand a passage of the word of God, I lift up my heart to the Lord that he would be pleased by his Holy Spirit to instruct me, and I expect to be taught, though I do not fix the time when, and the manner how it should be; when I am going to minister in the Word, I seek help from the Lord, and … am not cast down, but of good cheer because I look for his assistance.” Muller’s custom was to never run up bills, not even for a week. “As the Lord deals out to us by the day, … the week’s payment might become due and we have no money to meet it; and thus those with whom we deal might be inconvenienced by us, and we be found acting against the commandment of the Lord: ‘Owe no man anything.’ From this day and henceforward whilst the Lord gives to us our supplies by the day, we purpose to pay at once for every article as it is purchased, and never to buy anything except we can pay for it at once, however much it may seem to be needed, and however much those with whom we deal may wish to be paid only by the week.”

The articles needed of which Muller speaks were the food, fuel, etc., of his orphanages. Somehow, near as they often come to going without a meal, they hardly ever seem actually to have done so. “Greater and more manifest nearness of the Lord’s presence I have never had than when after breakfast there were no means for dinner for more than a hundred persons; or when after dinner there were no means for the tea, and yet the Lord provided the tea; and all this without one single human being having been informed about our need…. Through Grace my mind is so fully assured of the faithfulness of the Lord, that in the midst of the greatest need, I am enabled in peace to go about my other work. Indeed, did not the Lord give me this, which is the result of trusting in him, I should scarcely be able to work at all; for it is now comparatively a rare thing that a day comes when I am not in need for one or another part of the work.” In building his orphanages simply by prayer and faith, Muller affirms that his prime motive was “to have something to point to as a visible proof that our God and Father is the same faithful God that he ever was—as willing as ever to prove himself the living God, in our day as formerly, to all that put their trust in him.” For this reason he refused to borrow money for any of his enterprises. “How does it work when we thus anticipate God by going our own way? We certainly weaken faith instead of increasing it; and each time we work thus a deliverance of our own we find it more and more difficult to trust in God, till at last we give way entirely to our natural fallen reason and unbelief prevails. How different if one is enabled to wait God’s own time, and to look alone to him for help and deliverance! When at last help comes, after many seasons of prayer it may be, how sweet it is, and what a present recompense! Dear Christian reader, if you have never walked in this path of obedience before, do so now, and you will then know experimentally the sweetness of the joy which results from it.” When the supplies came in but slowly, Muller always considered that this was for the trial of his faith and patience. When his faith and patience had been sufficiently tried, the Lord would send more means. “And thus it has proved,”—I quote from his diary—“for today was given me the sum of 2050 pounds, of which 2000 are for the building fund [of a certain house], and 50 for present necessities. It is impossible to describe my joy in God when I received this donation. I was neither excited nor surprised; for I LOOK out for answers to my prayers. I BELIEVE THAT GOD HEARS ME. Yet my heart was so full of joy that I could only SIT before God, and admire him, like David in 2 Samuel vii. At last I cast myself flat down upon my face and burst forth in thanksgiving to God and in surrendering my heart afresh to him for his blessed service.”

George Muller’s is a case extreme in every respect, and in no respect more so than in the extraordinary narrowness of the man’s intellectual horizon. His God was, as he often said, his business partner. He seems to have been for Muller little more than a sort of supernatural clergyman interested in the congregation of tradesmen and others in Bristol who were his saints, and in the orphanages and other enterprises, but unpossessed of any of those vaster and wilder and more ideal attributes with which the human imagination elsewhere has invested him. Muller, in short, was absolutely unphilosophical. His intensely private and practical conception of his relations with the Deity continued the traditions of the most primitive human thought. When we compare a mind like his with such a mind as, for example, Emerson’s or Phillips Brooks’s, we see the range which the religious consciousness covers.