The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Table of Contents

Transpersonal

Studies

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

Volume 22, 2003

Editors’ Introduction

Entheogens: True or False?

Roger Walsh
Experience, Culture and Reality: The Significance of Fisher Information for Understanding the

Relationship between Alternative States of Consciousness and the Structures of Reality
Charles D. Laughlin, Ph.D. and C. Jason Throop
Gnostic Dilemmas in Western Psychologies of Spirituality

Harry T. Hunt
Mysticism and Its Cultural Expression: An Inquiry into the Description of Mystical Experience

and Its Ontological and Epistemological Nature
Evgeny Torchinov
Process, Structure, and Form: An Evolutionary Transpersonal Psychology of Consciousness

Allan Combs and Stanley Krippner
Primal Spirituality and the Onto/Phylo Fallacy: A Critique of the Claim That

Primal Peoples Were/Are Less Spiritually and Socially Developed Than Modern Humans
Steven Taylor

SPECIAL TOPIC: A

NTEGRAL

PPROACH TO

EPRESSION

Integral Approach in Transpersonal Psychotherapy

Laura Boggio Gilot
Spirituality of Depression

Marc-Alain Descamps
Clinical Depression: A Transpersonal Point of View

Jaime Llinares Llabrés
Depression: Clinical Definition and Case Histories

Manuel Garcìa Barroso
An Integral Perspective on Depression

100

Dinu Stefan Teodorescu

READER’S COMMENTARY

The Perennial Philosophy

120

Axel Randrup

About Our Contributors

122

Editorial Policy and Manuscript Submission Guidelines

125

Subscriptions and Back Issues

127

Entheogens: True or False?

tates of consciousness believed to be sacred, and
drugs to induce them have been remarkably
widespread throughout human history

(Bourguignon, 1973; De Ropp, 1987). Historical
examples include Hinduism’s soma, the Zoroastrian
haoma, the Australian Aboriginals’ Pituri, Zen’s tea,
the kykeon of the Greek Eleusinian mysteries (Smith,
1964), and the wine of Dionysis Eleutherios (Dionysis
the Liberator) (Marrero, 2003). Contemporary exam-
ples include the native American peyote, the
Rastafarian ganja (marijuana), and the South
American shamans’ ayahuasca (Harner, 1973; Walsh,
1990). Clearly there has been wide spread agreement
across centuries and cultures that psychedelics are
capable of inducing genuine religious experiences
(Grinspoon & Bakalar, 1997; Grob, 2002; Hunt
Badiner, 2002; Roberts, 2001; Smith, 2000).

However, the story is very different in the West.

For centuries psychedelics were all but unknown, until
in the 1960s they came crashing into a culture utterly
unprepared for them. For the first time, a significant
portion of Western society experienced powerful
altered states of consciousness. Some of these were
clearly painful and problematic. Yet others were appar-
ently transcendent and illuminating. Suddenly the
question of whether drugs can induce genuine reli-
gious and mystical experiences morphed from dry aca-

demic debates to pitched political battles.

The very names given to these curious chemicals

say it all. For nay sayers these drugs are “psy-
chotomimetics” (mimickers of psychosis) or “hallu-
cinogens” (hallucination inducers). For most people
and some apologists they are psychedelics (mind man-
ifesters). More recently, some researchers have suggest-
ed that they can be entheogens (revealers of the God
within). Are they one or the other, can they really be
entheogens, or can they be all four, depending in part
on set and setting? In this paper I will primarily use the
more neutral term “psychedelic,” while building an
argument that they can sometimes be “entheogens.”

Unfortunately, careful analysis and dispassionate

discussion were long ago overwhelmed by political
posturing and media madness. Misinformation has
flourished. Some apologists denied the drugs’ dangers;
some opponents and even governments exaggerated
them. For example, drug opponents repeatedly mis-
used shaky scientific research to bolster claims of neu-
rotoxicity, a process that continues to the present day,
especially with MDMA (ecstasy) (Concar &
Ainsworth, 2000), though the actual nature and sig-
nificance of MDMA induced neural effects remains
moot and much debated (Grob, 2002; Holland, 2001).

And yet the question—one of the most important

of all concerning these drugs—still remains: Can psy-
chedelics induce genuine mystical experiences?
Stanislav Grof (2001, p. 270), the world’s most expe-

Entheogens

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Editors’ Introduction

his volume of the International Journal of
Transpersonal Studies (IJTS) is the first under our

editorial leadership and the first produced under the
new sponsorship of Saybrook Graduate School and
Research Center in San Francisco, USA. Effective with
this issue, we are instituting some changes in the jour-
nal’s format. In particular, in addition to regular arti-
cles, we are including a special section that contains
articles focused on a common topic of relevance to
transpersonal studies. As well, we are including a read-
er’s commentary section to serve as a forum for readers
to respond to articles appearing in IJTS and/or issues
of broader interest to transpersonal studies.

The regular articles in this edition start out with a

piece by Roger Walsh entitled “Entheogens: True or
False?” This examines the ongoing debate whether psy-
chedelic substances can lead to genuine mystical expe-
riences. It is followed by Charles D. Laughlin and C.
Jason Throop’s “Experience, Culture, and Reality: The
Significance of Fisher Information for Understanding
the Relationship Between Alternative States of
Consciousness and the Structures of Reality.” This
examines how alternative states of consciousness are
used in religions, from the perspective of Fisher infor-
mation theory, to adapt to transcendental reality. Next,
Harry Hunt, in “Gnostic Dilemmas in Western
Psychologies of Spirituality,” explores how early
Gnosticism is related to naturalistic psychologies of
spirituality as well as contemporary psychological
approaches to the numinous and transpersonal.

Evgeny Torchinov’s article, “Mysticism and Its

Cultural Expression: An Inquiry into the Description
of Mystical Experience and its Ontological and
Epistemological Nature,” examines how cultural dif-
ferences relate to mystical experience, such as whether
this is a universal, and unitary, phenomenon or
whether its multiplicity of expressions and descriptions
imply otherwise. Allan Combs and Stanley Krippner
present, in “Process, Structure, and Form: An
Evolutionary Transpersonal Psychology of
Consciousness,” a dynamical systems view of con-
sciousness’s evolution based on complexity theory. The
last of this issue’s regular articles is by Steven Taylor,
“Primal Spirituality and the Onto/Phylo Fallacy: A
Critique of the Claim That Primal Peoples Were/Are
Less Spiritually and Socially Developed Than Modern
Humans.” It challenges the notion that the human
species shares the same basic developmental pattern

with individuals, specifically as this implies that primal
peoples are less advanced spiritually, morally, and
socially than those more culturally modern. These six
articles share in addressing important aspects of culture
related to transpersonal studies befitting of an interna-
tional journal.

The next group of articles focuses on the special

topic of transpersonal (integral) approaches to depres-
sion. These papers are a collection of pieces from a
number of scholars and clinicians affiliated with the
European Transpersonal Psychology Association
(ETPA). They include Laura Boggio Gilot’s “Integral
Approach in Transpersonal Psychotherapy,” Marc-
Alain Descamps’ “Spirituality of Depression,” Jaime
Llinares Llabrés’ “Clinical Depression: A Transpersonal
Point of View,” Manuel Garcìa Barroso’s “Depression:
Clinical Definition and Case Histories,” and Dinu
Stefan Teodorescu’s “An Integral Perspective on
Depression.” More is said about this theme in the later
introduction to this special topic.

In the last article, under the “Reader's

Commentary” section, Axel Randrup writes “The
Perennial Philosophy.” Specifically, he explores the
belief that there is a common core or similarity to all
spiritual and mystical experiences that is invariant
across cultures and time.

At this time, we want to express our appreciation

to Philippe L. Gross and S. I. Shapiro, our editorial
predecessors, who spent endless hours nurturing the
International Journal of Transpersonal Studies over many
years and without whose loving attention this journal
would not still exist. In addition, we want to express
sadness for the passing of Evgeny Torchinov. We con-
sider it a profound privilege to publish an article by
this major transpersonal thinker posthumously.
Finally, we want to express our excitement that this
issue is only the first of many to come under our edi-
torial direction and our hope that the International
Journal of Transpersonal Studies will grow as a worthy
vehicle for bringing transpersonal considerations into
the greater consciousness of which we all partake.

Harris Friedman, Ph.D.
Professor Emeritus
Saybrook Graduate School

Douglas A. MacDonald, Ph.D.
Assistant Professor of Psychology
University of Detroit Mercy

Entheogens: True or False?

Roger Walsh

University of California at Irvine

Irvine, California

Despite 40 years of dialogue, debate still continues over whether psychedelics are capable of
inducing genuine mystical experiences. This paper first reviews the arguments against this possi-
bility and shows that all of them contain shortcomings. One reason the debate still continues is
that there has been no adequate theory of mystical states and their relationship to the factors
which produce them. Consequently a theory of mystical states based on Charles Tart’s systems
model of consciousness is proposed. This theory suggests how identical states of consciousness can
be induced by very different means, including contemplative practices and chemical substances,
and yet have different after-effects. Taken together, these ideas lead to the cautious conclusion that
some psychedelics can induce genuine mystical experiences sometimes in some people, and that
the current tendency to label these chemicals as entheogens may be appropriate.

drug and natural mystical states is that they may have
different long-term effects. Specifically, it has been
suggested that drug-induced experiences may be less
likely to result in enduring, beneficial transformations
of personality and behavior. Once again Huston Smith
(1964, pp. 528–9) put the case eloquently. He conclud-
ed that “Drugs appear to induce religious experiences:
it is less evident that they can produce religious lives.”

A Theory for Understanding the

Varieties of Mystical Experience

o it seems that drug and natural mystical experi-
ences can be subjectively similar or identical, but

may differ in their after-effects. This much is clear. But
still the debate continues over whether psychedelically
induced mystical experiences are “really genuine.”

One reason the debate continues unabated is that

there has been no theory of mystical states that could
resolve it. What is needed is a theory accounting for
the induction of similar or identical states by such dif-
ferent means as LSD and meditation, followed by pos-
sible different after-effects. It may now be possible to
create such a theory in light of current understandings
of the induction of altered states of consciousness.

Charles Tart's (1983) systems model of conscious-

ness is helpful here. Tart suggests that any one state of
consciousness is the result of the function and interac-
tion of multiple psychological and neural processes,
such as perception, attention, emotions, identity, etc. If the
functioning of any one process is changed sufficiently,
it may shift the entire system or state of consciousness.
For example, a yogi might focus unwaveringly on the
breath or a mantra, a Christian contemplative or bhakti
yogi might cultivate the love of God, a Sufi might
recite the name of Allah (dhikr), while Buddhist vipas-
sana and Taoist internal observation practitioners
might explore their experience in minute detail
(Walsh, 1999). Yet despite their different practices, all
might eventually be rewarded with mystical experi-
ences. [Whether different traditions can induce identi-
cal internal breakthroughs and in what ways they may
differ is a long and complex debate. For arguments
that the experiences of different traditions are necessar-
ily different see Katz (1983). For arguments that they
can overlap see Forman (1990), Walsh and Vaughan
(1993), and Wilber (2000). Clearly there are multiple
kinds of religiously induced mystical experiences just
as there are multiple kinds of psychedelic experiences.

Fortunately we don’t need to go into these complexi-
ties to investigate whether some psychedelic experi-
ences may overlap some mystical experiences.]

It therefore seems possible that a specific altered

state may be reached in more than one way via alter-
ing different processes. For example, states of calm
may be reached by either reducing muscle tension,
visualizing restful scenery, repeating a pacifying
thought, releasing agitating emotions, focusing atten-
tion on the breath, or ingesting valium. In each case
the brain-mind process used is different, but the result-
ing state is similar, a consequence which systems theo-
rists call “equifinality.”

A similar phenomenon may occur with mystical

states. Different techniques might affect different
brain-mind processes, yet still result in similar or iden-
tical mystical states of consciousness. A contemplative
might finally taste the bliss of mystical unity after years
of cultivating qualities such as concentration, love, and
compassion. Yet it is also possible that a psychedelic
might affect chemical and neuronal processes so pow-
erfully as to at least temporarily induce a similar state.

So it therefore seems that Tart's theory of con-

sciousness may provide an explanation for the finding
that “chemical mysticism” and natural mysticism may
be experientially identical. But what of the claim that
the long-term impact of the two may be quite differ-
ent? As we will see, this claim may also be compatible
with the theory. But first we need to consider whether
the claim that the long-term effects of chemical mysti-
cism are less beneficial and enduring is actually true.

Long-Term Effects

n fairness, we need to acknowledge that, contrary to
common arguments, psychedelic mysticism can

sometimes have an enduring impact. Huston Smith
(2000), for example, described just such as impact on
himself, as did Frances Vaughan (1983), while Sherana
Harriette Frances (2001) portrayed hers in a series of
exquisite drawings. Likewise, Charles Tart (1991)
found that a significant number of Buddhist
retreatants had been drawn to spiritual practice follow-
ing psychedelics, while all of the Harvard Good Friday
psilocybin subjects interviewed more than twenty
years later reported that their original experience had
made a uniquely valuable contribution to their spiritu-
al lives (Doblin, 1991).

But even if we were to assume, as do many

Entheogens

rienced psychedelic researcher, concluded that “at pres-
ent after 30 years of discussion, the question of
whether LSD and other psychedelics can induce gen-
uine spiritual experiences is still open.”

At the present time, both research data and theory

suggest an answer to this decades old question. That
answer is a very qualified “yes.” Yes, psychedelics can
induce genuine mystical experiences, but only some-
times, in some people, under some circumstances. To
consider whether this conclusion is appropriate let us
examine the arguments used against it, the shortcom-
ings of these arguments, recent research, and a theory
which may make sense of the research findings.

Arguments Against the Validity of

Drug-Induced Mystical Experiences

here seem to be five major arguments that have
been advanced to suggest that drug experiences

can never be truly mystical. Huston Smith (1964,
2000) summarized them superbly in “Do Drugs Have
Religious Import?” the most frequently reprinted arti-
cle ever published by The Journal of Philosophy.

• The first argument is that some drug experiences

are clearly anything but mystical and beneficial.

• The second is the claim that the experiences

induced by drugs are actually different from those
of genuine mystics.

• The third point is a theological one, which argues

that mystical rapture is a gift of God that can
never be brought under mere human control.

• The fourth is that drug-induced experiences are

too quick and easy, and could therefore hardly be
identical to those hard-won by years of contem-
plative discipline.

• The final argument is that the after-effects of drug-

induced experiences are different, less beneficial,
and less long-lasting than those of contemplatives.

There are possible answers to each of these concerns.
Let’s consider them in sequence.

First, there is no doubt whatsoever that some, in

fact most, drug experiences are anything but mystical.
According to Huston Smith (1964, p. 520, 523),

There are, of course, innumerable drug experiences
that have no religious features; they can be sensual
as readily as spiritual, trivial as readily as transform-
ing, capricious as readily as sacramental. If there is
one point about which every student agrees, it is
that there is no such thing as the drug experience

per se.… This of course proves that not all drug
experiences are religious; it does not prove that no
drug experiences are religious.

The second question concerns whether drug and nat-
ural mystical states are experientially the same. Smith
(1964, p. 523) concludes that “Descriptively drug
experiences cannot be distinguished from their natural
religious counterparts.” In philosophical terms, drug
and natural mystical experiences can be phenomeno-
logically (experientially or descriptively) indistinguish-
able.

The most dramatic experiment affirming this was

the “Harvard Good Friday study,” also known as “the
miracle of Marsh Chapel.” In this study, divinity stu-
dents and professors were placed in a highly supportive
setting—Harvard University's Marsh Chapel during a
Good Friday service—and given either the psychedel-
ic psilocybin or an inactive placebo. Several psilocybin
subjects reported “mystical experiences,” which
researchers were unable to distinguish from those of
mystics throughout the centuries (Doblin, 1991).

Perhaps the people best equipped to say whether

drug and contemplatively induced mystical experi-
ences might be the same are those who have had both.
Such people are obviously few and far between.
However, several spiritual teachers concluded from
their own personal experience that they can be identi-
cal (Walsh, 1982).

The third argument—that mystical rapture is a

gift from God that could never be brought under
human control—will only seem plausible to those
people who hold certain very specific theological
beliefs. It would hardly be regarded as valid by reli-
gions such as Buddhism, for example, that do not
believe in an all-powerful creator God. Nor, presum-
ably, would it appeal to those theists who believe more
in the power of good works than of grace.

The complaint that drug experiences are too quick

and easy to be genuine is readily understandable. After
all, it hardly seems fair that a contemplative should
labor for decades for a sip of what the drug user may
effortlessly swim in for hours. However, unfair or not,
if the states are experientially identical, then the fact
that they are due to different causes may be irrelevant.
Technically, this is called “the principle of causal indif-
ference” (Stace, 1964/1988, p. 29). Simply stated, this
means that subjectively identical experiences can be
produced by multiple causes.

The final argument against the equivalence of

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Summary

In summary, it seems that some drugs can indeed
induce genuine mystical experiences in some people
on some occasions. However, they may be more likely
to do so in prepared minds, and more likely to produce
enduring benefits when the experience is followed by
long-term practice of a transformative discipline.

Acknowledgements

Part of this paper draws on my book The Spirit of
Shamanism and from a paper, “Shamanism and Early
Human Technology: The Technology of
Transcendence (1989). I would like to thank Huston
Smith and Charles Tart for their pioneering work in
this area, the editor of The International Journal of
Transpersonal Studies, Douglas MacDonald, for his
valuable feedback, Charles Grob and Frances Vaughan
for their support, and Bonnie L’Allier for her excellent
administrative and secretarial assistance.

References

Barnard, G. W., & Kripal, J. (Eds.). (2002). Crossing

boundaries: Essays on the ethical status of mysticism.
New York: Seven Bridges Press.

Bourguignon, E. (Ed.). (1973). Religion, altered states

of consciousness, and social change. Columbus, OH:
Ohio State University.

Concar, D., & Ainsworth, C. (2000). E is for evi-

dence: Basing drug policy on flawed science helps
no one. New Scientist, 26–33.

De Ropp, R. S. (1987). Psychedelic drugs. In M.Eliade

(Ed.), The encyclopedia of religion (Vol. 12) (pp.
46–57). New York: Macmillan.

Doblin, R. (1991). Pahnke's “Good Friday

Experiment”: A long term follow-up and method-
ological critique. The Journal of Transpersonal
Psychology, 23, 1–28.

Forman, R. (ed.). (1990). The problem of pure con-

sciousness. New York: Oxford.

Frances, H. S. (2001). Drawing it out: Befriending the

unconscious. Sarasota, FL.: Multidisciplinary
Association for Psychedelic Studies.

Grinspoon, R. L., & Bakalar, J. (1997). Psychedelic

drugs reconsidered (2nd ed.). New York: Lindesmith
Center.

Grob, C. (Ed.). (2002). Hallucinogens: Opening the

doors of a closed society. New York: Tarcher/Putnam.

Grof, S. (2001). LSD psychotherapy. Sarasota, FL:

Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic
Studies.

Harner, M. (Ed.). (1973). Hallucinogens and shamanism.

New York: Oxford University Press.

Holland, J. (Ed.) (2001). Ecstasy: The complete guide: A

comprehensive look at the risks and benefits of
MDMA. Rochester, VT: Park Street Press.

Hunt Badiner, A., & Grey, A. (Eds.). (2002). Zig zag

zen: Buddhism and psychedelics. San Francisco:
Chronicle Books.

Katz, S. (Ed.). (1983). Mysticism and religious traditions.

Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Leonard, G. & Murphy, M. (1995). The life we are

given. New York: Tarcher/Putnam.

Mahoney, M. (1991). Human change processes: The

scientific foundations of psychotherapy. New York:
Basic Books.

Marrero, F. (2003). The view from Delphi: Rhapsodies

on Hellenic wisdom and an ecstatic appreciation of
Western history. Unpublished manuscript.

Masters, J., Burish, T., Hollon, S., & Rimm, D.

(1987). Behavior therapy (3rd ed.). San Diego, CA:
Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich.

Miller, W., & C’de Baca, J. (2001). Quantum change:

When epiphanies and sudden insights transform ordinary
lives. New York: Guilford.

Murphy, M. (1992). The future of the body:

Explorations into the further evolution of human
nature. New York: Tarcher/Putnam.

Novak, P. (1989). Mysticism, enlightenment and

morality. ReVision, 12 (1), 45–49.

Polivy, J., & Herman, C. (2002). If at first you don’t

succeed: False hopes and self-change. American
Psychologist, 57, 677–689.

Roberts, T. (Ed.). (2001). Psychoactive sacramentals:

Essays on entheogens and religion. San Francisco: CSP.

Smith, H. (1964). Do drugs have religious import?

The Journal of Philosophy, LXI, 517–530.

Smith, H. (2000). Cleansing the doors of perception:

The religious significance of entheogenic plants and
chemicals. New York: Tarcher/Penguin Putnam.

Smith, H., & Novak, P. (2003). Buddhism: A concise

introduction. San Francisco: Harper San Francisco.

Entheogens

researchers and most critics of psychedelics, that the
drugs have relatively little long-term benefit, is this so
surprising? Or is it so different from other powerful
experiences? After all, the transformation of experi-
ences and insights into enduring change is one of the
challenges of transformative disciplines in general.
Psychoanalysts say, “insight is not enough,” while clin-
ical psychologists speak of breakthroughs and regres-
sions, and of the “problem of generalization,” i.e., the
problem of getting insights on the couch to generalize
to daily life. Likewise, learning theorists describe
“spontaneous recovery,” whereby newly learned behav-
ior fades and old patterns revive (Masters et al., 1987).
It is true that powerful experiences can sometimes
induce enduring “quantum change” (Miller & C’de
Baca, 2001). On the other hand, most people suffer
from a “false hope syndrome” and underestimate just
how hard it is to change ingrained habits (Polivy &
Herman, 2002).

The same is true of religious disciplines. Profound

experiences can sometimes effect enduring change, but
often tend to fade unless stabilized by further practice,
as Phillip Kapleau makes clear for Zen:

Even the Buddha continued to sit. Without joriki,
the particular power developed through zazen [seat-
ed meditation], the vision of oneness attained in
enlightenment in time becomes clouded and even-
tually fades into a pleasant memory instead of
remaining an omnipresent reality shaping our daily
life. To be able to live in accordance with what the
mind’s eye has revealed through satori requires, like
the purification of character and the development of
personality, a ripening period of zazen (Smith,
2000, p. 31).

A single spiritual experience is no guarantee of a spiri-
tual life or an ethical lifestyle (Barnard & Kripal, 2002;
Novak, 1989; Smith & Novak, 2003). However, long-
term practice and multiple experiences appear to have
a cumulative impact (Vaughan, 2000; Walsh, 1999).
With the occasional exception of “quantum change”
(Miller & C’de Baca, 2001), no matter what the
method used, major enduring transformation usually
requires long-term practice (Leonard & Murphy,
1995; Mahoney, 1991; Murphy, 1992). The universal
challenge is to transform peak experiences into plateau
experiences, epiphanies into personality, states into
stages, and altered states into altered traits, or, as I
believe Huston Smith once eloquently put it, “to trans-
form flashes of illumination into abiding light.”

So the usual transience and limited long-term

effects of psychedelic mystical experiences turn out to
be far from unique. Rather, they reflect one of the cen-
tral problems of psychological and spiritual growth:
the “problem of stabilization” (Walsh, 2001).

But let us assume the critics’ position. Let’s assume

for the moment that chemical mysticism is less trans-
formative than contemplative mysticism, as it might
well be. Why might this be so?

Both psychological and social factors may be

involved. The psychedelic user may have a dramatic
experience, perhaps the most dramatic of his or her
entire life. However, a single experience, no matter
how powerful, may be insufficient to permanently
overcome mental and neural habits conditioned for
decades to mundane modes of functioning. The con-
templative, on the other hand, may spend decades
deliberately working to retrain habits along more spir-
itual lines. Thus, when the breakthrough finally
occurs, it visits a mind already prepared for it. In addi-
tion, the contemplative probably has in place a belief
system and worldview to make sense of the experience,
a discipline to cultivate and stabilize it, a tradition and
social group to support it, and an ethic to guide its
expression. One is reminded of Louis Pasteur’s state-
ment that chance favors the prepared mind. The con-
templative’s mind may be prepared, but there is no
guarantee whatsoever that the drug user’s is.

It turns out, therefore, that different long-term

effects of chemical and contemplative experiences
could occur, even if the original experiences are identi-
cal. Consequently, none of the five common argu-
ments against psychedelic experiences being genuinely
mystical seem to hold. This argument by itself does
not prove that some drug-induced mystical experi-
ences are necessarily the same as some spontaneous
mystical experiences. However, when coupled with the
phenomenological evidence, it certainly makes this
possibility seem likely.

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Fundamentally, then, there are no religions that are
false. All are true after their own fashion: All fulfill
given conditions of human existence, though in differ-
ent ways.

–Emile Durkheim,

The Elementary Forms
of Religious Life (1912 [1995])

nthropologists have long known that alterna-
tive states of consciousness (ASC; see Tart,
1975; Zinberg, 1977; Laughlin, McManus &

d’Aquili, 1990; Cardena, Lynn & Krippner, 2000) are
an important factor in the lives of peoples all over the
planet. For instance, during the latter 1960s, Erika
Bourguignon (1973; Bourguignon & Evascu, 1977),
an anthropologist at Ohio State University, completed
a number of holocultural studies of ASC using samples
of cultures drawn from George Peter Murdock’s
Ethnographic Atlas (1967). In these studies she found
that roughly 90% of the 488 societies sampled exhibit

institutionalized techniques for evoking trance states
of various kinds. In virtually all of these cases, alterna-
tive states of consciousness were considered by peoples
to be both positive and sacred in nature. These data are
so impressive that they have led scholars to suggest that
our species seems to have an inherent drive to alter its
state of consciousness in often extraordinary ways (see
e.g., Young & Goulet, 1994; Forman, 1998).

What we want to do here is suggest an explanation

for the ubiquity and importance of culturally pre-
scribed ASC and certain common transcultural ele-
ments of traditional

cosmologies from the viewpoint

of Fisher Information. We will argue the notion, first
put forward by Emile Durkheim in his magnum opus,
The Elementary Forms of Religious Life, (1912 [1995];
see also Throop & Laughlin, 2002) that all religions
are grounded to some extent in reality. We will show
that many structural elements of traditional cosmolo-
gies are similar and that the ritual induction of cultur-
ally sanctioned ASC is often able to bring individual

Experience, Culture, and Reality

Stace, W. (1964/1988). Mysticism and philosophy. Los

Angeles: J.P. Tarcher.

Tart, C. (1983). States of consciousness. El Cerrito, CA:

Psychological Processes.

Tart, C. (1991). Influence of previous psychedelic

drug experience on students of Tibetan Buddhism.
Journal of Transpersonal Psychology, 23, 139–174.

Vaughan, F. (1983). Perception and knowledge:

Reflections on psychological and spiritual learning
in the psychedelic experience. In C. Grinspoon &
J. Bakalar (Eds.). Psychedelic reflections (pp.
108–114). New York: Human Sciences Press.

Vaughan, F. (2000). The inward arc: Healing in psy-

chotherapy and spirituality (2nd ed). Lincoln, NC:
Backinprint.com.

Walsh, R. (1982). Psychedelics and psychological well-

being. Journal of Humanistic Psychology, 22, 22–32.
Reprinted in C. Grinspoon & J. Bakalar (Eds.).
Psychedelic reflections (pp. 115–120). New York:
Human Sciences Press.

Walsh, R. (1989). Shamanism and early human tech-

nology: The technology of transcendence. Revision,
12(1), 34–40.

Walsh, R. (1990). The spirit of shamanism. New York:

Tarcher/Putnam.

Walsh, R. (1999). Essential spirituality: The seven cen-

tral practices. New York: Wiley & Sons.

Walsh, R. (2001). From state to trait: The challenge of

transforming transient insights into enduring
change. In T. Roberts (Ed.), Psychoactive sacramen-
tals: Essays on entheogens and religion (pp. 19–26).
San Francisco: CSP.

Walsh, R., & Vaughan, F. (Eds.). (1993). Paths beyond

ego: The transpersonal vision.

New York:

Tarcher/Putnam.

Wilber, K. (2000). Integral psychology: Consciousness,

spirit, psychology, therapy. Boston: Shambhala.

Correspondence regarding this article should be
directed to the author at the following address:
Psychiatry Department, University of California
Medical School, Irvine, CA 92697-1675

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Experience, Culture and Reality:

The Significance of Fisher Information for

Understanding the Relationship between

Alternative States of Consciousness and the Structures of Reality

Charles D. Laughlin, Ph.D.

Carleton University, Ottawa, Canada and

International Consciousness Research Laboratories

and

C. Jason Throop

Department of Anthropology

University of California at Los Angeles

The majority of the world’s cultures encourage or require members to enter alternative states of
consciousness (ASC) while involved in religious rituals. The question is, why? This paper suggests
an explanation for the culturally prescribed ASC from the view of Fisher information. It argues
from the position, first put forward by Emile Durkheim in his magnum opus, The Elementary
Forms of the Religious Life, that all religions are grounded in reality. It suggests that many of the
structural elements of cultural cosmologies are similar and that the ritual induction of ASC may
help to bring individual experience into greater accord with a pan-human eidetic cosmology, and
thus with certain invariant attributes of reality. The necessity of this process is demonstrated by
recourse to Fisher information. The paper shows how experiences generated during alternative
states of consciousness may help to maintain a minimal level of realism in the interests of adap-
tation to what is in other respects a transcendental reality.

is always patterned according the experiential residues
accrued though the course of a particular life trajecto-
ry (see Hollan, 2000; Obeyesekere, 1981; Throop,
2003). Indeed, it is often through processes of person-
alizing cultural knowledge—a process Obeyesekere
(1981) has termed “subjectification”—that novel
interpretations and experiences are able to arise, which
may, given the appropriate circumstances, later serve
to transform the existing cultural system.

Eidetic Cosmology

lsewhere, we have argued that at the heart of many
traditional cosmologies, no matter how divergent

they may appear in detail, lies a system of transcultur-
ally shared themes and elements we termed an eidetic
cosmology (Laughlin, 2001; Laughlin & Throop,
2001). This eidetic cosmology refers to those shared
elements underlying the myriad forms of cosmologi-
cally informed world views across the planet. We will
not take the space here to repeat the arguments we
offered in support of this theory. Suffice it to say that
the eidetic cosmology derives from the fundamental
structures of human consciousness and represents our
species-typical neurocognitive adaptation to both
physical and social reality (see Boyer, 1999, on the
notion of “intuitive ontology”; Count, 1973, on the
“human biogram”).

Elaborating somewhat from what we wrote else-

where, below are some of the elements that would
seem to be characteristic of the eidetic cosmology, and
hence may each serve in differing degrees to pattern
the content of various world views around the globe. It
is important to note that in introducing the concept of
eidetic cosmology we do not wish to suggest that this
cosmology exists as an independent “thing” apart from
aggregates of individual minds and bodies. Ultimately,
the concept of eidetic cosmology does not refer to a
mind-independent “something,” but, more accurately,
serves as a place holder for what we argue are basic cor-
respondences between the structures of experience, the
structures of consciousness, and the structures of reality.
And these correspondences are not limited to peoples
dwelling in more “traditional” societies, but are char-
acteristic of cosmological world views across a broad
spectrum of societies. Because the elements of eidetic
cosmology are inherent in the structure of the human
nervous system, they will of course impact the under-
standings of individuals living in industrial and post-

industrial societies as well, and as a consequence, we
find these elements appearing in both scientific and
philosophical formulations; for instance, as quantum
physicist Harold E. Puthoff (2002) of the Institute of
Advanced Study in Austin, Texas, notes, the more we
learn about the quantum universe, the closer our sci-
entific picture of reality becomes to that of many tra-
ditional cosmologies. The elements of which we are
speaking include the following,

1. Reality is energetic. Reality is understood to be a

plenum void filled with sacred energies that moti-
vate the world of appearances and that may from
time to time be available for people to experience
directly and use. This void may be metaphorically
associated with “ocean” or “wind.”

2. Perception is limited. People understand that there

is more to reality than can be sensed. Sometimes
what we call the “waking state” is considered to be
limited vis a vis other states in which there is the
perception of divine or spiritual events.

3. Invisible domains. Much of reality is invisible and

may be made manifest only by way of ritual proce-
dures. Perceived events are linked to invisible
forces.

4. Reality is unitary. Reality is seen as a single system

—hence a cosmology—in which everything is
interconnected.

5. Dependent causation. Everything that occurs is

related causally to everything else in reality.
Everything that happens is caused to happen.

6. Serial and cyclical time. People will experience time

as both a lineal flow and a recurring cycle. Nearly
all languages reflect these two types of temporality.

7. Magical causation. Because of number 5, the

dependent causation factor, ritual procedures may
be used to make things happen, both at a distance,
and perhaps backwards in time.

8. Control procedures. People may exercise some

measure of control over events in reality by utilizing
the correct ritual procedures that tap into systematic
interconnection and dependent/magical causation.

9. Multiple realities. Reality is considered to exist on

different planes or in different, but mutually inter-
connected domains (see 4 above).

10.Objects and relations. Whether visible or invisible,

reality is understood to be filled with objects and
relations between objects, as well as movement
among objects.

Experience, Culture, and Reality

experience into greater accord with transculturally
shared elements of an eidetic cosmology by way of a
sociocultural feedback loop. We will demonstrate the
necessity of this process by recourse to Fisher informa-
tion, and show how experiences generated during
alternative states of consciousness may help to main-
tain a minimal level of realism in the interests of socio-
physiological adaptation to what is otherwise a tran-
scendental reality.

ASC, Eidetic Cosmology, Extramental

Reality and the Cycle of Meaning

lternative states of consciousness may vary enor-
mously, from lucid dreaming and contemplative

states to shamanic soul flights and vision quests
(Bourguignon, 1973; Winkelman, 2000; Dobkin de
Rios, 1984; Dobkin de Rios & Winkelman, 1989;
Laughlin, 1989, 1994a, 1994b; Forman, 1998). To
induce these states of consciousness, many societies
prescribe the use of psychoactive drugs, although such
use seems mostly associated with groups having more
simple forms of political organization (Winkelman,
2000). It is important to recognize that ASC may be
evoked with or without the use of drugs, and may be
the result of often complex arrays of neuroendocrine
“driving” mechanisms embedded in religious rituals
(Laughlin, McManus & d’Aquili, 1990). The impor-
tant point for the present argument is that socially
sanctioned procedures for evoking ASC are a near uni-
versal aspect of cultures around the world.

Cycle of Meaning

ith the exception of alcohol and drunkenness,
ASC are almost never sought in traditional

societies outside the context of socially prescribed and
supervised ritual circumstances. The reason for this
seems clear enough. Any human experience is open to
a multitude of interpretations. The same experience
may be seen as negative and destructive in one context
and as positive and wholesome in another. Societies
that encourage ASC tend to embed these experiences
within the context of a cycle of meaning (Laughlin,
McManus & d’Aquili, 1990; Laughlin, 1997, 2001)
so as to control both the range of experiences that
occur, and the interpretation of those experiences as
they occur. To this end, interpretations are often
couched in terms of the society’s world view in such a

way that the experiences evoked are seen to confirm
and enliven that world view.

A society’s world view is for the most part carried

around in the minds of people, which of course per-
meates their bodies by way of their nervous systems.
Individuals often experience their world view in the
form of stories, songs, aphorisms, and sacred and dra-
matic scenes, as well as techniques and other patterned
responses. In literate societies, these sources may be
committed to writing and form a sacred canon and
associated actions. Either way, a world view is
expressed and enacted in various kinds of mythopoeic
forms including art and iconography, ritual, dramatic
production, pilgrimage, and so forth. The most pow-
erful expressive aspect is of course ritual performance
(d’Aquili, Laughlin & McManus, 1979), and it is
within this context that extraordinary states of con-
sciousness are most likely to arise. Rituals may incor-
porate a variety of neuroendocrine “drivers” such as
drumming, hallucinogenic herbs, flickering lights,
fasting, fixed concentration, sleep deprivation, painful
ordeals, chanting, prolonged dancing, etc. When alter-
native states of consciousness do occur as a conse-
quence of participation in a ritual, there is almost
always a process by which culturally appropriate inter-
pretations are laid on the experiences evoked therein.
These interpretations are derived from and tend to
reinforce the efficacy of the world view. For instance,
Moroccan dream interpreters normally account for the
events described to them in terms consistent with the
Koran.

In short, we see that the relationship between a

particular world view and the varieties of experience
evoked in the context of a society’s various rituals is
characterized, at least ideally, by a relatively conserva-
tive feedback system—a cycle of meaning—in which
the world view is expressed symbolically in ways that
give rise to ASC, which in turn are interpreted in terms
of the world view. Mind you, this kind of system is a
living tradition, not a mechanical contrivance, and
that means it is far more flexible than it might appear
in any simplistic formulation. In fact this pairing of
experience and knowledge allows for change within
and over generations such that both the experiences
that occur and the interpretations associated with
them allow for a “revitalization” of the world view in
every age (Wallace, 1966). In addition, cultural knowl-
edge is always to some extent refracted through the
lens of individual consciousness—a consciousness that

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

and Locke’s debate over the distinction between pri-
mary and secondary qualities.

Following Husserl (and

to some extent Berkeley), we argue that extramental
reality is not necessarily an absolutely mind-independ-
ent “material” or “stuff ” forever beyond our experi-
ence. Instead, our knowledge of reality is importantly
based upon the interpenetration of percept and object,
what Husserl described as the potential for a partial
confluence between noesis (acts of consciousness),
noemata (contents of consciousness), and hyletic data
(information derived from extramental reality, aspects
of which become the objects of our intentional acts).

Of course, our lot as humans is to be perpetually lim-
ited by the partial, fragmentary, and perspectival state
of our knowledge of the world, and as such, what we
might term a horizon of ignorance perpetually ensures
the “non-completeness” of correspondences between
our systems of knowledge and the realities towards
which they intend (Ricoeur, 1991).

Fisher Information

ow we want to show how the relationship
between individual experience and cultural sys-

tems of knowledge may be related to extramental real-
ity in a very necessary way. We want to explain why the
ASC–eidetic cosmology relationship is not only trans-
culturally common, but, in certain contexts, necessary
and sufficient to guarantee an adaptively minimal level
of truth value to human knowledge. Before going
much further, however, it is important to distinguish
the effort after truth from the effort after meaning (see
Bartlett, 1932). As we argued elsewhere,

The effort after truth shifts the orientation from
attributing meaning to the given to discovering
what is novel in the given and then evaluating
meaning models by comparison with the given’s
experienced novelty. In other words, the effort after
meaning is a quest for an ordered patterning of
experience with a recognition of the correspondence
between an experienced given and the instantiation
of that given in memory, while the effort after truth
is a systematic search for anomaly in our experience
of a particular given as it arises in the sensorium
(Laughlin & Throop, 2001, p. 714).

Another way to understand this is from the perspective
of a formulation that is quite well known in statistics,
and to some extent in genetics and physics, but that to
our knowledge has never been applied in anthropolo-

gy. That formulation is called Fisher information,
named for the famous geneticist and statistician R.A.
Fisher

who first proposed it (Frieden, 1998).

Fisher Information–

On the Technical Side

isher information is deceptively simple.

According

to the Academic Press Dictionary of Science and

Technology, Fisher information is “a measure of the
amount of information about a parameter provided by
an experiment with a given probabilistic structure.” In
other words, Fisher information is a method of esti-
mating how close the information in our description
of reality conforms to the information contained in
reality itself. Thus Fisher information involves a kind
of Kantian epistemology with I representing what we
know about phenomena, and J representing the infor-
mation clustered in the “neumena” (in Kant’s view, the
extramental reality behind apperception). While most
applications of Fisher information have been in the
physical sciences where it has proved invaluable in cri-
tiquing experimental designs, the central insights of
the theory are applicable to any system of observation
and theory construction.

Fisher information does two things for a theory of

observation:

1. Fisher information is a measure of the ability to

estimate a parameter, and

2. Fisher information is a measure of the disorder

within a system or phenomenon.

In other words, the information we have about the
world is the difference between the amount of infor-
mation in the world and the amount of information
the world is “willing” to let the inquiring mind find
out—i.e., the amount of information we can possibly
access given the limitations of the our mindbrain and
our techniques/technologies. Fisher information is the
estimate of this discrepancy—a sort of measure of
indeterminacy.

Fisher information is simply labeled “I.” I is the

information one can obtain from a system under
observation. Suppose a researcher wants to know how
many families in Culture X conform to a post-nuptial
residence rule (say, virilocality). The researcher applies
her field methods and comes up with a statistical
measure of percentage—say 85% of families seem to
be conforming to virilocality at time t. But there is no
such thing as a perfect measure. There is always some

Experience, Culture, and Reality

11. Microcosm-macrocosm. Every object or being in

reality is considered to be a microcosm of the
whole of reality—both as an energetic entity and
in terms of the systemic properties that make
things whole.

12. Cardinal directions. Space is considered to be vec-

tored in such an ordered, even geometrical way
that entities may be placed within the totality of
space relative to each other.

13. Somatocentric. Related to number 11, cosmolo-

gies tend to be somatocentric—that is, the human
body or being is placed at the very center of
things. The body is considered to be the micro-
cosm par excellence.

14. Sense of the divine or god(s). People have a sense

of a divine presence which may be manifested in
one or more gods, spirits, radiant beings, etc.

15. Syzygistic complementarity. Cosmic energy is

divided into the male and female principles,
which normally interact in a complementary and
unitary way. Often symbolized by male and
female deities or other iconic forms interacting in
a holistic fashion.

While this is not an exhaustive list of the attributes of
eidetic cosmology, it will give the reader a feeling for
the elements we are speaking about. It is our con-
tention that interactions between alternative states of
consciousness and the eidetic cosmology often operate
to bring experience and interpretation into adaptive
accord with many of the invariant attributes of an
extramental reality (see below).

This ASC-eidetic cos-

mology relationship is indeed comparable to what
Durkheim was working toward in his writings on rit-
ual, collective effervescence, and the formations of the
categories of thought. What Durkheim failed to grasp,
however, was that the ritual procedures that produced
“collective effervescence,” produced adherence as
much to physical reality as to social reality. He may be
forgiven this oversight, for in fact the impact of relativ-
ity theory and quantum mechanics had yet to be felt
in physics, and the predominant science in his day was
a very Newtonian and mechanical view of the world.
We are no longer hampered by the Newtonian world
view in science, however, and the more we learn about
physical reality behind the world of experience, the
more it resembles the world depicted in traditional
cosmologies worldwide. Of course we realize that
physicists’ insights into the world of quantum physics

are also mediated through some sort of
experiential/phenomenal datum, even if it is an
abstract mathematical formula.

Extramental Reality

y extramental reality we are referring to both those
aspects of reality that effectively transcend our

subjective experience and those that serve to limit the
range of possible experiences had by any one given
experiencer. In terms of the former definition, we are
referring to all aspects of reality, including the state of
our own being, as they are, apart from our knowledge
or perception of them. This definition implies that
there are aspects of reality that we as humans do not,
and perhaps in principle cannot, know. To this end,
extramental reality can be thought to consist of infor-
mation that is “denied” us either because of limitations
inherent in the structure of our sense organs and nerv-
ous system, or because of limitations set by the state of
our current techniques/technologies. With regard to
the latter definition, we are referring to those aspects of
reality that conform to what Edmund Husserl charac-
terized as the “objective pole” of experience. According
to Husserlian phenomenology, experience is structured
according to both subjective and objective poles (see
Berger, 1999; Idhe, 1977), where the “objective” vari-
eties of experience are understood to correspond to
those aspects of reality that can be grasped by any
given experiencer regardless of cultural, historical, or
social position. From this perspective, while there are
certainly a number of differing ways that extramental
realty can be grasped by any one individual experi-
encer, the “objective” or “obdurate” quality of the
extramentally given in experience serves to set a defi-
nite limit on the kinds of experiences that any individ-
ual can have. Of course it is also true that in the case
of the perception of external objects, individuals can
shift from perceptual (both in the introspective and
extrospective senses) to strictly imaginal modalities
and as such be relatively unencumbered by the imped-
iment of the extramentally given.

That said, it is important to note that in introduc-

ing the concept of extramental reality we do not wish
to fall into the long-standing philosophical trap of pos-
tulating a necessary, insurmountable gap between our
conscious experience of the world as given and the
world-in-itself; a gap that is perhaps most famously
recognized in philosophy in the context of Berkeley

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

“withholds” information from us—“withholds” in the
sense that the extramental world is too vast, too com-
plex, too dynamic, and largely able to eclipse our senses
and technologies. In other words, the watermelon rep-
resents the Kantian neumenal world and the information
we derive from thumps and plugs represents our obser-
vations of the phenomenal world.

Trueing, Modeling, and

Fisher Information

ur position is founded upon the assumption that
human consciousness is organized according to

an inherent drive to minimize the discrepancy between
I and J, that is, to seek out and know the truth of
things. We know the truth of things by neurophysio-
logically modeling extramental reality and by testing
our models in the crucible of experience (Laughlin &
d’Aquili, 1974; Miller, Galanter & Pribram, 1960;
Pribram, 1971; Varela, 1979; Edelman, 1987, 1989;
Changeux, 1985). Truth, or more properly the process
of trueing, is the natural inclination of any conscious
organism to minimize the I-J discrepancy—the dis-
crepancy between mindbrain models and reality—in
the interests of adaptation (Laughlin & Throop,
2001). At a most basic level, our minds have evolved
over countless millions of years to know reality as accu-
rately as possible in order to find food without becom-
ing food. This inherent neurophysiological drive to
know reality we have elsewhere termed the “cognitive
imperative” (Laughlin & d’Aquili, 1974; Laughlin,
McManus & d’Aquili, 1990). According to this frame-
work, any neurocognitive or cultural process that oper-
ates to minimize the discrepancy between I and J may
be termed a truer.

Of course, in speaking of a neurophysiological

drive to know reality we do not wish to imply that cul-
tural and social realities are not equally as important to
adaptation as physical realities are. The work of
Clifford Geertz (1973) is most helpful here. Geertz’
stance is based on the insight that the products of col-
lective human mentation (artifacts, tools, communica-
tive systems, etc.) and the social processes through
which these products are brought into being must be
considered part and parcel of the environment in
which the human mind evolved. According to Geertz,
it is only once we admit the context of an environment
tangibly modified by human sociality and creativity
that we are able to properly assess how selective pres-

sures could begin to favor those individuals best able to
create, acquire, and manipulate such artifacts. It is
important to note that for Geertz, “cultural artifacts”
include not only such physical products as “tools,” but
also the systems of significant symbols and cultural
“programs” which serve to direct and control human
interaction. In other words, Geertz proposes that it is
impossible to understand the evolution of the human
psyche without taking into consideration the extent to
which the environment, which serves to establish the
parameters for natural selection, is thoroughly perme-
ated with the cultural products of an increasingly com-
plex human mind.

According to Geertz, we must thus

postulate an adaptive complementarity between the
structure of the human mind and the historically crys-
talized forms of collective mentation that mediate our
access to extramental reality and resides in extra-somatic
systems of significant symbols.

That said, it is also important to recall that the

human brain does not begin life, as was once believed
by psychologists such as William James, as a “boom-
ing, buzzing chaos” or as a “blank slate” upon which
the truth of the world is passively written. On the con-
trary, the neuropsychological structures that develop
through childhood to become the adult mindbrain
have their beginning in rudimentary, genetically pro-
grammed organizations of neural cells (Laughlin,
1991). We call these highly organized, nascent neural
structures neurognosis (see Laughlin, McManus &
d’Aquili, 1990). To the point of our argument here, it
is upon neurognostic models, which actively mediate
mental imagery and cognitive and perceptual associa-
tions, that a great deal of mythology is grounded.

From this perspective, while it is the case that

myth frequently takes the form of a narrative, the
structure of myth is essentially nonlinguistic—it is
neurocognitive, a knowing standpoint, a structure of
consciousness. Myths tell a story, but while language is
the most common medium for telling stories, myths
may be expressed via other mythopoeic forms as well
(e.g., drama, pilgrimage, art, and games). All living
myth, as Levi-Strauss (1964, 1971) repeatedly empha-
sized, exists within the minds and bodies of people.
From this perspective, individual expressions of myth
are understood to be instantiations of the myth’s eidet-
ic form, just as a performance of a symphony is but
one iteration of what would otherwise be its “ideal”
form in the mind of the composer or conductor.

Experience, Culture, and Reality

room for error due to random disorder, environmental
fluctuations, influences from outside the system,
effects of doing the measuring, research design, etc. I
then will not actually be 85%, but rather a bell curve
that builds-in all these sources of error around your
measure of 85%. I is a kind of uncertainly principle—
in fact the method has been used to generate
Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle (i.e., if you want to
know this, you can’t know that).

The system we wish to examine, be it a society, an

institution, a social dyad, a ritual activity, a perform-
ance—whatever—is part of the extramental world we
wish to understand, and the world is often seemingly
“reluctant” to give up information about itself. From
the Fisher information point of view, the world is full
of information and it is this information we are trying
to obtain by acts of knowing. The information that is
bound up in the extramental system we want to under-
stand is labeled “J,” and the amount of this informa-
tion we are able to obtain (I) is always only partially
isomorphic with J. Ideally, we want to minimize the
discrepancy between the information contained in the
system (J) and the amount of information we are able
to retrieve from the system (I); the goal is thus to have
I minus J be as small as possible.

Fisher information then is a compromise between

the subjective process of knowing and our sense of the
“out-there-ness” of any given extramental reality (all
real systems are “in-formed” and “in-forming”; see
Varela, 1979). Also implied by Fisher information is
that we in a sense create our own world of I (from the
perspective of cultural neurophenomenology, I exists
as a part of our “cognized environment;” see Laughlin,
McManus & d’Aquili, 1990, p. 82) when we observe
the world. Paraphrasing Princeton University physicist
John A. Wheeler, observation gives rise to information
and information gives rise to anthropology (or any
other science). Moreover, in a very real sense, we deter-
mine the answers we get from the world by the very act
of extracting information from the world. Our acts of
observation (be they through experimentation, survey
research, in-depth interviews, participant observation,
or other means.) influence the curve of error that is I.
It is more or less this insight that led philosopher of
science Paul Feyerabend (1993) to argue for support-
ing many competing theories in science, for the more
theories we have, the more methodologies—and the
closer we will get to the truth.

Put in other words, for every system S of interest

to us, there is information J within S and there is the
information I about S that we can acquire, given the
methods and technologies, etc. available to us. That
means that we must be clear about (1) estimating the
parameters of S, and (2) how close to the total infor-
mation within S we can come, given the errors and
limitations built into our means of observation. Ideally
we want to minimize the discrepancy between I and J
for any and all Ss we wish to understand.

Fisher Information–

In the Watermelon Patch

n order to make Fisher information less technical
and perhaps a little clearer, let us imagine we are a

little kid who has sneaked into his neighbor’s water-
melon patch and intends to steal a watermelon to eat
on a hot, lazy summer afternoon (Laughlin was raised
in Arkansas and this scene resonates strongly with his
childhood experiences). Our goal is to pick out a
watermelon that is ripe and sweet tasting, but we can-
not hang around the field for fear of being caught.
How do we make sure that the watermelon we pinch
is perfect? There are several methods we can use, chief
among them being “thumping” and “plugging.”
Thumping involves tapping hard on the skin at vari-
ous places on the melon and listening for a character-
istic hollow sound that indicates ripeness. But a ripe
melon is not necessarily a tasty melon. So we will want
to take out our pocket knife and cut a plug out of the
melon and look at, smell it and taste the meat. If it isn’t
to our liking, we will replace the plug and move on to
another fruit. But even if the meat on the plug is ripe
and tasty, how sure can we be that the entire melon is
in that state? Perhaps we will cut one or more addi-
tional plugs, and with each additional sampling of the
meat, the more confident we become that we have
indeed found the perfect melon.

Now, let us assume that the extramental world is

the watermelon and that it contains information J that
we wish to acquire—namely the overall quality of the
melon. In order to get at J, however, we have to make
individual observations, and from those observations
construct an interpretation I. Thus each thump or
plug is an I, which is a kind of window onto the J of
the watermelon. The more Is we obtain, the more con-
fidence we have in our overall knowledge of J. Still, no
I can equal J, for in this respect J is transcendental rel-
ative to all possible Is. J is transcendental in that it

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Myth As Eidetic Information

he neurognostic underpinnings of eidetic cosmology
provide many of the elements that are definitive

of myth, and that we recognize to be cross-culturally
similar, even when extensively elaborated with locally
distinct material. For instance, the changeling in myth
may become a tiger, hyena, wolf, bat, or killer whale,
depending upon the local fauna and the values of a
people, but the structure of the changeling remains the
same—a human being changes mysteriously into an
animal, usually a carnivore. Some of these ubiquitous
qualities of myth have been analyzed and described in
the works of anthropologists and mythologists like
Clyde Kluckholn (1959), Claude Levi-Strauss (1978),
Carl Jung (1964), and Joseph Campbell (1959)—
structural elements like the mytheme, binary opposi-
tion, metaphor and metonymy, archetypal images like
the Serpent, the Tree of Life, the Trickster, and the
Great Mother, and narrative motifs like the hero’s
quest and the “blackening” have been isolated and
identified as cross-culturally recurrent themes (see
Thompson, 1955, for an index of often recurrent
motifs). And as many of these thinkers have them-
selves suggested, these recurrent themes provide
important windows onto some of the basic structures
of experience, culture, and reality.

In this light, we would like to argue that mythical

stories are simultaneously the expression of (1) the
fundamental neurognostic structure of the human
brain, (2) the content appropriate to the varying envi-
ronmental and cultural exigencies characteristic of a
particular society, and (3) an individual’s particularized
interpretations, which are informed by his or her per-
sonal experience and location in a given sociohistorical
system. Of these three determinants of the structure of
myths cross-culturally, we hold that it is the neurog-
nostic structure of myth that comprises a symbolic
representation of the eidetic cosmology. And it is the
eidetic cosmology, in part, that assures the trueing of
knowledge at the level of the society’s information
pool. In common parlance, we are “wired” to know
reality from a very human, species-typical point of
view (d’Aquili & Newberg, 1999)—our very Homo
sapiens-limited I relative to the J of extramental reality.
But the entire “wired” complement of neurognostic
models is never activated in a single individual. With
its initial complement of neurognostic models, the
developing mindbrain is able to mature in such a way

that it resolves the tension between the need to con-
serve its own integrity and the need to organize itself
relative to the sociocultural and physical environment
in which it grows (see Piaget, 1977, 1985). During
development there is a great deal of selectivity among
the repertoire of neurognostic models, only some of
which will mature in the course of any given lifetime
(Edelman, 1987, 1989; Changeux, 1985).

From the point of view of Fisher information,

extramental reality includes both extrasomatic reality
(outer reality), and our own somatic being (inner reality).
This is a crucial distinction, for the eidetic cosmology
is mediated by an organization of neurocognitive cells
that represents in its formations both the invariant
structures of reality and the body’s own internal nature
as part of that reality. In other words, our own being is
J relative to any information I we attain about our self.
The eidetic cosmology is in fact mediated by living
cells that organize themselves during neurogenesis so
as to reiterate with each generation an ancient system
of knowing that has proved to be adaptationally opti-
mal over countless generations. The reality that system
of knowledge encompasses includes our own being, as
well as our environment. And one of the mechanisms
by which this system becomes activated is via its
expression in the society’s corpus of myth. Returning
to the cycle of meaning model, we can see that there is
an embedded neurognostic cycle of meaning that, in
certain contexts, may help to ensure the trueing of the
greater system of knowledge.

The new model resembles the previous one dis-

cussed above, except that it is concerned with the
eidetic cosmology and its manifestations in society’s
mythopoeic system. The eidetic cosmology is
expressed within the society’s distinct symbolic style in
the form of what the German philosopher Wilhelm
Dilthey referred to as “objectified mind,” lived experi-
ence crystalized into intersubjectively accessible and
perduring texts, oral histories, art objects, and symbols
(see Throop, 2002). Here we can think of the eidetic
cosmology as embedded as it were like the figure in
one of those stereographic pictures that one must look
at in just the right way in order to resolve the hidden
image. Through participation in ritual enactments, the
recounting of mythic lore, etc., individuals are able to
translate the eidetic structure’s objectified form back
into the dynamic form of lived experience, which in
turn allows the eidetic structures to penetrate along
with the rest of the symbolism into the depths of the

Experience, Culture, and Reality

Culture As Fisher Information

ecause humans are social primates, it is necessary
to integrate the role of culture more explicitly into

the model we have built here. This requires some dis-
cussion, for there exist many definitions of “culture,”
not all of which would be appropriate for our purposes
(see Kroeber & Kluckholn, 1952, for a classic study of
different definitions of culture). But many anthropol-
ogists have found it sensible to view culture as a system
of information (e.g. Roberts, 1964; d’Andrade, 1984;
Shore, 1996), and this is an orientation that we can use
to good effect—as long as we divorce the concept of
information from the contemporary, technological
sense of the term (see Endnote 5). Information in the
sense we are using here derives from the traditional,
pretechnological sense of the word—what Varela
(1979) referred to as “in-forming”—and involves the
internal organization of individuals, cultures, and real-
ity. It is important to note that this pre-technological
view of information is far from purely cognitive, since,
for the human nervous system, information includes
the organization of structures that mediate meaning,
intuition, sensation, emotion, imagery, and thought.

Perhaps the first to view culture in terms of infor-

mation was Ward Goodenough (1954, 1971), who
took his model of culture by analogy from genetics. As
a species consists of a gene pool, so too do societies cre-
ate “culture pools”—or information pools—for their
members (Goodenough, 1971). People learn their cul-
ture (they become enculturated) as individuals, and no
one individual learns all the information available
within his or her society. Indeed, as Anthony F. C.
Wallace (1970, pp.109–120) showed, social adaptation
for all peoples requires an organization of cognitive
diversity such that the information within each per-
son’s mindbrain becomes functionally integrated with
the information located in the mindbrains of others.
In other words, members of a society can learn what-
ever they need to know to be recognized and functioning
member of the society, but that does not mean that
any one member controls all the information in his or
her cultural information pool. As Goodenough (1954,
p. 36) wrote,

As I see it, a society’s culture consists of whatever it
is one has to know or believe in order to operate in
a manner acceptable to its members, and to do so in
any role that they accept for any one of themselves.
Culture, being what people have to learn as distinct

from their biological heritage, must consist of the
end product of learning: knowledge, in a most gen-
eral, if relative, sense of the term. By this definition,
we should note that culture is not a material phe-
nomenon; it does not consist of things, people,
behavior, or emotions. It is rather an organization of
these things. It is the forms of things that people
have in their mind, their models for perceiving,
relating, and otherwise interpreting them. As such,
the things people say and do, their social arrange-
ments and events, are products or by-products of
their culture as they apply it to the task of perceiv-
ing and dealing with their circumstances.

In postulating such a strict demarcation between “cul-
ture” and “material phenomena,” what Goodenough
and most other cultural anthropologists have neglected,
of course, is that the organ of culture, the organ of
learning, is the human nervous system. Cultural
anthropologists have long assumed an unwarranted,
ethnocentrically biased mind-body dualism that is no
longer tenable in the age of modern neuroscience. It is
the mindbrain that mediates learning, and as such the
learning of culture begins with inherited neurophysio-
logical structures (neurognosis) that in their turn
develop along a growth path that we argue guarantees
a minimal veridicality of perception and knowledge
relative to extramental reality. Of course, neuroplastic-
ity ensures that the neurognostic makeup of each indi-
vidual person will vary to an extent, and so too will the
course of development of each individual over his or
her lifetime. Likewise, the expression and course of
development of these shared neurophysiological struc-
tures will vary socially depending upon the history and
environment of the group’s culture. But it is, we argue,
the underlying neurognostic basis of some forms of
imagery, structure, and thematic motifs that can be
understood as a source of much that is common to
cultures—including those elements that constitute the
eidetic cosmology. Nonetheless, we may still speak of
“culture” as an information pool with considerable
utility, for it allows us to integrate socially influenced
and shared learning into our view from Fisher infor-
mation. Again, it is important to keep in mind that we
are using the term in the broad traditional sense that
includes imagery, sensations, emotions, patterned
behaviors and responses, and thought—in speaking of
culture as information we do not mean to imply an
overly cognitive view of culture, but rather the full
range of ways that human beings can come to know.

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

involves engagement with neurognostic or eidetic
structures of the mindbrain (the inner being or inner
J), and other elements of eidetic cosmology (both
inner and outer J). Practitioners experience various
aspects of eidetic cosmology—perhaps a state of unity
with nature, visions of spirits or gods, an enhanced
sense of the divine, or dissolution of ego boundaries
and enhanced connection, empathy, and compassion
for one’s fellows. Not all the transculturally shareable
ingredients of eidetic cosmology are present in an ASC
at any particular time, but some inevitably will be, and
these will act to provide numinous evidence of that
deeper “mystical” sense of the nature of what is other-
wise a normally hidden reality. These elements recorded
in the society’s information pool, in stories and songs
and dramas, take on flesh as it were and become exis-
tential realities. The cultural information is now no
longer merely received knowledge, but directly experi-
enced knowledge—in other words, very “real.”

A member of the Native American Church once

told anthropologist J.S. Slotkin (1958, p. 484), “The
White Man talks about Jesus, we talk to Jesus.” The
distinction here is crucial. In those societies that value
and encourage or require each member to seek ASC by
ritual means, a characteristic balance is struck between
knowledge of the world and the knowledge of self—so
much so that the cosmologies of these societies
frequently place the human body in the center of the
universe – and encode a microcosm-macrocosm rela-
tionship between being and world.

Types of Culture

ut not all cultures are the same in this respect.
Obviously so, for, as the quote from the Native

American Church member implies, our own extremely
materialistic culture does not fit this picture. The
dominant values in Euroamerican culture abjure and
even prohibit members from seeking ASC. Indeed, our
nations are all but schizoid about psychotropic drugs,
using them by the ton for psychiatric purposes and
putting people in prison for using them for “entertain-
ment,” alternative healing, or spiritual purposes. There
are deep cultural, historical, and political reasons for
this attitude toward altering consciousness, having to
do with maintaining the range of states of conscious-
ness requisite for the functioning of materialist/capi-
talist society. Let us examine this issue a bit further so
as to better understand the relationship between ASC

and eidetic cosmology.

Cultures privilege modes of knowing in different

ways. Some cultures will emphasize knowing in ways
that accord with eidetic cosmology, while others will
emphasize knowing in the local, empirical sense. And
many societies are characterized by systems of knowl-
edge that privilege both modes of knowing to one
extent or another. Sociologist Pitirim Sorokin (1957,
1962) has modeled these distinctions in an interesting
and dynamic way. Sorokin has shown that what he
calls sensate cultures are those that privilege empirical,
material ways of knowing external reality over know-
ing in the spiritual or eidetic cosmological way. Sensate
cultures are interested primarily in the material world
of the senses, and do not encourage or foster knowing
of inner being by way of dreams or other esoteric
means. Thus such cultures produce populations that
are off-balance in their understanding of the world and
the self. Because they are off balance, sensate cultures
will tend over the course of generations to compensate
by swinging back toward a more balanced view in
which knowledge derived from the local material
mode becomes integrated with knowledge arising
from development of the eidetic cosmological mode
(what he termed idealistic cultures). This compensatory
swing toward a greater balance between sensate and
idealistic values seems to be happening in
Euroamerican culture at the present time with an
increasing tolerance for mysticism, and with the rise of
an enormous variety of New Age cults and spiritual
movements. The problem, of course, is that cultures
never stand still, and the balance struck in one gener-
ation between local and transcultural ways of knowing
may be lost to subsequent generations in the contin-
ued swing of the culture toward the opposite pole of
ideational culture in which eidetic, more “mystical”
ways of knowing are privileged at the cost of empirical,
pragmatic ways of knowing. It is in the balanced ide-
alistic and more mystical ideational cultures in which
a corpus of mythological tradition forms a living core
of knowledge, and in which ASC are often encouraged
and even prescribed. But of course, extremely
ideational cultures are equally off balance and the
demands of balance eventually require a compensatory
swing in the other direction, back toward the middle
ground of idealistic culture and thence perhaps back
into sensate culture.

From the point of view of people in an ideational

culture, what we in sensate cultures might consider

Experience,Culture, and Reality

brain where they are “recognized” by the target con-
stellation of neurognostic (or archetypal) structures.
Thus neurognostic pathways becomes potentiated for
development (a la Joseph Campbell’s “innate releasing
mechanisms”) in just the right constellation to true
knowledge to the invariant aspects of reality and at the
same time to give knowledge that distinctly cultural
flavor characteristic of the society’s “local knowledge”
(to use Clifford Geertz’s, 1983, apt phrase) as knowl-
edge of self and world matures. The neurognostic
structures in each mindbrain that become potentiated
may also be involved in generating experiences, so that
the eidetic cosmology is not only reiterated in the
development of each developing brain, the individual
may experience the eidetic elements and relations
directly in dreams, visions, or other ASC.

As is the

case with the culture-level cycle of meaning, the expe-
riences arising relative to the eidetic cosmology act to
confirm and reenforce the “truth” of the cosmology
and bring it alive in direct experience.

One of the most common reactions people have to

the intuition of truth about reality is that it seems as if
they knew it already. And if we are correct in our
assumptions, then in a very real sense they do know
the truth before they hear or experience it—when the
eidetic structures of myth penetrate to neurognostic
networks that are developmentally ready, the experience
may be one of recognition—literally of “re-cognizing”
or “re-calling” what the species has known throughout
the ages within its collective unconscious. For this reason,
a society’s mythology may in effect be poly-developmental;
that is, the mythology may be so organized that it will
effectively potentiate neurocognitive structures at vari-
ous stages of maturation. And, once the constellation
of neurognostic structures is on the path of matura-
tion, the mythopoeic system may re-potentiate the
developing structures at later junctures—may partici-
pate in “initiating” the next stage of development.
Anthropologists have reported a number of societies
that have mythopoeic systems that are explicitly
designed in multiple levels of narrative, each subse-
quent and more complex level given to initiates when
they are developmentally ready to receive it.

course this has been the initiation strategy of many of
the Western mystery schools in their programs of ini-
tiation and spiritual development.

Thus we are able to conceptualize eidetic cosmol-

ogy in terms of Fisher information. We can see that I
may reside both in the individual mindbrains of soci-

ety’s members, and when shared with others, in the
society’s information pool. We may also see that each
level of I (individual and cultural) interacts as part of a
single process (1) by means of which individual mind-
brains become penetrated and potentiated by various
elements of the eidetic cosmology, and (2) by means of
which each society’s information pool remains
informed by the living experience of eidetic cosmology.
As long as a living eidetic cosmology is reiterated in
each generation, this natural neurognostic cycle of
meaning will guarantee an adaptively optimal mini-
mization of the discrepancy between I and J, regardless
of what other localized elaborations may attend the
more transcultural attributes of knowledge. This sys-
tem maintains its natural adaptational role and allows
local elaboration that may imagine cognized realities
having minimal or no existence in extramental reality.
In other words, mindbrains may generate, and infor-
mation pools may perpetuate all sorts of information
having little or no isomorphism with J, and as long as
these do not increase the discrepancy between I and J,
biological adaptation will not be diminished.

Alternative States, the Information Pool,

and Fisher Information

et us return now to the main theme of this study.
The central question is how does this neurognostic

cycle of meaning remain intact through the genera-
tions? How does it continue to operate to maintain an
adaptively optimal range of discrepancy between
knowledge and extramental reality? And how does it
operate to maintain a balance in knowledge about the
inner reality of being and the outer reality of environ-
ment?

One of the major, and quite natural ways that

these features are maintained through time is by social
prescription of ASC in each generation—what might
be considered a special case of Durkheim’s “collective
effervescence.” There are two fundamental attributes
of the kind of ASC in which we are presently interest-
ed that need to be underscored. Whether the ASC be
lucid dreaming as among the Australian Aborigines,
trance states arising in rituals like the Native American
Sundance, peyote journeys of Native American
Church rituals and Huichol ceremonies, vision quests
among plains Indian groups, or jhana or “absorption”
states among Buddhist or western mysteries medita-
tors, an ineluctable ingredient of these experiences

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Conclusion

ur argument is fairly complete and reasonably
straightforward. Let us briefly summarize the

high points of the theory, and then we can close with
some few inferences drawn from it. We have noted the
ubiquitous importance of alternative states of con-
sciousness among the world’s cultures, and have pre-
sented an explanation for this fact. The explanation
draws upon Fisher information, which conceives of
extramental reality as a repository of information J,
which is in large part unavailable to the human mind-
brain. But the mindbrain is designed to model reality
in the interests of adaptation and develops a system of
information I about reality. Moreover, consciousness
evidences a patterned drive to minimize, as far as pos-
sible, the discrepancy between I and J. Due to the fact
that the mindbrain is a finite information storage and
retrieval system in an over-rich information environ-
ment (J), I can never equal, but can only remain par-
tially isomorphic with J (see Scriven, 1977).

Human beings, a species of social primate, derive

much of their I from their society’s culture, or infor-
mation pool, which is in turn filtered through the lens
of their personalized interpretive frames. Thus there is
an intimate interaction between the adaptational drive
of the individual mindbrain, the corpus of informa-
tion made available by the group’s culture, and the
knowledge accrued by individuals in the context of
their unique personal histories. The world views of
many of the world’s cultures are informed to some
extent by transcultural attributes of an eidetic cosmol-
ogy—which is to say the inherited, species typical,
archetypal knowledge about extramental reality,
knowledge that is (so to speak) “wired into” the infant
mindbrain, and that includes self-awareness and
knowledge of the individual’s own being. Moreover,
societies commonly encourage or require their mem-
bers to participate in rituals that are designed to evoke
ASC, and the interpretation of these extraordinary
experiences is at least partially informed by the soci-
ety’s cosmological world view. Because of certain fun-
damental attributes of ASC, such experiences may
operate to minimize the discrepancy between the soci-
ety’s world view (I) and the nature of extramental real-
ity (J). In other words, in certain contexts ASC may
operate as truers of I, and through a complex social sys-
tem, the world view. Utilizing ASC, cultures are able
to effectively maintain a minimal level of realism in the

interests of adaptation to an ultimately transcendental
reality.

We want to quickly point out, however, that not

all ASC experiences are necessarily wholesome in this
sense. Everything depends upon the social and envi-
ronmental circumstances attending the experience.
There are of course instances where ASC may have the
opposite effect—that of decreasing the correspondence
between I and J. But anthropologists have long known
that socially important ASC tend to occur within the
context of ritual circumstances in which the group is
in control of both the conditions of evocation of
extraordinary experiences and the interpretation of
such experiences when they do occur, for example,
trances occurring during Sundance Religion cere-
monies (Jorgensen, 1972). The intent of social control
of ASC is to place the socially proper interpretive spin
on ASC in the interests of the commonweal—in the
interests of completing the cultural cycle of meaning.

There are a number of implications of this theory

for the study of culture, religion, social issues, and the
anthropology of knowledge. We do not have the space
here to explore all of them, but we will suggest one of
the more important implications before closing.

ASC Trueing and

The Evolution of Culture

erhaps one of the most important implications of
the present theory pertains to the relationship

between culture and extramental reality. We have seen
that ASC may operate as truers of a culture’s world
view—an inherent process we may call ASC trueing.
Of course there are other processes that operate in a
similar way to true culture, among them an inherent
pragmatism in all social animals with mindbrains that
rely upon learning for adaptation (Laughlin &
d’Aquili, 1974; Changeux, 1985; Edelman, 1987,
1989). But few of these other mechanisms true knowl-
edge pertaining both to inner and to outer reality,
being, and environment. Given what appears to be the
ubiquitous presence of ASC trueing, one might sus-
pect, as have Michael Winkelman (2000), Paul
Devereux (1992, 1997), and others, that the inherent
drive to ASC has been with us a very long time.
Indeed, although it would be hard to prove short of
owning a time machine, there is reason to suppose that
ASC have been important to human society at least
back to the beginnings of the Upper Paleolithic, some

Experience, Culture, and Reality

“mystical” knowledge or experience is not mystical at
all. It is simply “the way things are.” After all, the
English word “occult” just means “hidden from view”
or “hard to see.” When we experience and compre-
hend the mysteries, they are no longer hidden, and
hence no longer “occult.” As we have argued, the
human mindbrain is neurognostically prepared to
apprehend the mysteries, but it is perhaps to the extent
that we have been enculturated not to do so (for
instance, to ignore our dream life) that we must apply
effort and exotic techniques to produce mystical expe-
riences (say, learn to apprehend and interpret our
dreams, to meditate, or to twirl in Sufi dancing). One
of the characteristics of a sensate culture is that it will
not exhibit a living mythology, while a society out on
the ideational pole will relate everything of importance
back to the culture’s mythological tradition and core
symbolism. As we have seen, a member of an ideation-
al culture has the opportunity to be enculturated into
the eidetic cosmology by way of the group’s corpus of
sacred stories, which often involves rituals designed to
evoke ASC.

As we say, the mindbrain is born knowing the

world in both the unitizing mode of eidetic cosmology
and in the particularizing, empirical mode of local
adaptation. During its maturation, the mindbrain will
strive to establish a resolution of the tension produced
by these two ways of knowing. But our brain is a liv-
ing system of cells, and if the press of environmental
and social conditions result in an over-emphasis upon
localized adaptational development—which is a con-
dition that seems endemic to sensate cultures—the
inherent processes of socio-psycho-somatic integration
will tend to reassert their activities wherever possible.
Such compensatory activities may be experienced by
the individual as spontaneous “mystical” dreams,
visions, spirit possession or entity channeling, and
other transpersonal phenomena—perhaps as Carl Jung
taught, a calling to greater attention to the deeper
workings of the psyche (Dourley, 1998). In the
absence of a corpus of sacred stories, these experiences
may produce confusion and uncertainty for the indi-
vidual having them. A society that has a sensate culture
and which has lost touch with its mythological tradi-
tion is awkwardly positioned to guide its people to a
way of life in keeping with the more unitary aspects of
reality and experience of self. Indeed, spontaneous
transpersonal experiences may be greeted by negative
sanctions, the individual experiencing these phenomena

being perhaps labeled as “crazy,” “dangerous,” a
“kook,” and so forth.

Spiritual Movements in Modern

Sensate Society: Toward Integration?

he problem with sensate cultures is that they are
relatively monophasic in their view—that is, sen-

sate cultures value information attained in only one
state of consciousness, namely what we call “normal
waking consciousness.” Idealistic and ideational cul-
tures by comparison are relatively polyphasic in their
evaluation of alternative states of consciousness—they
value information from a variety of states of conscious-
ness, and tend to pay close attention to states such as
lucid dreams, trance states, possession states, shamanic
journeys, etc. Yet modern postindustrial societies are in
many ways more variegated than the social systems we
have studied in the past. While the dominant values of
Euroamerican society are those of sensate culture, one
of the great advantages (and in some contexts disad-
vantages) of living in modern society is that one may
opt out of the dominant sensate world view and seek
what might be characterized as a path to greater “bal-
ance” in self-understanding. In fact many people today
follow a variety of spiritual movements ranging from
eastern traditions like tai chi, Sufism, and Buddhism,
and aboriginal paths like neoshamanism and the
Medicine Wheel, to western European approaches like
Wicca, Rosicrucianism, Jungian analysis and “rave”
culture. Some paths are derived from ancient tradi-
tions, others from recent innovations, and of course
one will find a variety of symbolism and values
expressed in each. But one thing that all of these move-
ments have in common is that they espouse a polypha-
sic orientation—they positively value discrete ASC
which are interpreted in the ways we have suggested in
this study. They all seek wisdom by way of procedures
that are designed to evoke ASC, and when these do
occur, they are treated as valued sources of information
about the self and the normally hidden aspects of
external reality, which in due course are interpreted
according to their respective world view. The motive
power being facilitated by these social movements is
apparent: The inherent drive of the mindbrain to min-
imize the discrepancy between the knowledge of self
and world its structures mediate (I), and the nature of
extramental being and reality (J).

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

heads for the trees. Whether or not an actual lion is
present, the reaction is adaptive, for the brain does not
have to take the time for the full presence of the lion
before it makes a judgement and takes action.

The implications of these humble beginnings of

symbolic cognition are quite significant, for it seems
highly likely that the evolution of psychoactive iconog-
raphy ran something like this: The natural facility of
the mindbrain to apperceive whole objects from par-
tial sensory data—a proclivity that among other things
allows the evolution of various kinds of imitative adap-
tations among animals (e.g., moths whose wing patterns
look like owls)—eventually led to the recognition in
simulacra of forms considered vital to individual devel-
opment and an adaptive world view of the group.
Perhaps individuals began to recognize—literally rec-
ognize—or apperceive natural objects as symbols
linked to salient emotional, intuitive, imaginative, and
cognitive associations associated with psychological
and sociocultural concerns. They recognized in natural
formations the images of group leaders, archetypal
dream figures, or figures encountered after consuming
psychoactive plants. Because these images were consid-
ered powerful, numinous and sacred (i.e., related to
mythic lore), so too were the evocative natural features
in the environment. The landscape itself became
deeply redolent with symbolic-cosmic meaning, rich
with the suggestive power of spiritual significance
(Devereux, 1992). Through the evocative power of
simulacra, features in the local environment could
have operated as a truer to both external and internal
reality, bringing both into accord by way of shared
symbolism, and perhaps even as ritual drivers produc-
ing ASC. By way of ASC, or symbolism associated
with ASC-related experiences, such simulacra could
accrue the power to actually evoke elements of the
eidetic cosmology and attendant numinosity by them-
selves. For instance, these simulacra might have evoked
experiences which brought to mind the existence of
such eidetic elements as divine presences, invisible
domains, and multiple realities, for in recognizing
salient symbolic images in what would otherwise be
considered inanimate natural objects, individuals
might have come to perceive the mysterious workings
of causally efficacious hidden forces and beings.
Moreover, that features evident to sensory perception
could possibly index extrasensory realms of causality
may have given rise not only to the idea that there was
more than one reality, but that there was also some sig-

nificant connection between sensory and extrasensory
realities. This may well have led to the first pilgrimages
in which natural features became associated with pow-
erful beings and events that occurred in mythic times.
Thus the landscape became “sacred” and movement in
and around simulacra could operate to remind (literal-
ly re-mind; reproducing ASC-related experiences) par-
ticipants of the crucial connection between contempo-
rary and mythic times.

As hominids became technically more advanced

and proficient, they became capable of altering and
elaborating simulacra and the landscape to enhance
the evocative power of the natural features. Perhaps
they built additional features—i.e., altered the
acoustics of caves and other chambers to enhance the
effects of singing and chanting (Jahn, Devereux &
Ibison, 1996)—added artistic imagery to cave walls
and sacred landmarks for the purposes of initiation,
pilgrimage, and so forth. Thus the facility of the sim-
ulacra and landscape for evoking ASC within ritual
contexts, and as reminders of such experiences,
became elaborated and more effective at renewing the
associations between individual experience, cosmology,
and reality within an emotional context of numinosity
(or Durkheim’s “collective effervescence”). Eventually,
of course, hominids became so technically proficient
that they could produce spiritually significant objects
from raw materials, and thus free themselves from nec-
essary dependence upon simulacra—although we are
quick to add that simulacra remain with us to the present
day—these became sacred icons in the more modern
sense. Architecture and iconography came to prevail in
human symbolism—in some cultures tied in with
notions of a sacred landscape (e.g., Chinese fung sui),
and in other cultures with little, if any reference to
landscape or simulacra.

Final Remarks

There are other implications of the theory of ASC

trueing, among them an exhortation for greater atten-
tion being paid during fieldwork to the relationship
between extraordinary experience and cultural world
view. Also, implications include the indication of a
more central role of spiritual art in mediating between
culture and experience—especially art and ASC—and
the necessity of examining more closely those states of
consciousness facilitating contemporary scientific and
philosophical insights into the fundamental structures

Experience,Culture, and Reality

35 to 40 thousand years ago. Our suspicion is that the
reliance upon ASC truing began to emerge as the
human mindbrain reached the point in its evolution
when it was capable of generating I’s that were suffi-
ciently out of accord with J that the mindbrain cogni-
tive functioning could become maladaptive. The trou-
ble with having an advanced mindbrain in an animal
that relies heavily on social adaptation strategies is that
everyone in the group has to be more or less on the
same page in order to facilitate social action. In lower
animals, it is neurognosis, common development, and
experience that guarantee an adaptive information
pool. But human beings are capable of a great plastic-
ity of views, and more importantly, may imagine real-
ities unconstrained by perceptual experience. Seriously
divergent I’s would make a socially shared world view
and concerted social action difficult to attain. In other
words, the more complex the brain,

the more it is

capable of imagining worlds that do not in fact exist.
We argue that in this context, selection would favor
mechanisms that allowed for the greater communica-
tive advantages inherent in an advanced, ever more
complex mindbrain, while making sure that both indi-
vidual and socially shared I’s remain minimally dis-
crepant from J (see Laughlin & d’Aquili, 1974).

The ramifications of this view are important to

our understanding of the evolution of culture. For, on
the present account, culture does not evolve. Culture
is an abstraction we anthropologists use to label a pool
of shared information carried around in the bodies and
brains of a society’s members. In point of fact, only
bodies evolve. Moreover, what has evolved is the organ
of culture, the hominid nervous system, and with it
the capacity to generate I’s of increasing complexity,
no longer constrained by the world of experience in
the perceptual “now.”

The evolution of culture has been a matter of cen-

tral concern to anthropologists for well over a century
and a half, but heretofore our understanding of culture
has been biased toward the socially shared information
pertaining to outer reality—the ever-changing physical
world to which humans have had to adapt in order to
survive, and the social relations obtaining between
members of society. Great attention has been given to
family and kinship relations, and to the manufacture
of tools, shelters, clothing, and other items critical to
subsistence and protection from the environment. But
extramental reality (J) is far vaster than social organi-
zation, the local environment, and local knowledge. As

we have seen, the extramental world is the universe
and that universe includes our very being. Natural
processes of trueing involve both the local environ-
ment of social and physical relations, and the rest of
reality—including the universe, our body, and its
mindbrain.

What the present theory requires us to consider

are the social and technological ramifications of true-
ing to inner reality—the world often referred to in the
ethnographic literature as the “world of spirit,” or in
depth psychology as the “collective unconscious.” We
do not have the space here to address this issue in the
detail it deserves, but we can suggest some directions.
As we have reasoned above, the process of trueing very
likely has involved socially prescribed ASC for at least
the last 40 millennia, and probably longer. This is evi-
dent in the shamanic use of ritual, iconography and
sometimes psychotropic drugs that has left its mark on
cave and rock art for thousands of generations.
Methods that used ritually situated symbolism to
potentiate and evoke ASC were likely a common fea-
ture in these rituals. This raises the interesting question
about the origins of psychoactive iconography.

Our good friend and colleague, Paul Devereux

(1992, 2000), has thought a lot about this question.
He has pointed to the significance of simulacra for
unlocking some of the sacred experiences had by long
dead peoples. According to Devereux, a simulacrum is
“the illusory image of a face, castle, animal, human fig-
ure or other shape or form seen in the chance config-
urations of clouds, the coals of fire, the bark of a tree,
reflections in water, the cracks, crevices and projec-
tions of a rock face, or other surface” (2000, p.157; see
also Michell, 1979, for a cross-cultural compendium
of simulacra). Cultures all over the planet recognize
sacred places that are named for these chance resem-
blances; for instance, Sleeping Ute Mountain in
Colorado, the Paps (meaning breasts in Gaelic) of Jura
in the Hebrides, or the Grandfather and Grandmother
rocks on Samui Island off Thailand. The neuropsy-
chology of this phenomenon seems clear enough. The
human brain is designed to apperceive whole events
and objects from partial information. The mindbrain
abstracts patterns of sensory information and makes
sense of them. We never have all the possible informa-
tion about anything we identify—indeed, taking
Fisher information seriously, we can never have all of
the information about anything. A flash of yellow in
the grass becomes a lion on the prowl, and everyone

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

qualities,” Berkeley argues that the “ideas we have of
these [secondary qualities] they [Locke] acknowledge
not to be the resemblances of anything existing with-
out the mind or unperceived; but they will have our
ideas of the primary qualities to be patterns or images
of things which exist without the mind, in an unthink-
ing substance which they call matter. By matter there-
fore we are to understand an inert, senseless substance,
in which extension, figure, and motion, do actually
subsist. But it is evident from what we have already
shown, that extension, figure and motion are only
ideas existing in the mind, and that an idea can be like
nothing but another idea, and that consequently nei-
ther they nor their archetypes can exist in an unper-
ceiving substance. Hence it is plain that the very
notion of what is called matter or corporeal substance,
involves a contradiction in it” (1988 [1710], 56 sec-
tion 9). Indeed, as Berkeley asserts, “when we do the
utmost to conceive the existence of external bodies, we
are all the while only contemplating our own ideas.
But the mind taking no notice of itself, is deluded to
think it can and does conceive bodies existing
unthought of or without mind” (1988 [1710], 61 sec-
tion 23).

5. As Hintikka argues, “It is important to realize what
is involved in the Husserlian quest of the immediately
given and why it cannot be accommodated by any
dichotomy between our consciousness (prominently
including its intentional acts) and the intended
objects. The idea that something about the actual
world is immediately given to me implies that any
such sharp dichotomy has to break down. What is
immediately given to me will then at the same time be
part of the mind-independent reality and an element
of my consciousness. There has to be an actual inter-
face or overlap on my consciousness and reality. This is
the basic reason why any sharp contrast between the
realm of noemata and the world of mind-independent
realities ultimately has to be loosened up in Husserl”
(1995). “According to Husserl, there is an actual inter-
face of my consciousness and reality, that reality in fact
impinges directly on my consciousness” (Hintikka
1995, p. 83).

6. Ronald Aylmer Fisher (1890-1962) was one of the
founders of modern statistics—perhaps best known in
the social sciences for the Fisher’s Exact Test. He was
very interested in experimental design and he pro-

posed the view of information that bears his name in
the early 1920s.

7. Fisher information must be considered as distinct
from the more common contemporary sense of
Shannon information. Claude E. Shannon's theory of
information co-opted the term from common parl-
ance for its own particular purpose. And its purpose
was to define information in such a way that: (1)
Information could usefully be applied to problems in
communication and computation technology, (2)
information could be measured independent of the
amount or nature of the energy used to produce infor-
mation, and (3) information is independent of mean-
ing. In his famous 1948 article, “The Mathematical
Theory of Communication,” Shannon (reprinted in
Shannon & Weaver, 1963), then a Bell Laboratories
scientist, defined information in a very special sense. If
knowledge may be represented mathematically as a
distribution of probabilites—a numerical code if you
will that “stands for” knowledge—then information is
“anything that causes an adjustment in a probability
assignment” (Tribus & McIrvine, 1971, p 179).

8. We are using the terms trueing and truer in the
archaic sense of trueing up a wall or door—making
something conform to the way things are. According
to the dictionary, the word “true” connotes that one's
statement is consistent with the facts, is in agreement
with reality, represents things as they really are, or
matches the description of the way things are. In other
words, the sense of the root is “telling the truth” in
both the sense that what one says is consistent with
reality, and that it is consistent with reality as one
knows it to be without deceit (i.e., both a subjective
and an objective connotation of genuineness). The
root also refers to agreement of an act or statement
with some standard, rule, or pattern. The connotation
is that the statement “is as it should be” or correct.

9. What is subtle about Geertz’ argument is that he
manages to maintain an attenuated form of psychic
unity in the midst of an attempt to champion the cul-
tural determination of the human mind. The key for
Geertz is time-scale. Where most culture theorists have
grounded their arguments for the cultural constitution
of the psyche in historical periods and in differing cul-
tural settings, Geertz attempts to bring culture in the
“back door,” so to speak, by viewing the cultural prod-

Experience, Culture, and Reality

of reality. But we wish to leave the reader with the sub-
mission that focusing upon the aspect of information
in experience, culture and reality may be a productive
line of inquiry, for it allows us the currency of
exchange between various domains of discourse (i.e.,
between individual experience, the intersubjectivity of
sociocultural life, and extramental reality) without cre-
ating methodologically paralyzing gaps between mind
and body, mental and physical, and individual and
social. If all of these domains are seen as repositories of
information, and if information may be defined in
such a way that each domain is translatable into the
others, then there is the possibility of building theories
that integrate knowledge of these various domains into
a more unified view. From our present perspective,
perhaps the best route to follow in building really
robust anthropological theory is to ground future
research in a cultural neurophenomenology that
remains in accord with Fisher information.

Author Note

Many thanks to Michael Winkelman, and Laughlin’s
fellow International Consciousness Research
Laboratories (ICRL) colleagues, especially Paul
Devereux and Hal Puthoff, for their many helpful sug-
gestions.

End Notes

1. In using the term “traditional” we are referring pri-
marily to peoples who participate in nonindustrial
modes of subsistence. It is important to note that by
utilizing this adjective we do not wish to imply that
these societies are in any sense “timeless” or impervious
to historical, political, or social change. Indeed, the
“traditions” found in “traditional societies” are just as
likely as “traditions” found in industrial and post-
industrial societies to undergo processes of transforma-
tion. As Obeyesekere (1981) has made clear in his
important work on personal symbols, the subjectifica-
tion of culture that provides a potential basis for ensu-
ing cultural transformation is a process that occurs in
all cultures, regardless of the form of their sociopoliti-
cal organization.

2. It is not the place to argue for metaphysical realism.
Rather, we assume realism, and furthermore contend
that any useful science is grounded upon some form of

realism or other (see Devitt, 1991, on this issue).

3. It is important to recall that extramental reality is
not limited to “externally” given percepts for it is also
the case that aspects of “internal” reality (i.e., the
structure of the nervous system) are also “extramental”
in the sense given in this paper. Indeed, when we speak
of structures of consciousness which place important
constraints upon the structures of experience (see for
instance Husserl’s [1950, 1964] discussion of the
protentional and retentional structure of time con-
sciousness), we are referring directly to aspects of the
extra-mental nature of this internal reality.

4. According to Locke (1979[1689]), “primary quali-
ties” are those qualities or powers adhering in objects
that produce phenomenologically accessible ideas and
sensations that reflect the “actual” properties of the
object qua object (e.g. extension, solidity, motion, rest,
shape, size etc.). In contrast, “secondary qualities” are
those qualities or powers that produce phenomenolog-
ically accessible ideas and sensations that, while they
are ascribed to the object, do not reflect the “actual”
properties of the object qua object (e.g. color, taste,
smell, heat, cold). Locke argues that these “secondary
qualities” are causally produced by the action and
interaction of the “primary qualities” adhering in a
given object. Locke’s distinction between “primary”
and “secondary” qualities therefore establishes a logical
“gap” between those ideas impressed upon the mind
that serve to represent any given “material object” and
the indirectly perceived mind-independent “material”
that supposedly underlies and gives rise to those
impressions.

In his famous defense of his doctrine of immateri-

alism, Bishop Berkeley is highly critical of Locke on
this accord. Indeed, in contrast to this perspective,
Berkeley asserts that the “sensible objects” we perceive
are not “representations” of imperceptible material
objects composed of “primary qualities,” but are
directly perceived collections of mind-dependent
ideas. In other words, Berkeley wanted to advance a
“non-representational” understanding of the percep-
tion of “things” which corresponds to a “common-
sense” rendering of reality as consisting precisely of
those qualities and sensations that are immediately
perceived through our various sensory modalities
(1988 [1710]). Specifically in an attempt to refute
Locke’s distinction between “primary” and “secondary

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Dourley, J. (1998). The innate capacity: Jung and the

mystical imperative. In R. K.C. Forman (Ed.), The
innate capacity: Mysticism, psychology, and philoso-
phy (pp. 123–136). Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Durkheim, E. (1995). The elementary forms of religious

life. (K. Fields, Trans.). London: Allen. (Original
work published 1912).

Edelman, G. (1987). Neural Darwinism: The theory of

neuronal group selection. New York: Basic Books.

Edelman, G. (1989). The remembered present: A biolog-

ical theory of consciousness. New York: Basic Books.

Feyerabend, P. (1993). Against method: Outline of an

anarchistic theory of knowledge (3rd edition). New
York: Norton.

Forman, R.K.C. (Ed.). (1998). The innate capacity:

Mysticism, psychology, and philosophy. Oxford:
Oxford University Press.

Frieden, B.R. (1998). Physics from Fisher information:

A unification. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Geertz, C. (1973). The interpretation of cultures. New

York: Basic Books.

Geertz, C. (1983). Local knowledge. New York: Basic

Books.

Given, B. J. (1986). A study of Tibetan Tantric psycho-

religious technology. Unpublished doctoral disserta-
tion, University of Alberta, Edmonton, Alberta,
Canada.

Goodenough, W.H. (1954) Cultural anthropology

and linguistics. In D. Hymes (Ed.), Language in
culture and society (pp. 36–39). New York: Harper
& Row.

Goodenough, W.H. (1971) Culture, language, and

society. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley.

Gould, S. J. (1991). Exaptation: A crucial tool for an

evolutionary psychology. Journal of Social Issues, 47,
43–65.

Griaule, M. (1965). Conversations with Ogotemmeli.

London: Oxford University Press.

Hintikka, J. (1995). The phenomenological dimen-

sion. In B. Smith & D.W. Smith (Eds.), The
Cambridge companion to Husserl (pp. 78–105).
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, .

Hollan, D. (2000). Constructivist models of mind,

contemporary psychoanalysis, and the develop-
ment of culture theory. American Anthropologist
102(3), 538–550.

Husserl, E. (1933/1950). Cartesian meditations.

London: Kluwer Academic Press. (Original work
published 1933).

Husserl, E. (1964). The phenomenology of internal

time-consciousness. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.

Ihde, D. (1977). Experimental phenomenology New

York: Putnam.

Jahn, R.G., Devereux, P., & Ibison, M. (1996).

Acoustical resonances of assorted ancient struc-
tures. Journal of the Acoustical Society of America,
99(2), 649–658.

Jorgensen, D. (1980). What's in a name: The meaning

of nothingness in telefolmin. Ethos 8(4), 349–366.

Jorgensen, J. G. (1972). The sun dance religion.

Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Jung, C. G. (1964). Man and his symbols. New York:

Doubleday.

Kluckholn, C. (1959). Recurrent themes in myths and

mythmaking. Daedalus, 88, 268–279.

Kroeber, A. L. & Kluckhohn, C. (1952). Culture: A

critical review of concepts and definitions. Papers
of the Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and
Ethnology, Vol. 65.

Laughlin, C. D. (1989). Transpersonal anthropology:

Some methodological issues. Western Canadian
Anthropologist, 5, 29–60.

Laughlin, C. D. (1991). Pre- and perinatal brain

development and enculturation: A biogenetic
structural approach. Human Nature, 2(3), 171–213.

Laughlin, C. D. (1994a). Transpersonal anthropology,

then and now. Transpersonal Review, 1(1), 7–10.

Laughlin, C. D. (1994b). Psychic energy and transper-

sonal experience: A biogenetic structural account
of the Tibetan Dumo practice. In D.E. Young & J.-
G. Goulet (Eds.), Being changed by cross-cultural
encounters: The anthropology of extraordinary experi-
ences (pp. 99-134). Peterborough: Broadview Press.

Laughlin, C. D. (1997). The cycle of meaning: Some

methodological implications of biogenetic struc-
tural theory. In S. Glazier (Ed.), Anthropology of
religion: handbook of theory and method (pp.
471–488). Greenwood Press.

Laughlin, C. D. (2001). Mandalas, nixies, goddesses,

and succubi: A transpersonal anthropologist looks
at the anima. International Journal of Transpersonal
Studies 20, 33–52.

Laughlin, C.D. & D'Aquili, E.G. (1974). Biogenetic

structuralism. New York: Columbia University
Press.

Laughlin, C.D., McManus, J. & d'Aquili, E.G.

(1990). Brain, symbol and experience: Toward a neu-
rophenomenology of consciousness. New York:
Columbia University Press.

Laughlin, C.D. & Throop, C.J. (2001). Imagination

and reality: On the relations between myth, con-
sciousness, and the quantum sea. Zygon 36(4),
709–736.

Experience,Culture, and Reality

ucts of the earliest stages of hominid evolution as cen-
tral contributing factors to anthropogenesis. This is
not to say that Geertz is not also highly sympathetic to
the effects of culture on everyday mental contents and
processes; he most certainly is. However, Geertz main-
tains that cultural diversity is, in the end, generated by
human minds which share a number of capacities that
were culturally influenced in phylogenesis.

10. It is interesting to note here how strongly some of
Geertz’ ideas on the extra-somatic nature of significant
symbols and artifacts seem to resonate with Wilhelm
Dilthey’s writings on “objectified mind” (see Throop,
2002).

11. There is very likely penetration to unconscious
structures as well, and in that case they will not be
experienced, at least not at the time of initial penetra-
tion. Unconscious structures may potentiate and
develop but remain dormant from the point of view of
the conscious ego of the developing person.

12. See the literature on the Telefolmin of Papua New
Guinea (Jorgensen, 1980), the Baktaman of New
Guinea (Barth, 1975), the Tamang shamans of Nepal
(Peters, 1982), the Tukano of Amazonia (Reichel-
Dolmatoff, 1971), the Dogon of Africa (Griaule,
1965), and Tibetan lamas (Beyer, 1973; Given, 1986)
for examples of societies with poly-potentiating, devel-
opmentally sensitive mythic systems.

13. This is another way of formulating what we earli-
er termed the “cognitive extension of prehension”
(CEP; see Laughlin & d’Aquili, 1974).

14. A complexity that is (perhaps ironically) at least
partially the result of an increasing necessity for preci-
sion in the service of ensuring mutual intelligibility in
the context of intersubjective communication.

References

d'Aquili, E. G., Laughlin, C. D., & McManus, J.

(1979). The spectrum of ritual. New York:
Columbia University Press.

d’Aquili, E. G., & Newberg, A. B. (1999). The mysti-

cal mind: Probing the biology of religious experience.
Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press.

Berkeley, G. (1988). Principles of human knowledge:

Three dialogues. New York: Penguin Books.
(Originally published 1710)

Barth, F. (1975). Ritual and knowledge among the

Baktaman of New Guinea. New Haven, CT: Yale
University Press.

Bartlett, F. C. (1932). Remembering: A study in experi-

mental and social psychology.

Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press.

Berger, H. M. (1999). Metal, rock, and jazz: Perception

and the phenomenology of musical experience.
Hanover: Wesleyan University Press.

Beyer, S. (1973). The cult of Tara. Berkeley, California:

University of California Press.

Bourguignon, E., (1973). Religion, altered states of con-

sciousness, and social change. Columbus, OH: Ohio
State University Press.

Bourguignon, E. & Evascu, T.L. (1977). Altered states

of consciousness within a general evolutionary per-
spective: A holocultural analysis. Behavior Science
Research 12(3), 197–216.

Boyer, P. (1999). Cognitive tracks of cultural inheri-

tance: How evolved intuitive ontology governs cul-
tural transmission. American Anthropologist,
100(4), 876–889.

Campbell, J. (1959). The masks of God: Primitive

mythology. New York: Viking.

Cardena, E., Lynn, S.J., & Krippner, S. (2000).

Varieties of anomalous experience: Examining the sci-
entific evidence. Washington, D.C.: American
Psychological Association.

Changeux, J.-P. (1985). Neuronal man: The biology of

mind. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Count, E.W. (1973). Being and becoming human. New

York: Van Nostrand Reinhold.

Devereux, P. (1992). Symbolic landscapes. Sumerset,

England: Gothic Image Publications.

Devereux, P. (1997). The long trip: A prehistory of psy-

chedelia. New York: Penguin.

Devereux, P. (2000). The sacred place. London: Cassell.
Devitt, M. (1991). Realism and truth (2nd edition).

Oxford: Blackwell.

Dobkin de Rios, M. (1984). Hallucinogens:

Crosscultural perspectives. Albuquerque, NM:
University of New Mexico Press.

Dobkin de Rios, M., & Winkelman, M. (Eds.).

(1989). Shamanism and altered states of conscious-
ness. [Special issue] Journal of Psychoactive Drugs
21(1).

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Gnostic Dilemmas in

Western Psychologies of Spirituality

rom the perspective of the sociology of world
religions developed by Max Weber (1963), fig-
ures such as Nietzsche, Emerson, Jung,

Heidegger, and Maslow—in their overlapping
attempts at a broadly “naturalistic” understanding of
spirituality—are exemplars of a contemporary “inner-
worldly” mysticism. It is “inner” or “this-worldly” in
terms of their attempts to understand an experiential
core of spirituality as a specifically human capacity.
Inner-worldly mysticisms are directly cultivated while
living within the everyday social world, in contrast to
the ashrams, monasteries, or caves of the classical
“other-worldly” mysticisms. Weber’s colleague Ernst
Troeltsch (1960) anticipated that naturalistically
understood inner-worldly mysticisms would emerge as
the “secret religion of the educated classes,” conse-
quent on the continuing secularization of the more
prophetically based, mainstream Judeo-Christian tra-
dition. This development is well illustrated in both
“New Age” spiritualities and in the emergence of
transpersonal psychology itself (Hunt, 2003).

To paraphrase Weber on the Protestant

Reformation as one source of the “spirit of capital-
ism,”we could now say that just as historical capitalism
needed the ethical attitude to one’s vocation as sacred,
so our current society of individuals, autonomous and
separate to the point of isolation, may not be fully live-
able without the sense of presence, felt reality, or Being

cultivated by the more contemplative spiritual tradi-
tions. However inevitable and needed this develop-
ment, such a direct consciousness of the immediacy of
Being seems especially vulnerable to the emotional
trauma and frustration attendant on any radical per-
sonal openness in the midst of a less than supportive
utilitarian society—and especially where vulnerabili-
ties in sense of self and self esteem are so widespread.
Weber, for instance, spoke of the attitude of “broken
humility” associated with inner-worldly spirituality,
while Jung saw dangers of a defensive, compensatory
“inflation” in modern self-realization. It may not be an
accident that recent transpersonal psychology has been
increasingly exploring the close interrelationship
between spiritual experience and character “meta-
pathologies” related to narcissistic grandiosity, schizoid
withdrawal, and despair (Almaas, 1988; Hunt, 1998,
2000, 2003).

Inner-worldly mysticism in the modern west has

its historical “shadow” in Hellenistic Gnosticism, for
Weber the multifaceted spiritual response of disenfran-
chised educated classes to Roman hegemony. “Gnosis”
comes from the Greek Nous—for intelligence/univer-
sal mind—and referred to a knowing of the divine by
direct experience and acquaintance rather than by any
received doctrine. Its various forms include but are
hardly exhausted by the Egyptian Hermeticists, het-
erodox Christian Valentinians, Persian Manichees, and
heretical Sethians. Its multiple forms are so diverse that
some have doubted whether Gnosticism could have
any defining essence (Williams, 1996). Indeed, some
Jungian scholars have rather loosely generalized the

Gnostic Dilemmas

Levi-Strauss, C. (1964). Mythologiques: Le Cru et le

Cuit. Paris: Plon.

Levi-Strauss, C. (1967). Structural anthropology.

Garden City, NJ: Doubleday.

Levi-Strauss, C. (1971). Mythologiques: L'Homme Nu.

Paris: Plon.

Levi-Strauss, C. (1978). Myth and meaning. London:

Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Locke, J. (1979). An essay concerning human under-

standing. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (Original work
published 1689).

Michell, J.F. (1979). Simulacra: Faces and figures in

nature. London: Thames & Hudson.

Miller, G.A., Galanter, E.H., & Pribram, K.H.

(1960). Plans and the structure of behavior. New
York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston.

Murdock, G.P. (1967). Ethnographic atlas: A summary.

Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press.

Newberg, A., d’Aquili, E.G., & Rause, V. (2002). Why

god won’t go away. New York: Ballantine.

Obeyesekere, G. (1981). Medusa’s hair. Chicago: The

University of Chicago Press.

Peters, L.G. (1982). Trance, initiation, and psy-

chotherapy in Tamang shamanism. American
Ethnologist, 9(1), 21–46.

Piaget, J. (1977). The development of thought. New

York: The Viking Press.

Piaget, J. (1985). The equilibration of cognitive struc-

tures. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.

Pribram, K.H. (1971). Languages of the brain.

Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall.

Puthoff, H.E. (2002). Searching for the universal

matrix in metaphysics. Research News and
Opportunities in Science and Theology (Templeton
Foundation Press) 2(8).

Reichel-Dolmatoff, G. (1971). Amazonian cosmos.

Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Ricoeur, P. (1991.) From text to action. Evanston:

Northwestern University Press.

Roberts, J.M. (1964). The self-management of cul-

tures. In W.H. Goodenough (Ed.), Explorations in
cultural anthropology: essays in honor of George Peter
Murdock (pp. 433–454). New York: McGraw-Hill.

Scriven, M. (1977). Reasoning. New York: McGraw

Hill.

Shannon, C.E. & Weaver, W. (1963). The mathemati-

cal theory of communication. Urbana, IL: University
of Illinois Press.

Shore, B. (1996). Culture in mind: Cognition, culture,

and the problem of meaning. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.

Slotkin, J.S. (1958). The peyote way. In W.A. Lessa &

E.Z. Vogt (Eds.), Reader in comparative religion: An
anthropological approach (1st edition) (pp.
482–486). Evanston, IL: Row, Peterson &
Company.

Sorokin, P.A. (1957). Social and cultural dynamics.

Boston: Porter Sargent.

Sorokin, P.A. (1962). Society, culture, and personality.

New York: Cooper Square Publishers.

Tart, C. (1975). States of consciousness. New York:

Dutton

Thompson, S. (1955). Motif index of folk-literature.

Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Throop, C.J. (2002). Experience, coherence, and cul-

ture: The significance of Dilthey’s “descriptive psy-
chology” for the anthropology of consciousness.
Anthropology of Consciousness, 13(1), 2–26.

Throop, C.J. (2003). On crafting a cultural mind—a

comparative assessment of some recent theories of
“internalization” in psychological anthropology.
Transcultural Psychiatry 40(1), 109–139.

Throop, C. J. & Laughlin, C.D. (2002). Ritual, col-

lective effervescence and the categories: Toward a
neo-Durkheimian model of the nature of human
consciousness, feeling and understanding. Journal
of Ritual Studies 16(1), 40–63.

Tribus, M., & McIrvine, E.C. (1971). Energy and

information. Scientific American, 225(3), 179–188.

Varela, F.J. (1979). Principles of biological autonomy.

New York: North Holland.

Wallace, A.F.C. (1966). Religion: An anthropological

view. New York: Random House.

Winkelman, M. (2000). Shamanism: The neural ecology

of consciousness and healing. Westport, CT: Bergin
& Garvey.

Young, D., & Goulet, J.-G. (Eds.). (1994). Being

changed by cross-cultural encounters: The anthropology
of extraordinary experience. Peterborough, Ontario,
Canada: Broadview Press.

Zinberg, N.E. (1977). Alternate states of consciousness.

New York: The Free Press.

Correspondence regarding this article should be
directed to the first author at:
Department of Sociology and Anthropology, Carleton
University, Ottawa, Ontario K1S5B6 Canada.
Email: claughlin9@aol.com

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Gnostic Dilemmas in Western Psychologies of Spirituality

Harry T. Hunt

Brock University

Early Gnosticism is identified as a form of Weber’s inner-worldly mysticism that, following the
critique of Plotinus, entailed spiritual metapathologies of inflated grandiosity, despair, and/or
social withdrawal. These vulnerabilities re-emerge in the naturalistic psychologies of spirituality
begun by Emerson, Nietzsche, Jung, and Maslow and more implicitly within contemporary per-
sonality and neuropsychological research on numinous/transpersonal experience. An updated
version of Gnostic dilemma and its conflicted dualism may be endemic to any would-be science
of the spiritual and to much current transpersonal psychology as well.

superiority, Ialdabaoth and his Archons pursue Eve
and rape her, thereby giving rise to Cain and Abel. The
pure pneuma of Eve escapes into the serpent, in these
satiric inversions of Genesis, who later instructs her as
to her true spiritual nature—thus the Ophites, or ser-
pent worshippers.

Meanwhile only Seth and his descendants are

truly born of the higher Adam and Eve, so only these
are predestined in terms of their pneuma to ascend to
the level of the Anthropos and reunite with the
Absolute. All other human beings are thereby of a
lower order and lost, remaining under the sway of
Ialdabaoth, who in a later terminology is the equiva-
lent of a Satanic ruler of the world—all this in hyper-
detailed versions of what Jung would term “active
imagination.” The “deficitly motivated” non-Sethians,
in other words, lack the genetic capacity for any full
Maslowian “self actualization” or Jungian individua-
tion.
3) The key distinctions, then, for the later Christian
Valentinians, as with the Sethians, become those
between the spiritually elect “pneumatics,” vs. the
more ordinary “psychics”—who can have no direct
experience of the numinous but only an indirect access
through the ethical teachings of the Bible—vs. the
lowest “people of clay.” Pneumatics are already pure
and so not bound by ordinary ethics—in Nietzsche’s
later version they are “beyond good and evil.” No con-
duct can sully such inherent purity, as reflected in the
words of Ptolomy, the major student of Valentinius:

Just as the element that consists in “dust” cannot
have a share in salvation—for …it is not capable of
receiving it—so also the spiritual element …cannot
receive corruption, no matter what sorts of behavior
it has come to pass its time in company with. For a
piece of gold does not lose its beauty when it is put
into filth but rather keeps its own nature, since the
filth cannot harm the gold. (Layton, 1987, p. 294)

Thus follow the “antinomian” tendencies of at least
some of the Gnostics, so notorious to both Plotinus
and the early Church Fathers (Jonas, 1963;
LaCarriere, 1989). They proclaimed themselves free of
traditional ethics, as in Simon Magus, who wandered
through Palestine in the years after the death of Jesus,
accompanied by Helena, an ex-prostitute whom he
claimed to be the incarnation of Sophia, and preach-
ing free love as the closest earthly parallel to the realms
of light. There would be echoes of similar accusations
with the medieval Brethren of the Free Spirit and the

later heretical Ranters and Levellers of the English civil
war (Cohn, 1961).
4) Related suspicions of “libertinism”—the sexual
acting out of spirituality—were directed toward
Valentinus and his “mystery of the bridal chamber”.
This was the sacred marriage of the adept’s pneuma—
considered here as feminine—with one’s correspon-
ding male angel, thereby undoing the separation of
Adam and Eve and reconstituting the original spirit of
humanity as the Christos. It is unclear in these hetero-
dox Christian groups whether this “sacred marriage”
remained an interior symbolic imagination, a purely
ritual expression, and/or an actual ceremonial sexuality.
We will see a similar ambiguity in Jung’s 1920s under-
standing of the inner marriage of anima and animus as
constituting the higher, individuated Self.

From the point of view of the unitive, nondual

mysticism of Plotinus, those he called Gnostics were
unwittingly enshrining and fixating a spiritual pathol-
ogy. He sees them as under the sway of Narcissus,
when the more appropriate model would be
Odysseus—who on completing his worldly task sim-
ply turns and sails for Ithaca as his true home. Plotinus
locates in Gnosticism a grandiosity—or in Jung’s terms
an “ego inflation”—that will block the humility and
surrender needed for the full numinous experience of
an all-unifying Absolute:

We must not exalt ourselves in a boorish way, but
with moderation, and without raising ourselves
higher up than our nature is able to make us rise; we
must not rank ourselves alone after God, but recog-
nize that there is room for other beings in his pres-
ence....If a person who had been previously hum-
ble...were to hear “You are the son of God; those
others, whom you used to hold in awe, are not sons
of God”...then do you really think other people are
going to join in the chorus? (Plotinus, The Enneads,
in Hadot, 1993, p. 67)

Plotinus also attacks the Gnostics for their dualism,
which leaves them paradoxically over-involved in the
very social world they would flee as a cosmos of pure
evil. For them the starry night is an emblem of evil, in
contrast to the more inclusive pantheism of Plotinus,
wherein the beauty of nature foreshadows the higher
aesthetic impact of Divine Light. For Plotinus,
Gnosticism is an incomplete spirituality that necessar-
ily imbalances its followers.

Jung too acknowledged the dangers of inflation

and splitting as attendant on contemporary spiritual

Gnostic Dilemmas

term into an equivalent of any directly experiential
inner-worldly spirituality (Avens, 1984; Segal, 1995).
Yet in his Enneads, Plotinus, the very exemplar of a
fully developed Neo-Platonic unitive mysticism, was
clear that the “so-called Gnostics” represented a “some-
thing” he did not like, based on a spiritual pathology
of psychic inflation—which in hindsight may well
indicate some of the difficulties of expanding con-
sciousness while in the everyday social world of
Roman rule. Perhaps it is not so different today.

In contrast to the all-inclusive One or Absolute of

Plotinus, the Gnostics, to the extent we can generalize
about them in the manner of Jonas (1963) or Filoramo
(1990), were thoroughly dualist. The creation of the
world and ordinary humanity is the work of a
Demiurge—a lesser god variously characterized as
malevolent, demented, or simply ignorant. The task of
the Gnostic adept—the pneumatic—is to bypass this
lesser god of lower humanity and regain his/her origi-
nal condition as a pure being of light on the level of
the Absolute. This original human condition is alter-
nately understood as the primal Anthropos and/or the
spiritual nature of Adam and Eve before the Fall. Most
Gnostic groups provided elaborate mytho-poetic
accounts and secret rituals to bypass the cosmos of the
lower creator god in visionary states and after death.
The result, in terms of the ordinary social world, was a
nihilist and essentially paranoid attitude and a personal
elitism and grandiosity of self—what Maslow (1971)
would later term spiritual “metapathologies” and
William James (1902) “theopathies.” We will see later
how similar frustrations are implicit within contempo-
rary New Age “idealizations” of a world-rejecting
“transcendence” and in the parallel psychologies of its
corresponding “new science.”

Some Specimens of Gnostic

Vulnerability and Metapathology

1) Consider first the Judaic books of Enoch, ranging
between 100 B.C. to perhaps 400 A.D., and often seen
as precursors to the early Kabbalah. Here it is as if a
layer of visionary shamanism has been laid over the
more prophetic tradition of the Old Testament. Enoch
is suddenly raised through the seven heavens to behold
Yahweh face to face, which would of course have anni-
hilated even Moses. To ensure that ordinary mortals
later seeing Enoch will not themselves be destroyed by
his necessarily transformed visage, which must other-

wise mirror the sight of Yahweh, his face is first frozen
by an angel of ice. God then uses him to rebuke the
angels as now lesser than this fullest potential of natu-
ral humanity. Later Enoch is also shown Satan and the
fallen angelic “watchers,” who had sinned with human
women and brought forth giants. These are impris-
oned in the lower heavens. By Enoch II, Enoch has
been raised permanently to the heavens as the “son of
man,” while in Enoch III he has become Metatron—
the lesser Yahweh—and finally presides with God over
heaven and earth (Charlesworth, 1983).

This typically Gnostic equation of humanity and

God is also echoed in Egyptian Hermeticism in
increasingly grandiose terms:

For the human is a godlike living thing, not compa-
rable to other living things of the earth but to those
in heaven above, who are called gods. Or better—if
one dare tell the truth—the one who is really
human is above these gods as well....For none of the
heavenly gods will go down to earth, leaving behind
the bounds of heaven, yet the human rises up to
heaven and takes its measure....Therefore, we must
dare to say that the human on earth is a mortal god
but that the god in heaven is an immortal human.
(In Copenhaver, 1992, p. 36)

2) It is but a short step from Enoch and the Hermetic
Anthropos to the Sethians, Ophites, and Barbélites
(Layton, 1987). The creator god is now a Satan-like
monster, Ialdabaoth, who creates the world and most
of humanity out of his demented ignorance and delu-
sional omnipotence. Sophia (Barbélo), the feminine
aspect of the light of the Absolute, so the elaborate
mytho-poesis goes, finds herself temporarily separated
from the One. Out of her sense of loneliness and aban-
donment, she creates a new being entirely out of her-
self, i.e. narcissistically. Because of her separation from
the Absolute, this turns out to be the monster,
Ialdabaoth, with the head of a lion and a body of ser-
pents—perhaps itself a satire of the Roman Mithra.
Horrified by her creation she flings it into the abyss.
Coming to himself, Ialdabaoth assumes he is omnipo-
tent but alone and so creates his own cosmos, with the
archons, or planetary gods, to help in its rule, and
human beings as a replica of himself—in some
accounts creating Eve first, in others Adam.
Accordingly, the first human is made of clay and
wormlike, but Sophia secretly imbues and redeems it
with her higher pneuma. Dimly sensing her inner

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

to God. Indeed, our own individual experience, totally
trusted without reservation, is the most direct expres-
sion of Divinity. The ecstasies marking that realiza-
tion—and he describes his own as “volcanic”
(Richardson, 1995)—are naturalistic states, as later
with Nietzsche, Jung, and Maslow. Anticipating cur-
rent chaos modeling of the brain, these states are a res-
onance within us to the dynamic principles of flow in
nature (Emerson, 1963). Every person in this dawning
“age of the first person singular” is thus potentially a
pneumatic, however rare must be the total giving over
of oneself to the expansive fullness of our immediate
experience. Emerson, here, with Plotinus, does avoid
the Gnostic view of nature as evil, and anticipates also
the later Jung—recovered from his own excesses of the
1920s and 30s—who found in the dynamic patterns
of alchemy a mirror approximating the totality of Self.

Yet in this view that human consciousness fully

realized is God, there are also echoes of the Gnostic
Anthropos and its incipient inflation and world rejection:

A man is a god in ruins.…Man is the dwarf of him-
self. Once he was permeated and dissolved by spir-
it. He filled nature with his overflowing currents.
Out from him sprang the sun and the moon.…The
laws of his mind …externalized themselves into day
and night, into the year and the seasons. But having
made for himself this huge shell, his waters retired;
he no longer fills the veins and veinlets; he is shrunk
to a drop. He sees that the structure still fits him,
but fits him colossally. Say, rather, once it fitted
him.…Yet sometimes he starts in his slumber, and
wonders at himself and his house, and muses
strangely at the resemblance betwixt him and it.
(Emerson, 1963, p. 35)

Here may be the first broadly naturalistic restatement
of Gnosticism—a relation to become more obvious in
Nietzsche, Jung, Maslow, and transpersonal psycholo-
gy. What makes this Gnosticism is our de facto indis-
tinguishability, as human persons, from the
Absolute—to the extent that our consciousness is fully
open. Yet note the paradox: how can we, as beings also
finite, and this even at our most expanded and ful-
filled, be that numinous which phenomenologically at
least is felt exactly to utterly encompass and transcend
us? Is there not a potential temptation here to the
defensive grandiosity and antinomianism of the
Gnostic Anthropos?

Nietzsche—and Abraham Maslow—on

Spiritual Superiority

The ambiguity fully emerges with Nietzsche, who

cites Emerson as one of his few precursors, and had a
direct influence on the understanding of self actualization
in Jung and Maslow. For Nietzsche, the Judeo-
Christian God is dead, along with all other nonper-
spectival conceptual absolutes. Yet since that God was
a projection of our own nature, the way is also open
for a more direct, naturalistically understood re-
engagement of the energies of the ecstatic states that
once conferred a sense of meaning and purpose in our
existence.

Where is God gone?...we have killed him, you and
I....Has it not become colder? does not night come
on continually darker and darker? How shall we
console ourselves?...Is not the magnitude of this
deed too great for us? Shall we not ourselves have to
become Gods, merely to seem worthy of it?
(Nietzsche, 1960, pp. 167–168)

It is the overman—the creative individual of the
future—who will evoke the ecstatic experience at the
core of all religion and its inherent “yes” to the totali-
ty of Being and Becoming, but without projecting that
into a supernatural realm. Instead these states are to be
understood as the highest capacity of the human
being—become thereby a naturalistic Anthropos.

Behold I teach you the overman. The overman is the
meaning of the earth. Let your will say: the overman
shall be the meaning of the earth. I beseech you, my
brothers, remain faithful to the earth, and do not
believe those who speak to you of other-worldly
hopes. (Nietzsche, 1954, p. 125)

Indeed, Nietzsche called for a “physiology of ecstasy,”
and might well have been fascinated with the era of
laboratory LSD research. The living God is within the
brains and bodies of those who projected it, and so the
energy of that pure aliveness can be reappropriated and
experienced directly—as the expression of a “higher”
humanity. This will be the new creative elite for
Nietzsche—the path for latter day pneumatics.

Here is the core of the Gnostic paradox and dilemma:

If we follow Rudolf Otto’s (1958) purely descriptive
phenomenology of the numinous—as the cross-cul-
tural experiential source of spirituality—then
Nietzsche’s “ecstasy” is the felt encounter with a “wholly
other,” sensed but ineffable, and so beyond us in pure
mystery and unknowing. How can that be understood

Gnostic Dilemmas

self-realization, which certainly did not mean he him-
self escaped them. The classicist Arthur Darby Nock
(1972) locates a similar danger: For all the Gnostic
claims of the experience of mystery—the willingness
to abide in not-knowing and ineffability since the full
numinous is outside all categories—they are curiously
lacking in “negative capability.” The heavens are
instead astonishingly hyper-detailed, with ornate
mythologies of Sophia, intricately nested levels, evil
archons, and bridal chambers. Jung had spoken of the
ease of confusing ego and self in self-realization, and
the Gnostics often show an active imagination over-
specified to the point of delusive paranoia. Mytho-
poetic imagination and transpersonal states certainly
open awareness, but also have the potential for an
unintended expression and expansion of ego, thereby
enshrining the anxiety over dissolution (Rank, 1941)
and defensive schizoid hatred (Guntrip, 1968) that are
at its contracted core. Accordingly it may not be too
extreme to see in the elitism and insistent dualism of
some Gnostics a “metaphysics of hate.”

Manifestations of Gnosticism in

Early America:

Anne Hutchinson,

Puritan “Antinomian”

and R.W. Emerson,

The First Transpersonal Psychologist

arold Bloom (1992,1996), who also traces exten-
sive parallels between Gnosticism and contem-

porary “new age” spirituality, sees an incipient Gnostic
element throughout early American religiosity. From
Joseph Smith and Mary Baker Eddy to Pentecostal
glossolalia and snake handling sects, there is the ten-
dency to pass over “the Book” in favor of immediately
transcendent states—by implication leaving Satan, like
Ialdabaoth, to preside over all that is merely of the
world.

Our Gnostic predilections began well before the

LSD-like death-rebirth paroxysms of the tent revivals
and “great Awakening” of the 1740s. They surface first
in Puritan Massachusetts in 1637 with the heresy trial
of Anne Hutchinson before the ministers and civil
government of the Bay Colony (Adams, 1965). In
what seems to have been a latter-day pneumatic heresy,
Hutchinson, a charismatic figure who might today be
seen as strikingly high on the personality trait of

“imaginative absorption,” drew her own conclusions
from the more radical forms of Protestantism soon to
fuel the Ranters and Quakers. It is only the inner light
of God’s Grace, whose aura she could sense in herself
and see in others, that determines who is saved and
who not. To their extreme annoyance, all but two of
the Massachusetts town ministers turned out to be
mere “preparationists,” teaching only a Covenant of
Works and Faith rather than an inwardly illuminated
Covenant of predestined Grace. These became, so to
speak, the Massachusetts equivalents of Valentinian
“psychics,” restricted to only the derived sprituality of
the Bible. For Hutchinson, as she was finally goaded
into directly stating at her bullying, hectoring trial,
most of the local ministers had “only” the understand-
ing of the Apostles before the final direct teachings of
Christ—i.e. after the Resurrection (Hutchinson,
1936). Dubbed an “antinomian” by the outraged cler-
ics, she believed that the soul of man dissolves at death,
much as with animals. Only the living spirit of Christ
within is saved, where the “inner light” reveals its presence.

Of course they expelled her and a small like-minded

group, from whom she later split as well, after she had
re-settled in a more tolerant Rhode Island. Her trial
paved the way for Boston’s later executions of the
Quakers and the Salem witch trials. Perhaps actually
confirming her views of them, the Massachusetts min-
isters finally settled for a compromise “half-way”
Covenant for full church membership, in the face of
lower and lower church attendance as the younger
generations fell demonstrably short of the “living
saints” status of the first emigrants. That did not pre-
vent, however, the worthy ministers from declaring the
later massacre of Anne Hutchinson and her children at
the hands of rebelling Indians a “Providence of God”
and so rechristening her “the American Jezebel,” based
on the original Jezebel’s Old Testament annihilation.

From the present perspective, we could say that

Ralph Waldo Emerson drew the fuller conclusions of
Hutchinson’s pneumatic protest. Still a young man, he
resigned his Boston ministry on concluding that there
could have been no original Fall, and so there was no
need for a redemption in Christ. Each of us in our
heart is already the potentially perfect Adam/Eve
(Emerson, 1940abc). There is something God-like in
anyone who completely trusts their own immediate
experience. This cultivation of an immediate con-
sciousness of Being in each situation—very much in
anticipation of Heidegger—is the closest we can come

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

period, we must be less sanguine about the imitation
of Jung undertaken with the latter’s active encourage-
ment by the influential Harvard psychologist Henry
Murray and Christiana Morgan in their own stone
tower in Massachusetts. However begun, it ended in
sado-masochistic ritual and her ultimate suicide
(Douglas, 1993).

If it is true that the “shadow,” in Jung’s terminol-

ogy, must first be directly known and experienced in
order to be assimilated and truly integrated into a
more inclusive and balanced Self, there is no point in
any “half way covenant” seeking to turn Jung, as natu-
ralistic pneumatic, into a contemporary clinical psy-
chologist. With Valentinius and Basilides, Jung had
concluded that metabolizing the shadow-side of Self
required a knowledge of direct acquaintance: So in the
Valentinian Gospel of Phillip we find:

Let each of us burrow for the root of evil that is
within....It will be rooted up when it is recognized.
But if we are ignorant of it, it sinks its root within
us, and yields its crops within our hearts; dominates
us; we are its slaves....Lack of acquaintance is a slave;
acquaintance is freedom....If we join with [the
truth], it will receive our fullness. (Layton, 1987, p. 352)

Meanwhile, in a late letter to his Jewish colleague
Erich Neumann, Jung says:

It is certain that no one is redeemed from a sin he
has not committed, and that a man who stands on
a peak cannot climb it. The humiliation allotted to
each of us is implicit in his character. If he seeks his
wholeness seriously, he will stray unawares into the
hole destined for him, and out of this darkness the
light will arise. (Jung, 1975, 34–35)

It was Jung’s own unconscious indulgence of shadow
in the mid 1930s that had exposed his own character
in just this way.

Jung’s initial response to Nazism during these

years found him embroiled in a historically significant
struggle with grandiosity, antinomian shadow, and an
ego imbued over-specificity of archetypal imagination.
Emerson’s comment on the highly elaborated visions
of Swedenbourg seems appropriate here: “It is danger-
ous to sculpture these evanescing images of thought.
True in transition they become false if fixed”
(Emerson, 1912, p. 65). This may be clear enough in
UFO abduction cults, past life regressions, and astral
travel scenarios in out-of-body experience, but it man-
ifested more fatefully in Jung’s combination of his
early self-deification experiences with his theory of a

“collective unconscious” as having “ancestral” and
“racial” levels. Jung later overcame this Lamarckian
biologism by recasting his collective unconscious as
“objective psyche,” with its cross-cultural parallels
based on universal features of physical metaphor—
much as with Emerson himself. But from the late
1920s through the mid 1930s his “racial” psychology
lent itself to a romanticized Nazi ideology, to which he
himself was briefly drawn.

Fascinated by his own pagan and gnostic visionary

experiences and captured by a false biologism that
would root all this in an ancestral unconscious, it was
but a small step—supported by the same pan
Germanic volkische romanticism that for a time also
drew Heidegger—to basing archetypal identity on race:

The differences which actually do exist between
Germanic and Jewish psychology and which have
long been known to every intelligent person are no
longer to be glossed over, and this can only be ben-
eficial to science. (Jung, 1933, p. 533)
Because ...of their civilization more than twice as
ancient as ours, [the Jews] are vastly more conscious
than we of human weaknesses, of the shadow-side
of things....The “Aryan” unconscious, on the other
hand, contains explosive forces and seeds of a future
yet to be born....The still youthful Germanic peo-
ples are fully capable of creating new cultural forms
that still lie dormant in the darkness of the uncon-
scious of every individual—seeds bursting with energy
and capable of mighty expansion. (Jung, 1934, p.
165–166)

Jung’s persistence in these comments into the mid
1930s shows a complex mix of political naivete,
opportunism in taking on the presidency of the
Nazified society for psychotherapy for which the first
quotation was written, and an unconscious inflation
whose later understanding led him to describe the sec-
ond quotation as “embarrassing nonsense” and say of
the whole episode: “I slipped up.” Jung’s Germanic
unconscious brought forth a Faustian element in his
own development which by 1936 he understood
enough to diagnose more accurately in its political
manifestations:

The impressive thing about the German phenome-
non is that one man, who is obviously “possessed,”
has infected a whole nation to such an extent that
everything is set in motion and has started rolling
on its course towards perdition. (Jung, 1936, p. 185)

Certainly Jung was not personally anti-Semitic, and he

Gnostic Dilemmas

as human? How do we experience the numinous as us,
without thereby sliding into the inflation and narcissis-
tic distortion of the Gnostics? Certainly Jung (1988)
found a worrisome defensive inflation in Nietzsche’s
idealized figure of Zarathustra as overman.

There is a similarly split and dualistic idealization

in Maslow’s portrait of the “self actualizer,” who has
transcended all ordinary, henceforth “deficit,” motiva-
tion. Maslow (1971) cited Nietzsche as a major influ-
ence, and late in his life admitted that his portrayal of
Being-values was in part a reaction against his hated
mother—ascribing to his self-actualizer the opposite of
all the features of a mother he despised with a passion
reminiscent of Nietzsche’s own hatred toward his sister
and mother. Maslow describes his reactions:

I was a terribly unhappy boy....My family was a mis-
erable family and my mother was a horrible creature
...I grew up in libraries and among books, without
friends. With my childhood, it’s a wonder I’m not
psychotic. (Hoffman, 1988, p. 1)
I’ve always wondered where my utopianism,...stress
on kindness, love, friendship ...came from. I knew
certainly of the direct consequences of having no
mother-love. But the whole thrust of my life philos-
ophy ...has its roots in a hatred for and revulsion
against everything she stood for. (Lowry, 1982, p. 245)

There is a similar split in both Maslow and

Nietzsche between an inner doubt and despair and a
rhapsodical, Dionysian affirmation. Maslow was also
tempted, like Nietzsche, to view his self
actualizer/overman as showing the marks of “superior
biological specimens” (Maslow, 1971)—positing a
pneumatic superiority of genetics and temperament. It
is this split between transcendence and ordinary living
that also predisposes to the moral ambiguities of spiri-
tual antinomianism—a would-be “beyond good and
evil” that is actually their confusion and inversion.

The Gnostic Dilemmas of Carl Jung

lready the childhood dreams and visions depicted
in Jung’s autobiographical Memories, Dreams,

Reflections (1961) had put Jung into direct contact
with a lower god of both good and evil. He was right
to call his psychology of the 1920s “Gnostic,” as his
explicit equation of a higher, integrated Self with the
Anthropos makes clear (Jung, 1959). On a more per-
sonal level, there were his “self-deification” experi-
ences, in the visionary crisis period after his split from

Freud, in which he experienced himself as Abraxas, the
Demiurge of the Gnostic Basilides—hermaphroditic,
lion-headed, and encircled by serpents (Jung, 1989).

Some of the published reactions in Jungian circles

to the curious books of Richard Noll (1994, 1997),
who describes Jung’s group in the 1920s as a
“Nietzschean cult,” seem oversimplified (Grimaldi-
Craig, 1998; Shamdasani, 1998)—part of an unfortu-
nate attempt to sanitize Jung and thereby miss the
deep conflicts that such a this-worldly spirituality
must inevitably face. Of course Noll does hate Jung,
and he unfairly omits Jung’s own view of his struggle
with inflation. Yet if we set aside four or five para-
graphs of pure character assassination from each book,
we are left with much of value on the cultural context
of both the early Jung circle and his own initial
attempts to develop a naturalistic psychology of a
numinous/archetypal imagination. Some current
Jungians are indeed embarrassed by this earlier, wilder
Jung of the 1920s and 1930s, but that period both
attests to the tensions within the naturalistic inner-
worldly mysticism that is our topic and was the prelude
to his later more fully realized approach to a unitive
spirituality. Noll of course allows the term “cult” in his
text to be taken in an ostensibly pejorative fashion,
while also mentioning that he intends it in the manner
of contemporary sociologists, influenced by Troeltsch,
who divide “new religious movements” between
“sects”—reviving prophetical fundamentalism—and
mystical “cults.” The latter usage is indeed based on
their direct experiential emphasis and an etymological
root based on the imagery of organic growth (as in
“cultivation”) (Dawson, 1998).

So Jung’s early circle was a kind of Nietzschean

cult—more specifically a Gnostic one. Like much con-
temporary transpersonal psychology, there was both a
personal and group cultivation of the “transcendent
function” and an attempt at an empirical, and so
broadly scientific, understanding of “the God image in
the human psyche.” The contemporary equivalent of
Jungian “psychics” remain uncomfortable with the
antinomian tendencies of those years and the false
grandiosity of an unleashed archetypal imagination.
Indeed there were casualties. First, there was Jung’s
own equivalent of the Valentinian bridal chamber,
conducted both symbolically and physically in his
specially built stone tower with several apparent
paramours, muse figures, and/or externalized anima
personifications. Whatever we end up thinking of this

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

component. Our Gnostic pneumatics then can be
understood as strikingly high on absorption/openness,
valuing the fullest unfolding of consciousness for its
own sake and above all else. Jung was such a person—
with his early childhood dreams and visions perhaps
illustrating its genetic component. So also were
Emerson, Nietzsche, Anne Hutchinson—commenting
on the missing auras of the Massachusetts ministers—
and more unfortunately, Karl Maria Wiligut.

This research presents us with an updated version

of the Gnostic dilemma: First, it makes spirituality real
in terms of its effects on experience, and so as some-
thing utterly human. It is then like any other dimen-
sion of human cognitive faculties and individual dif-
ferences—like introversion-extraversion. Second, and
especially given our culture’s strong value of creativity
and its imaginal components, it makes high absorp-
tion an elite (pneumatic) temperament—restricted to
some and not others. Finally it makes
absorption/openness antinomian—with no essential
relation between this generic, bipolar experiential core
of spirituality and any particular values or ethics. In
other words, of these five, or three, dimensions, either
end of any other dimension can be associated with the
highest levels of absorption/openness, i.e. with highest
or lowest neuroticism, with highest introversion or
extraversion, with highest social agreeableness or its
paranoid opposite, and with conscientiousness or its
sociopathic opposite. We see then not only the possi-
bility of a Jesus—lowest neuroticism, and highest
extraversion, agreeableness, and conscientiousness, if
that be not too absurd—but also of the revolutionary
Ranters—and Charles Manson.

Neither the traditionally religious nor the anti-

religious want to hear this. For the religious, spiritual-
ity has been made into a faculty, a cognitive-affective
process—the all-encompassing and transcendent
reduced to a variation on the merely human. Yet the
anti-religious should find just as deep an implicit
offense: From a naturalistic perspective, the numinous
is utterly real in terms of its human effects, both as a
self-validating experiential state whose impact affects
the sense of purpose and meaning in life for individ-
uals and societies, and as an empirical phenomenon
open to scientific study—as James and Jung originally
stated. Antireligious humanists are thus forced to treat
spirituality as a central part of the human life they so
value. It is not something that can simply go away
through “rationally” chosen disbelief.

Current neurophysiological research showing a

shifting activation in the temporal and parietal regions
of the neocortex, especially in the right hemisphere,
associated with spontaneous ecstatic states and deep
meditative states has similarly Gnostic implications.
Of course the era of LSD research had already implied
that God, in addition to being Jung’s “God image in
the human psyche,” was also “in” biochemical brain
processes probably related most directly to dopamine,
but because of our present cultural valuation of all
things neurophysiological these more recent findings
have received widespread popular attention. It seems
to be DMT—the “spirit molecule”—that is now
secreted by the pineal gland (Strassman et al., 1994).

The Globe and Mail, a Toronto newspaper, began

a recent article, “Is God all in the brain?” as follows:

God lives somewhere in the temporal and parietal
lobes of the brain, along with aliens, angels and
dead relatives. To find them at home, put on
Michael Persinger’s God helmet and ring their door-
bells with a magnetic buzz. This is neurotheology—
the scientific mapping, understanding and accessing
of the location of spirituality in the brain. Even
more boldly, it is an exploration of what it takes to
prod God into action. (Valpy, August 25, 2001, p. F7)

Persinger’s (1987) research on ecstatic states had found
lower arousal, EEG theta patterns, and subthreshold
seizure-like spiking in and around the right temporal
lobe, which he also induces experimentally with a hel-
met applying electro-magnetic fields to these areas.

While Persinger’s work is avowedly reductionist,

understanding spirituality as a kind of illusion based
on a neural anxiety buffer, Andrew Newberg and
Eugene d’Aquili (2000) reach a more complex under-
standing in their related work on the role of the right
parietal regions—associated with spatial patterning
and body image—in ecstatic states. In a cover story in
Newsweek (May 7, 2001) titled” “God and the brain:
How we’re wired for spirituality,” Newberg insists that
it is an open and undeterminable question whether
lower levels of parietal activation simply cause mystical
experiences of dissolution of self into space and light,
or instead allow us to perceive the spiritual reality to
which they refer. I have written similarly of my own
cognitive model of transpersonal experiences as based
on complex or abstract synesthesias that exteriorize the
(largely parietal) cross-modal translation processes at
the core of all intelligence, but here expressed presen-
tationally and for their own sake—rather than in the

Gnostic Dilemmas

did later help Jewish colleagues to escape Germany,
but his overall obtuseness attests to his own collusion
with shadow—to his own inflation and splitting—
which to their credit contemporary Jungians have led
the way in documenting and understanding
(Maidenbaum & Martin, 1991).

The ultimate proof, however, and contra Noll,

that Jung’s was not simply a fascist spirituality is that
there actually was such a thing—a hyper-specified
Gnostic mytho-poesis of Aryan occultism (Goodrick-
Clarke, 1985). Happily it bore no similarity to Jung’s
thoughts, even at its most oracular—as in his visionary
“Sermons to the Dead” (1961). Instead, we find a kind
of archetypal imagination gone wild in paranoia and
hatred, and best illustrated, in passing, by Himmler’s
favorite, Karl Maria Wiligut. Wiligut was an aristocrat
and hero of World War I, whose trance visions revealed
him to be the last descendant of ancient Aryan sages.
His ancestral memories went back to 228,000 B.C.,
when there were three suns in the sky, giants, dwarfs,
and Aryan God-men. As head of the “Prehistoric
Research Division of the S.S.,” Wiligut dispatched
suitably attuned teams for confirmatory trance-chan-
neling at various Teutonic ruins—in short, a Jungian
“active imagination” practised by the grandiose and
deeply disturbed.

Much of this Nazi occultism rested on the earlier

visions of Lanz von Liebenfels, which revealed the pre-
historic struggle between Aryan God-men, gifted then
with clairvoyant and telepathic powers, and various
“sub-men” or “ape-lings.” These latter subverted Aryan
purity by means of erotically gifted “love pygmies,”
leading to a fatal inter-breeding and a loss of the
spiritual powers of this Aryan Anthropos. Only the
extermination of racial inferiors and careful genetic
engineering could restore Aryan purity. Nonetheless,
Lanz von Liebenfels deserves our grudging respect for
the title, at least, of his 1905 masterwork: Theozoology:
The Lure of the Sodom Ape-lings and the Electron of the
Gods. Apparently it was the pineal glands of the Old
Aryans that contained the n-rays (x-rays having been
recently discovered) that gave them their omniscient
powers. Thousands belonged to such groups, while
apparently not enough laughed. Instead these would-
be Aryan pneumatics anticipated ascension past mere
biological “psychics”—to be tolerated or enslaved—
and lower people of clay—to be exterminated. In their
baroque excess these myths are the closest modern
equivalent to the Sethians and Ophites. The fixed

specificity of their imagery is as far as possible from
Jung’s (1959) later insight that the realized Self could
only be “circumambulated,” but never attained.

Gnostic Ambiguities in Current

Personality and Neuropsychological

Research on Spirituality

It may be that the inflation, splitting, and ethical

ambiguity endemic in the various gnosticisms must re-
emerge in any naturalistic, empirical understanding of
spirituality as a human capacity. The spiritual implica-
tions of recent research on the psychology and neu-
ropsychology of transpersonal states, while obviously
better science, may not be as far from n-rays of the
pineal gland, and their all-too-human control, as we
might wish.

Current personality research locates

numinous/archetypal experience as the furthest devel-
opment of one major pole of individual difference
widely termed “imaginative absorption” (Tellegen &
Atkinson, 1974), as the directly experiential dimen-
sion of a broader “openness to experience” (McCrae,
1994) and with its opposite pole an attitude of valuing
practicality and utility over immediate states of con-
sciousness. Lower levels of absorption would be related
to sensation and thrill seeking and drug experimenta-
tion, higher levels to aesthetics, vivid dreaming, and
proclivity to spontaneous altered and transpersonal
states, while its highest expression would be the sense
of the numinous described by James, Otto, and Jung.
Recent questionnaire-based attempts to establish spir-
ituality as its own separate dimension find its directly
experiential component most related to various meas-
ures of “absorption” and “openness” (MacDonald,
2000; Piedmont, 1999). High levels of
absorption/openness have two faces: a positive, inte-
grative one as “mysticism” and a negative one as “dis-
sociation”—where absorption overlaps with measures
of neuroticism and psychoticism (Hunt et al, 2002).
Personality research has come to see absorption/open-
ness as one of the major three or five dimensions needed
to describe individual variability statistically. For
Eysenck (1995) these are introversion-extraversion,
neuroticism, and creativity/psychoticism—as the posi-
tive and negative forms of openness. For Costa and
McCrae (1995; McCrae, 1994) they are introver-
sion–extraversion, neuroticism, openness, agreeable-
ness, and conscientiousness—each with some genetic

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

worldly utilization rather than for a more primary con-
templation for its own sake and ours. Any shift from
worshiping a creator God—also implicated by omis-
sion or commission in Auschwitz, mass starvations,
and Bin Laden—to the openness and letting-be of
Being seems destined to remain incomplete and partial
in our time.

After the New York Trade Towers attack it took

over three hours for the phone lines to clear enough so
that I could learn that my Manhattan-based son had
been nowhere near the disaster site. But I could not
bring myself to thank God since that same God had
not spared all those other sons and daughters. That
seemed monstrous, and so there was the sudden real-
ization that I had no one to thank. “Thy will be done”
implied a will and intention, and by implication a des-
perate begging, that seemed grotesque. Yet despite
years of meditation and spiritual practice, I was equally
distant from any Buddhist acceptance or Heideggerian
Gelassenheit/releasement. I bore no resemblance to a
Taoist sage, nor did I want to. Knowing better than
God, I was happy to be psychically inflated, if that is
what it was theologically, and a dualist who simply
wanted certain people dead as soon as possible. For
me, the God of Creation had obviously got it very
wrong and so seemed closer to Ialdabaoth, Jung’s
antinomian Yahweh in his Answer to Job, or a funda-
mentalist Satan left to preside over human history.

Plotinus’ critique of the Gnostics was correct, but

most of his contemporaries remained within dualist
and partial spiritualities. This seems equally true today.
Certainly mainstream transpersonalists may view the
spiritual metapathologies I am herein describing as
“Gnostic dilemmas” as instances of a pre-trans fallacy,
confusing ego-transcending unitive states with pre-ego
dynamic conflicts, and supposedly easily identified
and avoided. However, any naturalistically understood
inner-worldly mysticism of the future, unfolding in
our very material and self-aggrandizing culture, will
continue to face an inherent interpenetration of tran-
scendent states of consciousness and the
narcissistic/schizoid conflicts that can cyclically lead
back and forth into each other (Almaas, 1988). It is
not just Nietzsche, Jung, Heidegger, and Maslow who
oscillated between consciousness expansion and
despairing futility, and who remained caught within a
confusion of self and ego. Nonduality seems far more
frequently talked than walked. Such issues may be
intrinsic to any experiential spirituality but they are all

but pervasive, and largely unconscious, in the this-
worldly transpersonalism of the modern and post-
modern West.

End Notes

1. This is an expanded version of a presentation to the
Analytical Psychology Society of Western New York,
November, 2001. I thank Douglas MacDonald for
several clarifying suggestions.

2. See Piedmont (1999) for a similar treatment of
major religious figures

References

Adams, C. (1965). Three episodes of Massachusetts his-

tory, vols. 1 and 2. New York: Russell and Russell
(originally published 1893).

Almaas, A.H. (1988). The pearl beyond price—

Integration of personality into being: An object rela-
tions approach. Berkeley, CA: Diamond Books.

Avens, R. (1984). The new gnosis. Dallas, TX: Spring

publications.

Begley, S. (2001). God and the brain: How we’re wired

for spirituality. Newsweek, May 7, 50–57.

Bloom, H. (1996). Omens of millennium: The gnosis of

angels, dreams, and resurrection. New York:
Riverhead Books.

Bloom, H. (1992). The American religion. New York:

Touchstone.

Charlesworth, J. H., (Ed.) (1983). The Old Testament

Pseudepigrapha. New York: Doubleday.

Cohn, N. (1961). The pursuit of the millenium. New

York: Harper.

Copenhaver, B., (Ed. and Trans.) (1992). Hermetica.

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Costa, P. and McCrae, R. (1995). Primary traits of

Eysenck’s P-E-N system: Three and five factor solu-
tions. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology,
69, 308–317.

Dawson, L. (1998). Comprehending cults: The sociology

of new religious movements. Toronto: Oxford
University Press.

Douglas, C. (1993). Translate this darkness: The life of

Christiana Morgan, the veiled woman in Jung’s circle.
Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Emerson, R.W. (1912). Swedenbourg. In R.W.

Emerson, Representative men. London: Ward, Lock,
and Co. (Originally published 1850).

Gnostic Dilemmas

more instrumental forms of ordinary representational
intelligence (Hunt, 1995).

Yet if we accept the spirit of these recent “theories”

of the transpersonal and posit some sort of “spirituality
module” in the brain—and one that can be directly
stimulated—are we not also returned to an updated
version of Gnostic paradox and all its metapathologi-
cal risks and ambiguities? For we are then positing a
potential scientific and personal control over a capacity
to attune experientially to that which utterly and
intrinsically encompasses us—as outside any control as
the mystery of Being itself. This is Gnosticism cubed:
Not only does western science in its understanding of
the very principles of creation thereby rise above the
Demiurge, but now the response to the ultimate mys-
tery of Being itself becomes a human capacity with
human cause and effect. A new vision of
Anthropos/overman arises: the self-stimulating master
of the “God response.” Truly then nothing would be
beyond us.

Of course a transpersonalist like Ken Wilber

(1995), working from the more inclusive spiritual
monism of Plotinus and Vedanta, rightly labels all
such cognitive and neuropsychological approaches as a
“subtle reductionism”—or worse—since they falsely
subordinate the primacy of direct experience to mate-
rialism. Yet our civilization, for good or ill, is based on
science and technology, and likely to remain so.
Accordingly, scientific research on absorption and the
neurophysiology of spiritual experience are the cutting
edge of an inevitable interface of science and religion
that will not go away. On the constructive side, that
will involve attempts to assimilate the numinous to a
broadly pragmatic and humanist perspective, in part
conserving classical spiritual traditions in re-stated
forms. Yet in so doing, as a culture, do we not also face
some new equivalent of the Gnostic dilemmas of dual-
ism and spiritual inflation? Transpersonal psychology
is necessarily at risk of unintentionally stumbling into
a post-Nietzschean spirituality that is both “human all
too human” and “beyond good and evil.” And we can-
not simply wish that away in the name of a higher con-
sciousness that we also purport to “explain.”

Conclusions

Put otherwise, our era of a physical science, now
including the human brain, primarily values an “objec-
tivity” that has inevitably consigned “spirituality” to a

“consciousness” generally regarded as a mere and residual
“subjectivity.” This implicit understanding of a purely
immanent deity split off from a more objective reality
remains inescapably dualistic. This is a Gnostic dual-
ism of spirit and world inverted, but with the same
need for pneumatic high absorbers to escape—an
escape now that must go “inward” rather than
“upward.”

True, the more completely realized mysticisms,

along with the later William James and later Jung,
show that if a pure phenomenology of immediate
experience is carried far enough, it reveals conscious-
ness itself as something all-inclusive—the thatness or
suchness of James (1912) and Buddhism, Heidegger’s
Being, and Jung’s psychoid dimensions, equally basic
to mind and matter. The later Jung collaborated with
the physicist Wolfgang Pauli (Meier, 2001) in suggest-
ing that the presence of the same dynamic patterns in
consciousness and quantum physics make world and
consciousness ultimately indistinguishable—a view
also implied in the organicist philosophy of
Whitehead (1929). Here may well be a way forward
for a contemporary experiential spirituality that will
not be falsely inflating and antinomian. After all, if a
mathematical faculty of the brain can intuit principles
of nature years before they can have any actual scien-
tific application, which as Penrose (1997) points out is
a widely overlooked mystery, why should not a spiritual
faculty intuit its own equally mysterious objectivity?

It may be true that if we go far enough “in” we

come “out” again, but the passage was never easy or
automatic, and especially so in an era where conscious-
ness is a logically residual category. So for the forsee-
able future we are stuck with a science and humanism
purporting to explain and so encompass a sense of the
sacred that itself phenomenally encompasses and con-
textualizes our humanity. The core of the numinous
for Otto and James is an immediate response—with
acceptance and surrender—to that which is utterly
beyond our control—creation, life, and death. Yet our
civilization acts on the premise that all is potentially
under our control. There is a cultural collision here
that can only work itself out very very gradually.

Heidegger (1962) understood the core of numi-

nous experience as a direct awareness of Being as such,
in its inherent mystery, a view also basic to the spiritual
psychology of Almaas (1988). Yet Heidegger regarded
our era as “too late for God and too early for Being”—
since for us Being is still something primarily for our

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Maslow, A. (1971). The farther reaches of human

nature. New York: Viking.

McCrae, R. (1994). Openness to experience as a basic

dimension of personality. Imagination, Cognition,
and Personality, 13, 39–55.

Meier, C.A. (Ed.). (2001). Atom and archetype: The

Pauli/Jung letters 1932–1958. Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press.

Newberg, A. & d’Aquili, E. (2000). The neuropsy-

chology of religious and spiritual experience.
Journal of Consciousness Studies, 7, 11/12, 251–266.

Nietzsche, F. (1954). Thus spoke Zarathustra. In W.

Kaufmann, (Ed. and Trans.), The portable
Nietzsche. New York: Viking Press (Originally pub-
lished 1885).

Nietzsche, F. (1960). Joyful wisdom. (T. Common.

trans.). New York: Frederick Ungar Publishing
(Originally published 1882).

Nock, A.D. (1972). Gnosticism. In Z. Steward, (Ed.)

Arthur Darby Nock: Essays on religion and the
ancient world. (pp. 940–959). Cambridge: Harvard
University Press.

Noll, R. (1997). The Aryan Christ: The secret life of

Carl Jung. New York: Random House.

Noll, R. (1994). The Jung cult: Origins of a charismatic

movement. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Otto, R. (1958). The idea of the holy. (J. Harvey,

Trans.). New York: Oxford University Press (Orig-
inally published 1917).

Penrose, R. (1997). The large, the small, and the human

mind. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Persinger, M. (1987). Neuropsychological bases of God

beliefs. New York: Praeger.

Plotinus (1991). The enneads. (S. MacKenna, Trans.).

New York: Penguin

Rank, O. (1941). Beyond psychology. New York: Dover

Publications.

Richardson, R. (1995). Emerson: The mind on fire.

Berkeley, University of California Press.

Segal, R., (Ed.) (1995). The allure of Gnosticism.

Chicago: Open Court.

Shamdasani, S. (1998). Cult fictions: C.G. Jung and the

founding of analytical psychology.

London:

Routledge.

Strassman, R., Qualls, C., Ulenhuth, E., & Kellner, R.

(1994). Dose-response study of N, N-dimethyl-
tryptamine in humans. Archives of General
Psychiatry, 51, 98–108.

Tellegen, A., & Atkinson, G. (1974). Openness to

absorbing and self altering experiences (“absorp-
tion”), a trait related to hypnotic susceptibility.
Journal of Abnormal Psychology, 83, 268–277.

Troeltsch, E. (1960). The social teachings of the

Christian churches, Vols. 1 and 2. (O. Wyon,
Trans.). New York: Harper Torchbooks (Originally
published 1931).

Valpy, M. (2001). Is God all in our heads? The Toronto

Globe and Mail, August 25, F7.

Weber, M. (1963). The sociology of religion. (E.

Fischoff, Trans.). Boston: Beacon Press (Originally
published 1922).

Whitehead, A.N. (1929). Process and reality. New

York: Macmillan.

Wilber, K. (1995). Sex, ecology, spirituality. Boston:

Shambhala.

Williams, M. (1996). Rethinking “Gnosticism”: An

argument for dismantling a dubious category.
Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Correspondence concerning this article should be
directed to the author at the
Department of Psychology, Brock University,
St. Catharines, Ontario L2S 3A1 Canada
Email: hhunt@spartan.ac.brocku.ca

Gnostic Dilemmas

Emerson, R.W. (1940a). Experience. In R.W.

Emerson, The selected writings of Ralph Waldo
Emerson. New York: Modern Library (Originally
published 1844).

Emerson, R.W. (1940b). The over-soul. In R.W.

Emerson, The selected writings of Ralph Waldo
Emerson. New York: Modern library (Originally
published 1841).

Emerson, R.W. (1940c). Compensation. In R.W.

Emerson, The selected writings of Ralph Waldo
Emerson. New York: Modern Library (Originally
published 1841).

Emerson, R.W. (1963). Nature. In R.W. Emerson,

Nature, the conduct of life, and other essays. London:
Dent (Originally published 1836).

Eysenck, H. (1995). Genius: The natural history of cre-

ativity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Filoramo, G. (1990). A history of Gnosticism. Oxford:

Basil Blackwell.

Goodrick-Clarke, N. (1985). The occult roots of

Nazism. New York: New York University Press.

Grimaldi-Craig, S. (1998). Those years in Zurich.

Spring, 63, 151-8.

Guntrip, H. (1968). Schizoid phenomena, object rela-

tions, and the self. New York: International
Universities Press.

Hadot, P. (1993). Plotinus, or the simplicity of vision.

Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Heidegger, M. (1962). Letter on humanism. (E.

Lohner, trans.) In W. Barrett & H. Aiken (Eds.),
Philosophy in the twentieth century, Volume 3. (pp.
270–302) New York: Random House, 1962 (Orig-
inally published 1947).

Hoffman, E. (1988). The right to be human: A biogra-

phy of Abraham Maslow. Los Angeles: Jeremy
Tarcher.

Hunt, H. (2003). Lives in spirit: Precursors and dilem-

mas of a secular Western mysticism. Albany: State
University of New York Press.

Hunt, H. (2000). Experiences of radical personal

transformation in mysticism, religious conversion,
and psychosis: A review of the varieties, processes,
and consequences of the numinous. Journal of
Mind and Behavior, 21, 353–398.

Hunt, H. (1998). “Triumph of the will”: Heidegger’s

Nazism as spiritual pathology. Journal of Mind and
Behavior, 19, 379–414.

Hunt, H. (1995). On the nature of consciousness:

Cognitive, phenomenological, and transpersonal per-
spectives. New Haven: Yale University Press.

Hunt, H., Dougan, S., Grant, K., & House, M.

(2002). Growth enhancing vs. dissociative states of
consciousness: A questionnaire study. Journal of
Humanistic Psychology, 42, 90–106.

Hutchinson, T. (1936). The history of the Colony and

Province of Massachusetts-Bay. Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press.

James, W. (1912). Essays in radical empiricism and a

pluralistic universe. New York: Dutton.

James, W. (1902). The varieties of religious experience.

Garden City, NJ: Dolphin Books.

Jonas, H. (1963). The Gnostic religion. Boston: Beacon

Press.

Jung, C.G. (1989). Analytical Psychology: Notes of the

seminar given in 1925. Princeton: Bollingen.

Jung, C.G. (1988). Nietzsche’s Zarathustra: Notes of the

seminar given in 1934–1939. Princeton: Bollingen.

Jung, C.G. (1975). Letters, vol. 2. (R.F.C. Hull, trans.).

Princeton: Bollingen.

Jung, C.G. (1961). Memories, dreams, reflections (R. &

C. Winston, trans.). New York: Pantheon Books.

Jung, C.G. (1959). Aion: Researches into the phe-

nomenology of the self. In Collected works of C.G.
Jung, vol. 9(2), (R.F.C. Hull, trans.). Princeton:
Bollingen.

Jung, C.G. (1958). Answer to Job. In Collected Works

of C.G. Jung, vol. 11, (R.F.C. Hull, trans.).
Princeton: Bollingen.

Jung, C.G. (1936). Wotan. In Collected works of C.G.

Jung, vol. 10. (R.F.C. Hull, trans.). (pp. 179–193)
Princeton: Bollingen.

Jung, C.G. (1934). The state of psychotherapy today.

In Collected works of C.G. Jung, vol. 10. (R.F.C.
Hull, trans.). (pp. 157–173) Princeton: Bollingen.

Jung, C.G. (1933). Editorial. In Collected works of

C.G. Jung, vol. 10. (R.F.C. Hull, trans.). (pp.
533–534) Princeton: Bollingen.

LaCarriere, J. (1989). The Gnostics. San Francisco:

City Lights Books.

Layton, B. (Ed. and Trans.) (1987). The Gnostic scrip-

tures. New York: Doubleday.

Lowry, R., (Ed.) (1982). The journals of Abraham

Maslow. Lexington, MA: Lewis Publishing
Company.

MacDonald, D. (2000). Spirituality: Description,

measurement, and relation to the five factor model
of personality. Journal of Personality, 68 (1),153–197.

Maidenbaum, A., & Martin, S. (Eds.). (1991).

Lingering shadows: Jungians, Freudians, and anti-
semitism. Boston: Shambhala.

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

rience; making sense of the vast array of seemingly
divergent perspectives on the experience.

A number of scholars (e.g., Forman, 1998),

including most notably Stace (1960), who completed
a broad yet critical analysis of its phenomenology, have
argued quite convincingly that the mystical experience
is a universal phenomenon that is found in every cul-
ture and tradition. This position is most clearly sup-
ported by the essential descriptive features of the expe-
rience. Stace himself identified nine characteristics
generally common to all mystical experience (e.g.,
ineffability, noetic quality, religious quality, paradoxi-
cality, time-space quality). Franklin (1998), as a sec-
ond illustration, has asserted that all forms of mystical
experience share one fundamental quality involving
strong feelings of unity which he calls “the flavor of
nonseparateness.” Indeed, it may be argued that the
acceptance of the inherent universality of the mystical
experience is one of the defining assumptions of
transpersonal studies.

With this said, the problem of the varied expres-

sions of the experience may be traced to two interrelated
factors, namely, (a) its inherent nonconceptual and
ineffable nature, and (b) the sociocultural and linguis-
tic influences on the identification/detection and
interpretation of the experience. Stated another way,
the varieties of mystical experience appear to have arisen
first and foremost as a function of the inadequacies of
language in accurately capturing the flavor and imme-
diacy of the experience and second because of differ-
ences in language and culture, which themselves bring
structure and meaning to experience. How do we
make sense of mystical experience in light of these
obfuscating elements?

One way that we may address the problem is by

dividing mystical experience into two aspects. The first
concerns the actual experience itself (i.e., the immedi-
ate apprehension or intuition) and the second relates
to its level of expression and description. The former
aspect will likely be similar across individuals and tra-
ditions while the latter will differ from person to per-
son and culture to culture. In a related vein, the former
will be nonconceptual and nonlinguistic while the lat-
ter will involve the transference of the nonconceptual
experience to the categories and terms of the experi-
ent’s doctrine and/or thought system which, in turn, is
a product of the cultural context in which the individ-
ual is operating.

Considering the descriptive aspect, a question that

now emerges relates to the extent to which the higher
states of consciousness found in mystical experience
can be accurately expressed. Is it truly possible to
describe and express the experience or are such expres-
sions always doomed to being inexact and, ultimately,
irrelevant in capturing the real stuff of mystical experi-
ences? There are a variety of positions on this matter
and, unfortunately, I cannot give a final solution that
would be satisfactory to all parties. However, if it could
be acknowledged that the experience is beyond expres-
sion as it is occurring but that its subsequent descrip-
tion holds some veridicality, then it becomes possible
to gain a real sense of the experience through an analy-
sis of its expressions and the associated culture-bound
doctrines that have arisen to explain the experience.
This possibility has been argued by some prominent
figures including Stace (1960), who has stated that the
mystical experience is wholly unconceptualizable and
wholly unspeakable when the very experience lasts, but
afterwards, when experience is kept in memory the sit-
uation must be changed. Now mystics have words and
concepts and they can speak about their experience in
the terms natural to their tradition or culture. Further
support for the possibility of gaining knowledge of the
experience from a doctrinally-based description arises
from the fact that the act of labeling an experience as
“nonconceptualizable” is itself a conceptualization.
Therefore, the nonconceptual character of mystical
experience cannot and should not be seen as absolute
(Burton, 1999). Interestingly, the relation of the doc-
trinal/conceptual and the experiential modes of
knowledge is acknowledged in some extant religious
systems (e.g., Tibetan Buddhism recognizes and strug-
gles with the implications of knowledge gained
through critical conceptually driven investigation as
compared to knowledge acquired through the highest
states of experiential knowing [Williams, 1992].).
Finally, the association of doctrine to practice and, in
particular, the ubiquitous tendency of mystical tradi-
tions not only to advocate a “theory” of the experience
but also to put forth a structured technique or method
of cultivating consciousness to facilitate the arising of
the experience may be seen as reflecting a universal
process that is culturally variant only in terms of its
content. This process may be depicted as starting with
doctrine that leads to engagement in a psychospiritual
practice. This, in turn, gives rise to the mystical expe-
rience. Lastly, following the conclusion of the experi-
ence, the individual utilizes the doctrine to articulate

Mysticism and Culture

his paper is dedicated to the examination of
the problem of the forms of cultural expres-
sions of mystical experience. That is, the pur-

pose of this paper is to critically explore the nature and
ontological and epistemological significance of differ-
ences observed in how various cultural traditions
describe and explain such experiences. Prior to initiat-
ing this undertaking, however, it is important to first
address definitional issues.

The word “mysticism” and all its variants and

derivatives (e.g., mystical, mystic) holds several largely
unique meanings. For example, the term is used to
designate (a) the experience or feeling of unity of the
person with the ontological ground of the Universe
and/or of all beings, (b) different esoteric rites and
practices, and (c) various forms of occultism. Further,
the word “mysticism” is laden with pejorative conno-
tations, the most problematic of which concerns it as
being diametrically opposed to rationality as the basis
for epistemology.

Consequently, there is a need to

exercise care in delineating what is meant by mysti-
cism, since any discourse regarding the epistemological
and ontological features of it will likely be met with
skepticism and mistrust by the majority of Western
scholars, scientists, and philosophers.

For the sake of this paper, mystical experience will

be defined in a very specific way. In particular, it will
be used to designate a type of experience described as

involving the expansion of consciousness and the feel-
ing of unity of the experient’s heart-and-mind with the
hidden (or concealed) ontological ground of all exis-
tence or with the original principle of all things and
beings. This kind of experience, which often involves
the transcendence of normal and sundry modes of
consciousness, has direct and immediate relevance to
epistemology and metaphysics.

Mystical Experience as Universal versus

Culture Bound

any of us use an expression such as “mystical
experience” and yet there is little in the way of

elucidation as to how such an experience arises within
consciousness and how, if at all, it conveys knowledge
of reality. In what sense can the feelings and intuitions
observed to arise in a mystical experience be consid-
ered the product of consciousness and reflective of true
knowledge? Before answering this question, we are
confronted with another query. If mystical experience
contains even an element of true knowledge, then why
are there such a great number of descriptions and
interpretations of the experience across different
traditions (e.g., Judeo-Christian, Muslim, Hindu,
Buddhist, Taoist, etc.)? Should there not be some form
of convergence of expression and meaning? Here rests
one of the major challenges of studying mystical expe-

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Mysticism and Its Cultural Expression:

An Inquiry into the Description of

Mystical Experience and Its Ontological and

Epistemological Nature

Evgeny Torchinov

St. Petersburg State University, Russia

The purpose of this paper is to critically explore the nature and ontological and epistemological
significance of differences observed in how various cultural traditions describe and explain such
experiences. After an initial consideration of definitional issues, the article focuses on the argu-
ments supporting and challenging the idea of mystical experience being a universal phenomenon
and a vehicle for true knowledge. The article also examines the problem of the unity of the mys-
tical experience as a definite state of consciousness and the multiplicity of its sociocultural and
civilizational expressions and descriptions conditioned by different cultural and historical factors.

extent to which established doctrinal traditions have
been able to adapt and assimilate such experiences
varies across the traditions (e.g., Eastern religions have
tended to be more accommodating of mystical experi-
ences while religions in the West, especially Roman
Catholicism, have viewed such experiences as highly
suspect and threatening to the supremacy of church
doctrine). Nevertheless, it appears reasonable to main-
tain that both the mystical experience and the cultural
context in which an individual has the experience are
interacting and mutually structuring elements that
lead toward the development and evolution of spiritu-
al systems. Ostensibly, much more critical research is
needed before we have an accurate understanding of
the interplay of culture and experience.

Mystical Experience and Knowledge

aving established, at least superficially, the uni-
versality of mystical experience, we can now turn

our attention to the first question posed in this paper:
In what sense can the feelings and intuitions observed
to arise in a mystical experience be considered the
product of consciousness and reflective of true knowl-
edge?

Perhaps the best place to start looking for an

answer to this question is in the work of William
James, a pioneer in the study of religious and mystical
experience. James was one of the first researchers to
create a theory of the universal or pure experience as a
kind of “materia prima” (metaphorically speaking),
which is the material of which everything in the world
is “made.” Within such a conceptualization, knowl-
edge can be understood as the relation between two
aspects of the pure experience. This is a very important
statement because it eliminates the fundamental onto-
logical necessity of a relation between subject and
object in acquiring knowledge. It is especially impor-
tant for an examination of the nature of mystical expe-
rience since, in virtually all mystical traditions, the
assertion is made that such experience transcends the
subject-object distinction (e.g., in a number of branch-
es of Indo-Buddhist thought, the highest state of mind
or consciousness is described as advaita or advaya,
meaning non-dual). Interestingly, in one of the earliest
of the Hindu religious texts, the Brhadaranyaka
Upanishad, the highest form of mystical experience,
which involves the state of unity of Atman (self ) and
Brahman (Absolute), is not described in terms of con-

sciousness. As the author of the Upanishad maintains,
consciousness is impossible without duality of cogniz-
er and cognized, perceiver and perceived. Instead, in
the state of religious liberation (i.e., moksha), con-
sciousness ceases to exist and all that remains is the one
and only Atman (absolute Self ) which is non-dual and
yet, simultaneously, is also an unmediated commun-
ion with knowledge (jnana, gnosis). Following from
this, it may be argued that the “highest” mystical expe-
rience of non-duality is not really a state of conscious-
ness at all since consciousness does not participate in
it.

Rather, it may be best conceived as a pure non-dual

gnosis as such.

Notwithstanding the view of ancient Hindu spiri-

tuality, if the so-called mystical experience is a special
state wherein the subject-object relation is eliminated,
from the perspective of rational Western science and
philosophy—which has tended to assume the relation
is ontologically real—how can any knowledge be
derived of it or from it? Putatively, it is not the kind of
experience of which questions like “what did you
learn?” can be meaningfully asked. Instead, we tend to
speak about the mystical experience as a state of “no
mind” or about consciousness without intention
wherein knowledge is simply given. Of course, from
the standpoint of Husserl’s and Brentano’s schools of
phenomenology, such consciousness and knowledge
are impossible. The substance of the phenomenologi-
cal arguments, however, have been rendered suspect by
more recent writers in the area of mystical experience
(Forman, 1998; Pike, 1992). Thus, in the end, it may
be contended that the highest experience of the mys-
tics may be understood as consciousness directed upon
itself or consciousness that experiences itself as pure
awareness itself (Forman, 1998).

In order to evaluate the epistemological relevance

and veracity of mystical experience, it is of central
importance that we understand the states of mind of
those individuals who lay claim to having had such an
experience. Forman (1998, p. 16–17) states,

It should be clear that on empirical matters, the
statements of philosophers have no legislative force.
No matter how many Humes, Moores, or
Hamiltons observe that they cannot catch them-
selves devoid of perceptions, this tells us little about
what a Hindu monk, Dominican friar, or Sufi adept
might experience after years of yoga, Jesus prayer, or
Sufi dancing. Indeed, many mystics do report that
they have undergone something quite unique.

Mysticism and Culture

the nature and meaning of the experience. In this
process, neither the doctrine nor doctrinally driven
interpretation is synonymous with the experience
itself, though both hold some potential to give some
knowledge of the experience.

Notwithstanding the argumentation about the

tenability of analyzing language as a means of garner-
ing an understanding of mystical experience, there is
widespread recognition in the spiritual, religious, and
philosophical literature that language itself, regardless
of its particular cultural manifestation, serves as a hin-
drance to the direct comprehension of the experience.

As stated above, while doctrine plays a role both

preceding and following the experience, neither doc-
trine nor language is the experience per se.
Consequently, while language may be seen as a vehicle
to introduce the possibility and quality of mystical
experience, it must also be recognized as imperfect and
prone to distortion. Stated another way, while doctrine
may be useful in drawing our attention to the highest
levels of spirituality, it does not and cannot serve as a
substitute for the direct experience of such levels of
spirituality.

In response to the limitations of language, virtually

all mystical traditions attempt to utilize methods of
expression that are aimed at simultaneously minimiz-
ing distortion while also granting unhindered access to
the experience itself. One of the most salient examples
of this, found most clearly in Indian spiritual tradi-
tions (e.g., Hinduism, Buddhism), concerns the use of
negative descriptions of the experience (i.e., describing
the highest mystical states in terms of what they are
not). This method of description has been referred to
as “the semantic destruction of language” (Zilberman,
1972), where the destruction of language occurs when
a description, previously based upon a symbolic form
of expression adopted by a certain tradition, is
changed into its negative form (or even paradoxical
form as is the case in the Zen koan and mondo).
Extending from this, mystical texts may be viewed in
many instances as containing statements about the
conditional or provisional character of mystical experi-
ence which, given the manner that they are described,
are intended to communicate the nature of the experi-
ence beyond the words used. The use of poetry,
metaphor, parable, and myth may also be seen as ways
in which mystics from various traditions have used
language to articulate the indescribable.

It may be inferred from this discussion that, given

the apparent commonality across mystical traditions to
address the challenges of language, there is an implied
agreement about the reality and concurrent ineffabili-
ty of the highest spiritual experiences. That is, all tra-
ditions appear to agree that the experience is real and
inherently beyond language. Similarly, all traditions
appear to (a) use language to provide an initial sense of
what mystical experience is about, (b) manipulate lan-
guage to enable the person to have the experience
without being limited to the words describing the
experience, and (c) advocate the use of practices that
take the person beyond language and into direct expe-
riential contact with higher states of consciousness and
knowledge.

Certainly, there have always existed people who

tried to express their mystical experience in proper and
precise terms notwithstanding traditional cultural con-
ventions. In historical perspective, usually these indi-
viduals abandoned their native traditions and either
were labeled “heretics” by the established cultural sys-
tem and/or went on to found a new tradition. One of
the most famous examples is the historical Buddha,
who from the beginning of his religious career was a
heterodox hermit (shramana) who rejected the
Brahmanist interpretation of his experience of
Enlightenment (or Awakening). However, even in this
case, the descriptions of Buddha’s own experience and
the conclusions made from them by his followers were
provided in terms consistent with the Indian cultural
paradigm and its traditional language. Consequently,
it is impossible for me to agree with arguments which
maintain that all mystical experience is an intensified
psychosomatic expression of extant religious beliefs
and values (see, e.g., Gimello, 1983). The situation is
much more complicated and dialectical. Mystical
experience is by no means only the result of the influ-
ence of beliefs of the established religious doctrines.
Instead, the opposite appears to be more accurate—
mystical experience itself appears to serve as the basis
for the creation of religious and philosophical teaching
and systems (see, e.g., Forman, 1994, p. 38–49). More
particularly, the mystical experience taken separately
by and in itself is not religion per se if, by the term
“religion” we mean a system of doctrines, beliefs, cults,
and institutions.

However, the experience, when interpreted and

understood within its cultural context, provides the
experiential foundation on which such doctrines,
beliefs, and institutions are based. Of course, the

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Emerging from this is the question: Is it possible

to apprehend and know reality as prior to the world of
pure experience? Stated in a different way, is it possible
to recognize reality as it is by itself (yathabhutam)?
Proponents of mystical experience as a mode of know-
ing assert that it is possible. From this point of view,
the mystical experience in its highest expression may
be seen as a form of cognizing penetration. Subject
and object are embraced by a kind of unity which is
transcendent to the immanent space of pure experi-
ence, and the phenomenal interrelations of subject and
object can be perceived as a kind of reflection (or
appearance) of a highest form of non-duality (or of
advaya as mentioned in the Brhadaranyaka Upanishad
cited earlier). Consequently, one can suppose that the
phenomenological unity of pure experience needs a
source beyond it. The contents of our experience are
given to us and we are not able by our volition to
change such contents. Human subjects are not gods of
their own phanerons. Rather, the universe is given to
the subject by something transcendent to phaneron
itself (be it the transcendent “ens” matter of the mate-
rialists or the God of theists). In all likelihood, the
phenomenological unity of experience is preceded by a
ground unity of subject and object and simply due to
this natural and original unity, the experiencing sub-
ject and the empirical object may be seen as two poles
of the field of pure experience, which possess one and
the same basic nature. Thus, subjects and objects expe-
rienced are aspects of the field of pure experience. All
elements of the universe are phenomena or appear-
ances of the fundamental unity that serves as the
ground on which all qualities of experience are con-
structed.

Self-Cognizing As a Vehicle to

True Knowledge

Schopenhauer noted that the only path to the

knowledge of reality as it is (or as “thing-in-itself ”
according to the Kantian phraseology adopted by
Schopenhauer) is the path of self-cognizing. All phe-
nomena outside of the subject are given to our self-
consciousness only vicariously, from the outside.
However, insofar as we can examine ourselves, we find
that we know ourselves from the inside. Extending
from this, and assuming that the inner subject or self
is of the same nature as the whole world, it may be
maintained that the exploration of the nature of self

more readily enables the individual to discover this
underlying pervasive quality of sameness. Further, we
may ex hypothesi conclude that the so-called mystical
experience is a kind of cognizing (gnosis) that pene-
trates in a very special manner from inside into the
nature of the innermost self, thus revealing the charac-
ter and nature of this self. At the same time, because of
the inherent unity of subject and object, this is also a
cognizing of the nature of all objective appearances as
much as they are immanent to the cognizing self and
thus attainable as knowledge of the subject. We can
describe such cognizing as movement from the con-
ceptualized world of appearances to the nonconceptu-
alized knowledge of nonconceptual reality as it is, or
reality as such (Tathata, or Suchness of the Buddhist
texts). In Mahayana Buddhism, this knowledge of real-
ity is referred to as “yatha bhutam.”

Kant stated in his Critique of Pure Reason that the

knowledge of the “thing as it is” (Ding an sich) is pos-
sible only if we are able to eliminate our present forms
of sensory intuitions and uncover a new kind of non
sensory intuition. It can be said that mystical experi-
ence is such a non sensory mode of cognition.

In the end, and as stated earlier in this article, the

ultimate value and significance of mystical experience
cannot be ascertained by philosophical discourse
alone. As such, the conclusions reached in the latter
half of this paper should be interpreted as, at best, an
effort at approximating the process of how knowledge
arises in the context of subject-object duality. The epis-
temological and ontological issues of the researches
into the mystical experience are too important to be
neglected anymore. One can even suppose that such
studies, along with the development of philosophical
aspects of psychology (first of all, transpersonal psy-
chology), may supply philosophy with new impetus to
overcome the difficulties of its traditional approaches,
thus opening new horizons and unknown dimensions
of our undersanding of reality.

Mysticism and Culture

It might be imagined that the philosophers cited by
Forman tried to “catch” themselves without perception
on two or three quiet furtive attempts but to little
avail. This outcome should come as no surprise since
those attempts likely would have been delimited by
their a priori commitment to their respective philo-
sophical perspectives (much in the same way that the
mystical experience is interpreted by the doctrine used
by the experient). As a result, and likely without being
aware of the experiential implications of their attitude
of trying to seeing something about or within con-
sciousness, these thinkers probably could not have
allowed themselves and their stance toward the sub-
ject-object dichotomy to dissolve completely. Of
course, to say this does not mean that non-dual expe-
rience was unavailable to these great thinkers. Who is
to say whether one of them might have achieved such
states of consciousness after some years of meditation,
visualization, or similar practices. Who is to say what
Professor Moore might have “seen” in his sensation of
blue had he performed twenty years of Tantric visual-
izations of blue mandalas. However, what I am trying
to get at here is that the mystical experience cannot be
understood logically or through the application of a
rational system of thought. Rather, it is an empirical
matter, though not one readily digestible by modern
science. As noted by Forman (1998), there are enor-
mous differences between ordinary empirical attempts
to introspect the sensations of consciousness and a
transformative meditative path—the former does not
impose logical limits on the latter.

If one agrees with the possibility of pure experi-

ence in which there does not exist an ontologically
grounded distinction between subject and object, it
then becomes possible to examine a “subject” (or inte-
riorized world or “phaneron” in the terminology of
Charles Pierce) as a kind of self-conscious focus of this
experience and to explore the manner in which the
subject-object distinction arises in consciousness. In
such a case, we may begin the inquiry from the posi-
tion that we do not merely live in the outer world;
rather, we experience the world and it is experienced
by us. The world becomes the objective side of the
field of pure experience, while the human being
embodies the subjective aspect. In this context, the
field of pure experience as a whole may be seen as
utterly transcendent to a subject-object dichotomy,
with the reification of the dichotomy holding some

pragmatic value but no ontological value.

This position is very similar to that maintained by

Buddhism. Russian Buddhologist O. O. Rosenberg
has written that in Buddhist thought there is no dis-
tinction made between living beings and the contents
of their perceptions; they are one and the same entity.
Buddhism does not reject the reality of the external, it
is simply not analyzed as separate from the perception
of the experient. Rosenberg (1991) comments, “it is
only said that a human being experiencing any phe-
nomena (e.g., a person looking at the sun), consists of
such and such elements in such and such interrela-
tions, and so on” (p. 90).

Nevertheless, it may be supposed that some events

are not given in immediate experience but rather occur
outside of experience (e.g., the events on the other side
of the moon as maintained by B. Russell). As an argu-
ment against this point, Solovyev (1993) has contended
that even in the natural science of astronomy, gains in
knowledge of the cosmos are dependent upon empiri-
cal/experiential verification (e.g., the discovery of a
new planet by Parisian astronomer Leverier based
upon his mathematical analysis of known planetary
orbits was viewed as suspect until it was confirmed
through experience derived from use of the telescope
and spectral analysis). Thus, it does not appear ten-
able, at least when exploring the nature of mystical
experience, to maintain that reality occurs or can be
known outside of experience.

Taking the position consistent with Solovyev and

Buddhism most generally, it can be maintained that
experience is composed of the experiencer and the
thing to be experienced. However, it should appear
obvious that every living being experiences the world
of its (his/her) own and that the worlds (phanerons) of
different living beings differ greatly from one another
(e.g., the phanerons of humans ostensibly differ from
those of other animals). Despite this, it may be argued
that regardless of the experiencer, the ability to derive
knowledge from any given experience is contingent on
the ability to conceptually differentiate between sub-
ject and object. That is, the almost arbitrary and
abstract separation of the subject from the object has
epistemological implications—such a separation
allows the subject to know the object. Nevertheless,
such a distinction, while having a direct bearing on
epistemology, does not uncover or adequately address
the true ontological and metaphysical nature of pure
experience.

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Complexity provides a benchmark for evaluating

the direction of evolution...

To contribute to greater harmony,

a person’s consciousness has to become complex.

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

s soon as infants acquire the names for objects
they begin placing them into categories from
which they make accurate predictions about

them (Gelman & Markman, 1986). Members of such
categories seem to acquire an underlying “essence.” It
is not hard to imagine how this tendency to objectify
the external world into objects, and later into struc-
tures assembled out of these objects, was of evolution-
ary usefulness to our ancestors. Nevertheless, this way
of comprehending reality does not always serve us well
when we seek to understand our inner lives.

Indeed, it can hardly be doubted that many of the

most important variables studied by psychologists are
processes, a fact that was explicitly recognized in the
richly contextual theories of such psychological pio-
neers as William James and John Dewey. Nevertheless,
the early years of the 20th century found American
and British psychology moving in the direction of

reductionistic and structural descriptions of psycho-
logical phenomena at roughly the same time that fun-
damental theory in physics was shifting to the radical-
ly holistic and process-oriented worldview of quantum
mechanics. In those days, there was an almost fanati-
cal flavor to the arguments made in favor of limiting
what “legitimate psychology” would accept to a small-
scale empirical scientific enterprise carried out in the
learning and psychophysical laboratories (a la Watson
and Titchener), and discouraging the broad applica-
tion of its findings to the clinic or other spheres of
applied psychology. This effort to constrain the field
was cast in stone by the production of written histo-
ries. The most prominent of these was penned by
Titchener’s own student E.G. Boring (1929/1950),
that by exclusion characterized psychology as a reduc-
tionistic science carried out in academic and medical
laboratories by such heroic researchers as Helmholtz
and Wundt, Titchener’s mentor. It is ironic that the
methods of physics were often held up as the ideal to
which the new science of psychology might aspire.

It is certainly the case that psychological processes

can sometimes be freeze-framed in the laboratory to
yield useful information, but it is also the case that
they must be honored as processes if they are to be

Process, Structure, and Form

End Notes

1. This alignment of mysticism with irrationality may
be, at least in part, traced to Judeo-Christian interpre-
tations of such problems as faith and knowledge/intel-
lect and, ostensibly, has resulted in a largely negative
reaction on the part of scholars, scientists, and philoso-
phers to the challenges presented by the mystical expe-
rience. It is important to note, however, that in many
non-European cultures, the opposition of the mystical
and the rational is less absolute and even absent all
together. Mystics in the Indo-Buddhist cultural tradi-
tion, for instance, do not negate the significance of the
intellect (or, more exactly, the significance of discursive
thought). Instead, we see an effort at applying discrim-
inating rationality to the analysis and comprehension
of mystical experience. Moreover, even in Europe,
there are philosophical systems that may be interpret-
ed as arising from the critical and rational analysis of
mystical experience (e.g., the work of Spinoza may be
seen as the rationalization of the mystical experience
[“illumination”]; Vladimir Solovyev’s system of “all-
unity” may be understood as closely connected to his
own mystical experience). Nevertheless, and despite
the few exceptions seen in Western thought, mysticism
is generally perceived as an enemy of rationality and,
combined with its numerous and ambiguous mean-
ings, has become a term that has little value in mean-
ingful philosophical discourse.

2. It may be argued that any description of any state of
consciousness, even the most elementary of states, can-
not be done in an absolutely adequate manner.
Language, at least natural language, has not been
explicitly developed to describe the inner world of per-
sonality or inner psychic processes. That is, language
does not appear to have been designed, and is not par-
ticularly well suited, to serve as an intersubjective tool
of communication.

3. In this vein, I agree with Pike’s (1992) criticism of
Stace’s (1960) concept of introvertive mysticism.

References

Burton, D. (1999). Emptiness appraised: A critical study

of Nagarjuna’s philosophy. London: Curzon.

Forman, R. K. C. (1994). “Of capsules and carts”:

Mysticism, language, and via negativa. Journal of
Consciousness Studies, 1(1), 38–49.

Forman, R. K. C. (1998). Introduction: Mystical con-

sciousness, the innate capacity, and the perennial
philosophy. In R. K. C. Forman (Ed.). The innate
capacity: Mysticism, psychology, and philosophy. New
York: Oxford University Press.

Franklin, R., L. (1998). Postconstructivist approaches

to mysticism. In R. K. C. Forman (Ed.). The innate
capacity: Mysticism, psychology, and philosophy. New
York: Oxford University Press.

Gimello, R. (1983). Mysticism in its context. In S. T.

Katz (Ed.), Mysticism and the religious traditions
(pp. 61–88). New York: Oxford University Press.

Pike, N. (1992). Mystic union: An essay in the phenom-

enology of mysticism. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University
Press.

Rosenberg, O. O. (1991). Trudy po buddizmu (Works

on Buddhism). Moscow: Nauka.

Solovyev, V. S. (1993). Ponyatie o Boge (The idea of

God). St. Petersburg: Megakon.

Stace, W. T. (1960). Mysticism and philosophy.

Philadephia: Lippincott.

Williams, P. (1992). Non-conceptuality, critical rea-

soning, and religious experience: Some Tibetan
Buddhist discussions. In M. McGhee (Ed.),
Philosophy, religion, and the spiritual life (pp.
189–210). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Zilberman, D. B. (1972). Otkrovenie v advaita-

vedante kak metod semanticheskoi destruksii yazy-
ka (The revelation in Advaita-Vedanta as experi-
ence of the semantic destruction of language.
Voprosy filosofii (Problems in Philosophy), 5,
109–157.

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Process, Structure, and Form:

An Evolutionary Transpersonal Psychology of Consciousness

Allan Combs

University of North Carolina-Asheville

Stanley Krippner

Saybrook Graduate School, San Francisco, California

In the spirit of William James, we present a process view of human consciousness. Our approach,
however, follows upon Charles Tart’s original systems theory analysis of states of consciousness,
although it differs in its reliance on the modern sciences of complexity, especially dynamical sys-
tems theory and its emphasis on process and evolution. We argue that consciousness experience
is constructive in the sense that it is the result of ongoing self-organizing and self-creating
(autopoietic) processes in the mind and body. These processes follow a broad developmental
agenda already described by psychologists such as Jean Piaget. Similar constructive transforma-
tions of consciousness appear to have occurred across the course of human history. In this sense,
phylogeny indeed recapitulates ontogeny. Finally, modern developmental research suggests that
the most advanced levels of human growth transform consciousness in the direction of increas-
ing selflessness and spirituality, rather than simply toward greater intelligence.

weather, in which humidity, temperature, wind veloc-
ity, and so on, change from moment to moment, day
to day, month to month, and year to year, in patterns
that are evident upon inspection but which never
exactly repeat themselves. Below we explore the idea
that our inner lives are composed of our own kind of
inner weather, made up of moods, thoughts, feelings,
memories, perceptions, and the like.

A phase portrait of a chaotic attractor looks some-

thing like the line made by a cork ball dipped in an
inkwell and set rolling inside a circular trough carved
into a thick wooden tabletop. The floor of the trough
represents the lowest potential energy state of the sys-
tem, while the walls might slope in either gradually or
abruptly. In dynamical systems terms this trough is
termed the basin of the attractor. If the ball continues
to roll around inside it in an endless erratic path, we
say it is caught in a chaotic attractor. In this example
the sides of the trough represent the entire range of the
attractor in the state space of the table top. If the ball
escapes from the trough and rolls away, we say that the
system has escaped this attractor basin and has gone
off, as it were, in search of another. In plain English,
the system has escaped one pattern of activity and
must now find another.

These ideas are especially rich when applied to a

class of physical systems identified by Prigogine (e.g.,
Prigogine & Stengers, 1984) as dissipative structures.
Such systems have a unique ability to take in energy
from the environment and use it to reorganize them-
selves into increasing complexity. Some of the energy,
however, is eventually dissipated back into the envi-
ronment in less organized forms, such as heat; thus the
term dissipative. The biosphere of the Earth is an
example of such a system. It absorbs sunlight, creating
life forms and ecologies that evolve toward high orders
of complexity, while heat, which is less organized than
sunlight, is radiated back into space. Living organisms
themselves are dissipative systems, ingesting highly
organized energy in the form of food, or sunlight in
the case of plants, and dissipating less organized
byproducts back into the environment.

In line with the above, biological systems have the

ability to organize and structure their own internal
processes; thus we say they are self-organizing systems.
In 1974, biologists Francisco Varela and Humberto
Maturana went beyond this notion to introduce the
idea that living organisms are autopoietic, or self-creating
(e.g., Varela, Maturana, & Uribe, 1974). From this

point of view an organism is a system whose first order
of business is the production of a network of processes
that, taken together, comprise that very organism. For
instance, the most important product of the overall
metabolic activity of a living cell is the cell itself. Thus,
the cell can be thought of as a network of genetically-
initiated processes that sustain themselves through
time, even though the material substances that consti-
tute them change continuously. All living organisms
are autopoietic systems, as are ecologies, and the entire
intricate web of life on Earth (Lovelock, 1988;
Lovelock & Margulis, 1974).

Once we understand the idea of an autopoietic

system we see that it has potential for many applica-
tions. The basic notion of a set of processes that recre-
ate themselves by their own mutual interactions can be
applied, for example, to chemical, neuronal, computa-
tional, and even cognitive systems. It has been shown,
for example, that certain combinations of complex
molecules will interact with each other in such a way
as to create more of their own kind (Kauffman, 1995).
Systems theorist George Kampis (1991) approaches
the entire idea of self-creating systems in terms of what
he calls component systems. Such a system is composed
of a set of elements that interact to create new ele-
ments, including the original set. The actual elements
in question can be chemical molecules, interacting
computational codes in a computer program, or cog-
nitive processes. The basic idea of a component system
is that its elements represent processes that encounter
each other in a kind of interactive soup. Notice that
these components can be understood as either physical
interactions between, say, molecules, or as logical oper-
ations that are specified, for example, by operational
codes in a computer program. Mathematician Ben
Goertzel (1994), for instance, has proposed just such
autopoietic computational systems. The present
authors have developed a similar line of thought cen-
tering on human cognitive and other psychological
processes (Combs, 2002; Combs & Krippner, 1998,
1999a, 1999b), an idea to which we will return shortly.

Kampis emphasizes the creative potential of com-

ponent systems, observing that they produce new and
creative outcomes that cannot be predicted by compu-
tational procedures. Goertzel differs on this point,
arguing that all such processes can be represented com-
putationally, at least under ideal conditions. Both,
however, agree that creativity flows from the interac-
tions of the components, which tend also to produce

Process, Structure, and Form

understood in depth. For example, Piaget’s levels of
cognitive development seem to present a structural
view of the growth of the intellect (Flavell, 1963;
Gruber & Voneche, 1977). But Piaget actually consid-
ered them to be outward manifestations of underlying
cognitive processes which he represented as mathemat-
ical transformations (i.e., as processes). Kohlberg’s
(1981) theory of moral development likewise exhibits
structural levels and stages, and was inspired to a sig-
nificant degree by Piaget’s own earlier work, but
Kohlberg himself stressed that beneath the surface
reside complex cognitive processes of exactly the type
originally identified by Piaget. Freud’s early writings,
which emphasized the processes by which neurotic
symptoms and dream narratives emerge in the context
of a unified fabric of the individual’s life, present
another example. As time went by, Freud slipped
increasingly into structural language, referring to the
id, ego, and superego as fixed features of the psyche
(Archard, 1984).

As is well known, William James (1890/1981)

viewed the mind as a stream of consciousness rather than
as a series of stationary experiences. In agreement with
this, it is generally understood that phenomenal reality
presents itself as a changing display of experience (e.g.,
Guenther, 1989; Kockelmans, 1967). Beyond this, we
note that many descriptions of the richest and most
intense forms of consciousness, of transpersonal expe-
riences for example, characterize reality as a radiant
flowing process of coming-into-being (Gebser,
1949/1986; Guenther, 1989; Rama, 1981). In line
with such observations, the approach we have taken in
this article and elsewhere (Combs, 2002; Combs &
Krippner, 1997, 1998, 1999a, 1999b) views process as
primary and structure as secondary.

The roots of the process perspective reach at least

as far back as Heraclitus in the West and Lao-Tsu in
the East, while several important developments in
recent decades have set the stage for the present work.
These include the appearance of a sophisticated
process philosophy in the writings of Alfred North
Whitehead and other recent American philosophers
(Rescher, 1996). They also include the creation of sys-
tems theory by Bertalanffy (1968), which has been
developed by Arthur Koestler (1979), Erich Jantsch
(1980), Ervin Laszlo (1972, 1987), and many others.
Nobel laureate chemist and mathematician Ilya
Prigogine (e.g., Prigogine & Stengers, 1984) made a
major contribution to this theoretical lineage by

demonstrating how complex systems can, through
their own intrinsic dynamics, evolve toward increasing
organization and complexity. Meanwhile, several
mathematicians developed methods for representing
complex dynamical systems, that is, systems that change
through time, by modeling their evolutionary trajecto-
ries (e.g., Abraham, 1991). Chaos theory, which was to
become widely celebrated in many circles, grew out of
dynamical systems theory. In this article we make use
of the language of dynamical systems theory to take a
step toward the development of a process model of
consciousness.

Evolution

trictly speaking, a system is considered dynamical if
it moves or changes (i.e., evolves) according to a

mathematical rule of transformation. An example is
the swinging of a pendulum. If the pendulum’s chang-
ing position and velocity are plotted in a state space of
all combinations of position and velocity, the resulting
figure is called a phase portrait. If the pendulum were
frictionless the phase portrait would describe a single
closed circle or ellipse as it cycled through the same
round of states indefinitely. The fact that the circle is
closed tells us that we are dealing with a cyclic or fixed
cycle attractor, (i.e., one that repeats itself exactly in
time). Here, the term attractor indicates the tendency
of the pendulum to return to this previous pattern of
activity even if displaced from it, say, by momentarily
causing it to swing more swiftly or more slowly. Such
stability is what gives the pendulum its reliability,
making it useful in clocks.

Allowing a clock that contains such a pendulum

to run down, so that it swings in decreasing arcs until
it comes to rest, generates a phase portrait that spirals
to a point near the center. The state of inactivity rep-
resented by this point is termed a static attractor. Such
attractors are of relatively little interest to the study of
living systems. Far more important is a third class of
attractors that cannot be properly categorized as either
point or cyclic, and for this reason was termed
“strange” by those who first discovered it. Nowadays
they are usually referred to as chaotic attractors. They
exhibit activity patterns that are evident to the eye, are
roughly cyclic in appearance, but never exactly repeat
themselves.

The behavior of many complex systems can be

represented as chaotic attractors. An example is the

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

volume and number, and the ability to perform multiple
classification and conceptualize hierarchical relation-
ships. These concepts, or schemata, form mutually
supporting networks.

For example, the schemata for the conservation of

volume allows one to know that when water is poured
from a tall narrow glass into a short wide one the vol-
ume remains the same. Children under about five
years of age do not believe this, and will argue that
there is less water in the second glass because they see
that the water level is lower. As time goes by, however,
children acquire a schema that allows them to com-
pensate for the depth of the water in the glass by tak-
ing into account its width. Thus, the new schema of
“width compensating for height” contributes to and
indeed becomes part of the more sophisticated schema
of the conservation of volume. Still another schema
that contributes to conservation is termed reversibility.
This is the ability to mentally run operations back-
ward, for example, to imagine that if the water in the
low wide glass were poured back into the original tall
narrow glass it would come up to exactly the same level
that it did originally. This schema, combined with the
others above, completes a tight package of operations
that both create and stabilize the idea of conservation
of volume. Indeed, we can imagine that if any one of
these schema failed, the others would rush in to recre-
ate and stabilize it. At the same time, when the
schemata of conservation becomes well established, it
in turn provides both a context and a confirmation of
the component schemata of which it is composed.

It is worth noting that while psychological models

of development such as those of Piaget (Flavell, 1963;
Piaget, 1952, 1954), Cook-Greuter (1999), Fischer
and Bidell (1998), Gilligan (1993), Gowan (1974),
Kegan (1982, 1994), Kohlberg (1981), Torbert
(1972), and Wade (1996) are often presented in terms
of structures, they are more correctly understood as
cognitive processes. For instance, Piaget’s work dealt
with how children and adults interpret reality. The
word “interpret” is a verb that references a process,
rather than a noun that references a structure.
Speaking of a Piagetian schema as a “structure” is no
more than a figure of speech. The same can be said for
Kegan’s developmental model, which extends beyond
Piaget’s formal operations thinking and into what he
calls “postconventional” levels of development.
Likewise, Kohlberg’s and Gilligan’s work on moral
thinking examines how people make moral decisions

(yet another process).

It is our idea that psychological development can

best be understood as the unfolding of a series of noetic
regimes, each undergirded by its own network of psy-
chological process. Together they create an entire
process fabric for experiencing the world, a stream of
thought as James suggested, forming the core of that
individual’s experience of reality. In this discussion we
focus especially on the cognitive aspects of each devel-
opmental level simply because research in the field of
development tells us more about cognitive develop-
ment than, say, emotional, mnemonic, social, or per-
ceptual development. However in the larger picture
these must also be included in each developmental
regime (Fischer & Bidell, 1998). Now let us consider
the transformation of such regimes during psycholog-
ical growth.

Evolution and Growth: Ontogeny

Recapitulates Phylogeny (Again)

n dynamical systems terms, a system is said to evolve
if it follows a rule of transformation (Abraham,

1991). From this point of view evolution and growth
are closely related. We believe that this similarity is
more than formal; that when it comes to the human
mindbody there are deep similarities between individ-
ual development from childhood through advanced
stages of adult development and the psychological evo-
lution of the human mindbody across history. First, let
us consider development, then move on to the ques-
tion of evolution.

Again taking the Piagetian model as a guide, let us

note that each increment in development sees separate
schemata combining to form hierarchical structures of
greater complexity at the next level up. For example,
during the sensorimotor period of infancy the initially
separate schemata of grasping and visual tracking com-
bine to form an eye-hand coordination schema that
will continue to increase in complexity and flexibility
for years to come. In similar fashion, developmental
psychologist Rhonda Kellogg (1969) documented the
spontaneous productions of art in children from
throughout the world, finding that the freely drawn
patterns at one level of development combine to form
the elements of the next and more complex stage of
drawing. Early circles, squares, and triangles come
together to form houses, cars, and people. Research
suggests that an analogous cognitive process underlies

Process, Structure, and Form

novel new components. And these new components in
turn interact with each other, and with previously
existing components, to produce even newer compo-
nents not foreseeable from the original constituents.
Here it is helpful to keep in mind that these “compo-
nents” are actually transformational processes, such as
the transformational operations specified in computer
codes, chemical changes facilitated by catalytic interac-
tions, or cognitive transformations leading, for exam-
ple, to new ideas or concepts. Ultimately, such creative
processes can combine to alter the basic form of the
system itself. From a larger view, such systems can be
understood as rolling autopoietic events in which old
patterns evolve into new ones.

One goal of this paper is to show that our imme-

diate experience, the Jamesian stream of consciousness, is
composed of psychological processes such as thoughts,
memories, and emotions, which form an ongoing
autopoietic system that recreates itself from moment
to moment through the interaction of its psychologi-
cal components. Indeed, we are concerned here not
only with the conscious experience itself, but also with
its chemical and physiological constituents within the
brain and body. With this in mind, we have utilized
the term mindbody (Combs & Krippner, 1998) to
refer to the entire set of mental and physiological
aspects of a person’s moment-to-moment experience.

Our contention is that the experiential life of the

mindbody recreates itself from moment to moment by
virtue of the interaction of its constituent component
processes. As with other complex component systems,
such as the metabolic cycles that interact to create the
total complex event of a living cell, or the patterns of
the weather, composed of elements such as heat,
atmospheric pressure, and wind velocity, the life of the
mindbody is both stable and creative. It is stable
because the entire regime of interacting component
processes of which it is formed lend it stability, as we
also see in the life of a cell. It is creative because the
interactions of the component psychological processes
create new processes which, interacting with older
ones, lead to novelty and even to long-term growth, or
evolution, in the system as a whole. Let us consider
these points in order.

Stability, Self-Creation, and

Change in the Mindbody System

onsider the tendency of moods to sustain them-
selves for brief or even long periods of time

through a continuous cycle of interactions of thought,
memories, imaginings, and feelings, as well as physio-
logical factors such as hormone or neurotransmitter
levels in the blood. There is evidence that a particular
mood such as anger, sadness, or joy, promotes the
recall of state-specific memories that remind us of
events experienced during previous instances of those
very moods (Bower, 1981; Eich, 1980). When we are
sad we remember unhappy episodes from the past.
Such recollections strengthen the state of mindbody
that produces them. Our cognitive and emotional systems
slip into an attractor basin that can be characterized as
a mood of sadness. Such a state involves alterations in
the neurochemistry of the brain as well as hormonal
changes in the blood that further strengthen the pull
of this mood attractor. In this connection, two labora-
tories have found that ordinary mood fluctuations fol-
low chaotic patterns from hour to hour and day to day
(Combs, Winkler, & Daley, 1994; Hanna, 1991), as
would be expected for a complex autopoietic system.

An important notion for understanding long-term

changes and transformations of human consciousness
is the idea that cognitive systems can be autopoietic as
well. This is logically similar to the idea, noted above,
that computer codes can be written to produce a kind
of operational soup that, once set in motion, recreates
itself over time and gives birth to new and novel codes.
Something similar to this can be seen in terms of the
human mind. Consider Piaget’s developmental cogni-
tive model of the child’s understanding of the world
(e.g., Flavell, 1963; Piaget, 1952, 1954). Here, each
Piagetian level of development represents an experien-
tial world, a noetic regime according to which reality
is interpreted as sets of magical relationships (preoper-
ational period thinking), relatively simple cause-and-
effect relationships (concrete operational thinking), or
sophisticated causal interactions (formal operational
thinking). At each of these developmental levels the
cognitive operations, or schemata in Piaget’s original
terms, are composed of elements that mutually create
and support each other. For instance, the experience of
the world that is made possible by the formal opera-
tions intellect relies on logical schemata such as
reversibility, asymmetric relationships, conservation of

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Beck & Cowan, 1996), Loevinger (Loevinger &
Wessler, 1970), and Kegan (1982). Both Combs
(2002) and Wilber (1998a) have given particular
attention to the work of these theorists as well as that
of others. Barnes’s (2000) book, Stages of Thought,
examines this whole issue from the point of view of the
history of religion. Working almost entirely within
biblical and Judo-Christian theological scholarship
traditions, he makes a systematic and detailed case that
the history of religion, especially the Judaic and
Christian traditions, tracks the Piagetian levels of
thinking with startling accuracy, from biblical begin-
nings right up to modern times. Since Barnes seems
virtually unaware of most of the above research—a fact
verified by personal correspondence—his work is of
special interest because it offers more or less independ

ent support for these ideas.

Table 1 incorporates the insights of many develop-

mental theorists to yield an overview of developmental
stages. It is based on an unpublished collaboration
between Susanne Cook-Greuter and Ken Wilber
(Cook-Greuter & Wilber, 2000). The stages are
labeled with terms drawn from Piaget and Wilber. It
includes several levels of postconventional develop-
ment of interest to transpersonal psychology. We will
return to these below, but first let us note briefly that
were we to move from this large overview to a detailed
perspective we would observe that each person devel-
ops in a unique pattern across different content areas.
For example, one person might be gifted in mathemat-
ics, or music, or moral thinking, but relatively slow to
develop in other areas. Such a distribution or décalage, to

Process, Structure, and Form

the development of moral thinking, leading finally to
the abstract moral judgment of the advanced adult
(Kohlberg, 1981). Similar changes are seen in the
development of the self (Kegan, 1982, 1994).

In all such theoretical models, each stage of devel-

opment is built out of processes already present in ear-
lier stages, which are combined in new, more complex
and effective ways at the next level. For instance, Kelly
(1999) has shown how formal operational stage
schemata recombine in post–formal operational think-
ing to yield the more advanced recursive, dialogic
(embracing opposites such as yin and yang), and holo-
graphic modes of thought described by French philoso-
pher Edgar Morin (1999). When a sufficient number
of such developmental events have taken place to cre-
ate an entirely new cognitive fabric, a new way of
understanding and experiencing reality, we say that the
individual has advanced to the next level of develop-
ment. In the above example, Kelly suggests that the
appearance of recursive, dialogic, and holographic
thought yields a new level of cognitive development
equivalent to Gebser’s (1949/1986) “integral” struc-
ture of consciousness. Our point here, however, is that
more is involved in such growth processes than the
accumulation of small footholds until large plateaus
have been reached. If the sciences of complexity tell us
anything, it is that small changes eventually lead to
new emergent regimes of organization. Such regimes
tend to exhibit their own properties that are not, even
in theory, predictable from an analysis of the elements
of which they are composed. Examples range from the
“wetness” of water, not predictable on the basis of a
knowledge of the physics of hydrogen and oxygen
molecules, to the collective behavior of groups of liv-
ing organisms, such as ant colonies, not predictable
from the study of the individual ants that make them up.

Indeed, one of Prigogine’s (e.g., Prigogine &

Stengers, 1984) most important discoveries was that
self-organizing systems can reach levels of complexity
at which they spontaneously reorganize, or bifurcate,
into new and complex structures that exhibit entirely
novel features. Cardiac cells placed separately in a sup-
portive medium rhythmically contract at different fre-
quencies, but when a critical density is reached they
begin to pulsate in unison, forming something like a
single organ. Our own brains and bodies are living tes-
timony to the dynamic of emergence, in which the
whole may be either more or less complex than its con-
stituent elements. But in every instance it is greater

than the sum of its parts, and in many instances is sur-
prisingly independent of them. Hence, not only is
such a system more than the sum of its parts, it is dif-
ferent from the sum of its parts.

Considering the limits of organizational complexity

at one level, and how such limits give way to richer
organization at the next, Morin (1999) observes:

If the situation is logically hopeless, this indicates
that we have arrived at a logical threshold at which
the need for change and the thrust toward complex-
ification can allow for the transformations that
could bring metasystems into being. It is when
…novelty and creativity …can arise. Thus, it was
when the chemical organization of groups of mil-
lions of molecules become impossible that a living
auto-eco-organization first appeared. (p. 107)

Here, our point is that each level of psychological
development is equivalent to a new psychological
regime. (Again, we emphasize the cognitive aspects of
such regimes only because psychologists know more
about this aspect of development.) Thus, each level
carries with it a new experience of the world and of
reality itself. This may seem a strong statement, but
consider the world experienced by the child in contrast
with that of the adult. It can hardly be doubted that
these represent two substantially different orders of
reality. We might go so far as to entertain the idea that
the child experiences an ordinary state of conscious-
ness that differs from that of the adult. Here it can be
seen that, when we conceptualize each developmental
level as an autopoietic regime of cognitive and other
psychological processes, we have in hand ideas useful
for understanding states of consciousness as well. We
will return to this idea below.

First let us proceed to the matter of evolution, asking

specifically whether psychological ontogeny recapitu-
lates phylogeny: does the course of individual psycho-
logical development follow a pattern similar to that
seen in the history of the human mind? A detailed
examination of this question is outside the scope of
these pages, but the answer from many scholars who
have probed this question in depth is a resounding
“yes” (e.g., Barnes, 2000; Combs, 2002; Feuerstein,
1987; Wilber, 1981, 2000). Consider, for example,
that the major historical structures of consciousness
identified by the European cultural historian Jean
Gebser (1949/1986) map surprisingly well onto the
stages described by developmental theorists such as
Piaget (Flavell, 1963), Graves (1961, 1970; also see

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Table 1. A 10 point developmental scale.

Broad Level

Developmental Stage

Subdivisions

Matter
Sensation
Perception
Exocept
Impulse/emotion
Image
Symbol
Endocept
Concept
Rule/role early
Rule/role late
Formal early
Formal late
Transition
Vision early
Vision middle
Vision late
Early
Late
Early
Late (archetype)
Early
Late (formless)
Early
Middle
Late

Preconventional
(Body)

Conventional
(Mind)

Postconventional
(Centaur)

Post-postconventional
(Soul)

Spirit

1. Sensorimotor

2. Phantasmic-emotional

(Preoperational)

3. Representational mind

(Early concrete operations)

4. Concrete operations

5. Formal Operations

Transition

6. Post-formal

7. Psychic

8. Subtle

9. Causal

10. Nondual

[

Terms are based on a number of developmental systems. e.g., see Wilber (1998a).]

only when we acquire the ability to look down on the
buzzing mechanistic mind from a position of objective
clarity (Aurobindo, 1971):

Those who get beyond the average, have in one way
or other, or at least at certain times and for certain
purposes, to separate the two parts of the mind, the
active part, which is a factory of thoughts and the
quiet masterful part which is at once a Witness and
a Will, observing them, judging, rejecting, eliminat-
ing, accepting, ordering corrections and changes,
the Master in the House of Mind. (p. 126)

All types of insight meditation advise us to learn

the skill of quietly observing our thoughts and feel-
ings. In the Taoist masterpiece on meditation, The
Secret of the Golden Flower, we are instructed to follow
our thoughts back to their origins, and thereby dis-
solve them into clear light (Cleary, 2000). Many other
examples could be given, but the point is that to gain
the highest forms of experience we must first become
masters of objectivity—and to do that we must be uni-
fied within our own mindbodies.

States and Realms of Consciousness:

The human growth potential

o far we have said that the dynamical regimes of the
psyche, especially patterns of cognition, play a

major role in defining the conscious reality that we
experience. Now we consider how states of conscious-
ness might be understood in terms of this framework.
In a series of papers we have explored the idea that
states of consciousness—ordinary wakefulness, sleeping
and dreaming states, meditative and drug-elicited
states, and such—occur when elements of our experi-
ence such as thoughts, memories, emotions, and per-
ceptions combine to form the unique dynamic pat-
terns of activity that characterize each such state
(Combs, 2002; Combs & Krippner, 1997, 1998,
1999a, 1999b). We suggest that these patterns are best
thought of as attractors in the mindbody, that is,
regimes of cognitive and neural activity that together
form organized dynamical structures. Such patterns
seem to be self-organizing and self-sustaining, as noted
above in the case of moods such as sadness or joy. In
other words, a state of consciousness can be viewed as
a self-organizing, or autopoietic process in the mind-
body. This view is consistent with Charles Tart’s
(1972, 1975) early conceptualization of a state of con-
sciousness as a combined system of psychological and

physiological functions that join together to form a
coherent pattern, or gestalt.

In this view, the complex patterns of activity that

constitute a state of consciousness are made of many of
the same psychological constituents—patterns of cog-
nition, perceptions, emotions, and so on—that deter-
mine one’s level of psychological development. This in
mind, a reasonable hypothesis is that states of con-
sciousness can be thought of as inflections on the
developmental patterns of consciousness described
above (Combs, 2002; Combs & Krippner, 1998). In
this sense we might think of a state of consciousness as
a platform resting upon a larger supporting develop-
mental level. A more technically precise way of saying
this is that a state of consciousness is viewed as a self-
organizing, or autopoietic system, nested within a larger
developmental autopoietic system. If this hypothesis is
true we might expect that even seemingly resilient
states of consciousness, such as those experienced in
drug intoxication and dreaming, might differ for indi-
viduals who are at different developmental levels. As
counterintuitive as this idea may seem at first, there is
considerable evidence that dream experiences are relat-
ed to developmental level, at least in terms of the ages
of children (Foulkes, 1999), and informal observation
seems consistent with the idea that drug-induced expe-
riences differ with the individual’s developmental level
as well. We suggest that such a possibility warrants fur-
ther research.

Nevertheless, certain states of conscious seem to

have a kind of subjective resilience, or perhaps we
should say that they carry a strong sense of reality,
which other states, such as daydreaming or hypna-
gogia, seem to lack. What is more, descriptions of certain
meditative, imaginal, near-death, and even post-
mortem states from many spiritual traditions, appear
to have an evident universal coinage, such that these
states, or something very much like them, have been
described by observers in many times and cultures
(Arcari, Combs, & Krippner, in preparation; Brown,
1986; Combs, 2002; Grof & Halifax, 1977; Wilber,
1998b). In many wisdom traditions these are said to
be more than states of consciousness, but independent
realities or realms of being (e.g., Chittick, 1994;
Corbin, 1966, 1976/1990; Graham, 1990; Groff &
Halifax, 1978; Masters, 2002; Norbu, 1989;
Thurman, 1994). Each wisdom tradition has its own
version of this theme, but many articulate roughly four
primary realms, while some include a variety of subdivisions

Process, Structure, and Form

use Piaget’s (1952; Flavell, 1963) term, of development
into separate “lines” (Wilber, 1998a) is recognized in
virtually all developmental theories. The present
authors recognize it as well, but to carry its detailed
consideration every step along our way would burden
the present paper beyond bearing.

Psychological Growth Is Increasing

Complexity

ow, let us return to the theme of psychological
growth as the dynamical evolution of psycholog-

ical process through increasingly complex regimes. We
can imagine such growth as a series of attractors, each
constituting a higher order of complexity than the one
before. We suggest that these attractors correspond to
the levels of development shown, for example, in Table
1. Each developmental level is a new and more com-
plex psychological regime, more flexible and more
competent than the one before, but incorporating pre-
vious regimes into its own process structure. Above, we
tried to give a clear indication of how such transforma-
tive growth processes occur in developmental theories
such as those of Piaget, Kohlberg, and Kegan. Now, we
extend this idea in the direction of postconventional
levels of development. (Here we use “postconventional”
informally to refer to all levels above the average
adult.) According to our view, it is these advanced lev-
els that carry us into the transpersonal realms.

What evidence is there to support this view?

Unfortunately, when we come to the transpersonal lev-
els of development we leave most mainstream psycho-
logical research behind, sometimes finding ourselves
relying on the personal reports of so-called sages and
mystics. Though there have been many scientific
investigations of the effects of spiritual practices such
as meditation, Tai Chi, yoga, and the like, these usually
address specific interests of particular groups of
researchers, with questions such as: “Does meditation
contribute to stress reduction?” Findings are rarely
framed in a developmental context. There are, however,
a few exceptions. A notable study of postconventional
development, for example, was conducted by Susanne
Cook-Greuter (1999) as a dissertation under the
supervision of Robert Kegan. She based her work on
Loevinger’s (Loevinger & Wessler, 1970) model of ego
development, carefully analyzing over one thousand
interviews with postconventional individuals of both
genders. Cook-Greuter found a spiraling pattern of

postconventional growth in which individuals first
move toward individuation and autonomy, and then
begin to experience a growing sense of unity with oth-
ers and the universe.

The broad view of postconventional development

seen in Cook-Greuter’s findings is consistent with that
shown in Table 1. Moving through postconventional
Stage 6, her participants disclosed an upward trend
first toward increasing individuation and autonomy;
then, with a growing awareness of their own self-constructs
of reality, they shifted toward an increasing sense of
unity with others and with the world in general. These
findings are in agreement with the pattern of develop-
ment seen in Table 1, and are also in accord with Clair
Graves’ (1961, 1970; also see Beck & Cowan, 1996)
finding that growth at all levels tends to oscillate
between self-actualization and identity with the greater
community.

Paradoxically, the highest levels of growth seem to

carry an inherent simplicity reflected in a more direct
experience of reality. Surprisingly, such clarity is in fact
obtained through complexity. The basic idea, devel-
oped in detail by psychoanalyst Stanley Palombo
(1999), is that through the development of complex
networks of interactions in the brain, one’s sense of self
becomes integrated into a single fabric of thoughts,
feelings, and motivations. Otherwise they drift as dis-
connected attractors, manipulating us like puppets
without our control or understanding. In other words,
wholeness brings clarity. In contrast to this highly
desirable state of affairs, the human condition often
involves considerable fragmentation. Motivational
aspects of the mind are only loosely connected to cog-
nitive belief systems, rational process, perceptions, and
emotions. Palombo argues that it is the goal of psy-
chotherapy to connect these disparate elements into
more complex, fully interconnected systems in which
few psychological processes continue on their own
outside of awareness.

Seen from the experiential side, the simplicity and

purity of an integrated mindbody is possible because
the individual can stand back from the typical welter
of mental and emotional activity to find a place of
greater quiet and beauty. Thus, it is through objectivity
that we gain the ecstatic realms of pure experience
(Combs, 2002). This may seem a strange notion, but
we find it expressed in virtually every wisdom tradi-
tion. Sri Aurobindo’s writings, for instance, remind us
again and again that the yogic transformation begins

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Let us again note, as well, that no matter what

state of consciousness, or realm of being, an individual
might experience, we can expect that upon returning
to ordinary waking consciousness he or she will inter-
pret that experience according to his or her own level
of development. Let us say, for instance, that someone
has a “peak experience” of Vedanta’s subtle, or even
causal realm. If that person is functioning develop-
mentally at Gebser’s (1949/1986) mythic structure
(Table 1; stages 3 & 4; representational mind and con-
crete operations thinking) they will explain their experi-
ence in mythic terms—for example, in terms of deities
or devils, and perhaps grand mythic motifs involving
heavens and hells. If on the other hand their dominant
developmental level were at Gebser’s mental structure
(stage 5, formal operations thinking), then they would
offer logical explanations, perhaps speaking in terms of
grand visions of nature and the physical cosmos.

The idea that each person would interpret peak

experiences of other realms of being, whether they are
independent realities or not, in terms of his or her own
developmental level led both Combs (1995) and
Wilber (1998b) independently to outline a set of pos-
sible intersections between such experiences and the
developmental levels to which the person might
return, once back to ordinary consciousness. They

subsequently named the graphic representation of this
idea the “Wilber-Combs Lattice” (Combs, 2002),
shown in Table 2. Here, each box represents the inter-
section of a developmental level, shown in the left
hand column, and a realm of being suggested by
Vedanta, seen in the row on top. Note that in this table
the subtle realm is divided along traditional lines into
a lower subtle, or “psychic” realm, and a higher, or true
subtle realm.

The Wilber-Combs Lattice is a potentially useful

guide for identifying and studying a vast range of peak
or spiritual experiences, and the interpretations of
those experiences as reported by individuals at differ-
ent developmental levels. And, let us remember that
these developmental levels correspond to historical
epochs as well. Thus, for example, the mind of a level
3 or 4 individual has throughout history tended to
interpret experiences suggestive of even the most sub-
tle realms of being in terms of gods, goddesses, and
mythic narratives, while a level 2 person interprets
similar experiences in terms of magical beings, nature
spirits, and synchronicities.

We should note, however, that along with Jean

Gebser the present writers view the insights of every
developmental structure to be valid in their own
worlds of experience, and we do not elevate any struc-

Process, Structure, and Form

within these. Examples of the latter include the bardo
states of the Buddhists (Thurman, 1994), all in the
“subtle” realms, and the imaginal realms of the Sufis
(Chittick, 1994; Corbin, 1976/1990), also in the
“subtle” realms. Indian Vedanta philosophy, said to be
the outgrowth of the reports of yogic practioners over
millennia, has one of the simplest and most inclusive
versions of this grand vision. It posits the existence of
gross, subtle, and causal realms, which are often associ-
ated with the conscious states of wakefulness, dream
sleep, and, paradoxically, dreamless sleep (e.g.,
Tigunait, 1983). Vedanta also describes a forth state,
turiya, the transcendental witness of all three .

For the sake of speculation, let us for the moment

entertain the possibility that these realms of being rep-
resent actual realities that cannot be reduced to states
of mindbody alone (Arcari, Combs, & Krippner, in
preparation; Combs, 2002; Wilber, 1998a). This
would mean that at least some of the reports of such
alternative realms of experience found in spiritual and
shamanic traditions throughout the world may be
valid in the same way that travel reports of individuals
who have visited other countries can be valid. It also
would mean that certain dynamical configurations of
the mindbody carry us not only into altered states of
consciousness, in the usual sense, but also into other
realms of being. This is a radical idea from the point of
view of Western science, but in less technical terms is
taken for granted by virtually all wisdom traditions
throughout the world. It would be foolish for us to
argue the physics or metaphysics of such a proposition,
though the authors speculate on this elsewhere (Arcari,
Combs, & Krippner, in preparation). But in a scientific
community that takes seriously such theoretical won-
ders as black holes, multiple universes, galaxies that
travel backward in time, and nonlocal quantum
effects, it is hardly defensible to dismiss any serious
proposal simply because it does not fit with traditional
opinions.

Returning, however, to states of consciousness and

levels of development, several theorists have pointed to
a simpatico, if not an actual identity, between
advanced postconventional levels of psychological
development and certain peak, or mystical, states of
consciousness (Combs, 2002; Cook-Greuter, 1999;
Kelly, 1999; Wade 1996; Washburn, 1988; Wilber,
1998b). Wilber, for instance, has gone so far as to sug-
gest titles for these developmental levels that indicate
their affinity with the realms to which they seem most

strongly affiliated, as seen in the middle column in
Table 1 (levels 7–10). Now, the idea that the dynamical
regimes that undergird the highest postconventional
levels of development are themselves states of con-
sciousness, and further that these are somehow reso-
nant with realms of being that have been described in
traditional wisdom literatures from around the world,
may seem a considerable stretch. But perhaps this is
only because we have arrived at this possibility through
such tortuous reasoning! If we were simply to say that
human growth at its highest levels becomes spiritual,
at which point the individual becomes increasingly
conscious of subtle realms of being—or more conser-
vatively, is subject to mystical experiences—the whole
proposition seems less labored. In accord with this
view, virtually all major theoretical models of psycho-
logical growth increasingly emphasize selflessness if
not explicit spirituality at the highest levels of develop-
ment (e.g., Fischer & Bidell, 1998; Gilligan, 1993;
Cook-Greuter, 1999; Kegan, 1982, 1994; Kohlberg,
1981; Maslow, 1971).

Approaching the problem from another point of

view, we find that without making the assumption that
there is an equivalence between the most advanced lev-
els of development and certain states of consciousness,
and more, that these may be uniquely allied with par-
ticular realms of being, it is difficult to explain why
mystical experiences, evidently more common than
one might imagine (Greeley & McCready, 1975;
Spence, 1992), should so clearly prefigure experiences
commonly ascribed to persons at later developmental
stages (Combs, 2002; Wilber, 1998b, 2002). Or why
such peak experiences should have so much in com-
mon when reported by individuals at different levels of
development (e.g., Maslow, 1971). Thinking about
such problems, theologian Randall Studsill (2002) has
carefully examined the mystical experiences described
in Tibetan Buddhist Dzogchen literature, comparing
these with the Rhineland mystic tradition, especially
exemplified in the writings of Meister Eckhart. He
found the similarities to be striking. However, he also
approached this analysis from a point of view similar
to the dynamical systems perspective presented in this
paper. In doing so, he took pains to point out the awk-
wardness of attempting to explain how temporary
peak or mystical experiences had by ordinary people
can prefigure the stable characteristics of later well-
established patterns of experience such as those
described in these two traditions.

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Table 2. A partial Wilber-Combs Lattice.

Levels

/Realms

Gross

Psychic

Subtle

Causal

Nondual

—

Causal

—

Subtle

—

Psychic

—

Integral Consciousness, or
Vision Logic

—

Formal Operations

—

Concrete Operations

—

Representational mind

(Early Concrete Operations)

—

Phantasmic-emotional

—

(Preoperational)

—

Sensorimotor

—

Levels of development. Terms are based on a number of developmental systems; e.g., see Wilber (1998a).

Realms of being. These may be thought of as actual realms of being, or states of consciousness that carry a strong sense

of reality.

Ever-present ordinary mind; the direct experience of the nondual ground.

Psychic = lower subtle

Cook-Greuter, S., & Wilber, K. (2000). Unpublished

table developed for the Human Change Project.
Integral Institute, Boulder, Colorado.

Corbin, H. (1966). The visionary dream in Islamic

spirituality. In Grunebaum and Caillais (Eds.), The
dreams in human society. Berkeley: University of
California Press.

Corbin, H. (1976/1990). Spiritual body and celestial

earth: From Mazdean Iran to Shi’ite Iran. London:
I.B. Tauris.

Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1993). The evolving self: A psy-

chology for the third millennium. New York:
HarperCollins.

Eich, J.E. (1980). The cue-dependent nature of state-

dependent retention. Memory and Cognition, 8,
157–173.

Feuerstein, G. (1987). Structures of consciousness: The

genius of Jean Gebser. Lower Lake, CA: Integral
Publishing.

Fischer, K.W., & Bidell, T.R. (1998). Dynamic devel-

opment of psychological structures in action and
thought. In R.M. Learner (Ed.), Handbook of child
psychology: Vol. 1: Theoretical models of human devel-
opment. (5th Ed.). New York: John Wiley & Sons.

Flavell, J. H. (1963). The developmental psychology of

Jean Piaget. New York: Van Nostrand.

Foulkes, D. (1999). Children’s dreaming and the devel-

opment of consciousness. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press.

Gebser, J. (1949/1986). The everpresent origin.

(N. Barstad & A. Mickunas, Trans.). Athens, OH:

Ohio University Press.

Gelman, S.A., & Markman, E.M. (1986). Categories

and induction in young children. Cognition, 23,
183–209.

Gilligan, C. (1993). In a different voice: Psychological

theory and women’s development. Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press.

Goertzel, B. (1994). Chaotic logic: Language, mind and

reality, from the perspective of complex systems science.
New York: Plenum.

Gowan, J.C. (1974). Development of the psychedelic

individual. Brooktondale, NY: J.A. Gowan.

Graham, A.C. (1990). The book of Lieh Tzu: A classic

of the Tao. New York: Columbia University Press.

Graves, C. W. (1961). On the theory of ethical behavior.

Retrieved 4/24/2002, from http://www.clarew-
graves.com/articles_content/1961/1961a.htm.
(From the collection of William R. Lee.)

Graves, C. W. (1970). Levels of existence: An open

system of values. Journal of Humanistic Psychology
10(2): 131–155.

Greeley, A., & McCready, W. (1975). Are we a nation

of mystics? In D. Goleman, & R.J. Davidson
(Eds.), Consciousness, brain, states of awareness, and
mysticism (pp. 175–183). New York: Harper & Row.

Gruber, H.E., & Voneche, J.J. (Eds.). (1977). The

essential Piaget. New York: Basic Books.

Grof, S., & Halifax, J. (1977). The human encounter

with death. New York: Dutton.

Guenther, V.H. (1989). From reductionism to creativi-

ty: rDzogs-chen and the new sciences of mind.
Boston: Shambhala.

Hanna, T. (1991, August). Moods and daily stress: The

contribution of a dynamical systems approach. Paper
presented at the Inaugural meeting of The Society
for Chaos Theory in Psychology, San Francisco,
CA.

James, W. (1890/1981). The principles of psychology.

Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Jantsch, E. (1980). The self organizing universe. New

York: Pergamon.

Kampis, G. (1991). Self-modifying systems in biology

and cognitive science. New York: Pergamon.

Kauffman, S. (1995). At home in the universe: The

search for the laws of self-organization and complexity.
New York: Oxford University Press.

Kegan, R. (1982). The evolving self. Cambridge, MA:

Harvard University Press.

Kegan, R. (1994). In over our heads: The mental

demands of modern life. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press.

Kellogg, R. (1969). Analyzing children’s art. Palo Alto,

CA: National Press Books.

Kelly, S. (1999). The complexity of consciousness and

the consciousness of complexity. In Proceedings of
the 43rd Annual Conference of The International
Society of Systems Sciences.

Kockelmans, J.J. (1967). Edmund Husserl’s phenome-

nological psychology. Lafayette, IN: Purdue
University Press.

Koestler, A. (1979). Janus: A summing up. New York:

Vintage.

Kohlberg, L. (1981). Essays on moral development

(Vol.1). San Francisco: Harper & Row

Process, Structure, and Form

ture, with the possible exception of nondual aware-
ness, above any other. Moreover, as Kohlberg (1981),
Torbert (1972), Wade (1996), and other developmen-
tal psychologists have shown over and over again, the
evaluation of a person’s, or even a culture’s, dominant
developmental level is not as simple as it may seem.
For instance, a person who appears to exhibit postcon-
ventional morality may, in fact, simply be mouthing
statements heard from others. The way an individual
thinks, perceives reality, and approaches the world
must all be examined. For example, a contemporary
shaman may make excellent use of magical technolo-
gies but think about them from a stage 6 or even high-
er developmental perspective. Finally, consider the
spiritual experiences of children, presumably near the
bottom of the developmental scale. Children some-
times report experiences of “angelic” realms of con-
sciousness ordinarily reserved for saints and sages (e.g.,
Morse with Perry, 1990; Wilber, 2002). They, of
course, interpret these with the mind of a child, but
this does not mean that they do not have genuine spir-
itual experiences.

And so, the visions of children, like the illumina-

tions of mystics and the epiphanies of ordinary
humans, all remind us that not only is the world much
richer and more diverse than science once imagined,
but the dimensions of human experience surpass our
finest dreams.

References

Abraham, F.D. (1991). A visual introduction to dynam-

ical systems theory for psychology. Santa Cruz, CA:
Aerial Press.

Arcari, A., Combs, A., & Krippner, S. (in prepara-

tion). The many colors of consciousness.

Archard, D. (1984). Consciousness and the unconscious.

La Salle, IL: Open Court.

Aurobindo. (1971). Letters on yoga (13 Vols.)

Pondicherry, India: All India Press.

Barnes, H.B. (2000). Stages of thought: The co-evolu-

tion of religious thought and science. New York:
Oxford University Press.

Beck, D., & Cowan, C. (1996). Spiral dynamics:

Mastering values, leadership, and change (develop-
mental management). Cambridge, MA: Blackwell.

Bertalanffy, L. von (1968). General system theory:

Foundations, development, applications. New York:
Braziller.

Bower, G.H. (1981). Mood and memory. American

Psychologist, 36, 129–148.

Boring, E.G. (1929/1950). A history of experimental

psychology. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts.

Brown, D. P. (1986). The stages of meditation in

crosscultural perspective. In K. Wilber, J. Englet
and D. P. Brown (Eds.), Transformations of con-
sciousness (pp. 191–218). Boston: Shambala.

Chittick, W. (1994). Imaginal worlds: Ibn al-‘Arabi

and the problem of religious diversity. Albany, NY:
SUNY Press.

Cleary, T. (Ed. & Trans.). (2000). Taoist meditation:

Methods for cultivating a healthy mind and body.
Boston: Shambhala.

Combs, A. (1995). The Radiance of being: Complexity,

chaos, and the evolution of consciousness. Edinburgh:
Floris Books; 1996, St. Paul, MN: Paragon House.

Combs, A. (2002). The Radiance of being:

Understanding the grand integral vision; Living the
integral life (2nd ed.) St. Paul, MN: Paragon House.

Combs, A. & Krippner, S. (1997, June). A process view

of dream states in mind and brain. Paper presented
at the meeting of the Association for the Study of
Dreams, Fourteenth International Conference,
Asheville, NC.

Combs, A., & Krippner, S. (1998). Dream sleep and

waking reality: A dynamical view of two states of
consciousness. In S. Hameroff, A.W. Kaszniak, &
A.C. Scott (Eds.), Toward a science of consciousness:
The second Tucson discussions and debates (pp.
487–493). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Combs, A., & Krippner, S. (1999a). Consciousness,

evolution, and spiritual growth: A critique and
model. World Futures, 53(3), 193–212.

Combs, A., & Krippner, S. (1999b). Spiritual growth

and the evolution of consciousness: Complexity,
evolution, and the farther reaches of human nature.
The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies,
18(1), 9–19.

Combs, A., Winkler, M., & Daley, C. (1994). A

chaotic systems analysis of circadian rhythms in
feeling states. The Psychological Record, 44,
359–368.

Cook-Greuter, S. (1999). Postautonomous ego develop-

ment: A study of its nature and measurement.
Unpublished doctoral dissertation. Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University. Dissertation Abstracts
International-B, 60-06, 3000.

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

he question of whether the world’s “primal
peoples”—both those who existed during ear-
lier epochs and those who existed until recent

times—are genuinely “spiritual” or not is a hotly con-
tested issue, which has important consequences for
transpersonal psychology. The two sides of the argu-
ment will be familiar to every reader of Ken Wilber’s
works. On the one hand there is what Wilber calls the
“Retro-romantic” view, which holds that primal peo-
ples were more “spiritual” than modern human beings.
They possessed a strong sense of connection to the cosmos
and an awareness of esoteric forces and phenomena,
both of which we have lost. With the development of
our powerful intellect and strong sense of ego—and
especially with the development of modern industrial
civilisation—we “fell” away from their higher state of
being.

But according to Wilber (e.g., 1995), this is to fall

victim to the pre/trans fallacy. Applying his spectrum
of consciousness model to phylogenetic development,
Wilber argues that primal peoples were at a pre-per-
sonal level of consciousness. The hunter-gatherers of
the Paleolithic Era belonged to what he calls the
typhonic stage of evolution, which is characterised by
“magical thinking,” including voodoo practices,
taboos, and an animistic worldview. The farmers of the
Neolithic era, beginning around 10,000 BCE,

belonged to the mythic stage, where individuals began
to realise that magic no longer works and instead pro-
jected the existence of elaborate systems of gods,
demons, and other forces. At around 2500 BCE the
“solar ego stage” began, with the “low egoic” phase
lasting until 500 BCE when the current “high ego”
began. Only at this stage did human beings become
capable of rationality and hypothetico-deductive rea-
soning; and only at this stage did human beings
become capable of experiencing the higher transper-
sonal levels, including nirvikalpa samadhi itself. Every
age has an “average” level of consciousness, and some
gifted individuals are able to “jump” from that level to
the higher realms, but because their average level was
relatively low, earlier human beings could not leap the
full height of the spectrum. Even during the mythic
stage individuals could only “peak” at the psychic
realms, which they attained with the help of shamanic
rituals and trances (Wilber, 1981, 1995). Recently,
however, Wilber (2000a) has modified this view, and
now suggests that “a truly developed shaman in a mag-
ical culture, having evolved various postconventional
capacities, would be able to authentically experience
the transpersonal realms (mostly the psychic, but also, on
occasion, subtle and perhaps causal)” (p. 146, my italics).

In other words, according to Wilber, primal peo-

ples are actually less spiritual than we, both in the

Primal Spirituality and the Onto/Phylo Fallacy

Laszlo, E. (1972). Introduction to systems philosophy:

Toward a new paradigm of contemporary thought.
New York: Gordon & Breach.

Laszlo, E. (1987). Evolution: The grand synthesis.

Boston: Shambhala.

Loevinger, J., & Wessler, R. (1970). Measuring ego

development. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.

Lovelock, J.E. (1988). Ages of Gaia. New York: W.W.

Norton.

Lovelock, J.E., & Margulis, L. (1974). Biological

modulation of the Earth’s atmosphere. Icarus, 21.

Maslow, A.H. (1971). The further reaches of human

nature. New York: Penguin.

Masters, R.E.L. (2002). Swimming where madmen

drown: Travelers tales from inner space. Maui,
Hawaii: Inner Ocean Publishing.

Morin, E. (1999). Homeland Earth: A manifesto for the

new millennium. (S.M. Kelly & R. LaPointe,
Trans.). Kreskill, NJ: Hampton Press.

Morse, M., with Perry, P. (1990). Children of the light:

Learning from near-death experiences of children.
New York: Villard Books.

Norbu, N. (1989/1996). Dzogchen: The self-perfected

state. New York: Snow Lion.

Osis, K., & Haraldsson, E. (1977). At the hour of

death. New York: Avon.

Palombo, S.R. (1999). The emergent ego: Complexity

and coevolution in the psychoanalytic process.
Madison, CT: International Universities Press.

Piaget, J. (1952). The origins of intelligence in children.

New York: Basic Books.

Piaget, J. (1954). The construction of reality in children.

New York: Basic Books.

Prigogine, I., & Stengers, I. (1984). Order out of chaos:

Man’s new dialogue with nature. New York:
Bantam.

Rama, S.S. (1981). Energy of consciousness in the

human personality. In R. S. Valle & R. von
Eckartsberg (Eds.), The metaphors of consciousness
(pp. 315–324). New York: Plenum.

Rescher, N. (1996). Process metaphysics: An introduc-

tion to process philosophy. Albany, NY: State
University of New York Press.

Spence, J. (1992). Hear our voices: A phenomenological

study of the transpersonal (spiritual) emergent experi-
enced in American culture, its effects, helps and hin-
drances, and implications. Unpublished doctoral
dissertation. Cincinnati, OH: Union Institute.

Studsill, R. (2002). Systems theory and unity of mystical

traditions: A comparative analysis of rDzogs-chen
and Rhineland mystics. Unpublished doctoral dis-
sertation. Berkeley, CA: Graduate Theology
Union.

Tart, C.T. (1972). States of consciousness and state-

specific sciences. Science, 176, 1203–1210.

Tart, C.T. (1975). States of consciousness. New York:

E.P. Dutton.

Tigunait, R. (1983). Seven systems of Indian philosophy.

Honesdale. PA: Himalayan Publishers.

Torbert, W. (1972). Stage transition in moral develop-

ment. In R. M. Travers (Ed.), Second handbook of
research on teaching (pp. 732–758). Chicago: Rand
McNally.

Thurman, R.A.F. (1994, Trans.). The Tibetan book of

the dead. New York: Bantam.

Varela, F., Maturana, H.R., & Uribe, R. (1974).

Autopoiesis: The organization of living systems, its
characterization and a model. Biosystems, 5, 187–196.

Wade, J. (1996). Changes of mind: A holonomic theory

of the evolution of consciousness. Albany, NY: State
University of New York Press.

Washburn, M. (1988). The ego and the dynamic ground.

Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

Wilber, K. (1981). Up from Eden. New York:

Doubleday/Anchor.

Wilber, K. (1998a). Integral psychology. Boston:

Shambhala.

Wilber, K. (1998b). The marriage of sense and soul.

New York: Random House.

Wilber, K. (2000). Sex, ecology, spirituality: The spirit

of evolution, 2nd ed. Boston: Shambhala.

Wilber, K. (2002). Childhood spirituality. Sidebar D.

Retrieved June 1, 2002, from http://wilber.shamb-
hala.com/index.cfm/xid,4751653/yid,70995660/u
s e r I d , F B C D 2 5 3 8 - 5 D 4 3 - 4 8 D 3 -
A7583875CD893A7E

Correspondence regarding this article should be
directed to
Alan Combs, Ph.D., Department of Psychology
CPO#1960, University of North Carolina at Asheville,
One University Heights, Asheville, NC 28804-8508
Email: combs@unca.edu

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Primal Spirituality and the Onto/Phylo Fallacy:

A Critique of the Claim that Primal Peoples Were/Are Less

Spiritually and Socially Developed Than Modern Humans

Steven Taylor

City College Manchester, England

Many theorists—including Freud, Habermas and Wilber—have suggested that there are strong
parallels between ontogeny and phylogeny, and that the development of the human species has
followed the same basic pattern as the development of the individual from birth to adulthood. I
discuss this view in relation to archaeological and anthropological knowledge of the world’s “pri-
mal peoples.” I look at the spiritual, moral, and social development of primal peoples and find
that, in almost every instance, they are more advanced than these theorists suggest, possessing
characteristics which only occur—ontogenetically—at the higher “fulcrums” of development. I
argue that Wilber’s spectrum model cannot be applied to species development and suggest the
basis of a new (non-ontogenetic) model of phylogeny.

developed powers of rationality and intellect, and a less
developed sense of individuality and separateness. But
to leap from these similarities to the conclusion that
their level of consciousness is exactly that of ontoge-
netic fulcrum-2 or 3, and that they share exactly the
same state of pre-egoic fusion which children experi-
ence, is unwarranted. Wilber himself recognises that
the application of ontogeny to phylogeny is sometimes
unfounded, noting that there are “many places that
strict onto/phylo parallels break down” (Wilber, 2000a,
p. 146), but in my view the matter is much more problem-
atic than he believes.

Before I begin with this, however, I ought to define

exactly what (or who) I mean by “primal peoples.” In
the sense I am using the term, it refers both to hunter-
gatherer tribal and early horticultural peoples who
lived during earlier epochs but whose cultures have
now disappeared (e.g., the pre-Indo-European inhabi-
tants of Europe and the pre-Semitic inhabitants of the
Middle East), and also to tribal peoples whose cultures
survived until recent centuries (e.g. Native Americans,
Australian Aborigines, traditional Africans). Some
writers have warned against inferring from contempo-
rary to prehistoric tribal groups (e.g. Roszak, 1992),
and I believe this is justified in the sense that every
tribal culture in existence now has been disrupted—
and in many cases destroyed—by external influences.
There is probably no genuinely primal culture left in
the world. The culture of the Native Americans and
the Australian Aborigines was disrupted centuries ago,
while lesser known peoples such as the Trobriand
Islanders, the Muria of India, the Nuer of Africa, the
Mbuti (or pygmies) of central Africa, the Andaman
islanders and others have suffered the same fate rela-
tively recently.

But I believe it is valid to see these peo-

ples at the times when Europeans first had contact with
them (and for a period afterwards), as a kind of window
through which we can look back at the history of the
whole human race. These were cultures that had been
unchanged for thousands of years. As the anthropolo-
gist Robert Lawlor (1991) writes, for instance,

Traditional archaeological evidence holds that
Aboriginal culture has existed in Australia for
60,000 years, but more recent evidence indicates
that the period is more like 120,000 or 150,000
years. The Aborigines’ rituals, beliefs and cosmology
may represent the deepest collective memory of our
race (p. 9).

In any case, what anthropologists tell us of these peo-

ples corresponds very closely to Wilber’s (and
Habermas’) depiction of early human beings at the
typhonic stage (e.g., their tribal system, hunter-gatherer
lifestyle, animistic and magical worldviews). And in
fact most scholars accept that archaeological and
ethnographic evidence are closely related. As Lenski
(1978) wrote, “Comparisons are not only valid but
extremely valuable.…The similarities are many and
basic; the differences are fewer and much less impor-
tant” (p. 137).

However, I must first say that in some respects I

agree with Wilber and Habermas. I believe it’s justifi-
able to say that primal peoples were at a “pre-rational”
level, or at least did not possess rational-logical powers
to the same extent that we do. This is a controversial
issue in itself, and many “retro-romantics” will take me
to task for this, but I believe that the prevalence of
magical beliefs and practices, irrational taboos and
superstitions amongst primal peoples is clear evidence
of this. These show an inability to come to grips with
causal mechanisms and logical systems, and a less
developed ability to analyse and systematise.

The relative lack of technological and scientific

development of primal peoples may also seem to offer
some evidence for this. This is problematic, however.
It’s true that, apart from a few exceptions, early human
beings and primal peoples like the Aborigines and
Native Americans had only rudimentary engineering
and building skills, rudimentary medical science, and
no written language. However, to see Aborigines and
Native Americans as “backward” because of their lack
of technology ignores the fact that most primal peo-
ples were so well adapted to their environments that
they did not actually need technology. The lives of
hunter-gatherer tribes were actually much easier than
those of the horticulturalists and agriculturalists who
came after them—even easier, in some respects, than
our lives. Far from exhausting themselves in their
search for food, hunter-gatherers actually spent only
12 to 20 hours per week searching for it (Rudgley,
1993; Sahlins, 1972).

The diet of hunter-gatherers

was also extremely healthy. Apart from the small
amount of meat they ate (10%–20% of their diet)
their diet was practically identical to that of a modern-day
vegan, with no dairy products and a wide variety of
fruits, vegetables, roots, and nuts, all eaten raw (which
nutrition experts tell us is the healthiest way to eat.)
This partly explains why most of the skeletons of
ancient hunter-gatherers that have been discovered

Primal Spirituality and the Onto/Phylo Fallacy

sense that their average level of consciousness was
lower than ours—and therefore further away from the
transpersonal spiritual realms—and in the sense that
their exceptionally developed individuals could not
“leap” as high as we can (or at least far fewer of them
were capable of doing so). One of the problems here,
Wilber warns us, is that the lower levels of conscious-
ness have superficial similarities with the highest levels.
At fulcrum-2, for example, (during the typhonic
stage), the individual experiences a state of pre-personal
fusion with the world, which is superficially similar to
the transpersonal state of oneness that highly devel-
oped mystics experience. This pre/trans fallacy is so
prevalent, Wilber argues, that we have developed a
completely romanticised view of our earlier human
cultures. We believe that there was once a golden age
(or at least a more golden age) when human beings
lived at one with each other and with nature, when
there was no war, oppression, selfishness, or environ-
mental destruction. But Wilber takes exactly the
reverse view: rather than seeing human history as
being shaped by a Fall away from an earlier more pris-
tine condition, he sees human history as a series of
“leaps”—or a slow progressive forward movement—
propelled by the atman telos of evolution (Wilber,
1981). He contends that, like young children, earlier
human beings were at the pre-operational stage of cog-
nitive development and a pre-conventional level of
morality, and therefore egocentric. According to his
model, individual and social attributes such as com-
passion, democracy, and sexual equality only become
possible at fulcrum-5, when formal operational cogni-
tion develops. As a consequence, in order to fit his
ontogenetic model to phylogeny, he has to contend
that earlier human beings lacked these “higher” attributes.

Wilber’s stance here is controversial, and has

uncomfortable echoes of the Eurocentric colonial
mentality, which saw primal peoples as inferior or
backward. Habermas’ model of social evolution
(1979) and the Spiral Dynamics model of Beck and
Cowan (1996)—both of which relegate primal peoples
to a low level of development—are vulnerable to this
criticism too. As Kelly (Rothberg and Kelly, 1996)
points out, if we say that human beings during the
typhonic stage were at a pre-personal level of develop-
ment, we are close to suggesting that they were not
persons at all, even that they were nonhuman. And as
he continues:

If so, the same would have to be said for the many

aboriginal cultures encountered by modern, mental-egoic,
“rational” cultures capable of formal-operational
thinking. Given Wilber’s adoption of the principle
of ontogenetic recapitulation, this would hold as
well for the very young (or mentally challenged, for
that matter) who fail to manifest fully differentiated
operational thinking (p. 121).

Similar “progressivist” views were put forward by early
neo-colonial thinkers such as Fraser and Comte, both
of whom saw the “magical” religions of primal peoples
as the “lowest” expression of religion. According to
Comte (in Hamilton, 1995) the primitive “fetichistic”
stage is transcended—in sequence—by the polytheistic,
monotheistic, metaphysical and positive stages. To
Fraser (1959), the magical stage was transcended by
the religious and the scientific. Freud’s model of phy-
logenetic development—which he also believed ran
parallel with ontogeny—puts “the primitive” at the
“narcissism” stage of young children (Freud, 1946).

I am certainly not suggesting that Wilber has a

neo-Colonial outlook himself, or accusing him—or
Habermas or Beck and Cowan—of fascism. Wilber
has written that he eulogises primal tribal societies
because they are “literally our roots, our foundations,
the basis of all that was to follow…the crucial ground
floor upon which so much of history would have to
rest” (1996, p. 175). He has also pointed out that,
whatever their position on the holarchy, all holons
ultimately have “Ground value,” since they are all “a
radiant manifestation of Spirit, of Godhead, of
Emptiness” (2000b, p. 324). Nevertheless, there is a
denigration of primal peoples here which is—I intend
to show—unjustified. I believe there is a great deal of
evidence suggesting that primal peoples did possess
many of the higher characteristics that Wilber believes
can only arise at the egoic and post-egoic levels. Or
more generally, I believe that in some respects primal
tribal cultures reached a higher level of development
than modern postindustrial societies. However, above
and beyond this, I believe that the primary problem is
not a parsimonious view of primal peoples, but the
application of ontogeny to phylogeny which leads to
this parsimonious view. In my opinion, this applica-
tion is a fallacy, similar to Wilber’s pre/trans fallacy, in
the sense that a number of superficial similarities
prompt one to take the giant leap to complete identi-
fication. Primal peoples seem to possess a simple,
undivided consciousness and a strong sense of connec-
tion to the natural world; they also seem to have less

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

could exist apart from it. It was the soul of
things....It was intangible, but like air, wind, it
could manifest its presence. It permeated everything
that made up life to the people of the Purari
Delta....[It was] that which enables everything to
exist as we know it, and distinct from other things
which, too, exist by it (in Levy-Bruhl, 1965, p. 17).

In other words, consciousness-force doesn’t just per-
vade all reality, it is the source of all reality—which is
exactly what the Upanishads (and the world’s other
mystical traditions) tell us of brahman.

Wilber might contend that I am falling victim to

the pre/trans fallacy here, and say that primal peoples’
apparent sense of the divine is the result of their pre-
personal fusion with the world. But primal peoples do
not, strictly speaking, experience a state of fusion with
this force. Although (as we will see in a moment) they
recognise that Spirit is the essence of their own being
as well, they experience a sense of differentiation
between themselves and consciousness-force. They
speak of it as something external, something which is
“out there” in the world, which they perceive with a
degree of subject-object duality. In other words, this is
not the same state of pre-egoic fusion with the world
which young children experience, but the differentiated
experience of the divine of fulcrum-7. Wilber accepts
that an individual at the magical stage may have a peak
—or peek—experience of the transpersonal realms, but
here we appear to be dealing with enduring structures—
a permanent, consolidated awareness of the divine.

The third main aspect of primal religion, after the

creator God and the consciousness-force, is the pres-
ence of spirits. There are, generally, two kinds of spir-
its: those which are the spirits of dead human beings,
and those which have always existed as spirits. These
are everywhere; every object and every phenomenon is
either inhabited by or connected to a particular spirit.
As E.Bolaji Idowu writes of traditional African reli-
gion, “there is no area of the earth, no object or crea-
ture, which has not a spirit of its own or which cannot
be inhabited by a spirit” (1975, p. 174). These spirits
are not autonomous beings with personalities, like
gods—as Idowu writes, “they are more often than not
thought of as powers which are almost abstract, as
shades or vapours” (pp.173–174). And although to
some extent they are conceived as individual forces,
they are also seen as an expression of the “Great
Spirit.” As Evans-Pritchard (1967) notes of the Nuer,
“God is not a particular air-spirit but the spirit is a fig-

ure of God.…The spirits are not each other but they
are God in different figures” (pp. 51–52). (Note here
that the term “God” does not refer to the creator God
but to God as spirit-force.)

Wilber maintains that this animism is the result of

pre-personal fusion, the lack of a clear distinction
between subject and object. But I believe that animism
is both pre-personal and transpersonal, in the sense
that it is the result of a combination of elements asso-
ciated with both these levels. At the most basic level,
primal peoples see all things as alive because they are
aware of the Spirit in all things: Spirit makes the world
alive. However, as we have noted, their lower level of
rationality means that the causal mechanisms by which
the natural world operates are not easily comprehensi-
ble to them. But they were obliged to find some way
of explaining these, and they did this by translating
their sense of the general aliveness of things into a
belief that phenomena were individually alive with
individual spirits, rather than generally alive with a
common Spirit. These individual spirits had powers of
agency and influence, and could therefore be responsi-
ble for events and processes. When a wind suddenly
arose, for example, this could be explained as the
action of a wind-spirit; when somebody became ill this
could be explained as the influence of “evil” spirits.
This was, you might say, a distortion of the original
sense of Spirit, which would certainly not occur in
post-rational spiritual evolution. We should remem-
ber, however, that, as Evans-Pritchard (1967) indi-
cates, belief in spirits does not occlude primal peoples’
awareness of Spirit itself, since ultimately individual
spirits are an expression of the Great Spirit.

Other Spiritual Characteristics

nother characteristic of higher spiritual states is
the sense that Spirit is not only out there, pervad-

ing the world, but also inside us, as the very essence of
our beings. Brahman exists inside us as atman; or as
Meister Eckhart puts it, at our deepest essence there is
an “inner noble man in whom God’s form is stamped,
in whom God’s seed is sown” (1996, p. 95). When
awareness of this divine Self arises, the individual
becomes something of a “divine schizophrenic,” con-
sisting of two selves: the superficial ego-self and the
true, spiritual self, or the “outward” and the “inward”
man, as Eckhart called them.

According to Wilber, this identification with inner

Primal Spirituality and the Onto/Phylo Fallacy

have been surprisingly large and robust, and show few
signs of degenerative diseases and tooth decay
(Rudgley, 1998).

In terms of evolutionary theory, then, we can prob-

ably say that primal peoples’ low level of technology is
largely the result of a lack of survival pressure. After all,
why would they need to invent the wheel, the plough,
or even electricity or computers, when they could live
perfectly well without them?

However, despite this there is a good case for

accepting Wilber’s view that earlier human beings were
at a “pre-rational” level of development. (Both he and
Habermas believe that hunter-gatherer societies were
“preformal,” but since the issue of whether Piaget’s for-
mal operational cognition exists as a genuine stage is so
controversial, I would stop short of this.) In almost
every other area, however, Wilber’s analysis of early
human beings and primal peoples is, I believe, inaccu-
rate—necessarily so, since he is forced to make falla-
cious judgements in order to hitch his ontogenetic
spectrum of consciousness to phylogeny.

Primal Religion

ccording to Wilber, at the psychic level (fulcrum-7)
we experience nature as divine. We sense the pres-

ence of brahman in everything—or, as it has elsewhere
been called, dharmakaya (Mahayana Buddhism), God
(Christian Mysticism), consciousness-force (Sri
Aurobindo), or the One (Plotinus). As we’ve noted,
Wilber contends that primal peoples cannot have
access to the psychic levels, except as exceptional indi-
viduals. A thorough examination of primal cultures,
however, strongly suggests that primal peoples in gen-
eral (not just through a few exceptional individuals)
were aware of the presence of “consciousness-force”
everywhere around them. They do not simply see
nature as Spirit but as an expression of it. Spirit is in
nature, rather than exclusively identified with it.

The concept of “God” can have two meanings in

relation to primal peoples. Although most hunter-
gatherer and simple horticultural societies do not con-
ceive of a supreme creator, some do conceive of a
“God” who created the world, a personal being who
then stepped aside and is no longer involved with his
creation. According to Eliade :

Like many celestial Supreme Beings of “primitive”
peoples, the High Gods of a great number of
African ethnic groups are regarded as creators, all

powerful and benevolent and so forth; but they play
a rather insignificant part in the religious life. Being
either too distant or too good to need a real cult,
they are involved only in cases of great crisis (1967, p. 6).

However, “God” can also refer to an animating force
which pervades all things. The Iroquois called this
Orenda, to the Hopi it was Maasauu, the Nuer of
Africa call it Kwoth, the Ufaina of the Amazon call it
Fufaka, Melanesian peoples refer to it as Mana, and so
on. Every primal culture without exception has a term
for this force. The word the Plains Indians used for
“Great Spirit,” Wakataka, literally means “the force
which moves all things.” Here a member of the
Pawnee tribe describes their “supreme God”:

We do not think of Tirawa as a person. We think of
Tirawa as [a power which is] in everything
and…moves upon the darkness, the night, and
causes her to bring forth the dawn. It is the breath
of the new-born dawn (Eliade, 1967, p. 13).

In my view this force is clearly one and the same as
brahman or consciousness-force. The important point,
again, is that Spirit is in nature, rather than actually
being nature. The passage above invites comparison
with any of the passages from the Upanishads which
describe the presence of brahman within the manifest
world. For example,

Shining, yet hidden, Spirit lives in the cavern.
Everything that sways, breathes, opens, closes, lives
in Spirit....

Spirit is everywhere, upon the right, upon the left,

above, below, behind, in front.
What is the world but Spirit?
(in Happold, 1963, p. 146).

The attempts anthropologists have made to translate
primal peoples’ terms for “consciousness-force” make
this connection clearer. The German anthropologist F.
Speiser (speaking of the natives of the New Hebrides)
used the term Lebenskraft (lifepower); Dr. Pechuel-
Loesche (speaking of the Loango of Africa) called it
Potenz; while another German anthropologist, R.
Neuhaus (speaking of the natives of New Guinea) used
the term Seelenstoff (soulstuff ) (Levy-Bruhl, 1965).
Perhaps clearest of all though is this description by the
British anthropologist J.H. Holmes of what the natives
of the Purari Delta in New Guinea called imunu.
Holmes translates this as “soul” or “living principle,”
and writes:

[Imunu] was associated with everything, nothing
arrived apart from it...nothing animate or inanimate

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

steps towards the divine (Wilber, 1981).

In fact, in terms of Wilber’s model we are already

dealing with impossibilities. I am suggesting that pri-
mal peoples existed at two different levels of conscious-
ness simultaneously. Their lack of rationality and their
magical thinking locates them at fulcrum-2 (or the
early stages of fulcrum-3), but at the same time their
awareness of the divine locates them at fulcrum-7.
Kelly has noted a similar discrepancy, citing the case of
an eight-year-old Hopi girl who seems to inhabit a
“transpersonal world space” whilst only having reached
—according to Wilber’s model—the concrete opera-
tional stage (Rothberg & Kelly, 1998).

I believe that Wilber’s model works extremely well

for ontogeny, and it is clear that ontogenetically this is
not possible: as individuals we clearly have to pass
through the pre-personal levels of childhood and the
egoic levels of maturity before we can stabilise our-
selves at the transpersonal levels. But this does not
appear to be the case phylogenetically—which sug-
gests that Wilber’s spectrum model cannot be applied
to species development. This might be compatible
with the idea that spirituality is a relatively separate
developmental line (e.g., Wilber 2000a), in which case
we would have to say that with primal peoples the
development of their spiritual line massively outstrips
their cognitive line. But this is very problematic, since
this direct awareness of the divine is surely related to
the psychic stage rather than linear development. The
lines which Wilber classifies as “spiritual” are care,
openness, concern, religious faith, and meditative
stages (2000a), but not this apprehension of spirit.

Egocentrism

ollowing Piaget, Wilber suggests that before they
reach the operational stages, children are extreme-

ly egocentric. Experiments such as Piaget’s famous
“Swiss mountain scene” (Piaget & Inhelder,1956),
purported to demonstrate that children are unable to
see the world from other people’s perspective. As a
result, they are—according to Piaget and Wilber—
incapable of empathy and compassion, since these
depend on looking at the world from the perspective
of others, and “feeling with” them.

If primal peoples have only reached Wilber’s ful-

crum-2, corresponding to Piaget’s preoperational
stage, we would expect them to be similarly egocentric.
But the reality could hardly be more different. In fact,

primal peoples are characterised by a pronounced lack
of egocentrism. They generally display a strong sense
of empathy and compassion for other living beings,
and for nature in general. The fact that hunter-gatherers
obtain 10 to 20 percent of their food through hunting
might seem to contradict this, but most primal peoples
approach hunting with great respect and compassion
for their prey. Hunting is usually seen as an unfortu-
nate necessity, and the act of killing is never performed
with pleasure. Turnbull (1993) describes how, to the
Mbuti of Africa, hunting is the “original sin,” which
occurred when a mythical ancestor killed an antelope
and then ate it to conceal his act. Since then, all ani-
mals—including human beings—have been con-
demned to die. Partly because of this philosophy, they
are “gentle hunters” who never show “any expression
of joy, nor even of pleasure” (p. 7), when they make a
catch. They never kill more than they need for one
day, since “to kill more than is absolutely necessary
would be to heighten the consequences of that original
sin and confirm even more firmly their own mortality”
(Turnbull, 1993, p. 7). Similarly, Rudgley (1998)
compares traditional hunters to modern fox or game
hunters and concludes the former are characterised by
“a great degree of respect for their quarry and even a
pang of regret at having to kill animals at all.” There
are, he states, “numerous cases of empathy and even
reverence for animals among the hunting peoples of
northern Canada and elsewhere” (p.113).

This strong sense of empathy means that primal

peoples are reluctant to damage or destroy any natural
phenomena. Edward T. Hall (1984) cites the case of an
agricultural agent who was sent to work with the
Pueblo Indians of New Mexico. Through the summer
and winter he got along well with them, but when
Spring came around their attitude to him suddenly
became hostile. The Indians refused to say what the
problem was, just that “he just doesn’t know certain
things” (p. 92). Eventually, however, it emerged that
the agent had tried to make them start “early spring
plowing,” which offended their empathic sense that in
spring the earth is pregnant with new life and must be
treated gently. In spring, Hall noted, the Indians
remove steel shoes from their horses, and refuse to
wear European shoes or to use wagons, for fear that
they might damage the earth.

Even now there is continual conflict between

American Indians and European-American companies
who want to “develop” lands which the Indians believe

Primal Spirituality and the Onto/Phylo Fallacy

divinity only becomes possible at fulcrum-7. We have
to first “dis-identify” ourselves with the world, then
with the body and then with the ego. But again,
although this is clear enough from an ontogenetic per-
spective, primal peoples do not seem to fit into this
framework. This is admittedly not quite so clear from
my research, but there seems to be a general recogni-
tion that the individual human spirit is in essence
divine too, as a part of the great ocean of Spirit which
pervades the whole world. In fact, since all natural
things are seen as divine in essence, it would be very
surprising if this was not the case. As the anthropolo-
gist H. Sindima writes of traditional African peoples,
for example, “All life—that of people, plants and ani-
mals, and the earth—originates and therefore shares
an intimate relationship of bondedness with divine
life; all life is divine life” (1990, p. 144). Similarly, the
Ufaina of the Amazon believe that when a human
being is born a small amount of fufaka (or Spirit)
enters her body. She, and the group to which she
belongs, “borrow” it from the total “stock” of Spirit.
While she lives, therefore, Spirit is always the essence
of her being, and at death it is released and returns to
its source (Hildebrand, 1988).

This incidentally works against Wilber’s claim that

when individuals at lower levels have peak experiences,
the experience will be coloured by and interpreted in
terms of their level of development. When individuals
at the magic stage experience the transpersonal, they
will, he claims, suffer from massive ego-inflation, and
believe that only they are one with God. This is
inevitable since they “cannot take the role of the other
and thus realize that all people—in fact, all sentient
beings—are equally one with God” (Wilber, 2000a,
p.15). But primal peoples’ recognition that “all life is
divine life” strongly suggests that this does not apply to
their experience of the psychic realms.

Some primal peoples show clear awareness of the

“two selves” concept as well. We might take the exam-
ple of the Australian Aborigines. As we’ve seen, and in
common with the other peoples we have looked at so
far, their animism, magical thinking, and hunter-gatherer
lifestyle locate them squarely at Wilber’s typhonic
stage, corresponding to fulcrum-2 or early fulcrum-3.
At this stage, according to Wilber, their self-sense
should only be associated with their body; there
should be no sense of ego and certainly no sense of
Spirit. But the aborigines appear to possess both of
these simultaneously. Many aboriginal tribes believe

that human beings contain two souls, one of which is
the “true soul” and the other of which they call the
“trickster.” As the anthropologist W. Lloyd Warner
wrote of the Murngin tribe:

One is looked upon as fundamental and real, and is
felt to be the true soul....The other is considered a
trickster, of little value, and only in a vague way
associated with the “true man.” The “shadow soul”
causes evil and badness within the personality. The
true soul supplies the eternal element to the cultur-
al life of an individual Murngin. It lifts man from
the simple profane animal level and allows him to
participate fully in the sacred eternal values of the
civilisation (in Eliade, 1966, p.185—86).

Another anthropologist who has intensively studied
aboriginal culture, Robert Lawlor (1991), describes
the “trickster” as the “source of the individualised ego
[which] can be characterised as the ego soul. This spir-
it force is bound to locality; to relationships with
wives, husbands and kin relatives; and to material
things such as tools and items of apparel” (p. 345).
This sounds frighteningly similar to the ego as we
understand it—especially when we learn that, as
Lawlor also notes, the trickster resents death because it
takes it away from these material and emotional
attachments. It wants to be immortal, in eternity with
its pleasures and possessions. But in the same way that,
according to the perennial philosophy (and Wilber),
we can only truly find eternity by disidentifying with
the ego-self and orienting ourselves around inner
Spirit, the aborigines recognise that every soul “must
find true immortality in identifying itself with the
enduring energy emanating from the celestial realms of
the Dreamtime ancestors” (Lawlor, 1991, p. 345). In
other words, since the Aboriginal concept of
“Dreaming” corresponds roughly (with distortions
possibly due to magical thinking) to consciousness-
force, we must identify ourselves purely with Spirit.

In the light of this, Fraser’s and Comte’s “progres-

sivist” view of religion does not seem to be justified. If
anything, this primal religion is “higher” than the the-
istic religions which came afterwards. Theistic religion
can be seen as a fall away from this direct awareness of
the divine. Once theistic religion developed, direct
awareness of the divine became confined to a tiny
number of mystics. And once again, this contradicts
Wilber, who believes that the development of polythe-
istic and then monotheistic religions—following the
“magical” religion of primal peoples—were progressive

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

2% of contemporary hunter-gatherer societies have a
class system, while private ownership of land is com-
pletely absent in 89% of them (and only “rare” in the
other 11%). Similarly, Lenski notes that slavery is
“extremely rare” amongst hunter-gatherers (in contrast
to “advanced horticultural” societies, 83% of which
possess it) and that they tend to have a strikingly dem-
ocratic system of making decisions. Many societies
have nominal chiefs, but their power is usually very
limited, and they can easily be deposed if the rest of
the group are not satisfied with their leadership.
Political decisions are not taken by the chief alone, but
are usually “arrived at through informal discussions
among the more respected and influential members,
typically the heads of families” (Lenksi, 1978, p. 125).
As Briggs (1970) wrote of the Utku Eskimos of north-
ern Canada, for instance,

The Utku, like other Eskimo bands, have no formal
leaders whose authority transcends that of the sepa-
rate householders. Moreover, cherishing independ-
ence of thought and action as a natural prerogative,
people tend to look askance at anyone who seems to
aspire to tell them what to do. (p. 42)

While as Christopher Boehm (1999) summarises,
“This egalitarian approach seems to be universal for
foragers who live in small bands that remain nomadic,
suggesting considerable antiquity for political egalitar-
ianism” (p. 69).

Some anthropologists have attempted to explain

this egalitarianism in terms of socioeconomic factors.
For example, Cashdan (1980) suggests that hunter-
gatherers are inevitably egalitarian because of their
mobile lifestyle, which means that there can only be a
very limited amount of private property. Alternatively,
Gluckman (1965) suggests that egalitarianism comes
from the absence of role-specialisation, which means
that no one can have a more important role than any-
one else, so that status differences cannot occur.
However, it’s difficult to see how equality merely in
terms of possessions or social roles should necessarily
lead to a lack of leadership, or group decision-making
processes. And in any case, egalitarianism is by no
means confined to hunter-gatherer societies. There are
many horticultural peoples who do not live a mobile
lifestyle and do have different social roles, and yet are
also completely egalitarian. As Boehm summarises
again,

Many other nonliterates [besides hunter-gatherers],
people who live in permanent, settled groups that

accumulate food surpluses through agriculture, are
quite similar politically [to hunter-gatherers]....
These tribesmen lack strong leadership and domi-
nation among males, they make their group deci-
sions by consensus and they too exhibit an egalitar-
ian ideology. (p.38)

Democracy and egalitarianism appear somehow natural
to primal peoples, whether they are hunter-gatherers
or simple horitculturalists.

This was another source of problems between

Europeans and American Indians. The latter could not
comprehend the concept of private ownership of land,
or the massive inequalities that ran through European
society. As Sitting Bull complained, “The White Man
knows how to make everything, but he does not know
how to distribute it....The love of possession is a dis-
ease with them. They take tithes from the poor and
weak to support the rich who rule” (Wright, 1992, p.
344). While the Europeans, for their part, saw the
“communism” of the natives as a defect which had pre-
vented them from becoming “civilised.” As Senator
Henry Dawes—whose “Dawes Act” attempted to
make Amerindians into small-scale landowners—said
of the Cherokee Nation in 1887,

There is not a pauper in that nation, and the nation
does not owe a dollar....Yet the defect of the system
was apparent. They have got as far as they can go,
because they hold their land in common....There is
no selfishness, which is at the bottom of civilisation.
(Wright, 1992, p. 363)

Primal peoples are clearly not, then, egocentric to any-
thing like the degree that children at fulcrums 2 or 3
are. They clearly can take the role of the other—or per-
haps more strictly, their less strong sense of ego means
that they experience a shared sense of being with other
holons. Perhaps we are dealing with two different
kinds of empathy here, corresponding to the two dif-
ferent kinds of ecological awareness I mentioned earlier.
There is a typically “Eurocentric” empathy, which is
the result of heightened rationality, and comes from
taking the perspective of the other. And there is a typ-
ically—more powerful—“primal” kind of empathy,
which does not come from role-taking, but from actu-
ally sharing identity with the other, and actually expe-
riencing its state of being and its suffering or joy.

Again, this suggests that Wilber’s ontogenetic

model cannot be applied to phylogeny. In fact, like
their awareness of Spirit, primal peoples’ pronounced
ability to empathise puts them way above the develop-

Primal Spirituality and the Onto/Phylo Fallacy

are sacred. Often the Indians refuse to let mining take
place on their reservations, even though this would
bring them massive financial benefits. In the Northern
Cheyenne Reservation in Montana, for example, it is
estimated that there are around 50 billion tons of coal,
but despite large scale poverty and unemployment on
the reservation, the Indians’ empathic sense of the
aliveness of nature means that they will not allow min-
ing to take place (Bryan, 1996).

(This is incidentally a reason that I dispute Wilber’s

view that primal peoples were potentially—apart from
their lack of technology—as environmentally destruc-
tive as we are. Their awareness of Spirit pervading the
whole of nature, their sense of the alive-ness of natural
phenomena, and their sense of connection to nature,
meant that they had—and have—an extreme reluc-
tance to damage or even interfere with nature.
Correspondingly, our lack of connection to and empa-
thy with nature is, I believe, one of the root causes of
the ecological crisis. Wilber maintains (in 1995, for
example) that ecological awareness can only arise with
formal operational cognition, when we become capa-
ble of grasping mutual interrelationships. But surely
there is another kind of ecological awareness which is
nonrational, and which stems from the sense of
empathic connection with the natural world—in other
words, from direct perceptual awareness and a shared
sense of being, rather than from rationality).

The quality of compassion is so central to

Aboriginal culture that mothers take care to “teach” it
to their children. Often, when a child grabs some food
or another object and holds it to its mouth, the moth-
er—or another female relative—pretends to be in need
of it, to encourage a spirit of sharing. Similarly, when-
ever a weak or ill person or animal comes by, the
mother makes a point of expressing sympathy for it,
and offering it food (Lawlor, 1991). As Lawlor notes,
by these means “the child experiences a world in which
compassion and pity are dramatically directed towards
the temporarily less fortunate. The constant maternal
dramatization of compassion in the early years orients
a child’s emotions toward empathy, support, warmth
and generosity” (p. 247).

Egocentrism gives rise to a whole host of negative

human traits. The individual is dominated by his or
her own needs and desires, and refuses to let the needs
of other individuals or of the community as a whole
come before them. After all, since he cannot “put him-
self in other people’s shoes,” he cannot understand, or

even be aware of, the needs and desires of others. This
leads to behaviour that we associate with greed and
selfishness. And according to Piaget and Wilber, for
children below the age of 7—at the pre-operational
level—this selfishness is inevitable. Children are
extremely reluctant to share, and so might eat a whole
bag of sweets themselves instead of offering them to
their siblings, or throw away toys they are bored with,
without thinking that another child might like them.

But we do not find any behaviour resembling this

amongst primal peoples. In fact, again, we find the
complete opposite: a powerful spirit of reciprocity and
sharing, and ethical systems which negate any expres-
sion of greed. One of the fundamental cultural differ-
ences that made Native Americans unable to adapt to
the European way of life was that, whereas Europeans
became successful and respected as a result of accumu-
lating wealth for themselves, the Indians gained kudos
by distributing wealth. Even the Incas, who shared
many negative European traits—such as militarism,
patriarchy, and social stratification—possessed a wel-
fare system, the like of which the U.S. and Europe
have only seen during the last few decades. Every town
had a large number of warehouses, full of provisions
and supplies which—except in times in war—would
be distributed amongst the poor, the disabled, widows,
and the old (Wright, 1992). The same is true of tradi-
tional African culture, where to hoard any wealth for
oneself, and so to deprive the other members of the
community, is regarded as a heinous sin. To tradition-
al Africans, hospitality is a moral imperative; greed
breaks the communitarian principles which sustain the
universe. As Magesa writes:

What constitutes misuse of the universe? This ques-
tion can be answered in one word: greed....Greed
constitutes the most grievous wrong. Indeed, if
there is one word that describes the demands of the
ethics of African Religion, sociability (in the sense of
hospitality, open-hearted sharing) is that word
(1997, p. 62).

This lack of egocentrism and selfishness is probably
the main reason that both hunter-gatherer and early
horticultural societies are generally completely egali-
tarian, with no private property or social stratification.
Many primal peoples seem to exist in a natural state of
communism—a fact which Marx himself recognised,
and referred to as “primitive communism.” According
to Lenski’s statistics in Human Societies (1978)—based
on the data in Murdock’s Ethnographic Atlas—only

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

“high ego” or egoic-rational phase at around 500 BCE.
This phase reached its fruition in the sixteenth century,
with the rise of the modern state, and gradually began
to manifest itself in the “Enlightenment” principles of
equality and democracy. It led to the end of slavery, the
end of autocratic monarchies, women’s rights, workers’
rights, a decline in militarism, and the like (Wilber,
1995).

Again, since primal peoples are allegedly at a pre-

operational stage of cognition, and have only reached
fulcrum-2 (or early 3), we would expect to find a com-
plete absence of these characteristics, or at the very
least to find that they were as warlike, as socially strat-
ified, and as patriarchal as more recent societies have
been. Wilber maintains that this is the case—or at least
that, if it is not, this is only because of accidental eco-
nomic factors. He agrees that patriarchy was absent
from hunter-gatherer and simple horticultural soci-
eties, for example, but argues that this was a simple
consequence of the fact that women had a much more
prominent role economically—in fact during both
phases they produced around 80% of the food.
Patriarchy began, he argues, with the transition from
horticultural to agrarian society—in other words,
when the plough began to be used, which meant that
women began to be excluded from economic life
(since working with heavy ploughs would have made
them miscarry) (Wilber, 1995). At the same time, he
flatly denies that war and inequality were less prevalent
amongst these societies.

However, we have already seen that social stratifica-

tion and inequality were generally absent from primal
cultures. Most hunter-gatherer groups, and many
sedentary horticultural tribes, were strikingly demo-
cratic to a degree which the modern world has only
recently begun to reach, and is still some way from
equalling. In fact there is a very good case for suggest-
ing that, at least to some extent, the modern concepts
of democracy and equality were derived from primal
peoples: specifically, from the Native Americans. The
authors of the American constitution borrowed their
concept of a union of different states from the cen-
turies-old “Six Nations” confederacy of the Iroquois
Indians—in fact the idea was actually recommended
to the Europeans by a leader of the Six Nations at a
treaty signing in 1744, at which Benjamin Franklin
was present (Wright, 1992). Similarly, the constitu-
tion’s concept of a non-hierarchical society - which
was, after all, completely alien to Europe at that

time—was to a large extent inspired by the authors’
observations of Native American societies. In the
words of Alvin M. Josephy Jr (1975),

Colonial records show that many of the Indian peo-
ples of the Atlantic seaboard taught the European
settlers much with regard to freedom, the dignity of
the individual, democracy, representative govern-
ment, and the right to participate in the settling of
one’s affairs. (p. 39)

It’s ironic that, as well as being the originators of mod-
ern capitalist democracy, the Iroquois were also partly
responsible for modern communism. In 1851 Lewis
Henry Morgan published his book League of the
Iroquois, reporting his anthropological observations of
Iroquois society. Both Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels
read the book, and were inspired by what they saw as
an example of a Utopian socialist society. As Engels
wrote to Marx, “This gentle constitution is wonderful!
There can be no poor and needy....All are free and
equal—including the women” (Wright, 1992, p. 276).

The great majority of primal cultures are also strik-

ingly unwarlike.

Lenski (1978) notes, for example,

that for hunter-gatherers “the incidence of violence is
strikingly low....[W]arfare is uncommon and violence
between members of the same group is infrequent” (p.
422). This was also true during the early to middle
Neolithic period of history, when simple horticultural
societies developed. As Lenksi notes, “there is little evi-
dence of warfare during the early Neolithic. Graves
rarely contain weapons and most communities had no
walls or other defenses....Later in the Neolithic the pic-
ture changed drastically and warfare became increas-
ingly common” (pp. 148–149). The idea that “war is
old as humanity” is now disputed by the majority of
archaeologists and anthropologists. In The Origin of
War (1995), for example, J.M.G. van der Dennen sur-
veys over 500 primal peoples, the vast majority of
whom he finds to be “highly unwar-like,” with a small
proportion who have mild, low-level, or ritualized war-
fare. Similarly, R. Brian Ferguson (2000) has stated that
“the global pattern of actual evidence indicates that
war as a regular pattern is a relatively recent develop-
ment in human history, emerging as our ancestors left
the simple, mobile hunter-gatherer phase” (p. 160).

In other words, when we look back at history we

do not see a gradual ascent to present day Western
democracy, equality, and (relative) nonmilitarism. First
of all, we see an earlier time when these qualities were
already present. The ancient hunter-gatherers and sim-

Primal Spirituality and the Onto/Phylo Fallacy

mental level which he allocates to them. According to
his model, there is a widening circle of identity—and
of empathy—which develops as we move through to
higher fulcrums. At fulcrum-4 we cease to be com-
pletely egocentric, and become sociocentric, identify-
ing with our tribal or social group (in Kohlberg’s
terms, we move from pre-conventional to convention-
al morality). At fulcrum-5, our circle of identity and
empathy expands to the whole human race; we
become worldcentric. At fulcrum-7, the circle widens
to include all living beings; and at fulcrum-8, it
expands to all reality, all manifestations of Spirit
(Wilber, 1995). Based on the above evidence, it seems
entirely justifiable to place primal peoples at fulcrum-7,
perhaps even higher.

Once again, this makes absolutely no sense in

terms of Wilber’s model. In terms of Kohlberg’s hierar-
chy of moral development, primal peoples should—
according to Wilber—only have a pre-conventional
morality, with their sole moral motivation the com-
pletely egocentric goal of avoiding punishment and
gaining rewards. But they clearly have a much higher
level of morality than this. As Magesa indicates above,
the main motivation of their morality is not personal
or even communal, but universal: to preserve the har-
mony of the universe. This clearly suggests that, at
least in some respects, they possess a post-conventional
morality.

Another conundrum to which the above analysis

gives rise is the apparent fact that we Europeans are
more egocentric than primal peoples. This is evident
from a number of factors: our much more pronounced
desire for status and power and material goods (i.e.,
greed), the extreme competitiveness of our culture, the
emphasis on the individual over the community, social
stratification, and—perhaps most emphatically—our
lack of empathy with the natural world, our inability
to “feel with” nature. According to Wilber’s analysis—
and those of Habermas and Beck and Cowan—as evo-
lution progresses there should be a decline in egocen-
trism. And again, in ontogenetic development this is
indisputably the case. But equally indisputably, in
terms of the development of our species this is not the
case. Lenski (1978) has also noted that, rather than
showing a forward movement away from savagery and
toward greater democracy and humanity, our cultural
evolution actually shows a regression in this regard. As
he states, “as numerous scholars have noted, it is one
of the great ironies of evolution that progress in tech-

nology and social structure is often linked with ethical
regress” (p. 176). He noted that the evolution from
hunter-gatherer societies to horticultural and then
agrarian societies is marked by “the decline in the prac-
tice of sharing and the growing acceptance of economic
and other kinds of inequality” (Lenski, 1978, p. 176).

I am not trying to turn the tables completely

though, by suggesting that our egocentrism is the same
as young children’s. We might say that there are two
different kinds of egocentrism: a pre-egoic level and
post-egoic one. The first stems from not having an ego
as an organising centre with which to control your
desires and impulses and take the perspectives of oth-
ers; as a result you are dominated by your selfish
desires, and can’t see beyond them. The second stems
from having a sense of ego which is too developed,
which is too separate—so separate that it is “walled
off ” from other human beings and occludes the capac-
ity for empathy. Its separateness also creates a new
surge of selfish desires as a compensation for isolation.
The ability to take perspectives is possible here, but
often it is sacrificed to these powerful egocentric
desires. But native peoples, it seems, lie somewhere
between these two. They do have a sense of ego, of
course (this is another area where I disagree with
Wilber), but their egos are less developed than ours. To
them the ego is developed enough to act as an organ-
ising centre, enabling them to transcend selfish
impulses, but is not strong enough to “wall them off ”
from each other and the world.

Enlightened Social Characteristics

his obviously contrasts with the “progressivist”
view of human history put forward by Wilber,

Habermas, and Beck and Cowan—and in particular,
with Wilber’s view of phylogeny as a gradual advance-
ment of the human species, progressing from one fulcrum
to the next, and leading to higher levels of cultural and
social development.

And there is another persuasive argument against

his progressivist view of phylogeny, which is the appar-
ent prevalence of “higher” social and cultural charac-
teristics amongst primal peoples.

According to Wilber, enlightened social character-

istics such as nonmilitarism, democracy, and equality
can only occur when societies as a whole move to the
formal-operational level. This is happening at the pres-
ent time, and has been since the beginning of the

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

describes as “the individual, sharpened, spatially deter-
mined consciousness of today” (Wilber, 1981, p. 28)
and so do experience a painful sense of separation from
the world, from other human beings, and even from
our own bodies (and are capable of hypthetico-deductive
reasoning). In other words—again in opposition to the
application of ontogeny to phylogeny—primal peo-
ples are not at a pre-personal level, but at a less devel-
oped personal level. And as I suggested earlier, their
less developed sense of ego means that whereas we
experience a “post-egoic” egocentrism, they exhibit a
lack of egocentrism and selfishness.

What we really need, in order to fully substantiate

the argument of this essay, are two things. First, we
need a different view of spirituality, which could
account for the fact that primal peoples are “spiritual”
and pre-rational at the same time. (Kelly [1998] has
suggested one possibility here, namely that the “psy-
chic” should not be seen as a stage but as “the ground,
depth dimension, or ‘implicate order’ of typhonic con-
sciousness” [p. 122].) Second, we need a different view
of phylogeny, to replace the ontogeny-based models. I
do not have space here to investigate these areas prop-
erly, and hope to deal with them in future papers. But
I would like to suggest briefly that the basis of a differ-
ent view of phylogeny should be what the myths of
many different cultures describe as a “Fall.” As many
of the myths indicate, the “Fall” was precisely the
development I referred to earlier: the development of a
much stronger and sharper sense of ego in certain
human groups. A bare skeleton of a three-stage model
of phylogeny might be as follows:

1. The “pre-Fall” period (from the beginnings of

the human race to 4000 BCE, and later in many
places). This covers both the hunter-gatherer and the
simple horticultural phases of human history (or the
Paleolithic to the mid Neolithic). During these phases
human groups were peaceful, democratic, free from
social stratification and private property, highly
attuned to the natural world, and nonpatriarchal. The
negative aspects of this phase were the lack of under-
standing of causal relationships—especially in terms of
natural phenomena—and the irrationality of supersti-
tions and taboos.

2. The “fallen” period (from around 4000 BCE

onward). The “Fall” appears to have begun with cer-
tain human groups inhabiting the Middle East and
central Asia at this time, whose psyche was apparently
transformed by an environmental catastrophe; namely,

a massive process of dessication of previously fertile
lands (see DeMeo, 1998, for a discussion of this).
Forced to leave their homelands, these peoples—
including the Indo-Europeans and the Semites—
migrated throughout the Middle East, Europe, and
Asia and in this way their “fallen” culture eventually
spread to large areas of the globe. The characteristics of
this stage include patriarchy, intense warfare, social
stratification, a hostile attitude to the human body and
nature, theism (both polytheism and monotheism),
capitalism, private property, and the like. The Fall also
resulted in the increased egocentrism which I men-
tioned above, and a sharp decline in ecological aware-
ness. Positive aspects of this phase include increased
rationality, enabling a transcendence of magical think-
ing.

This phase corresponds to the change that Lenski

(1978) identifies as the shift from simple horticultural
society to advanced horticultural. Lenski himself states
that this phase began at around 4000 BCE, and as
we’ve just noted, his statistics show a sudden increase
in private property, patriarchy, war, and belief in an
active supreme creator—all of which can be explained
in terms of a sudden “ego explosion.” This shift was
marked by technological innovations, such as the use
of new materials like metal and leather and new crafts
such as weaving and pottery (which were very rare
amongst simple horticultural societies). These can
probably also be explained in terms of an “ego explo-
sion,” as a consequence of the intensified powers of
self-reflection and abstract thinking which came with
these peoples’ “sharpened” sense of ego (or in Piaget
and Wilber’s terms, this would be the beginning of for-
mal-operational cognition). And of course, as techno-
logical development progressed further, these
advanced horticultural societies gave way to agrarian
and then industrial societies.

3. The “trans-Fall” period (16th century onward?).

This is the phase that we are moving through at pres-
ent, corresponding to what Wilber calls the “high
egoic” phase. This period features a re-emergence of
pre-Fall characteristics on national and global levels,
including democracy, equality, nonmilitarism, a
healthy acceptance of instincts, a sense of connection
to the natural world, increased sense of empathy with
other beings, etc. Significantly, however, human
beings at this phase retain the positive aspects of the
Fall, and are capable of heightened rationality and
spirituality at the same time.

Primal Spirituality and the Onto/Phylo Fallacy

ple horticulturalists clearly possessed “enlightened”
social characteristics which should only, according to
Wilber, manifest themselves at the formal-operational
level. Beck and Cowan’s view that from 50,000 to
10,000 years ago—when the “red meme” was domi-
nant—human beings were extremely self-assertive,
battling with one another for status and demanding
attention and respect, does not hold true. These
authors appear to fall for the pernicious—and totally
unjustified—myth of prehistoric cave-dwelling “sav-
ages” whose lives were a harsh and bleak struggle for
survival, and who constantly fought over food and
women and used any excuse to bash each other over
the head with clubs. Again, there are hints of a kind of
neocolonialism at work, with a very Victorian—and
very false—view of human history as a slow progres-
sion from primitive chaos and ignorance to increased
enlightenment and order.

After this early more “idyllic” phase, we see an

apparent “Fall” into war, patriarchy, and social stratifi-
cation (as well as greater egocentrism). And later
still—during recent centuries—we see a gradual re-
emergence of these “higher” social characteristics.

Summary

o summarise, then, Wilber’s view of prehistoric
human beings—and the application of ontogeny

to phylogeny that prompts this view—is problematic
for the following reasons. Firstly, primal peoples exhib-
it higher spiritual characteristics, including a) an
awareness of Spirit pervading the manifest world, b) an
awareness of the inner Spirit or atman, and c) an
awareness of the “two selves,” the ego and the divine
self. This would paradoxically locate them at fulcrum-
7, while their lack of hypthetico-deductive reasoning
and their magical thinking locates them—according to
Wilber’s model—at fulcrum-2 or 3.

Secondly, primal peoples show no sign of the ego-

centrism which, according to Wilber and Piaget, children
at preoperational levels exhibit. Their “universal” empathy
suggests fulcrum-7 or higher, and a post-conventional
morality. They experience an intense intersubjectivity,
a shared sense of being with other creatures and with
the phenomenal world in general, which generates
compassion and an ecological sensibility.

Thirdly, primal cultures exhibit enlightened social

characteristics, such as democracy and peacefulness,
which, according to Wilber, should only emerge at ful-

crum-5, or during the high egoic period.

There is, however, another point I would like to

add briefly, which in my view further undermines the
application of ontogeny to phylogeny. Following
Gebser, Cassirer and Neumann, Wilber suggests that,
like young children, the earliest human beings had no
sense of separation from their environment, and no
sense of subject-object duality. As Wilber (1996)
writes, at fulcrum-2 “mind and world are not clearly
differentiated, so their characteristics tend to get fused
and confused” (1996, p.173). Or as he elsewhere puts
it typhonic man would “tend to confuse psychic with
external reality, almost as a man does when he dreams”
(1981, p. 46). As we saw earlier, this is the basis of
Wilber’s interpretation of animism: because of their
pre-personal fusion, children and primal people see the
whole world as an extension of themselves. But if pri-
mal peoples really did confuse internal and external
reality, their survival chances would have been drasti-
cally impaired. How could you be sure whether things
were really there or just images in your mind? If you
were out hunting and saw a bear, you might find your-
self running after an apparition and throwing your
spear into empty space. Or you might see a wolf or a
lion and decide that it was probably only an image in
your mind, only for your flesh to be ripped to pieces a
few seconds later. And even if you knew that there was
something real there, in your dream-like state it would
be difficult to find the alertness to react to it quickly.
The business of keeping yourself alive requires a sense
of differentiation between yourself and your environ-
ment. Babies live in a state of “pre-personal” fusion
with the world, and obviously wouldn’t survive with-
out the help of adults—not just because of their phys-
ical inability, but also because of their lack of a sense of
subject-object duality.

The truth is probably that, as I have already hinted

(e.g., in my discussion of the aboriginal notion of the
“two-selves”), early human beings did have a degree of
separate-self development, but a smaller degree than
ours. The difference between them and later peoples is
that the latter developed a sharper and more defined
sense of ego. The egos of primal peoples are not so
developed that they result in a sense of disassociation
from the physical body or from nature, or that individ-
ual desires take precedence over communal or univer-
sal welfare (or that they possess hypthetico-deductive
reasoning powers). However, later human beings—
including us moderns—possess what Barfield

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

harmony with the universe, obeying the laws of natu-
ral, moral and mystical order. If these are unduly dis-
turbed it is man who suffers most” (1975, p. 237).
Their sense of the sacredness of nature may not stop
primal peoples from unintentionally damaging the
environment by over-farming or over-hunting, but it
certainly makes them very reluctant to harm their
environment in a more direct way, by chopping down
trees, ploughing the land, killing animals, and so on.

6. Since Lenski provides us with much of the evi-

dence to support this view, Wilber’s frequent use of
Lenksi’s statistics to support his own views seems puz-
zling. Lenski’s data in Human Societies does generally
contradict Wilber’s views. He clearly shows that war-
fare, social inequality, slavery, and private property are
largely absent from both contemporary hunter-gatherer
and simple horticultural societies, and become pro-
gressively more prevalent in more technologically
advanced societies (at least until we reach industrial
societies, when they begin to decline). For example,
whereas only 2% and 17% of hunter-gatherer and
simple horticultural societies have class systems, 54%
and 71% of advanced horticultural and then agrarian
societies have them. Whereas war is rare or absent in
73% and 41% of hunter-gatherer and simple horticul-
tural societies, it is perpetual in 34% and common in
48% of advanced horticultural societies (Lenski,
Lenski & Nolan, 1995). In view of this, Wilber’s use
of Lenski’s data has to be selective in order to seem to
justify his views. Perhaps the main problem though is
that Lenski is referring to contemporary examples of
these societies, whereas Wilber treats them as historical
examples. When Lenski says that war is common in
27% of hunter-gatherer societies, and 10% of them
have slavery, this emphatically does not mean that 27%
of ancient hunter-gatherer societies had war, and 10%
had slavery. In fact, given the lack of archaeological
evidence for war from the Paleolithic and early
Neolithic periods of history, and given the cultural dis-
ruption of contemporary hunter-gatherers and simple
horticulturalists (and the influence of colonial cul-
tures), we can assume that these figures would be lower
still for ancient societies. Of course, as we have seen,
Lenski believes that we can usefully compare contem-
porary primal peoples with their historic counterparts,
but he never states that his statistics apply equally to
historic peoples. A more puzzling matter is where
Wilber obtains the statistic—also attributed to
Lenski—that 58% of foraging peoples practise (or

practised, according to Wilber) frequent or intermit-
tent warfare (1995, 1996). I can’t locate this statistic in
either of my two editions of Human Societies. It’s diffi-
cult to see how this would be possible when war is
absent or rare in 73% of foraging societies.

7. This doesn’t apply to all primal peoples, of

course. Some primal peoples became much more war-
like and socially oppressive through contact with
European peoples—for example, the Plains Indians or
the Jivaro of central America. In Africa, from around
700 C.E., a number of states developed in reaction to
Arabic and European influences—such as Ghana,
Mali, Songhai and later the states of the Zulu and
Ashanti. These were all relatively warlike, socially strat-
ified and patriarchal (Martin & O’Meara, 1995). But
there are also a small minority of primal peoples who
appear to have had a high level of warfare, social
inequality, and male domination from the beginning.
In the Americas, there were three main areas where this
was the case: the North-West Pacific, Caribbean
MesoAmerica (where the Aztecs and the Maya lived),
and Peru (where the Incas lived) (DeMeo, 1998). The
reasons for this may have been environmental, or per-
haps, as DeMeo (1998) suggests, they were due to a
prehistoric migration of groups who were already war-
like and socially stratified from Japan and China. In
Africa mild warfare, social inequality, and patriarchy
spread as a result of the ancient migrations of Bantu-
speaking peoples from the southern edge of the Sahara
desert (DeMeo, 1998).

References

Beck D. E., & Cowan C. (1996). Spiral dynamics:

Mastering values leadership and change. Malden MA:
Blackwell Inc.

Briggs, J.L. (1970). Never in anger. Cambridge, MA:

Harvard University Press.

Boehm, C. (1999). Hierarchy in the forest. Cambridge,

MA: Harvard University Press.

Bryan, W. L. (1996). Montana’s Indians: Yesterday and

today. Helena, MT: American & World Geographic
Publishing.

DeMeo, J. (1998). Saharasia. Oregon: OBRL. Eckhart,

Meister. (1996). From whom God hid nothing. David
O’Neal (Ed.). Boston: Shambhala.

Eliade, M. (1967). From primitives to Zen. London:

Collins.

Evans-Pritchard, E.E. (1967). Nuer religion. London:

Oxford University Press.

Primal Spirituality and the Onto/Phylo Fallacy

Such a model as this dispenses with the need for

phylogeny to recapitulate ontogeny and fits more
closely with the archaeological and anthropological
evidence than Wilber’s, Habermas’ or Beck and
Cowan’s, admitting the possibility that, in some
respects, primal peoples were more advanced than
modern human beings.

For us, spiritual states of being, universal empathy,

post-conventional morality and enlightened social
characteristics do lie at post-rational or post-egoic lev-
els of development. But this is precisely because of our
intensely egoic “individual, sharpened, spatially deter-
mined consciousness,” which entailed a loss of the
shared sense of being and intense intersubjectivity of
primal peoples. We have to transcend our separate
sense of ego in order to regain these characteristics. But
primal peoples never developed our intensely egoic
consciousness and never lost their shared sense of
being, and so for them there is nothing to transcend.

End Notes

1. For example, the culture of the Trobriand

Islanders was almost untouched by European influ-
ence when the British anthropologist Malinowski
studied them during the 1920s. But now most of the
islanders are Christians, and have become so distanced
from their own traditions that anthropologists from
the University of Papua New Guinea have organised
projects to help them relearn them. The Muria of
India were completely “primal” when the anthropolo-
gist W. Elgin lived with them, also during the 1920s.
But now over half of them are Hindus, and they are
also under assault from Christian missionaries who are
determined to spread the gospel to all the world’s
remaining “unreached” peoples. Even more tragically,
only four decades after the publication of Colin
Turnbull’s The Forest People, the rainforest of the
Pygmies is being chopped down by European and
Japanese lumber firms, and the government of Zaire is
pressuring them into giving up the hunter-gatherer
way of life and becoming farmers or city dwellers.

2. This still holds true for the Australian Aborigines

(at least those who still live as hunter-gatherers); they
only spend around 4 hours per day searching for food,
and devote the rest of their time to leisure activities,
such as music, storytelling, artwork, and being with
family and friends (Lawlor, 1991). This fact contra-
dicts Beck and Cowan’s (1996) claim that at the pur-

ple level, life was/is largely a matter of subsistence and
survival. In fact life only really became “hard” follow-
ing the advent of agriculture, when people had to work
longer and harder, disease was more widespread, diets
were not as healthy, and lifespans were shorter (Lawlor,
1991; DeMeo, 1998; Rudgley, 1998).

3. The other main reason for this is that the ancient

hunter-gatherers were less vulnerable to disease than
later peoples. In fact, until the advances of modern
medicine and hygiene during the 19th and 20th cen-
turies, they may well have been less afflicted with dis-
ease than any other human beings in history. Many of
the diseases to which we are now susceptible arrived
when we domesticated animals, who transmitted a
whole host of diseases that human beings had never
been exposed to before. And later, dairy products
increased our exposure to disease even further
(Rudgley, 1998, 2000).

4. Kelly also suggests that evidence of telepathy

between mother and child conflicts with Wilber’s
model, since he believes telepathy—and other para-
normal abilities—can only arise at the psychic levels.
And in connection with this, it is interesting to consid-
er the large amount of evidence suggesting that ani-
mals have psychic powers. Sheldrake (2000) puts for-
ward much of this evidence, and suggests that, rather
than their lying in wait for us at a higher level of devel-
opment, we have lost these powers along the way to
our present state.

5. It’s true that a lack of foresight did sometimes

lead to environmental problems for unfallen peoples.
Prehistoric animals like the Mammoth, the giant
Armadillo of South America, and the pygmy hip-
popotamus of Cyprus seem to have disappeared as a
result of over-hunting or changes to their environment
caused by humans. And prehistoric humans seem to
have caused some major environmental changes by
burning off massive areas of forest or grassland, or
overgrazing land (Sheldrake, 1990; Roszak, 1992).
Nevertheless, whereas the ideology of our culture pro-
motes environmental destruction, the ideologies and
moral systems of most primal cultures encourage
respect for nature. Many see themselves as stewards or
custodians of the Earth, and perform ceremonies
which they believe will maintain cosmic harmony.
They also try to maintain harmony through their
lifestyles, by not abusing natural phenomena, and
showing respect to animals and plants. As Mbiti writes
of traditional African religion, man “has to live in

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Introduction

n this edition of the Journal, we present readers with
our first “special topics” section. As stated in the edi-

torial policy, the special topic section is dedicated to
papers with similar themes or foci. In this edition, we
feature a collection of papers on transpersonal psychol-
ogy and depression.

The papers themselves are a collection of essays

that were presented at the 2001 Annual Meeting of the
European Transpersonal Psychology Association
(ETPA) held in Eupilio (Como Lake) September 3–6,
2001. Subsequent to the ETPA Annual Meeting, the
papers were edited and published as a transpersonal
psychotherapy workbook by the group of service of the
Italian Association of Transpersonal Psychology
(AIPT) under the guidance of Laura Boggio Gilot
(ETPA, 2002). The ETPA and all contributing
authors have granted permission for the IJTS to pub-
lish their work here.

As stated in the workbook, the ETPA is a nonprofit

European association constituted by national transper-
sonal associations, and by practitioners, psychologists
and psychiatrists, for the study, teaching, and research
of transpersonal psychology and psychotherapy from
an integral perspective. ETPA emphasises transfor-
mative spirituality and consciousness development
beyond ego through integral practices (physical, emo-
tional, mental, and spiritual). Teaching and research
include consciousness disciplines, teachings and prac-
tices of the nondual tradition, purification and self-
healing techniques, awareness training, clinical aspects
of spiritual crises, relations between psychotherapy and
meditative practice, Eastern and Western psychology.

Activities include conferences, publications, and

help projects promoting education, research, and service.

ETPA was founded in September 2000 in Assisi by

Laura Boggio Gilot and Marc-Alain Descamps.
Member associations currently include the French
Transpersonal Association (AFT; President: Marc-
Alain Descamps), Italian Association of Transpersonal
Psychology (AIPT; President: Laura Boggio Gilot), the
Portuguese-Brazilian Transpersonal Association (ALU-
BRAT; President: Mario Simões), the Romanian
Association for Transpersonal Psychology (ARPT;
President: Ion Manzat), the Spanish Transpersonal
Association (ATRE; President: Manuel Almendro),
and the German Transpersonal Association (GTA;
President: Jutta Gruber).

Readers interested in learning more about the

ETPA are encouraged to contact the organization at
the following address:

European Transpersonal Psychology Association
c/o AIPT—Associazione Italiana di Psicologia

Transpersonale

Via C. Corvisieri 46
I-00162 Roma, Italia.
Phone and Fax: +39.06862.18495.
Email: info@aipt.it
Website: http://www.etpa.info

Reference

European Transpersonal Psychology Association

(2002). Transpersonal psychotherapy workbook—
Depression: An integral approach. Rome, Italy:
Italian Association for Transpersonal Psychology.

Special Topic: Depression

Ferguson, R.B. (2000). The causes and origins of primi-

tive warfare. Anthropological Quarterly 73(3),
159–164.

Habermas, J. (1979). Communication and the evolution

of society. Boston: Beacon Press.

Frazer, J. (1959). The new golden bough. New York:

Criterion.

Freud, S. (1946). Totem and taboo: Resemblances between

the psychic lives of savages and neurotics. New York:
Vintage Books.

Hall, E.T. (1984). The dance of life. New York: Anchor

Press.

Hamilton, M.B. (1995). The sociology of religion.

London: Routledge.

Happold, F.C. (1986). Mysticism. London: Penguin.
Hildebrand, M. von (1988). An Amazonian tribe’s view

of cosmology. In P. Bunyard & E. Goldsmith (Eds.),
Gaia, the thesis, the mechanisms and the implications.
Wadebridge Ecological Centre, Camelford, Cornwall.

Idowu, E.B. (1975). African Traditional Religion.

Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books.

Josephy Jr., A.M. (1975). The Indian Heritage of America.

London: Pelican.

Kelly, S. (1998). Revisioning the mandala of conscious-

ness: A critical appraisal of Wilber’s holarchical para-
digm. In D. Rothberg & S. Kelly (Eds.), Ken Wilber
in Dialogue. Wheaton, IL: Quest Books.

Kremer, J.W. (1998). The Shadow of Evolutionary

Thinking. In D. Rothberg & S. Kelly (Eds.), Ken
Wilber in dialogue. Wheaton, IL: Quest Books.

Lawlor, R. (1991). Voices of the first day. Rochester, VT:

Inner Traditions.

Lenski, J. & L. (1978). Human societies (2nd Ed.). New

York: McGraw-Hill.

Lenski, J., Lenski, L. & Nolan, P. (1995). Human societies

(7th Ed.). New York: McGraw-Hill.

Levy-Bruhl, L. (1965). The ‘soul’ of the primitive.

London: Unwin University Books.

Magesa, L. (1997). African religion. New York: Orbis.
Martin, P., & O’Meara, P. (1995). Africa. Bloomington,

Indiana: Indiana University Press.

Mbiti, J. (1975). Introduction to African religion. London:

Heinemann.

Piaget, J., & Inhelder, B. (1956). The psychology of the

child. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Roszak, T. (1992). The voice of the earth. New York:

Touchstone.

Rudgley, R. (1993). The alchemy of culture. London:

British Museum Press.

Rudgley, R. (1998). Lost civilisations of the stone age.

London: Century.

Rudgley, R. (2000). Secrets of the stone age. London:

Random House.

Sahlins, M. (1972). Stone age economics. Chicago: Aldine

-Atherton Inc.

Sheldrake, R. (1991). The rebirth of nature. London:

Rider.

Sheldrake, R. (2000). Dogs that know when their owners

are coming home. London: Arrow.

Sindima, H. (1990). Community of life: Ecological the-

ology in African perspective. In C. Birch et al. (Eds.),
Liberating life: Contemporary approaches to ecological
theology. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books.

Turnbull, C. (1993). The forest people. London: Pimlico.
Vennen, M.G. van der. (1995). The origin of war.

Groningen: Origin Press.

Wilber, K. (1981). Up from Eden. Wheaton: Quest

Books.

Wilber, K. (1995). Sex, ecology, spirituality. Boston:

Shambhala.

Wilber, K. (1996). A brief history of everything. Boston:

Shambhala.

Wilber, K. (1998). A more integral approach. In D.

Rothberg & S. Kelly (Eds.), Ken Wilber in dialogue.
Wheaton, IL: Quest Books.

Wilber, K. (2000a). Integral psychology. Boston:

Shambhala.

Wilber, K. (2000b). One taste. Boston: Shambala.
Wildman, P. (1996). Dreamtime myth: History as future.

New Renaissance, 7(1), 16–19.

Wright, R (1992). Stolen continents. Boston: Houghton

Mifflin.

Correspondence regarding this article should be
addressed to the author at
272 Flixton Road
Flixton, Manchester
M425DR, United Kingdom
Email: essytaylor@yahoo.com

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

An Integral Approach to Depression

SPECIAL TOPIC: DEPRESSION

psychotherapeutic work: bodily, emotional, mental,
and spiritual. Integral techniques associate psychother-
apy to the ethical practices of awareness and transfor-
mation derived from the meditative systems.

The awareness that the suffering of the ego is rooted

not only in an individual’s biographical history, but
fundamentally in the separation from the universal
unity to which the human being is related, is part of
the context and the leading principle of integral psy-
chotherapy (Boggio Gilot, 2001).

The integral perspective moves from the assump-

tion that all those who suffer are imprisoned in a tem-
poral ego separated from the unity of life: this causes a
feeling of frailty and fear, naturally pushing to a search
for egoistic compensations through objects that are
unsatisfactory and void, thereby producing further
separation and suffering.

Suffering, of whatever type and degree, is a

diminution of the human being, which derives from a
rupture of unity, a fragmentation of totality, starting
with the initial ontologic split between Self and ego,
individuality and the sacred. So long as this primary
gap is not filled, no real healing is possible.

So, the suffering of the ego separated from the Self

is the background and the soil of the symptomatic
forms of mental suffering, and overcoming the latter
requires going back to the egocentric condition, and
overcoming this, into an inclusive and spiritual con-
sciousness. The spiritual demands of the Self are the
drives toward the expression of Truth, Beauty, and
Goodness, and the alignment of individual will to uni-
versal will.

In the integral approach, this frame of reference,

open to the recognition of the spiritual presence in
every human being, represents the interpersonal space
between the therapist and the patient, and an opening
of the heart on the side of the therapist, through which
passes the intention to alleviate the suffering, but also
to awaken the patient to the spiritual dimension and
experience. In other words, the integral psychothera-
pist is focused on making the ego receptive to the soul
and on lining up the individual consciousness to the
interconnection with the universal will.

In order to do this, the therapist must practice

meditation and consciousness disciplines. The ideal
integral psychotherapist is an advanced meditator, who
remains centered in the practice during all sessions.

The state of consciousness of the therapist, result-

ing from a meditative path and as close as possible to

the liberation from ignorance, is a basic condition for
the patient to get free from the chains of incomplete-
ness and discover yet unexplored potentialities.

Consistent with the position of Maslow (1962),

one can only give what one is. The more the psychother-
apist can witness, in his or her living in the world, the
liberation from ignorance, the more he or she can be a
true healer, a vehicle for the liberation of the spiritual
powers hidden in the subject’s unconscious.

This means that an integral psychotherapist should

always be in touch with the voice of the Self, which is
what drives towards Truth, Beauty, and Goodness,
obeying its influence and witnessing in his presence
and actions the path of a transforming spirituality.

On this basis, the scope of the integral approach

transcends the interest of the individual and promotes
the development of healthy and creative persons, able
to help others and contribute to the well-being of society.

As has been noted by Walsh and Vaughan (1993),

there is a need for people of wisdom and maturity
work not only to release suffering but also to awaken
themselves and others. To become a person of wisdom
and maturity is the goal of any serious researcher in
the field and of all those of us who passionately believe
that the meaning of life is to donate oneself to an aim
that transcends one’s own egocentric needs and reflects
a more universal way of living.

Psychopathology as a

Developmental Disturbance

he integral model of psychotherapy realizes a syn-
thesis of the psychoanalytic theories (especially

those of ego psychology and of object-relations) along
with the humanistic-existential approaches and the
meditative wisdom (Boggio Gilot, 1993).

The entire spectrum of mental suffering include:

(a) psychodynamic suffering, that is, the psychoses,

borderline disorders, and neuroses, described in
psychoanalysis;

(b) cognitive and existential suffering, described in

humanistic psycholog, and

separated from the Self, described in the meditative
tradition.

Special Topic: Depression

ith these words, Ken Wilber outlines, in
his book Integral Psychology, the aims of his
integral approach, which differs from the

general transpersonal movement in its spiritual and
universal vision of consciousness and human growth,
and in its general synthesis of the knowledge gathered
in psychotherapy with the knowledge stemming from
the meditative approaches constituting the Perennial
Philosophy.

According to Perennial Philosophy, the Self, the

totality of the human being, is composed of several
levels hierarchically organised: body, mind, soul, and
Spirit. At its core, the Self is seen as identical to, and
indivisible from, the sacred essence of reality, which
the various traditions have called Spirit, Absolute,
Utmost Good, or pure Consciousness (nondual tradi-
tion).

Whereas Spirit has no form or quality and repre-

sents the ultimate and only permanent and indestruc-
tible reality, the soul is the inner dimension that goes
beyond the limits of the body and the mind and is the
dwelling of the higher qualities and potentialities of
Truth, Beauty, and Goodness. The temple of the soul
is inhabited by the universal archetypes, and its core by
the divine image.

Two, it is told, are the wings of the soul: intuitive

intellect (buddhi in the Vedanta tradition), which has
access to the direct comprehension of transcendent
reality; and love, which is the very essence of the soul
and by its nature is unconditional and eternally radi-
ant. As Plato says, the soul contains an inborn image
that he calls daimon and is the trustee of the individ-
ual destiny, of the meaning and task of one’s life. This
inner image is that which drives to vocation and the
expression of one’s talents and aspirations in life.

The aim of individual growth is Self-realisation,

that is, the expression in consciousness and identity of
all bodily, mental, and spiritual qualities, until attain-
ing the knowledge of the unity of the individual and
universal Self, called Enlightenment and Liberation
from ignorance or nondual consciousness (Boggio
Gilot, 1992).

In the integral approach, the separation of the ego

from the Self and the resulting ontologic unawareness
brings the split of the individual from universal life
and represents the greatest human suffering and the
origin of all the evil of life.

The suffering of the ego separated from the Self is

symbolised in these words of Raphael (1986, p. 27),
the Master of the Perennial Philosophy:

You are a flame of the one fire that all pervades,
you live in solitude and conflict
because you consider yourself a little flame,
separate from the source.

In the integral approach, the scope of psychotherapy
includes, along with the clinical problems that are usu-
ally dealt with in psychotherapy, also the narcissism of
normality, that is, the state of the ego separated from
the sou—a suffering that expresses itself in the materi-
alistic identifications, in object-attachments, fear, ego-
ism, and the lack of value and spiritual meaning of life
(Boggio Gilot, 1997).

In the integral approach, the goals of therapy

include, along with the usual ones related to the
achievement of normal psychological functioning, also
the development of awareness beyond egocentric
boundaries and toward spiritual awakening. In this
context, the development of such qualities as intu-
ition, love, and wisdom is favored.

Four levels of experience are recognized in integral

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Integral Approach in Transpersonal Psychotherapy

Laura Boggio Gilot

Italian Association of Transpersonal Psychology

For an integral psychology
a person’s deepest drive
is the actualization of the wholeness of body, mind and soul,
so that one becomes, in full realization,
a vehicle of Spirit shining radiantly into the world.

(Wilber, 2000, p. 190)

Yoga-sutras. The great Hindu sage states that the
nature of suffering is related to the history of the
ego, which as such lives in the condition of avidya,
or ignorance, separated from the real meaning and
object of existence. Patanjali says there are five
afflictions of the ego separated from the Self:
a) unawareness of spiritual reality;
b) identification with the sense of the ego

encapsulated in the body;

c) attachment to pleasure;
d) repulsion against anything opposing it;
e) fear of death.

2. A particular form of suffering of the ego separated

from the Self is outlined in the concept of spiritual
emergency described by Grof and Grof (1990).
These crises refer to the relationship of the ego with
the transpersonal energies, that is, with the arche-
typical forms of the soul, at a time when the ego is
immature and still unable to integrate them.
Spiritual emergency results from the impact upon
the ego of powerful energies that can disarrange the
identifications of personality. The archetypical
light that thus appears in ordinary consciousness
can result in inflations, such as exaggerated eupho-
ria or an illusory feeling of greatness, that are the
basis of real states of psychopathology.

3. A more advanced form of spiritual suffering is wit-

nessed in religious traditions. Here, for example,
we include such forms of suffering as the dark night
of the soul, and suffering due to the feeling of real
guilt produced by the treason committed by the
human being in her or his path toward God.

Integral Approach to Mental Suffering

hat has been outlined so far is a hierarchy of
psychological suffering, with or without clinical

symptoms, arising at various points in the arc of devel-
opment, from the preegoic to the transegoic stage.

Because, as Wilber (2000) notes, the developmen-

tal lines of personality do not proceed in an orderly
way and immaturity of one line can be matched by a
greater maturity of another line, it may so happen that
the different levels of suffering, rather than being one
subsequent to the other, actually coexist. For instance,
a person can experience a spiritual void, being unable
to respond to the call of the Self, while at the same
time suffering from an inner conflict of a psychody-
namic nature, stemming from a disturbance in the tri-

partite structure, problems with authority that still
need to be overcome.

The integral model of psychotherapy teaches us to

differentiate the various qualities of suffering, and
understand that, in order to heal mental suffering, we
need to start from the lower plane of personality struc-
turing, that is, from the tripartite organisation into id,
ego and superego.

Healing the tripartite structure is similar to repair-

ing the foundations of a building. Just as in a building
no construction is possible if the foundations are not
solid, in the construction of personality higher levels of
development and health cannot be realised if the lower
ones are not well structured.

For example, an existential psychotherapy, such as

logotherapy, which focuses on recovering the meaning
of life, fails if the person is conditioned by needs of
acceptance and dependence and still has disturbances
of the tripartite structure. Similarly, a psychoanalytic
therapy, centered on problems of the tripartite struc-
ture, fails with a patient who has an existential or spir-
itual form of suffering and has already overcome the
psychodynamic conflicts.

For a psychotherapist, to be “integral” means to be

able to differentiate among the various forms of mental
suffering, and, understanding the personality structure,
to start working on the lower planes, without forget-
ting the higher ones and being ready to address these
when the time comes.

The integral approach applies differential methods

and techniques as needed for the different forms of
suffering, making use also of meditative wisdom and
of the ethical practices of awareness and transforma-
tion contained in the various doctrines.

Clinical Depression in the Integral View

rom Kraepelin to the DSM, the nosography of
depression has not yet captured the true nature of

this condition. The criteria adopted to classify depres-
sive states have mainly been the following:

1. The criterion that has focused on dichotomies (such

as endogenous vs. psychogenous, autonomous vs.
reactive, or psychotic vs. neurotic);

2. The criterion that has focused on distinctions (bipo-

lar vs. unipolar, primary vs. secondary);

3. The unitary criterion of the DSM that has focused

on depression in the continuum from mild to
severe.

Special Topic: Depression

Psychodynamic Suffering

sychodynamic suffering is outlined in psycho-
analysis in the neurotic, borderline, and psychotic

syndromes, consisting of disturbances of the develop-
mental arc that leads to the development of an ego
adapted to society. Psychodynamic suffering is charac-
terised by emotional states of anxiety, fear, anger, and
conflicts centered on dependence on authority, and on
complexes of abandonment, guilt, and inferiority.
These disturbances of affection, instincts, and think-
ing prevent the adaptation to reality, and thus prevent
the personality of the child from growing and becom-
ing integrated with society and its roles.

According to object-relations theory, the most seri-

ous suffering (psychosis, borderline) originates in a dis-
turbance of development in the pre-Oedipal stage,
during the process of separation and individuation
taking place in the first three years of life, before the
structuring of the superego. A less serious suffering
(neurosis) originates instead in a disturbance in the
post-Oedipal stage, when the process of separation and
individuation has been completed and the superego, as
the source of rules and ethical values, has been struc-
tured, so that self-esteem can be regulated.

Neurosis indicates a conflict in the tripartite struc-

ture (id, ego, superego), that in a more modern and
relational approach can be defined as a conflict
between the subpersonality of an inner parent, repre-
senting a dysfunctional superego, and the subpersonal-
ity of an inner child, representing the sacrificed
impulses and affections, with the subpersonality of a
mediator who wrongly mediates, through defense
mechanisms, the internal conflict and the adaptation
to reality.

The superego is a fundamental element in differen-

tiating milder from more serious pathology. A struc-
tured superego implies the existence of a regulating
moral structure capable of producing the feeling of
guilt, and therefore of removing undesired elements
into the unconscious. In psychotherapy this allows
work on the removed unconscious and the use of
destructuring techniques. The lack of a superego,
along with the associated primary split and defenses,
characterises the most serious pathology and requires
work on the construction of more mature structures,
and particularly of a superego with realistic features.

Cognitive-Existential Suffering

isturbances in the development of a mature ego
include the array of cognitive-existential suffer-

ing outlined in humanistic psychology. This appears as
a crisis of identity originated by the lack of develop-
ment of freedom and creativity, as may happen when
one’s existence is excessively conditioned by family and
social models and is thus poorly related to one’s intrin-
sic nature. This kind of suffering is due to alienation
from oneself, when the ego is ready to grow beyond
mere adaptation to reality, but gets entangled in the
plot of conformism and fails to express its own aspira-
tions and original talents which would be in conflict
with family and social models.

In existential suffering, the needs of safety over-

come the needs of growth, and life is characterised by
boredom and void, with a lack of meaning and value.
The erosion of the feeling of freedom expresses itself in
a lack of will in bringing forth what one loves. The tri-
umph of the needs of safety over those of growth takes
root in the lack of the courage to exist, disconfirming
the original aspirations and the authentic expression of
one’s potentialities. As noted by Maslow (1962), if you
do not aspire to make the most of yourself and your
life, you will be unlikely to find true happiness. The
suffocation of the expression of one’s freedom for fear
of losing one’s safety goes side by side with a lack of
responsibility toward one’s own life, which flows fol-
lowing the will and the principles of others.

The conditioning that constructs the ego leads to

the fear of living and loving. Lacking contact with its
profound beliefs and aspirations, the personality fades
into the void of an existence deprived of choice; thus
arises that fear of death, so much described in existen-
tial psychology, that is the emblem of a premature end,
when the path of one’s existence has not yet been com-
pleted.

Spiritual Suffering

piritual suffering relates to the state of separation
between the ego and the Self.

1. The suffering of the ego separated from the Self

originates in a conflict between one’s egocentric
attachments and the call of one’s own destiny,
which the ego can oppose through various types of
resistance. The suffering of the ego separated from
the Self is symbolised by Patanjali (1992) in his

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

and life loses quality and purpose.

The humanistic model emphasizes that the root of
depression is the inhibition of individual potentialities
and that recovery requires the development of autonomy,
responsibility toward one’s life, and the prevailing of
one’s growth needs over conformistic conditioning.

The humanistic conception is the platform for the

development of the transpersonal approach to depres-
sion, which is particularly focused on the fragility and
insignificance originated by the separation of the ego
from the Self as the inner spiritual center of individu-
ality. To the person who identifies with the biographic
ego, life lacks contact with universal values and is
therefore imprisoned in unawareness and lack of truth.
Depression is then the natural response to the failure
of the egocentric project and to the void of an exis-
tence that is based on empty and impermanent
objects.

A contribution to the conception of depression as

arising from the separation of the ego from the Self
comes from the wisdom tradition. In the Yoga-Vedanta
tradition in particular, Patanjali (1992) recognises that
mental suffering (hence depression as well) is rooted in
the egoism that develops from the unawareness of spir-
itual reality and of its connections to the universal
background of existence. This unawareness leads us to
get lost in ordinary life events and to develop a terror
of death.

Egoism stems from the sense of the ego encapsulated

in the body and totally separated from its own fragili-
ty: it is characterized by a drive to possess, a tendency
to defend oneself, and behavior that is centered on
attachment to pleasure and avoidance of pain, which
makes one vulnerable to the inevitable trials of life. In
this context, overcoming depression then requires
going beyond the narrow boundaries of egocentric
logic, which brings with it attachments, fear, and dis-
couragement; it requires giving up the ego’s possessive
and defensive modalities, progressively developing an
awareness of the Self and a sacred sense of life, as well
as an attitude toward values and meanings that makes
room for the cultivation of spiritual states and quali-
ties. These include love and wisdom, expressed in
social action that is free of personal interest and offered
to life.

The integral approach to depression includes the

different views and acknowledges the complementarity
and interrelatedness of the various perspectives. The
integral vision of depression recognises that the differ-

ent approaches are like different refractions of a prism
and relate to the difficulties of the existential path in
its various phases.

In this context, the various theories and approaches

to overcoming depression are all seen to be valid as
related to the specific levels of the developmental spec-
trum: preegoic, egoic, transegoic. Integral psychother-
apy requires one to know the clinical and diagnostic
approach of object relations psychoanalysis along with
humanistic psychology and the wisdom tradition, and
involves the use of comparative techniques integrating
the introspective elaboration of internal objects, psy-
chocorporeal work for emotional catharsis, and the
meditative practice of awareness and transformation.

References

Boggio Gilot, L. (1992). Il Sé transpersonal [The

transpersonal self]. Rome: Asram Vidya.

Boggio Gilot, L. (Ed.) (1993). Sufferenza e guarigione

[Suffering and healing]. Assisi: Cittadella.

Boggio Gilot, L. (1997). Crescere oltre l’io [Growing

beyond ego]. Assisi: Cittadella.

Boggio Gilot, L. (Ed.) (2001). Il tempo dell’anima

[Time of the soul]. Torino: Psiche.

Grof, C., & Grof, S. (1990). The stormy search for the

Self. New York: Tarcher-Perigee.

Kernberg, O. (1965). Borderline conditions and patho-

logic narcissism. New York: Aronson.

Maslow, A. (1962). Toward a psychology of being.

Princeton: Van Nostrand.

Pancheri, P. (Ed) (1982). La depressione. Rome: Il

Pensiero Scientifico.

Patanjali. (1992). Yoga-sutras, Italian translation and

commentary by Raphael. Rome: Asram Vidya.

Raphael. (1986). La triplice via del fuoco (The triple

path of fire). Rome: Asram Vidya.

Walsh, R., & Vaughan, F. (1993). Paths beyond ego. Los

Angeles: Tarcher.

Wilber, K. (2000). Integral psychology. London:

Shambhala.

Correspondence regarding this article should be
directed to the author at
AIPT, Italian Association of Transpersonal Psychology,
Via Corvisieri 46, 1-00162, Rome, Italy.
Email: info@aipt.it

Special Topic: Depression

As outlined by Pancheri (1982), a foremost Italian
researcher on depression, the condition can be seen as
a normal reaction and adaptation to stressing situations
of loss and bereavement, that takes on psychopatho-
logical features under extreme conditions. In this con-
text, depression is a behavioral manifestation of a stress
response originated by attachment-loss, in turn char-
acterised by specific psychoneuroendocrine reactions.

The constant presence of some degree of depres-

sion in most human situations suggests that, like pain
and anxiety, this condition may be part of an impor-
tant adaptive and defense system meant to increase
survival capabilities in the individual.

Under normal conditions, depression frequently

follows events or situations characterised by loss, and
appears as a message of isolation and withdrawal from
social relations, and more generally as a request for help
specifically directed to the surrounding social context.
According to Pancheri (1982), this modality is useful
and adaptive, in that it allows better survival in the
face of external threats. The depressive reaction would
then represent a stress reaction aimed at its resolution.

In the various schools of psychotherapy the

approach to the treatment of depression has followed
different perspectives.
1. In the psychoanalytic perspective (e.g., Freud,

Abraham, Jacobson, Kohut), depression is a mental
state in which the system of the self is damaged as
a result of early experiences of frustration with ref-
erence persons. The psychodynamic approach
focuses on the narcissistic components of depres-
sion, such as low self-esteem, resulting from nega-
tive object relations and omnipotent defenses
countering the feelings of lack and impotence.
Consequently, the therapy is aimed at modifying
the stress situation through the understanding of
the early conflicts and the transformation of inter-
nal objects, that is, of the aggressive and loss-related
mental images, into realistic and supportive ones.
Of fundamental relevance, in this context, is the
researche of the object relations theorists, particu-
larly Kernberg (1965), which emphasizes the role
of mental structuring in the diagnosis and therapy
of depression. The analytic introspection is aimed
at understanding the defense mechanisms and the
state of the superego, so as to find out if depression
is a symptom that expresses itself within a pre-Oedipal
borderline structure with no superego and with
primitive defenses, or rather is a post-Oedipal neu-

rotic structure, with secondary defenses and a
superego. In the psychoanalytic context, the solu-
tion of depression, in the continuum from mild to
serious, requires working on transference: the ther-
apist is here a mirror, which reflects and proposes
interpretations.

2. The cognitive approach to depression (e.g., Adler,

Beck) stresses the presence of distortions of think-
ing and of negative mental images as a cause of the
depressed mood. The depressed personality has a
selective attention to the negative aspects of cir-
cumstances and makes irrational and pessimistic
deductions concerning their outcome. The cogni-
tive therapy concentrates on the transformation of
the negative images of self and the world associated
with the distorted thinking. Transforming negative
into positive thinking is absolutely fundamental for
recovery. Especially relevant is the recognition of
self-destructive cognitive aspects, made possible by
developing control of thinking schemes. Rather
than transference, the background of the work here
is a good therapeutic and collaborative relationship.

3. The interpersonal approach (e.g., Sullivan) consid-

ers altered interpersonal relations and lacking or
unsatisfactory social bonds. The depressive reaction
is here seen as rooted in stress in the family and at
work as a result of dysfunctional relations. To ease
the depression, one needs to reduce the stress in
family and working contexts, and to solve the
interpersonal problems. Recognizing the dysfunc-
tional aspects, and training the patient to have bet-
ter communication, is a task of the interpersonal
approach, realised through an active role of the
therapist, who influences the patient and provides
support, proposing alternative solutions. The wider
attention paid to subjective needs appears to be
fundamental to overcoming depression. In the
interpersonal approach, the therapy profits from
the relations established with family members, so
that they collaborate to modify the patient’s nega-
tive relations.

4. The transpersonal approach to depression is based

on the humanistic conceptions underlying the state
of human diminution of the depressed subject,
who experiences a void of meaning in life caused by
a block in development and freedom, in that safe-
ty needs overcome the needs of growth. Aspiration,
the expression of talents, and creativity are then
inhibited; the meaning of life is seriously damaged;

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

depressive nucleus can subsist throughout life and con-
stitute the “fundamental defect.”

How to Get Out of a Depression

e need to make a distinction between losing the
will to act and losing the will to live. In many

cases, I have found in my practice that what was needed
was to start all over again, to start from the beginning
of life. One needs to go back to the original nursing
infant that was hurt. One can start by touching the
body, which proves and facilitates the process of
embodiment, with massages and stroking, particularly
if that was missing in childhood. It then becomes pos-
sible again to walk, to swim, and run and breathe. One
can then awaken taste through the pleasures of food
and drinking. Odors and perfumes are also something
archaic which reconnect us to the scents of the earth.
Then follows the awakening of libido.

Beauty is extremely powerful, for it is the sign of

the eternal. If one can take pleasure again in music,
painting, or dancing, this is a way out of depression.
To be able to recognise beauty restores the pleasure of
life. Gazing at the sky, the trees, the rocks, and the
birds allows one to take part in the awakening of life.

Changing the sense of time is essential, since

depression is accompanied by a depreciation of time.
Depressed people live in a time that is gloomy, monot-
onous, void, and terribly sullen. To live every minute
as if it were the last allows one to grasp the luck of liv-
ing, and understand that time implies not only the
end, but also the gift of the instant to come.

The Benefits of Depression

n the end, I find it is also possible to speak of the
benefits of depression, since not everything is negative.

This great suffering, this total despair, can produce
something good.

Such positive potential has been noted by some,

including Stanislav Grof in his notion of the spiritual
emergency (Grof & Grof, 1990). Something gets started
which must not be opposed or stopped. A transforma-
tive process is at work and at the beginning requires a
new start: this is the cleaning aspect of depression.

The storm or hurricane can then generate some-

thing good, because a place has been made for recon-
struction. To get into a depression is to refuse a way of
life that, suddenly or little by little, has become

unbearable and even not liveable. This creative process
only needs to be prolonged and favoured in order for
the depression to be overcome and the person get to
something new.

But one needs not hurry, and instead can wait for

time to complete its work, and a new way of seeing
things to develop. Which things? The world and its
destiny, to start with, but then especially oneself.
Depression can give birth to a new being, and there-
fore it can be considered as the price to pay to be able
to change.

Everyone wants to avoid depression or quickly get

out of it, but what if depression were to be a chance for
some?

References

Grof, C., & Grof, S. (1990). The stormy search for the

Self. New York: Tarcher-Perigee.

Correspondence regarding this article should be
directed to the author at
AFT, French Transpersonal Association,
18 rue Berthollet, 75005 Paris, France
Email: marc-alain@descamps.org

Special Topic: Depression

epression is an increasingly widespread dis-
ease. For instance, over three million people
are affected in France, and use of antidepres-

sants is widespread. In Europe, it is estimated that
some 20% of the population is or will be affected. In
fact, depression is no longer considered as an individ-
ual disease but rather as a “disease of civilization.”
After plague and leprosy, it was tuberculosis, then in
the 19th century hysteria , and finally, in the 20th cen-
tury, depression.

Yet this disease is still poorly understood and vari-

ous categories need to be differentiated. Here I will
refer to the subjects I have dealt with as a psychother-
apist.

What Is Depression?

he word depression clearly involves various mean-
ings and is therefore ambiguous. To start with, we

have hidden depression and masked depression. There
are so many persons who, plucking up courage, man-
age to function and face their obligations as they can,
although at the cost of immense suffering. They actu-
ally have a depression and are not aware of it. The con-
dition is not even admitted by their family and other
relations, who at first refer to fatigue, then speak of
laziness and ask them to make an effort and not to let go.

Depression is taboo, a disease of which one does

not speak, of which to be ashamed. One may eventu-
ally ask a psychiatrist to prescribe antidepressants, then
very soon stop taking them because of their undesir-
able secondary effects.

Three categories can be differentiated.

1. Reversible Depression

Among the depressions that are easier to deal with

are the occupational forms, such as breakdown and
burnout. Their effects are frequently not generalised
and remain restricted to the occupational domain.

In breakdown, an active person suddenly loses all

motivation and no longer trusts in what he or she
does. And one can understand how depression has
become a disease of civilisation as a result of the gen-
eralised need to push one’s performance to the limit.
Everyone has to work to the maximum at an impossi-
ble pace—from the worker seeing after the passing
objects on the assembly line, up to the manager who is
always pressed to give more results. Pressure and stress
increase to the point where one collapses into a nerv-
ous breakdown.

The same is true of those who are devoted to good

will, humanitarian activities, charities, or the like: the
demands and the weariness are such that, in a matter
of some three to four years, one is eventually exhausted,
burnt out. And so it happens that, after recovery, one
needs to get oriented toward something else.

2. Reactive Depression

In the case of a depression induced by some cause

and at an initial stage, it is much easier to get over it
with the help of a psychotherapist. But whatever the
cause may be (divorce, abandonment, unemployment,
death, departure of a child or a parent, aggression, fire,
flood, and so forth), this may just prove the breaking
element of a depression that had long been latent.
Recovery may then not be as fast as one would have
wished and may require a deeper analysis.

3. Depression of Identity

The more serious depressions lead to a complete

giving up: nothing has any taste and all activity is
stopped. Suffering and despair are at their maximum
and the trouble may even involve self-identity.

The condition may be very precocious. For

instance, anaclitic depression can appear in a newborn
when sharply removed from her or his mother after a
normal relationship, and resulting in a break of com-
munication and sometimes in a refusal of life. Such a

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Spirituality of Depression

Marc-Alain Descamps

French Transpersonal Association

therefore their “fall,” in those cases where the object is
lost, reinforces their fear of being rejected and their
defensive imaginal regression is close to the psychotic
position.

Psychotic schizodepression is characterized by the

regressive intensity with which the subject establishes
his relationship, this time not with the object but with
its ghostlike representation. It is a deep “fall,” because
the fear of losing the object is really utmost. The image
of self as powerless and incapable of living in a rela-
tionship touches at its deepest point.

3. Fall of Vital Energy

Depression manifests itself clinically as a fall or

descent of the vital energy tone, of what may be called
the “biophilous” attitude. The depressed subject has
ideas, feelings, emotions, and conduct that are oppo-
site to the interests of the biophilous. Clinical depres-
sion involves negative feelings, at a more or less
marked degree, toward the experience of living, and
this is why depressed subjects adopt their well-known
negative attitude, which is “necrophilous” in nature.

4. Reactive Depression

“Reactive depression” implies a nonacceptance, and

on occasion, a virulent, rejection of an event bonded
affectively to the subject. The subject, thus depressed,
reacts negatively to the totality of life as a “protest” to
the rejected event: in the reactive depression, the sub-
ject takes the part as the whole.

Although the reactive depression does not carry

with it necessarily a “powerless and incapable image of
the self,” the intensity, globality, and duration of the
reactive depressions will obviously vary depending on
the greater or smaller solidity of the image of the self.

Among the reactive depressions we must include

the descent due to overburden. Here, the subjects fall
or descend under the weight, finally unbearable, of an
excessive load of work, worries, or frustrations. In this
case, the reaction of the organism is one of folding up
when facing a pressure which there is no strength left
to cope with.

A Thesis

I would like to conclude this part of my presenta-

tion outlining the following thesis:
1) Depression is a group of symptoms, not a syn-

drome.

2) If anything, one has to place the etiology of depres-

sion, and any of its clinical manifestations, around
the image of the self as powerless and incapable of
living.

3) Any psychotherapy of approximation has to take

into account the need to know and transform the
image of the self with a psychocorporeal approach,
as it is the internal and external image that rises in
a directive image of life.

Transpersonal

have to say that, personally, I do not have the diffi-
culty Ken Wilber lately has with the term “transper-

sonal.” Of course I am also pleased with the term
“integral”; in fact, I consider both terms so closely
joined that I think one cannot speak of transpersonal
without meaning at the same time integral. The two
terms have absolutely complementary meanings: one
in a horizontal/personal sense, the other in a
vertical/transcendental sense. It would be the same to
say: horizontal/human and vertical/holy.

1. The Word “Transpersonal”

In its horizontal/personal sense, the word

“transpersonal” literally means “through the person,”
and in its vertical/transcendental sense its literal mean-
ing is “further than the person.” This means that going
“further” implies going “through” the here and now,
and that the authentic experience of transcendence is
only achieved through the experience of immanence.
The satisfactory fulfìllment of the person, not only in
individual life but also in a relational one with the
objects around him, is a sine qua non condition to
reach a transpersonal level of experience.

When we speak of an experience caused by a level

of transpersonal consciousness that transcends the
ordinary level of awareness, we are opening the third
eye of knowledge, that is, the “eye of spirit.” I under-
stand the level of the “transpersonal” as leading us into
the level of the “spiritual,” further than the psyche and
the body, that is, further than appearances. The level of
transpersonal consciousness takes us to listen and not
just to hear, to see and not just to look, to relish and
not just to taste, to feel and not just to touch, to scent
and not just to smell, which is to say, to go through the
senses and further than the senses. Inside the con-
scious, the transpersonal takes us to know and not just
to believe, to feel and not just to have sensations.

Special Topic: Depression

irst of all, we must clarify the terms used in the
title of this reflection and communication. In
psychology, as well as in spirituality, the mean-

ing given to terms needs to be very clear, as the variety
in terminology, the epistemological richness, and the
resulting possibility of an ethereal and even ambiguous
discourse, is in both areas great. In this respect, the
words of Carl G. Jung come to mind:

It is highly sensible ...to make clear the supremacy
of the Psyche, as this is the only thing that life does
not leave clear to us.”(Collected Works, 1966: 841).

Definition

understand the term depression in its most exact ety-
mological significance. In the classical Latin of

Cicero, depressio meant “fall” and/or “to go down.”
“To get depressed” means to fall, or go down, descend.
In this sense, the term is used in engineering to speak
about, for example, a road that one makes “descend-
ing” below the level of the other roads; it is also used
in geography to refer to a portion of earth that, in relation
to a mountain, is lower; in meteorology to indicate a
lowering of the atmospheric pressure (an atmospheric
depression); in economy to indicate a fall in the values
that define the economic health of a country (the eco-
nomic depression in the United States in 1929); in
aeronautics to refer to an aeroplane suddenly losing
altitude. And of course the term depression, with this
same meaning of fall and/or descent, is applied to
human beings, animals, plants, and the dense matter
which we so lightly consider as inanimate or dead. In
fact we can speak of depressed animals, plants, or earth.

1. Image of the Self

Clinical depression, as I understand it, is the

ideative, sentimental, emotional, and behavioral result
of an incapable and powerless image of the self, that

makes itself manifest also in that powerlessness and
incapability of living that we call “depressive attitude.”
This means that the deep and unconscious image of
the self is that which determines that type of depres-
sion, the “fall” or “descent” that clinical psychiatry and
psychology usually call “endogenous,” to differentiate
it from the “reactive fall,” that is, from the one not pro-
duced by the powerless and incapable image of the self.

It is important to note that the image of the self is

an image that “directs”—in all details and from the
deep unconscious—the life of each one of us. For this
reason, it may be referred to as a “directive image”
(Directrix Imago).

2. Symbiotic Depression and Schizodepression

The powerless and incapable image of the self pro-

duces not only the depression I call “symbiotic,” but
also the one I call “schizodepression,” the latter not
only in a neurotic but also in a psychotic version, due
to its greater regressive intensity.

Symbiotic depression is caused by an image of the

self that has still not accepted the process of separation
from the mother and has not established a relationship
of “due distance” with the object. It “gets depressed,”
it “falls” over the object searching to relieve the ana-
clitic relationship with the mother, and as this point of
support disappears, the subject “falls” or “descends,”
suffering the symptoms that we have called symbiotic
depression.

In neurotic schizodepression, people are so afraid

of losing the object that they unconsciously decide not
to give themselves the opportunity for this to happen.
They do not choose, nor look for object relationships,
overwhelmed by the fear of not succeeding and the
fear of a negative response from the object. However,
they wish and accept to be looked for or to be chosen,
and if that happens, their relationships are symbiotic;

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Clinical Depression: A Transpersonal Point of View

Jaime Llinares Llabrés

Las Palmas, Gran Canaria

he term depression indicates lack of tonicity,
loss of energy, feelings of weakness, of power-
lessness, unhappiness, self-punishment, and

the whole range of negative feelings. We shall consider
depression and melancholy as synonyms. Depression
and melancholy are thymic troubles, which can be
either mild or serious, with all the nuances in between.
We find organic affective syndromes with depression,
for example, in infectious diseases like the flu, hyper-
thyroidism, and so forth. They are also found in schiz-
ophrenia.

The term melancholy is derived from the Greek

melas (black) and kholê (bile), and has been used from
antiquity in philosophy, literature, medicine, psychia-
try and psychoanalysis to define a form of madness
characterised on one hand by a black humor—that is,
a deep sadness, a depressive state that may lead to sui-
cide—and on the other hand, by manifestations of
fright and discouragement that may or may not appear
as delirium.

Historical Record

n the Dictionary of Psychoanalysis, Roudinesco and
Plon (1997) remind us of the history of the concept.

The manic-depressive polarity can already be

found in Hippocrates. The Hippocratic theory of the
humors for many centuries described the clinical
symptoms in the same way as do modern psychiatric
theories: sad mood, feeling of an infinite abyss, a hebe-
tude and extinction of desire and followed by exalta-
tion; irresistible attraction to death, ruins, nostalgia,
mourning.

The melancholic humor was associated with black

bile. Of the three other humors, blood was said to imi-
tate air, rise in the spring, and hold predominance in
childhood; yellow bile was thought to imitate fire, rise
in the summer and reign during adolescence; and
phlegm to behave like water, arise in the winter, and be
dominant in old age. Black bile, by comparison, is seen
to imitate earth, rise in autumn, and come to domi-

nance during maturity.

Melancholy, this illness of maturity, autumn, and

earth, could dilute itself in other humors and go along
with joy and laughter (blood), or with passivity and
fury (yellow bile). In these mixtures, it affirms its pres-
ence in all forms of human expression. From there
arises the idea of the cyclic alternation between one
state and the other (mania and depression), character-
istic of modern psychiatric nosography. Hippocrates
had already had the right intuition, in the fifth century
BC.

However, melancholy was Saturn’s illness. Saturn

was the earth god of the Romans, morbid and desper-
ate, identified with Chronos in Greek mythology.
Chronos had castrated his father, Uranus, before
devouring his children. We therefore called melan-
cholics saturnines. Each time period has constructed
its own representation of the illness. Here we see
another aspect: the relation between depression and
the flight of time that leads to death.

Moving forward in history, the melancholy of the

person abandoned by God suggests the idea of mourn-
ing (Burton, 1577–1640). Victor Hugo describes
melancholy as the “strange happiness of being sad,”
thus pointing out the erotisation of sorrow, the
masochistic defense against annihilation. Called lype-
mania (from the Greek lypè, sadness) by Jean-Étienne
Esquirol (1772–1840), melancholy took the name of
circular madness coined by Jean-Pierre Falret
(1794–1870) and was then related to mania. At the
end of the century, mania would be integrated by Emil
Kraepelin in the manic-depressive madness to later
become manic-depressive psychosis.

In the psychoanalytic context, we will refer to

Freud’s (1961) article Mourning and Melancholy, writ-
ten in 1915. In order to properly situate this major
text, let us recall that a child does not exist alone
(Winnicott, 1975): a child exists within his maternal
environment and therefore in the symbiotic relation-
ship that characterises this first period of life.
Breastfeeding has two aspects: on the one hand, the

Special Topic: Depression

The horizontal/personal dimension of the transper-

sonal implies not only the personal fulfilment of the
individual as such, as in the process of individualiza-
tion, but also the fulfilment of the social, relational,
and ethical dimensions of life.

2. The Word “Integral”

In its horizontal/personal sense, the term refers to

the Latin integer, meaning “whole,” “true,” “coherent,”
“honest.” It is the ethical dimension which redounds
in the relationship—which is also whole and true—of
the person with the objects outside. In its
vertical/transpersonal sense, the term refers to the
Latin integralis, meaning integral, total, global, universal.

In this way, the person who reaches the level of

“integral consciousness” is that one who experiences
the absolute, radical, and original unity of the All—
and, what is more, who is lived as the All or as the
Integral part of the All, as a drop of one and the same
Ocean.

We can see how the transpersonal/integral has that

double meaning, horizontal and vertical, ethical and
mystical, immanent and transcendent; where the
human being is composed and embraced in her triple
dimension—personal, interpersonal and transperson-
al; in the body, psyche, and spirit. Human beings,
from their psychosomatic reality and from their rela-
tional dimension, are open to their spiritual reality,
and therefore to their universal integral dimension.

If we now try to understand clinical depression

from the transpersonal/integral point of view, we can
affirm that the fall and/or the descent that depression
brings with it occurs in the tridimensional reality of
the human being, and it is in this triple dimension that
one has to approach it.

A transpersonal psychotherapist who is going to

accompany a person in the midst of a depressive crisis
must start off, in theory and in practice, from the tridi-
mensional nature of the human being. The therapist
helps the client to heal and to reinforce the basis of the
personal self, to make interpersonal love relationships
more dynamic, and to assume the transpersonal/inte-
gral dimension, opening up to the consciousness of
unity with the All, that is, with the One, with God,
through what Lévinas (1974, 1982) calls charity—
which, being free of passionate content, surpasses pas-
sionate Love, becoming universal.

References

Jung, C. G. (1966). Collected works. Volume 11.

Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Lévinas, E. (1974). Autrement qu’être an delá de la

essence. The Hague: Itijhoff.

Lévinas, E. (1982). Ethique et infini. Paris: Fayard

Correspondence regarding this article should be
directed to the author at
C/Traina 75/2,
35002 Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, Spain.
Email: llinares-copi@terra.es

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Depression: Clinical Definition and Case Histories

Manuel Garcìa Barroso

Faculté Libre de Développement et de Psychothérapie, Paris

subject’s permanent inability to mourn the lost object
is a constant in the melancholic structure. This
explains the search for the lost intrauterine paradise
and for the lost/found object of the hallucinatory/real
satisfaction of desire. This search impels investigators
to research, revolutionaries to pursue an ideal that slips
away, creators to surpass themselves, and in the end, all
of us to go forward on the path to fulfillment.

Depression appears as a wide spectrum of manifes-

tations that range from the simple depressive reaction
to a depressive state, and even characterized melan-
choly in the form of psychosis. Depression is the illness
of our time, as was hysteria in the past (Roudinesco &
Plon, 1997).

To conclude this historical record: In a transper-

sonal framework, Jung (1964a, 1964b) brought the
fundamental ideas of collective unconscious and
archetypes, and Maslow (1972) the concept of peak
experience. Maslow, in America, is at the root of the
transpersonal movement. Humanistic psychology
found the transpersonal without looking for it and in
the end recognised it as being such. In this school
emerged personalities like Roger Walsh, Frances
Vaughan (Vaughan, 1984; Walsh & Vaughan, 1984),
Claudio Naranjo (psychedelic work and meditation;
Naranjo, 1998), and Ken Wilber (Wilber, 1980, 1997).

We will focus on the work of Stanislav Grof (e.g.,

Grof, 1975, 1984, 1985, 1988, 1998), who was the
cofounder, with Maslow, of the transpersonal move-
ment. In his view, depression would be rooted in peri-
natal experience, and more particularly, in what he
calls the basic perinatal matrices (BPM) II and III.

The BPM II is a dead-end situation. The fetus,

after the oceanic experience of happiness of BPM I,
faces the discomfort of uterine contractions and the
impossibility of advancing in the vaginal canal. This
experience powerlessness, despair, helplessness and
solitude, like that of the Kleinian bad breast, consti-
tutes for Grof above all a bad womb. This phase builds
the grounds for inhibited depression characterized pre-
cisely by powerlessness, by forsaking any attempt to
find a solution.

BPM III constitutes the foundation of anxious

depression. This is characterised by psychomotor man-
ifestations such as agitation, which is characteristic of
the fetus’ forcing in the vaginal canal.

The manic pole would correspond for Grof to the

fourth phase that remains to be integrated. Suicide, for
him, corresponds to the desire of returning to BPM I,

in the context of inhibited depression, or nonassumed
birth in the anxious depression.

In the transpersonal vision, apart from our previous

considerations on BPM, the subject is in a materialis-
tic world, “hylotropic,” in which difficulties, disease,
old age, and death are always present. The opening to
the holotropic dimension (oriented toward totality)
constitutes for the subject the crucial experience of
access to its identity with the cosmos and its Source.
The great obstacle to this insight is constituted by the
identification with the skin-encapsulated ego and the
taboo against knowing who you are—so well described
by Alan Watts—linked to our hylotropic culture. As
illustrated by the six cases discussed below, holotropic
breathwork appears as a privileged technique to get in
touch with the transpersonal dimension.

Clinical Aspects, Etiology, and

Therapeutics

1. Clinical Aspects

Clinical manifestations of depression range from

mild reactive depression to prolonged mourning, and
in the end to severe melancholy, in which we must dis-
tinguish a depression with inhibition from a depres-
sion with agitation.

Depression involves more the subject’s structures,

its feelings of being and the radical call into question
of its being in the world. It appears, then, as an
absolute threat to the life of the individual, not as an
inhibition of such or such function.

Depression may usually be easily detected: not only

can the general practitioner or the family make the
diagnosis, but also the patient himself. However,
depression may sometimes remain hidden, invisible,
even for specialists, such as in the case of essential
depression in psychosomatic diseases (cancer).

Psychosomatic diseases, which represent manifesta-

tions of depression, are characterised by what is called
an operative thought (an affective and expressive dete-
rioration of thoughts which are reduced to pure nom-
inalism), in which depressive symptoms can hardly be
detected, except by a highly skilled and experienced
clinical practitioner.

Depressions of middle age (one’s forties and fifties)

appear either because the accomplishment of objec-
tives was not as brilliant as the subject had thought it
would be, or because questions arise on the meaning of
life and work and on one’s role in the world and rela-

Special Topic: Depression

satisfaction of biological needs, and on the other, the
satisfaction of psychological desire. Freud says that
desire is supported by necessity. We recall the saying:
combine business with pleasure. The child’s psycho-
logical life evolves toward individuation, hence toward
the constitution of an object and a subject. During a
long period, and perhaps for a lifetime, the child (and
the child within the adult) will remain attached, not
differentiating himself from his first love objects.

From the first experience of satisfaction, and even

before this, the child expects her mother’s breast. There
is already a genetic imprint that motivates this search.
Little by little, as experiences of satisfaction take place,
the child reinforces this memory, the satisfaction
imprint, and this allows him to reach satisfaction and
represent it to herself. The interval between the
appearance of desire and that of satisfaction may be
more or less important and allows precisely the devel-
opment of representations of satisfaction which will be
the nucleus of all thought activity in the future.
During this wait, the object increasingly acquires a
more real dimension because of its absence; thus
Freud’s formulation that the object is known in hatred.
If satisfaction were immediate, there would be no dif-
ference between intrauterine and extrauterine life.
Therefore, this moderate but real wait creates favorable
conditions for the development, on the one hand of
the subjective pole, and on the other, of the objective
pole.

This lost/found object of the hallucinatory/real

realization of desire is found in the process of waiting,
in mental development, and at the core of psychiatric
pathology.

Freud compares mourning and melancholy.

Mourning is seen as a physiological state and melan-
choly as a pathological one. If normal physiological
mourning is prolonged, it may become melancholy.
Melancholy for Freud is characterised by three aspects:
1) Loss of the loved/hated object with all the feelings

that relate to it.

2) Regression to narcissism. The subject identifies

himself with the lost object, as it proceeded before
the differentiation of the subject-object state by
incorporative identification.

3) In this view, feelings toward the object remain

strongly ambivalent.

There is a remodeling of the subject’s psyche: the sub-
ject is highly dissociated because of the ego incorpora-
tion of the loved/hated object. The object, in this way

incorporated, becomes the target of the superego’s
attacks: pure culture of the death instinct (e.g., see
Freud, 1961 in Beyond the Pleasure Principle). At the
time of the loss of the object, the archaic hatred toward
the object awakens. The hatred takes the forefront and
monopolizes the subject’s energy in an intrapsycholog-
ical sadistic superego-masochistic ego-self. All depres-
sive symptoms derive from this pathological intrapsy-
chological relationship.

The worst thing that could ever happen to a child

is the loss of her self-object: Winnicott’s (1975) break-
down, primary agony. This depressive experience is
called by Tustin (1986) “the black hole of psyche.”

As we can see in all types of traumas, and of course

in depression, trauma and its defenses appear simulta-
neously. In this way, Winnicott (1975) says “some-
thing has happened but yet has not taken place” to
point out this simultaneity of the traumatic experience
and its rejection. The terms denial and forclusion,
appear constantly in Freud’s works (e.g., see The
Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of
Sigmund Freud, 1961). In fact, from Freud’s perspec-
tive, that very mechanism characterises psychosis.

Depression, like phobia, obsessions, and the like, is

a response to the traumatic situation of the loss of the
object. Depression, in many aspects, can be linked to
desire. Desire is characterised by lack of something or
somebody. For Lacanians, this lack opens up to desire,
which is the motor of human constructions, of
progress on one hand, and of destructiveness on the
other.

For Melanie Klein (e.g., Klein, 1957), the depres-

sive position, which follows the paranoid one in the
subject’s maturation process, would constitute an
insight on the hatred that the subject feels for the
object. The depressive position would then lead the
subject to a relational maturity with its objects.

At the end of the twentieth century, depression—

that is, melancholy—became in industrial societies a
sort of equivalent of the hysteria observed by Charcot
at the Salpêtrière Hospital in Paris in the nineteenth
century: a true illness of the time. At that time, hyste-
ria was seen as a rebellion of the feminine body against
patriarchal oppression. A hundred years later, depres-
sion seems to be the opposite. It marks the failure of
the revolt paradigm in a world devoid of ideals and
dominated by a powerful pharmacological technology
which is very therapeutically efficient.

Apart from that, as Freud (1961) pointed out, the

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

-Formation of a hallucinatory neo-reality, be it

persecutory or grandiose, a denial system like
psychosomatic depression or cryptodepression
and the like.

We have been interested by the resistance attitude of
patients concerning the therapeutic modality used:

-Denial as long as possible;
-The acceptance or nonacceptance of different pro-

posed therapeutic modalities.

Patients mostly accept pharmacological therapy. In
contrast, they do not easily accept psychological thera-
pies. Particularly as far as transpersonal therapies are
concerned, if they have religious beliefs they will think
they have already used them unsuccessfully; in the case
of agnostics, the problem is far more delicate. If the
patient accepts a psychocorporeal therapy, he will face
transpersonal material. This material will be interpret-
ed by the psychotherapist and accepted by the patient
as unconscious manifestations overflowing in nature,
mythology, philosophy, ecology, and culture. I avoid
talking of transpersonal before the experiences of the
patients speak for themselves.

Depression, with its suicidal threat, leads to the

confrontation of the subject with real death. In the
psychotherapeutic approach, this real death may be
symbolized as death of the ego. The death of the ego is
situated in the process that encompasses death and
rebirth. In this work, we seek to situate depression in a
unitary death and rebirth process. We reach this goal
thanks to holotropic work. We also find this process in
great creators, such as poets and scientists, at the time
of mourning. This experience permits abundant cre-
ation in their respective fields. They write their most
beautiful poems and achieve their most important dis-
coveries.

Breathwork in the Swimming Pool

Clinical Case Observations

e will speak of patients treated by Lidia Farray
and Jaime Llinares, with whom once a year we

had prolonged weekends of group therapy. At the last
meeting, we only had one day and decided to do
breathwork in a swimming pool. There were 18 per-
sons in the group, and we have selected 6 of these to
comment upon here, incorporating the clinical obser-
vations made by Lidia Farray and Jaime Llinares. Our

comments should be read in the light of the personal
histories, briefly summarised below:

1. Personal Histories
a) JLB: His parents had him out of wedlock. He saw

his father very little, because he was a sailor. When
his father was at home, he behaved in a distant man-
ner with him. He was in the seminary. He was not
ordained as a priest, which was a great frustration
for him. He is married and has a daughter. He fights
off depression with obsessive rituals. He was well
liked by everyone in the group.

b) NJ: He is the eldest of four children. He started

working for his father at the age of 13 and felt
exploited by him. He felt his father did not love
him. When his father died, he did not go to the
funeral. He is now a middle-aged hairdresser. He
suffered from depression due to overwork and too
much responsibility. He is very sociable. He
attempts to compensate, in this manner, for the lack
of affection from his father.

c) PL: She is the elder of three sisters and she mothered

the younger two. Her second-born sister became a
high-profile beauty-contest winner. Because of her
sister’s importance, she felt and was increasingly
desexualised and was overwhelmed with responsi-
bilities. She has been working as a hairdresser since
she was 15, supporting her sisters. She married, had
two children, and divorced. She was then a single
mother. She is now 45 years old. She had a depres-
sion due to overwork and too much responsibility,
both of which kept her away from herself.

d) CM: She was raped by her father. Her mother,

knowing this, did nothing to defend her.

e) CC: He is from a working-class family; his parents

were farmers. He is the oldest of two sons and was
responsible for his brother. He had trouble commu-
nicating with his parents. He rebelled against them
and resented the responsibilities they gave him. He
felt suffocated by his parents’ expectations. He was
in the seminary for two years. His teacher there
tried to seduce him. He is now a philosophy teacher
in a high school. He has varicose veins, which may
be a manifestation of emotional overload.

f ) EO: He is from a middle-class rural family. He has

a younger brother. His father died when he was ten
years old. He wanted to take over his father’s busi-
ness, but his mother preferred to hand it over to his
younger brother. His mother looks down upon him.

Special Topic: Depression

tions to money and power.

Very often, we also find those depressions that I call

cryptodepressions, which have been hidden by escaping
forward, often since early childhood or adolescence,
and that may eventually manifest themselves in the
patient’s fifties or later on, especially when the subject’s
life seems to be at its best, complete. Just at that
moment, the escaping forward stops and depression
invades consciousness.

The ego is unable to cope with the past traumatic

situation manifested in the present. Let us consider an
example. Mrs T., at 50, has succeeded in her profes-
sional and family life. Curiously, infantile conflicts and
traumas, which had been until then put aside, mani-
fest themselves in the present with all their acuteness
and all the inability of the ego to cope with them. The
hyperactivity of Mrs T. had enabled her to keep apart
these memories. Thus, we note that psychogenetic fac-
tors are not always found in the present. Besides, in the
patient there are very vast zones of amnesia to hide
these traumas, which have happened, but have not
taken place because they have been rejected in the
same breath (Winnicott, 1975).

Depression is a negative state, the lack of cathexis

of exterior world objects and a deterioration of self-
esteem, accompanied by overwhelming guilt feelings,
which can lead to melancholic moods in which deliri-
um and suicidal acting out may take place.

We also find depression in another disease of our

culture: excitement of any type, especially sexual, in
such forms as nymphomania and addictive behaviors.
At the roots of addiction, the search for a feeling of
being is accounted for by object and narcissistic losses.
We may say that the depressive dimension is found,
with a greater or lesser importance, at the root of psy-
chiatric psychopathology, especially the narcissistic
troubles related to the dimension of being. Neuroses
are more related to troubles of the oedipal situation
and the castration complex.

2. Etiology
The etiology of depression can be
a) Biological and genetic, resulting from

-Hormonal regulation and neurotransmission;
-Intoxication;
-Psychosomatic illnesses;
-Neurological diseases;
-Genetic factors: we find depressive families with a

genetic or unconsciously transmitted predis-
position.

b) Psychogenetic, resulting from:

-Loss of the object relation;
-Loss of a certain image of self;
-Losses or disillusions as far as ideals are concerned;
-Losses concerning certainties and beliefs.

3. Therapeutics

In my practice in Paris, in general we treat charac-

terised depression with antidepressant medication,
with or without psychotherapy. Antidepressants are
effective in 70% of cases, which means that 70% of
depressive patients can be “cured” (disappearance of
symptoms, suppressive therapy).

Recurrence is variable, and for some of my patients

I am obliged to prescribe an antidepressant perma-
nently. If I do not, depression recurs. In the case of
bipolar psychosis, I prescribe lithium for life. Without
fail, symptoms disappear and patients recover their
enjoyment in living and working. Their efficiency is so
great that psychiatrists prescribe antidepressants as a
general practitioner prescribes antibiotics, worrying
only about the effects on the patient’s symptomatol-
ogy. Psychotherapists, on the contrary, try to find psy-
chological causes and work at this level to reduce the
symptomatology, in a developmental, personality-
transforming framework.

In my practice, it seems to me that the combina-

tion of psychopharmacological and psychological
treatments is the most suited for these patients. Yet,
generally patients will seek a pharmacological treat-
ment more than a psychological one. A psychological
treatment implies dealing with their personal history.
Often, when the most severe symptoms have disap-
peared, they quit psychotherapy. The psychological
path obliges them to deepen their knowledge of them-
selves, to grapple with traumatic situations.

In cases that are treated psychologically, by analy-

tical means and others, the patient must face archaic
and traumatic anxieties. Besides that, the natural
dynamics of traumatism are very often characterised
by the disavowal of trauma, a rejection of a possible
trauma representation, and possibly the construction
of a defensive mechanism against the trauma. The
defensive mechanisms may be

-Escaping forward;
-Mania;
-Toxicomaniac excitement;
-Nymphomania;
-Workaholism;

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

3. Comments on the Clinical Observations
a) JLB:

-I see a chimney, it’s not a chimney, a chimney like
a mountain: there is an ascension symbolism.
-Then we have an encounter and identification with
the sun: transpersonal elements.
-I find my grandmother and dead father: historical
elements.
-Appearance of the Immaculate Virgin Mary and
confrontation: encounter with religious, cultural
and mythical images.
-He feels stronger than virginity. Peace. Lots of
peace. Lots of strength. Sure judgment.
-A well that goes up: subterraneous ascension.
Something shining that is I.
-Historical elements: my grandmother.
-Encounter with his father who tells him: In bad
times, put on a happy face. Dying father—he looked
at me and he called me by my name instead of “gru-
mat” [his nickname for me]: historical elements.

In the analysis, we find historical elements, elements of
identification with the Sun, to the Sun’s splendor, con-
frontation with the archetypical image of Virgin Mary,
and the encounter with his father and his grandmother.

His ego is strengthened through the transpersonal

identification to the Sun, as well as through the con-
frontation with the Immaculate Virgin Mary, and
through the encounters with his grandmother and
father, the latter recognising him at the last moment
and calling him by his name.
b) NJ:

-I am a bird. I fly and my desire is to reach the Sun:
encounter with himself. Reconstruction of his
image positively. Identification with the Sun.
-I learnt to fly alone without my mother: identifica-
tion with God, the Sun, the Infinite. Affirmation of
his personality.
-I was the Universe. If I ever was myself, it has been
in this experience: this shows that the ego fully
asserts itself in its identification with the Sun, with
the Cosmos, and with God.

We observe here that the ego extends to the Sun, the
Cosmos and God, and finds this cosmotheandric unity,
of Universe, God and Man, the latter having a feeling
of really being himself for once. Contrary to psychosis,
the ego is unified again and in no way dispersed. The
subject conserves his sense of reality. He has finally
found his profound identity, released from all his fears,
all his chains and of all his burdens. He is far from

depressed, without at the same time being maniacal or
delirious. He is a living memory of himself, of the
Universe and of his filiation with the source. He iden-
tifies himself with a bird, with the Sun. He discovers
in himself, or identifies with, the bird and the Sun.

We observe a resemblance between NJ and JLB in

their drawings:

-The presence of the sea reminds us of the amniotic
fluid.
-The presence of a spermatozoan-shaped object
placed in an ascendent and dynamic position.
-The presence of the Sun either directly incorporated
in the spermatozoan or separated.
-The presence of an egg-shaped object and of another,
spermatozoan-shaped ascending one, suggests
fecundation. The subject takes his energy at the
source itself of his historical creation.

c) PL:

-The sensation of peace, of floating and of color
occupied all, and I was that: transpersonal material.

d) CM:

-Abuse by my father: historical material.

Reliving (not remembering). Now I have seen it clearly,
now I know. This experience had not been lived,
something had happened but had not yet taken place.
e) CC:

-Levity, weightlessness: transpersonal.
-Inside a vagina: perinatal.
-Once the labor was over, I felt a moment of
anguish and I came out, then I had a cosmic
orgasm: perinatal.
-The child calls his mother: historical element.
-Feeling of levitation (I have taken many weights off
my shoulders): transpersonal.
-I feel I shine: transpersonal.
-I have developed an enormous capacity for love:
transpersonal.
-Afterwards, there is a historical sequence in which
the subject remembers his previous situation. I felt I
had given birth to something: historical, with
transpersonal opening.

f ) EO:

-A voice told me “you know who I am, rise and
walk”: encounter with the interior divinity or the
representation of Christ. The subject resuscitates
like Lazarus, places himself in a transpersonal
dimension, as if the eyes of spirit had opened themselves.
-Encounter with fantastic creatures: transpersonal.
-Dining with a whale, a shark, the patient himself

Special Topic: Depression

He gained a lot of weight as a reaction to anxiety
and depression. Thanks to therapy, he managed to
lose weight and now is back to normal.

2. Clinical Case Descriptions
a) JLB: I felt a dynamic movement, I do not know how

to explain it. I climbed a chimney that was not a
chimney, as if climbing a mountain, and I met a sun
that was myself. There I found my grandmother
and my grandfather (dead). I felt security and hap-
piness and at the same time sadness. I heard my
father singing to me an old popular song and my
grandmother was also singing old songs. I saw a
beach and water and I felt quite sure of myself, until
the Immaculate Virgin appeared and I confront her
and felt I am stronger than that virginity. I felt great
peace. I felt much strength and I knew that what I
was doing was correct. I return to the future to my
own beach. I come out through a tunnel or a well
that rises, and there I see something shining and it
is myself. I felt happiness to have met with my
father and my grandmother. My grandmother was
the one who defended me just as I was. And my
father, who gave me the tone of that song, always
told me: “To bad times, a good face.” When my
father was dying he looked at me and said my name.
Those were his last words before dying.

b) NJ: It was seven years ago when I decided to let

loose the weight that I had carried since I was small;
but in this year that I will be fifty I have finally fin-
ished doing so. I am a bird, I connect with flight
and my wish is to reach the sun. I get carried away
because I know nothing is going to happen. I saw
myself from high above, as a wonderful being. I had
the need to touch and love myself. It seems that
today I learnt to fly on my own. Today I touched
the sun without the need of my mother, on my
own. I was God, I was infinity, I was the sun. I
could see the sea below, but when I fell, the sea
became a garden full of buds of flowers of many
colours. If I ever was myself, it has been in this expe-
rience. I felt very happy while this was happening, I
was the universe.

c) PL: I always limit myself in my time to avoid both-

ering, and today I decided not to look for anything.
I felt I had knots of pain in several parts of my body
and I wanted all the knots of pain to leave my body
with the breathing. I managed to dissolve them and
I entered in an infinite peace. I floated in a space full

of colour, the colours mixed themselves with me, I
could not hear anybody, I was everything. The sen-
sation of peace, flotation and colour occupied all,
and I was that.

d) CM: I felt fear, I did not want to be touched, I started

feeling very nervous. What I wanted was to disap-
pear. I breathed through the pores of my skin not to
feel, not to think, to be as if dead, but they did not
leave me alone. I connected with the abuses by my
father, it weighs me down to have that story always
there, I felt that my mother did not take any notice
of me, I relived it as if it was happening, I have never
believed that that was the root of my problem and
now I have seen it clearly, now I know.

e) CC: It was a very placid experience. I entered a state

of lightness, weightlessness. It was pleasure and
enjoyment. I was inside a vagina and I could feel it.
There were contractions as if ending a labour. I felt
a moment of anguish and I came out. Then I had a
cosmic orgasm, I became a great centre of energy, I
was the cosmos. Later I became a child calling its
mother. I reached an ancestral state and finally all I
wanted was to elevate myself. This state of elevation
indicated that I had taken many weights off myself.
My diamond can shine in many ways, the others
may not see it, but I feel I shine. I have developed
an enormous capacity of love, a faucet has opened
up. Due to my eagerness to understand everybody I
have been nihilistic, I reach the edge of the abysm
and I cannot get started. This has something to do
with my way, I shall start my forty years having
taken a lot off myself. I feel I have given birth to
something.

f ) EO: A voice told me “You know who I am, stand up

and walk.” I saw everything in blue, the most won-
derful creatures that exist started arriving, they were
telling me “You relax, now you play.” I could see
myself eating with a whale and a shark, I was a dol-
phin. I was a cloud. Suddenly I saw many birds that
were telling me the same thing: “You relax, we shall
go but you relax.” How can I be breathing, talking
and seeing all this? If I talk about it, they will say I
am mad. I have left hate and anger behind and I
have met the most charming beings. What a pleas-
ure! I felt there were an infinity of ways and possi-
bilities and that if one has the purpose, it can be
achieved. I do not have the feeling of being alone
anymore, I know that I am alone, but that I am not.
That was the message I received from the animals.

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

longer paradoxical in the enlarged-consciousness level.
Humanity is the memory of the Universe and, I would
add, of the Source, too.

Regression

e can ask ourselves if breathwork therapy cre-
ates a regressive setting, which might lead to

remembering intrauterine life. Regression plays a
determinant role in the process. I would then like to
give my point of view on regression, in psychotherapy
in general and in breathwork in particular.

In Freud’s nineteenth-century view, as well as for

Jung, hypnotic regression, like dreams, could allow an
access to unconscious materials. Indeed, in the analyt-
ical framework, the patient lies down, in a rather
regressive position, and drifts into a sort of awakened
reverie called free association. The analyst is also in a
mildly regressive position called floating attention. In
the end, the two psyches have, during the session, a
regressive functioning. There again, the goal consists
in bringing forward the repressed unconscious materi-
als. In both hypnosis and analysis, we observe a regres-
sive state that allows access to repressed unconscious
materials. In Ericksonian hypnosis (e.g., see Erickson,
1980), regression seeks to stimulate the creative
unconsciousness potentials.

For the Hungarian school represented by Ferenczi

(1962, 1985) and Balint (1971, 1972), regression is
not oriented toward the research of repressed material,
but toward the reconstruction of the ego. The famous
regression at the ego’s service of Balint echoes the fun-
damental defect that encompasses precocious maternal
deficiencies. The goal of analysis for Balint consists in
restoring the weak ego from early childhood, by carry-
ing out a corrective experience (Nacht, 1956) in the
analytical cure framework. This regression serves the
restoration of the ego. Winnicott is situated in this
movement, which, remaining in the analytical frame-
work, seeks the regression to dependence to restore the
hurt ego.

Panniker (1998), in the transpersonal psychologi-

cal context, speaks of retro-progression to express this
regressive process with an aim to progression. The
goals of this process are the following:

-finding the repressed memories;
-reliving or living again the repressed feelings

and desires;

-retrieving repressed traumas;

-drawing on the analytical relation to remodel a

history marked by absence, deficiency, and
traumatic experiences in general;

-drawing on the subject’s unconscious

(M. Erickson), or the Inconscious-Supraconscious
(S. Grof ) resources of which she or he himself is
unaware.

In my view, regression expresses the subject’s psycho-
logical amplitude (thickness). Psychological life
includes at least ordinary consciousness, sleep, and
sleeping of consciousness as well. Regression would
rather be an extension of ordinary consciousness
which requires a nonordinary state of consciousness—
nonordinary for our culture, from the layman’s point
of view; but this so-called nonordinary state of con-
sciousness seems quite familiar and ordinary for poets,
creators, and mystics.

Regression seems to me more a problem of con-

sciousness, of consciousness enlargement, of ampli-
tude (thickness) of the psyche. In short, the amplitude
of the psyche has been greatly underestimated and our
culture has privileged a rational way of thinking at the
expense of other possibilities observed in analysis, for
example, or in breathwork or meditation.

Finally, regression is a nonordinary state of con-

sciousness, as far as our cultural consciousness is con-
cerned, as well as a means to have access to our
Inconscious-Supraconscious. It is a nonordinary state,
in sharp contrast with our cultural consciousness. This
regressive state allows access to the Inconscious-
Supraconscious. It is situated beyond the splitting
between regression stricto sensu and progression stricto
sensu; actually, it is situated in the very amplitude
(thickness) of psychological functioning.

The transpersonal unconscious spectrum stretches

from the historical-psychoanalytical-personal uncon-
scious, through the Jungian archetypical world (cultural
and racial unconsciousness), the phylogenetic memo-
ry, the memory of the universe, to the memory of the
Source.

Special Topic: Depression

being a dolphin (identification/discovery).
-I was a cloud: identification with / discovery of ele-
ments of nature.
-Encounter with the birds who speak to him:
transpersonal.
-I know I am alone, yet I am not alone. This was the
message I received from the animals: man is the
memory of the universe, and presence of spirit, the
transpersonal.

From the phenomenological point of view, the experi-
ence of being a dolphin was really impressive. He
jumped out of the water onto the tiles of the pool like
a dolphin without hurting himself and, at the same
time, was speaking to me of his experience; he was sur-
prised he was breathing, talking to me and being a dol-
phin and seeing all these wonderful creatures.

If I say that, they’ll say I’m crazy. Different from

madness.

The whale is much bigger than the dolphin (the

latter can be swallowed by the former without any
problem), and the shark is a well-known predator.
Nonetheless, the subject who identifies himself with
the dolphin shares a meal with them (not his own
flesh), with an easy mind and unconcerned. He views
predators as his friends, his fellow animals, his broth-
ers, creatures like him.

4. Nonordinary Experiences

Many of the experiences described are nonordinary

and refer to states of plenitude, accomplishment, no-
fear; of light, love, joy; of having made it, of simplici-
ty, of unity, as are clearly evident in some of the
reports.
a) JLB: I felt security and happiness and at the same

time sadness. I found I was very peaceful. I felt a lot
of strength and I knew that what I was doing was
the right thing. I saw something glow that is myself.
When my father was dying, he looked at me and
said my name.

b) NJ: I saw myself as a wonderful being, I felt the

need to touch myself and love myself. It seems that
today I learnt to fly alone. Today, I touched the Sun
without my mother’s help, myself alone. I was God,
I was the Infinite, I was the Sun. If at some times I
have been myself, it has been in this experience. I
felt very happy. I was the Universe.

c) PL: I entered into an infinite peace, I was floating in

a space full of color, the colors mixing themselves
with me. I heard no one, I was everything. The sen-

sation of peace, of floating and color occupied
everything and I was that.

d) CC: I converted myself in a big energy point, I was

the Cosmos. A state of levity. I feel I am shining. I
have developed an enormous capacity to love. I felt
I gave birth to something.

e) EO: You know who I am, rise and walk. I saw every-

thing blue. The most wonderful creatures that exist
started to arrive and they were telling me: “You are
calm. You play now.” I saw myself eating with a
whale and a shark, I was a dolphin. I was a cloud. I
saw many birds who would tell me the same thing:
“You are calm; We will leave, but you remain calm;
You have left behind the hatred and the rage.” I met
the most charming beings. I no longer have the sen-
sation of being alone. I know I am alone but that I
am not alone, this was the message I received from
the animals.

Regression permits the opening of consciousness, its
spatial and temporal expansion to realities forgotten by
humanity in the framework of our “civilized” cultures.
The work is not regressive but expansive. Leaving our
ordinary consciousness, we can have access to all the
richness of our cosmotheandric reality. The subject
becomes conscious of the width, the amplitude, the
depth, the height, and of the ontogenetic, phylogenetic,
cosmogenetic, cosmic evolutive history of humanity
and its source. This ensemble already exists, has always
existed, and will exist forever. The subject will be able
at any time to remobilise the forces of the source
which are within him. The experience is so full; speak-
ing of it impoverishes it and the subject. Unless he is
an artist, he remains silent.

5. Historical, Perinatal, COEX
(Condensed Experiences), and Transpersonal Material

In nonordinary states of consciousness we have

access to unconscious materials, to feelings and experi-
ences that are not available in the ordinary state. In
breathwork, materials of unconsciousness appear in a
noncensored manner, undisguised, unlike in dreams.

In this enlarged-consciousness context, transper-

sonal material is often very abundant along with the
historic and perinatal one. In contrast, in ordinary
consciousness we do not have access to a part of our
history, of our culture. Even in our dreams, transper-
sonal manifestations are deformed on the one hand,
and censored by ordinary consciousness on the other.
Paradoxical material in ordinary consciousness is no

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Naranjo, C. (1998). Fisiología y experiencia del

itinerario chamánico (La conciencia transpersonal).
Barcelona: Editorial Kairós.

Paniker, S. (1998). El modelo retroprogresivo.

Barcelona: Editorial Kairós.

Roudinesco, E., & Plon, M. (1997). Dictionnaire de la

psychanalyse. Paris: Librairie Arthème Fayard.

Tustin, F. (1986). Les etats autistiques chez l’enfant

(Autistic states in children). Paris: Editions du
Seuil.

Vaughan, F. E. (1984). L’eveil de l’intuition

(Awakening intuition). Paris: La Table Ronde.

Vaughan, F. E., & Walsh, R. N. (1984). Au-delà de

l’ego (Beyond ego). Paris: La Table Ronde.

Wilber, K. (1980). The Atman project. Wheaton, IL:

The Theosophical Publishing House.

Wilber, K. (1997). The eye of spirit. Boston:

Shambhala Publications.

Winnicott, D. W. (1975). Jeu et réalité (Playing and

reality). Paris: Editions Gallimard.

Correspondence regarding this article should be
directed to the author at
10 Square Henry Paté, 75016 Paris, France
Email: mgbarroso@wanada.fr

Special Topic: Depression

The Ego

n the Freudian view, the goal of the cure is: “where
the id was, the ego must become.” We would be

tempted to say, paraphrasing Freud and taking a
chance: “where the ego was, the id must become.”

This movement is observed during holotropic therapy:

the ego enriches itself with id materials, which in our
frame of reference correspond not only to psychological
energetic materials and unconscious representations,
but also to the archetypical world and supraconscious-
ness. The ego is fortified and enlarged by visits to its
unconscious. Most certainly, these visits are not with-
out danger. In the unconscious we may find the best
and the worst. Freud’s worry was to contain, to tame
the unconscious. He used the metaphor of the knight
and the horse. The knight represents the conscious ego
and the horse the unconscious id. In this manner, the
goal of the analytical cure is to make the unconscious
conscious. The patient must learn how to use the
strength of the horse and the reins of the knight as well
as possible.

On the one hand, Freud feels, justifiably, the dan-

gers of the unconscious, and on the other hand, the
recovery of these materials by consciousness proves to
be absolutely necessary. First, Freud speaks of the
unconscious as repressed material (sexuality, aggressiv-
ity). Second, he introduces the id concept. The id goes
beyond the limits of the repressed unconscious to
become the unconscious’ energetic and representation-
al reservoir.

Jung’s concept of Self encompasses this overall pic-

ture and includes the transpersonal and supracon-
scious dimensions. In point of fact, Jung speaks of the
confrontation between the ego and the unconscious.
He also mentions the dangers of dissolution in arche-
typical images or of the inflation of the ego. The dan-
ger is, on one hand, that of being dissolved, possessed
by the horse’s strength (the strength of archetypes),
and on the other that of being dissociated, separated
from this strength, thus weakening the ego.

Therefore, in the frequent contacts with the

unconscious, the ego is enriched with its materials,
and in this manner the conscious ego becomes increas-
ingly able to open up to the unconscious. The uncon-
scious’ last message would be

You are this, “tat twam asi” (Hindi). Where the ego

was, the cosmotheandric being must become.

References

Balint, M. (1971). Le défaut fondamental (The Basic

Fault). Paris: Payot.

Balint, M. (1972). Les voies de la régression (Thrills and

Regression). Paris: Payot.

Erickson, M. H. (1980). The collected papers of Milton

H. Erickson on hypnosis. New York: Irvington
Publishers.

Ferenczi, S. (1962). Thalassa, psychanalyse des origines

de la vie sexuelle. Paris: Petite Bibliothèque Payot.

Ferenczi, S. (1985) Journal Clinique. Paris: Payot.
Freud, S. (1961). Mourning and melancolía. In J.

Strachey (Ed. & Trans.), The standard edition of the
complete psychological works of Sigmund Freud (Vol.
14). London: Hogarth Press. (Original work
published in 1915/1916).

Freud, S. (1961). Beyond the pleasure principle. In J.

Strachey (Ed. & Trans.), The Standard edition of the
complete psychological works of Sigmund Freud (Vol.
18). London: Hogarth Press. (Original work
published in 1920).

Freud, S. (1961). The ego and the id. In J. Strachey

(Ed. & Trans.), The Standard edition of the complete
psychological works of Sigmund Freud (Vol. 19).
London: Hogarth Press. (Original work published
in 1923).

Grof, S. (1975) Royaumes de l’inconscient humain.

Paris: Editions du Rocher.

Grof, S. (1984). Psychologie transpersonnelle. Monaco:

Editions du Rocher.

Grof, S. (1985). Beyond the brain. Albany: State

University of New York Press.

Grof, S. (1988). The adventure of self-discovery. Albany:

State University of New York Press.

Grof, S. (1998). The cosmic game. Albany: State

University of New York Press.

Jung, C. G. (1964). Essai d’exploration de l’inconscient.

Paris: Denoël.

Jung, C. G. (1964). Dialectique du moi et de

l’inconscient. Paris: Editions Gallimard.

Klein, M. (1957). Envy and gratitude. London:

Tavistock Publications Limited.

Maslow, A. M. (1972). Vers une psychologie de l’être

(Toward a psychology of being). Paris: Librairie
Arthème Fayard.

Nacht, S. (1956). La psychanalyse d’aujourd’hui (Vol.

2). Paris: PUF.

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

for many psychotherapists dreaming of an overall
framework with a theory endorsing specific therapy
techniques. Efforts for an integration of different the-
ories were first made in 1936 by trying to combine
psychoanalytic and behavioral approaches, in order “to
combine the vitality of psychoanalysis, the rigor of the
natural science laboratory, and the facts of culture”
(Wachtel & Messer, 1998, p. 231). Surveys have found
that between 30% and 65% of interviewed psy-
chotherapists identified themselves as eclectic
(Norcross & Goldfried, 1992). But there are big differ-
ences. Whereas the eclectic perspective is just borrow-
ing freely from the classical schools and just chooses
from the existing therapies, the integral perspective
tries to create an umbrella that may accommodate all
existing factors and therapies, as well as combine dif-
ferent therapies (Jensen et al., 1990). The integral
approach tries to create something new, unifying the
parts, while the eclectic approach is just applying the
parts of what there is.

Today there are three popular pathways toward the

integration of psychotherapies: technical eclecticism,
theoretical integration, and common factors. The
main aim is to increase therapeutic efficacy and effi-
ciency by looking beyond the boundaries of single the-
ories and restricted techniques.

Technical eclecticism seeks to select the best treatment

for the person and the problem. It draws its techniques
from a large number of different systems of psy-
chotherapy, which may be epistemologically or onto-
logically incompatible.

Theoretical integration seeks to integrate two or

more therapies, hoping that the resulting therapy may
be better than each constituent therapy alone. The
emergent theory is more than the sum of its parts.
There are several examples of efforts meant to integrate
two therapies: psychoanalysis and behavior therapy
(Wachtel, 1997), humanistic and behavioral therapies
(Wandersman et al., 1976), family/systems therapies,
biological and individual therapies (Pinsof, 1995),
incorporating interpersonal factors in cognitive therapy
(Safran & Segal, 1990), or integrating multiple thera-
pies such as the integrative psychodynamic therapy
which combines psychodynamic, behavioral, and fam-
ily systems theory (Wachtel & McKinney, 1992), and
the transtheoretical approach, which integrates the
major therapy systems (Prochaska & DiClemente, 1992).

The common-factors approach seeks to identify

similarities and core ingredients of different therapies,

and to propose a more parsimonious and more effica-
cious therapy. The common factors present in all gen-
uine psychotherapies are: a positive therapeutic
alliance, a supportive relationship, genuine interest in
the client’s problem, authenticity, warmth, empathy,
openness, unconditional love, arousing hope and pos-
itive expectations in the client, the client’s emotional
involvement in the therapy, encouraging new ways in
the client to understand oneself and one’s problems,
and generating new patterns of activity outside the
therapy session (Norcross & Goldfried, 1992).

A common-factors therapy for depression has been

proposed by Arkowitz (1992), emphasising one basic
factor, lack of social support, as the main cause of
depression. He argues that there have been no signifi-
cant differences between different treatments for
depression (Robinson et al., 1990, Elkin et al., 1989),
and that common factors are responsible for the out-
come of the treatment. Lambert et al. (1986) found
that the common factors are responsible for some 40%
of the therapy outcome, specific techniques for only
about 15%, expectancy (placebo effects) for another
15%, and extratherapeutic change for maybe 30%.

We also have an integrative therapy that combines

pharmacotherapy and psychotherapy (Beitman &
Klerman, 1991).

Finally, the last development on the integrative

front is Integral Psychology (IP) as proposed by Ken
Wilber (2000a), which sets out a master template the-
ory that can accommodate 100 psychological models,
using freely all possible therapeutic interventions and
weighing their strength according to the master tem-
plate theory.

The aim of the present study is to compare the the-

oretical and therapeutic virtues of Integral Therapy
(IT) and cognitive therapy (CT) (Beck et al., 1979).

The Study’s Questions

n this paper we shall look more closely at the virtues
of IT in the understanding and accommodation of

multifactorial causes for unipolar depression. Further,
we shall look at the capacity of IT to use freely, in an
integral perspective, from all existing therapies, either
alone or in combination, to better serve the particular
needs of the client in prevention and treatment, and
against recurrence of major depressive episodes. IT will
then be compared to an established, empirically vali-
dated therapy, cognitive therapy (CT), in order to

Special Topic: Depression

101

Introduction

epression is the most widespread mental dis-
order, and in 1999 as many as 1 in 20
Americans were severely depressed (Satcher,

1999). Every year, about 6 million people suffer from
depression in the U.S., with a cost of more than 16 bil-
lion dollars; 60% of suicides have their roots in major
depression, and 15% of patients admitted for depres-
sion to a psychiatric hospital kill themselves
(Nierenberg, 2001). The recovery rate from major
depressive disorder (MDD) is as follows: 50% of those
who had a major depressive episode and recovered will
never experience a new episode; while 40% will have
MDD recurrence in the future, and 10% will never
recover and will experience a chronic depression
(Passer & Smith, 2001).

Depression is perhaps the most researched mental

disorder. Street et al. (1999) list more than 27 theories
of depression and 99 factors that contribute to its
onset and maintenance. Of the 27 theories, none is
able to accommodate all these factors. The classical
ones have concentrated only on some of them, often
getting in conflict with other theories that emphasised
other factors, and thus giving rise to an unfortunate
competition for the “truth.”

Today we see in the U.S. a real battle between phar-

macotherapy and psychotherapy in claiming full rights
in the treatment of MDD. The psychotherapy quarter
seems to be losing ground because of the problem of
funding research, while the pharmacology quarter is
obviously supported by large grants from the pharma-
ceutical industry. The double-blind pharmacology
studies on MDD have all been criticised, because they

are not really double-blind, since during the trials the
subjects come to realize whether they have placebo or
not. Because of the pressure from medical insurance
companies, psychotherapies have been urged to devel-
op short-duration therapies that can be quantified,
and today the field has developed a new approach, the
so-called evidence-validated therapies (EVT), propos-
ing that only those therapies that have a research-based
evidence should be considered. However, the benefits
of EVT over the other therapies have been questioned
(Lampropoulos, 2000; Henry, 1998; Garfield, 1996).

For the time being, there are only two therapies

that are recommended by the American Psychiatric
Association (APA) for the treatment of MDD based
on research evidence: namely, cognitive therapy (CT)
and interpersonal therapy (IPT) (American Psychiatric
Association, 1993). The question which remains is
what shall be the fate of the 200 or more existing psy-
chotherapies (Bohart et al., 1998; Chambless et al.,
1998) that may work as well as CT and IPT, but for
the time being don’t seem to have the “credentials”
from research. Some of them, such as psychoanalysis
and some humanistic psychotherapies, may prove
impossible to quantify using a research setting, and in
the end they may prove “too long and expensive” for
the health insurance companies.

Given this growing problem for today’s psy-

chotherapies, it is indeed “unreasonable” to propose a
new therapy, which may prove even longer in achiev-
ing results and even more difficult to be tested in an
experimental setting. And it is a problem for the pres-
ent paper, meant to introduce a new form of therapy
for MDD, Integral Therapy (IT).

Psychotherapy integration has long been an ideal

100

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

An Integral Perspective on Depression

Dinu Stefan Teodorescu

Norwegian Transpersonal Association

The integral approach to therapy proposes to accommodate all the etiological factors of
unipolar depression in its theory, as well as to make use of all existing therapies, both phar-
macological and psychological, in the treatment of unipolar depression. Integral Therapy is
compared to cognitive therapy to find evidence for its superiority over the cognitive
approach. It appears that the cognitive therapy is more cost-effective than Integral Therapy
as an individual approach in the treatment of depression, but that the integral perspective
accounts better for etiological factors.

negative view of the self, the environment and the
future, and in the occurrence of the depressive symp-
tomatology.

Four fundamental dimensions have been identi-

fied, each designated by a cluster of factors.

The cognitive-bias dimension proposes that infor-

mation is processed selectively by the individual, thus
contributing to the creation of a negative view of self
and negative self-schemata. These two are involved in
the etiology and maintenance of depression.

The second dimension is the lack of positive rein-

forcement for the self, resulting from the individual’s
maladaptive social behaviours and pursuit of unrealis-
tic social goals.

Lack of social support and interaction is the third

dimension, which has two aspects, a cognitive one and
a behavioural one: for the cognitive one, the individu-
als are unable to express their own thoughts and feel-
ings and to monitor those of others; for the behavioural
one, individuals behaving in socially undesirable ways
have deficits in social skills and lack social relationships
and/or a network of contacts and support.

The fourth dimension proposes the importance of

goal pursuit and achievement and indicates that a
failure to achieve goals affects self-esteem, which may
give rise to depression. It is also stressed that inappro-
priate or unachievable goals may have the same impact
on self-esteem. Finally, four negative beliefs have been
found that contribute to the onset of depression: neg-
ative self-view, worthlessness, loneliness, and failure.

In the effort better to serve the needs of those who

do not benefit from one therapy alone, an eclectic and
integral perspective has developed. IT has come into
being to address all the different factors of depression
and accommodate them in a comprehensive theory to
be used in the process of choosing a treatment.

Prevention and Treatment

nfortunately, very little research in preventing the
onset of depression has been done, showing the

current widespread interest in treating rather than pre-
venting (Munoz et al., 1996). One researcher found
several measures that may prevent the onset of depres-
sion: prevention of childhood abuse and racism, relief
from economic hardships, early diagnosis, and safe,
effective treatment (Poslusny, 2000).

Treatment for MDD currently uses drugs, drugs in

combination with psychotherapy, electroconvulsive

therapy (ECT) (Rey & Walter, 1997; Petit et al.,
2001), vagus nerve stimulation, or with transcranial
magnetic stimulation (TMS) (Boutros et al. 2001,
Wassermann & Evans 2001). Treatment of depression
either with drugs or with psychotherapy (DeRubeis et
al., 1999; Hollon, 1996) has been the subject of a hard
dispute between the biological and the psychological
perspective. But now, any such ideologically motivated
perspectives no longer have a place in choosing the
right therapy for any given individual (Weismann,
2001).

What are the best therapies for MDD?

Antidepressants are effective in approximately 70% of
cases with MDD and there are today more than two
dozen drugs with seven distinct mechanisms of action
(Manning & Frances, 1990). Both pharmacotherapy
and psychotherapy are available to treat MDD, and
often the treatment is a combination of the two (Blatt
et al., 2000). In Norway, at a Consensus Conference in
1999, American publications on the effects of drugs
were criticised as being biased by selective publishing
and by the economic interests of the big drug compa-
nies. The general consensus was that there appeared to
be very little effect from recommended drugs such as
TCA, SSRI, MAO and RIMA, and that psychothera-
pies like CT, cognitive-behavioral therapy (CTB), and
interpersonal therapy (IPT) were recommended for
treating MDD.

Cognitive Therapy for Depression

oday we have a couple of dozen cognitive thera-
pies, but in this paper we shall consider in depth

only Beck’s cognitive therapy (CT) (Beck, 1967),
while mentioning Ellis’s rational-emotive therapy
(Ellis & Dryden, 1987), covering the two most impor-
tant figures in cognitive therapy. Both Beck and Ellis
consider the person as a biosocial organism and the
basic unit for analysis and therapeutic interventions.
They believe in individual differences in biological
functioning, proposing that psychopathology is a
result of innate vulnerabilities or biological tendencies
to either over- or under-react to environmental influ-
ences. In their view, depression is seen as the result of
predisposing factors, such as heredity and physical dis-
ease leading to neurochemical abnormalities, and of
precipitating factors, such as physical disease and
chronic or acute stress. Cognitive therapy emphasises
psychological functioning as the main area of interest,

Special Topic: Depression

103

identify its strengths and weaknesses. To this effect, we
have formulated two separate questions: (1) Does IT
provide a better understanding than CT of the multi-
factorial causes of unipolar depression, accommodat-
ing all the factors into a coherent theory of depression?
(2) Does IT provide a better therapeutic offer than CT
for preventing the first onset of the MDD, treating,
and preventing recurrence? In order to answer these
questions a literature search has been undertaken.

Nature of the Disorder

epression is primarily a disorder of mood, charac-
terized by cognitive, motivational, and somatic

(physical) symptoms. Emotional symptoms include
sadness, hopelessness, misery, loss of pleasure, dys-
phoric mood, affective emptiness, and depersonalisa-
tion. Cognitive symptoms can be briefly described as
negative cognitions about self, the world, and the
future. More specifically, cognitive symptoms are the
following: thoughts focused toward the past, followed
by intense regret; feelings of worthlessness; poor con-
centration; intense rumination; diminished locus of
control; magnification; minimisation; absolutistic
thinking; confirmatory biases; and the utilisation of
the availability heuristic (Clark et al., 1999). Common
motivational symptoms are loss of interest, loss of
interest in others and social relationships, lack of drive,
and difficulty starting anything. Somatic symptoms
are loss of appetite, lack of energy, sleep difficulties,
weight loss or gain, somatic preoccupation, and psy-
chomotor retardation with fatigue.

Unipolar depression is a kind of depression where

the individual experiences only the above symptoms,
without mania, distinguishing it from bipolar depres-
sion. To diagnose MDD, according to DSM-IV-TR,
the subject must report five of the following nine
symptoms in the last two weeks: depressed mood and
feeling sad; markedly diminished interest or pleasure
in almost all activities; significant weight loss or weight
gain; insomnia or hypersomnia; psychomotor agita-
tion or retardation; fatigue or loss of energy; feelings of
worthlessness or excessive or inappropriate guilt;
diminished ability to think and concentrate, or indeci-
siveness and recurrent thoughts of death or recurrent
suicidal ideation (APA, 2000).

Etiology

everal causes have been proposed as the origin of
depression, such as: personality and intrapsychical

causes (Millon, 1996; Bowlby, 2000), personal vulner-
ability (Vrasti & Eisemann, 1995), genetic causes
(Barondes, 1999), sex differences (Nolen-Hoeksema,
1990), interpersonal causes (Joiner & Coyne, 1999;
Brown & Harris, 1979; Hammen,1991), avoidant
coping strategies (Chan, 1995; DeLongis, 2000), culture
(Manson, 1994; Culbertson, 1997), learned helplessness
(Seligman & Isaacowitz, 2000), and environmental
causes (Nezlek et al., 2000; Tseng et al., 1990).

Different therapies have considered only some of

the possible etiologies, because of limitations of the
theory or out of ideological reasons, leaving unad-
dressed all the rest. There are theories emphasising
some factors while ignoring others: biological psychol-
ogy emphasises brain structures and chemical imbal-
ances in the brain; behavioural theories emphasise
inappropriate behaviours (Wolpe, 1982); cognitive
theories emphasise maladaptive cognitive processes
(Kovaks & Beck, 1978); social psychology emphasises
the importance of relationships, life events and chronic
stressors (Brown & Harris, 1979); self-psychology
emphasises personal needs and desires (Arieti &
Bemporad, 1980); psychoanalysis believes in early neg-
ative experiences as the origin of maladaptive coping
mechanisms (early loss giving rise to anger directed
inward) (Freud, 1959); attachment theory emphasises
early interpersonal conflicts (Bowlby, 1977); attribu-
tional style theory emphasises the role of making
wrong attributions about the outcome of events; and,
finally, the helplessness theory emphasises the role of
learning helplessness throughout one’s life (Alloy et al., 1988).

One of the best models to date proposes that per-

sonal vulnerability to depression is determined by a
combination of biological, psychological, and social
variables (Eisemann & Vrasti, 1995), but it fails to
include the developmental levels and lines of the
patient (Wilber, 2000b).

Notable efforts have been made by Street et al.

(1999), who tried to integrate 27 theories of depres-
sion. They found 99 psychological factors that can
cause the onset of depression, leaving out other theo-
retical approaches such as biological and sociopolitical
ones. They proposed that an individual vulnerable to
depression might interact with the environment in cer-
tain maladaptive ways, resulting in the formation of a

102

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

1989). Research has shown differential relapse follow-
ing CT and pharmacotherapy for depression, with the
greater relapse being after pharmacotherapy (Evans et
al., 1992). The problem of matching patients to cog-
nitive and interpersonal therapies in research programs
has been an important factor for the outcome of the
therapy (Barber & Muenz, 1996).

The CT field is in continuous expansion and one

of the latest developments is the cognitive-interpersonal
approach (Safran & Segal, 1990), which criticizes
Beck’s view as too reliant on an informational process-
ing model. Safran and Segal stress the need to study
people from an ecological perspective, pointing out
that cognitive structures develop in relation to other
people. They propose interpersonal schemata to be
added to self-schemata for a thorough understanding
of the person. Interpersonal schemata are cognitive
representations of interpersonal events created by the
person out of the need of relatedness to significant
others in order to maintain these relationships. The
interpersonal schemata have a functional utility and
include cognitive, affective, and interpersonal compo-
nents. Some authors regard this new development as
an integration of CT with interpersonal therapy
(Norcross & Goldfried, 1992).

There have been some criticisms about Beck’s

description of schemata, because its vagueness and
imprecision make it inadequate for testing and verifi-
cation (Mahoney, 1995). Cognitive theory says little
about developmental issues and the impact of environ-
ment on individual development. Now some efforts
have been made to address the role of affect and inter-
personal relations in the negative self-schema (Safran
& Greenberg, 1991).

A new development in CT is its combination with

mindfulness, namely the Mindfulness-based Cognitive
therapy, that is used mostly as a cost-efficient group
preventive program for major depressive disorders
(MDD) (Teasdale, 1999).

Overall, CT is very effective in treating depression

(Blackburn et al., 1986) and it is one of the two evi-
dence-validated therapies recommended by the
American Psychiatric Association (1993) for the treat-
ment of MDD.

Integral Psychology

ntegral Psychology (IP) is a vigorous attempt to
change the memetic perspective (Price 1999) of cur-

rent psychology by proposing a new meme of looking
at psychopathology and treatment. Integral psycholo-
gy has risen to unify many of the existing psychologi-
cal, biological, social, and environmental theories,
from both East and West, into a master theoretical
template that may serve as a sound basis for research
and treatment in the new millennium.

The IP theory has been created by Ken Wilber, an

American seen by some as the Einstein of conscious-
ness (Ingram, 1987), because of his integration of
more than 100 psychological models, East and West
(Wilber, 2000a). Wilber is the only psychologist who
has his collected works published while alive.
Currently he is leading his private Integral Institute
with more than 300 respected scientists working
together in a new, integral way of doing research.

Integral Therapy (IT) is both a perspective for

looking at causes and treatments of mental problems
and a particular therapy, which tries to address “all
quadrants, all levels, all lines” (4 dimensions of the
Kosmos, 10 levels of development, and 30 lines of
development) of the person. Today we know too much
from so many sciences to ignore all the factors that
may contribute to the MDD, and it is IT that has the
capacity of integrating all of them into a master tem-
plate. IT is not an eclectic approach either in theory or
in practice, but is in its own right both a theory and a
therapy that integrates all existing therapies, following
a careful logic based on the perspective of treating the
whole person, “all quadrants, all levels, all lines.” IP
can be seen as an ecological psychology, which takes
into consideration the person-in-context, as its pri-
mary unit of analysis. This approach contrasts with
cognitive therapy, which concentrates mostly on the
psychological side of the person, while considering the
importance of biological and social factors.

The Four Dimensions of the Individual

he human being is seen in Integral Therapy as a
bio-psycho-social system that has an individual

existence; and also is part of a collective existence. Any
individual has two dimensions: an interior and an
exterior existence, or better said, a subjective life open
to introspection and phenomenological research, and

Special Topic: Depression

105

saying that human functioning is organised and regu-
lated primarily by cognitive processes. Beck and Ellis
see healthy people as good scientists who gather
rational empirical data, formulate hypotheses, and test
them. In contrast, malfunctioning people deviate from
these principles, are irrational, illogical, distorted,
overgeneralised, and absolutistic, and display inade-
quate reality testing for their beliefs.

Beck proposes that negative beliefs and dysfunc-

tional, maladaptive processing of information are at
the origins of depression. The latter sets in when neg-
ative self-schemata are activated by current circum-
stances. Self-schemata are cognitive structures that can
be viewed as sets of rules, standard strategies that indi-
viduals use subconsciously to evaluate and control
their behaviours. Negative schemata are developed in
childhood due to repeated negative experiences of dep-
rivation, loss, or death of a loved one. Circumstances
analogous to those when the schema was created can
activate negative schemata, which are usually inactive.
The activation of a negative schema causes dysfunc-
tional, biased processing of information toward
schema-consistent information and systematic cognitive
errors. Negative self-schemata manifest in conscious-
ness as automatic thoughts, which can take the form of
the depressive cognitive triad: negative opinions about
oneself, about the ongoing experience, and about the
future.

Negative automatic thoughts result from processing

errors through which perceptions and interpretations
are distorted. They include many errors in logic, such
as overgeneralisation (making judgements based on a
single experience), selective abstraction (attending
only negative aspects of the experience), dichotomous
reasoning (thinking in extremes), personalisation (tak-
ing personal responsibility for events), arbitrary infer-
ence (jumping to conclusions on the basis of inade-
quate evidence), magnification (exaggerating personal
small faults), and minimisation (reducing the impor-
tance of personal successes).

In addition to errors in logic, depressed people also

make six depressogenic assumptions on which they
base their life:

1) In order to be happy, I must be successful in every-

thing I do.

2) To be happy, I must be accepted by all people at all

times.

3) If I make a mistake it means I am inept.
4) I can’t live without love.

5) If somebody disagrees with me, it means he or she

doesn’t like me.

6) My value as a person depends on what others think

of me.

Depression is also seen as being caused by a depressive
attributional style and learned helplessness (Seligman,
1975). Depressed people interpret success and positive
events as due to external factors, while attributing fail-
ure and negative events to internal ones. Failing to take
credit for success and blaming themselves for failure
and feeling guilty and worthless, they lower their self-
esteem, thus maintaining their depression. Three
dimensions of causal attributions have been proposed:
internal-external, stable-unstable, and global-specific.

Depression is also seen as the result of making

internal, stable, and global attributions for negative
events (Abramson et al., 1978). Learned helplessness
theory proposes that, due to earlier repeated experi-
ences involving bad events that one could do nothing
to prevent or escape, one learned that nothing can be
done, and thus feels helpless, hopeless, and finally
depressed (Seligman, 1975; Seligman & Isakowitz,
2000).

The goal of cognitive therapy (CT) is to identify

automatic thoughts and modify or restructure them in
order to help the client to develop and use more func-
tional patterns of thought, emotion, and behaviour.
The therapist teaches clients to revise dysfunctional
schemata and faulty information-processing by reality
testing of automatic thoughts, reattribution training,
and changing depressogenic assumptions.
Reattribution training implies teaching the client to
change the attribution for failure from internal, stable,
and global to external, unstable, and specific explana-
tions (Ellis & Dryden, 1987).

In CT, the therapist is seen as having much of a

teacher role, teaching his or her client to identify, chal-
lenge and test the automatic thoughts and depresso-
genic assumptions. The therapist may use different
techniques, such as verbal challenging of the negative
thoughts and dysfunctional assumptions, or assigning
behavioural experiments for a reality test of these
thoughts and beliefs. CT is a time-limited therapy,
usually not extending beyond 20 sessions for treating
MDD, and today there is a solid evidence for its effects
from a number of studies. Some 28 metaanalytic stud-
ies for unipolar depression showed CT to be better
than pharmacotherapy, behaviour therapy, and other
therapies, as well as the wait-list condition (Dobson,

104

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

the main part of the self continues to develop. This
split in development between the subpersonality and
the main self creates tensions in the integrative func-
tion of the overall self, which may result in psy-
chopathology.

The psychopathology of the self is then this inter-

nal conflict between the main part of the self-system
and the subpersonalities, which are at different levels
of development (each with its own needs, wishes,
worldviews, morals, and so forth). The goal of therapy
of the self-system is to end these internal conflicts and
achieve a horizontal as well as vertical integration of
the various self structures. IT acknowledges the exis-
tence of defenses of the self, and for therapy it is
important to identify the level of defenses, so that if
these are not adequate for the present level of develop-
ment, they may be changed, allowing the self to release
the internal tensions caused by the incompatibility of
the level of defenses with the level of self-development
(Wilber 2000a).

Developmental Lines or

Streams of the Self

sychological development is seen in IP as a parallel
development of several lines, which may develop

independently but nevertheless are held together by
the integrative function of the self. Because of the
quasi-independent characteristics of the developmen-
tal streams, disjunctions and tensions occur, causing
possible psychopathology. Wilber (2000d) identified
around 30 lines of human development, the most
important being sense-identity, defense mechanisms,
interpersonal development, affects/emotions, needs,
morals, and worldviews.

Developmental lines included in the Upper Left

Quadrant (subjective components) are self-identity,
affects/emotions, needs (Maslow’s hierarchy of needs),
and the like; those in the Lower Left Quadrant (inter-
subjective components) are worldviews, linguistics,
aesthetics; those of the Upper Right Quadrant (objec-
tive components) are exterior cognition and scientific
cognition; and those of the Lower Right Quadrant
(inter-objective components) are sociopolitical and
environmental structures.

The most important lines or streams responsible

for vulnerability to depression may be the undevel-
oped or arrested lines of development in the Upper
Left Quadrant, such as cognition, morals, self-identity,

psychosexuality, self-integration, religious faith,
affects/emotions, needs, worldviews, gender identity,
and defense mechanisms. Some of the Lower Left
Quadrant–oriented developmental lines or streams,
such as socioemotional capacity, communicative com-
petence, interpersonal capacity, role taking, and empa-
thy, if they have an arrested development, may be
responsible for vulnerability to depression. These
modules or streams tend to develop in a relatively
independent fashion and each needs a careful develop-
ment if the self is to function to its fullest capacity and
to avoid the onset of depression.

Different societies have emphasised different devel-

opmental lines, and we may find a huge variation even
within the same society, so that we may not yet have a
clear consensus about which are the most important
and desirable lines of development. Howard Gardner
(1985) has demonstrated the existence of multiple
intelligences, which has ended the monopoly of the IQ
as the only measure of human intelligence. For exam-
ple, a person may have a high IQ, but be underdevel-
oped emotionally, morally, spiritually, and interper-
sonally.

None of these developmental streams can finally be

separated from the others, but each tends to be orient-
ed toward a particular quadrant. Cognitive therapy is
concentrated mostly on the cognitive modules from
the Upper Left and Upper Right Quadrant, giving lit-
tle importance to the affective, social relationship, and
communication modules.

Developmental Levels or

Waves of the Self

ntegral Psychology is a whole-spectrum psychology,
which unites Freud’s depth psychology of the

unconscious with the height psychology of the super-
conscious of Eastern psychologies (Wilber, 1977). It
covers ten levels of development, from the most basic
material level to the highest spiritual level. Human
development is seen as a rising of consciousness from
the unconscious to conscious and further to the super-
conscious (Alexander & Langer, 1990). This develop-
ment may also be called the development of the self,
whose gravity centre rises its through ten fulcrums of
development, trying to balance the different lines or
streams of development in each level or wave. Wilber
follows the Piagetian scheme of cognitive develop-
ment, but identifies higher levels, such as post and

Special Topic: Depression

107

an objective life open to scientific investigation. The
collective also has two dimensions: an interior domain
created by the intersubjective contact between individ-
uals, and an exterior domain that consists of the inter-
objective relations between the material entities.
Wilber (1999) has named these four dimensions that
define any person the four dimensions or quadrants of
the Kosmos. Kosmos contains the physical and the
spiritual dimension of the universe.

The Kosmos is made by holons, which are organ-

ised in hierarchies, so that higher holons enfold and
include the previous ones. All holons have a quasi-
independent life, living their own life while at the
same time being an integrated part of a higher holon.
Finally, every holon has its own four quadrants that
evolve together with it. A short description of the four
quadrants follows.

The Upper Left Quadrant is the individual’s inte-

rior dimension, involving the psychic dimension, soul
and Spirit. The right investigation method here is a
phenomenology that may describe qualitatively the
subjective experiences of the person.

The Upper Right Quadrant is the individual’s

exterior dimension, composed by the body with its
brain. The right investigation method here is the sci-
entific method, which may describe quantitatively the
physical changes of the body and brain. Between these
two dimensions there is a close relationship, so that
any change in one dimension produces an effect on the
other, for example any thought involves an accompa-
nying emotion and a specific brain wave.

The Lower Left Quadrant is the collective interi-

or dimension; it is characterized by intersubjective
relations between people and nations, and is the pub-
lic domain of culture.

The Lower Right Quadrant is the collective exter-

nal dimension; it is characterized by interobjective
relations between physical objects, and is the home of
nature and the environment, with its political struc-
tures.

Any modification in any of the four quadrants

gives a reaction in the other three, so the causes of
pathology and the treatment of depression must con-
sider all the quadrants equally. Any change in any of
the individual, collective, biological, psychological,
social, or environmental dimensions has a direct influ-
ence on the other parts of the system, setting the cop-
ing skills of the person to trial.

Cognitive theory considers only the first two quad-

rants as important in understanding and treating
depression; interpersonal theory stretches out to cover
also the third quadrant, stressing the importance of
relations between people, while integral theory covers
all the four quadrants.

The Notion of Self in Integral Therapy

he self concept is a key one in Integral Psychology,
where it is not seen as a monolithic entity but

rather as a collection of lesser selves, composed by var-
ious subpersonalities and different modules of devel-
opment—cognitive, emotional, social, spiritual,
moral, and so forth (Rowan 1993). A subpersonality
may develop when, following a childhood trauma, a
part of the existing self has defensively split off, with
which consciousness remains identified. The subper-
sonality endures over time and maintains all the char-
acteristics of the personality at the moment the split
occurred, usually characterized by specific age needs,
desires and impulses. The subpersonality does not
develop further and lives its own life, at a conscious,
subconscious, or unconscious level of awareness.

The feeling of a unique self is given by the integra-

tive function of the overall self who tries to unite all
the subpersonalities and different cognitive modules in
a cohesive entity.

The self is seen to also have several other functions,

such as cognition, will, caring for others, justice in
relationships with others, aesthetic apprehension,
metabolism (metabolizing the experience to build
structures), integration (integrating the function,
needs, states, waves and streams of consciousness)
(Wilber, 2000b).

The self also evolves through identification with

higher levels of the Kosmos, following a Piagetian
stage–like development of a constant process of
embedding in the proximal level and then disembed-
ding, and transcending that level for further develop-
ment.

The development of self can be stopped by child-

hood trauma, such as depression produced by the loss
of a loved one in the early stages of development, the
preconventional stages, which may create a split in the
self. This creates a subpersonality that is characterized
by preconventional impulses and needs, impulsivity,
narcissism, egocentricity, moral stage one, and an
archaic worldview. While the subpersonality stops its
development and endures over time as a distinct entity,

106

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

ment of the client for the treatment of depression? It is
because IT assigns the adequate therapy for depression
based on the persons’ current level of overall develop-
ment, which may facilitate and accelerate the healing
process (Wilber, 2000a; Wilber et al., 1986).
Cognitive therapy is not concerned with the levels of
development of the client, although it works faster
with clients who are verbally developed (Wachtel &
Messer, 1998).

Causes of Depression in IT

he person is seen in IT as a holon integrated into
higher holons, each characterised in a quadruple

perspective forming the four aspects or quadrants of
the Kosmos. A person is seen as a physical entity with
a material brain in the Upper Right Quadrant, while
the person’s thoughts or psychological existence are
seen in the Upper Left Quadrant, and interpersonal
relations and their part in a social culture are seen in
the Lower Right Quadrant. All four quadrants define
a person and his or her place in the Kosmos, and every
dimension of the Kosmos directly influences the per-
son, who must constantly adapt to its internal and
external changes. From this quadruple perspective, the
individual’s psychopathology is an all-quadrant affair,
and respectively, recovery is also an all-quadrant
endeavor. In order to find out the causes of MDD, IT
proposes that all four dimensions of the person must
be searched for etiology, first independently and then
together for a search for possible multiple causes. For
example, in the Upper Left Quadrant the etiology of
MDD may originate from the psychopathology of the
self. The self is seen to develop through a series of
stages or waves, so any arrest or failure at a particular stage
would manifest as a particular type of psycho-pathology,
ranging from psychoses, borderline disorders, and per-
sonality disorders, to existential, psychic, subtle, and
causal pathology. The type of psychopathology
depends upon both the level of consciousness in the
fulcrum where it occurs and the phase within the ful-
crum when the miscarriage occurs. Each fulcrum has
three basic subphases, namely: fusion, transcendence,
and integration. These give us a typology of 27 major
self-pathologies, which range from psychotic through
borderline, neurotic, and existential, to transpersonal,
with depression being possible at any level, but of a
different kind, and requiring different treatment.

MDD can appear at any wave of self-development,

so understanding the developmental nature of human
consciousness (e.g., its structures, waves, streams,
dynamics) is indispensable to both diagnosis and treat-
ment (Wilber et al., 1986). Wilber identifies a self-
pathology originating in the personality organisation
and ego functioning, which may produce structural
deficits in the function of the whole self, object repre-
sentations, and lack of a cohesive, integrated sense of
self (Wilber, 2000a).

Here are some examples of etiology as may appear

in the different quadrants. In the Upper Left
Quadrant, the etiology of MDD can be any failure in
the capacity of differentiation and integration of the
self at each stage of development; in the Upper Right
Quadrant, it can be any imbalance of brain physiology,
neurotransmitter imbalance, or poor diet; in the
Lower Left Quadrant, it can be any cultural patholo-
gies, communication snarls, or double-meaning com-
munication; and in the Lower Right Quadrant, it can
be any economic stress, environmental toxins, or social
oppression that may put pressure on the person’s cop-
ing mechanisms causing them to break down. The eti-
ology of MDD from the Upper Left (self pathology
factors) and the Upper Right Quadrant (brain pathol-
ogy factors) must be integrated with the Lower Left
(cultural pathology factors) and the Lower Right
Quadrant (social pathology factors), in order to have a
complete understanding of the causes of MDD.

We have now several studies that identify the caus-

es of MDD in the Lower Left and Lower Right
Quadrant, such as levels of social support (La-Roche,
1999; Lin & Lai, 1999); adverse living environment
(Cheung et al., 1998; Lizardi et al., 1995); environ-
mental stressors (Lin & Lai, 1995; Lin et al., 1999;
Pahkala et al,. 1991; Richter, 1995); poor social skills
(Gable & Shean, 2000); poor interpersonal relation-
ships (Zlotnick et al., 2000); communication prob-
lems (Segrin, 1997); distressing interpersonal context
(Whifen & Aube, 1999); and other social factors
(Stroebe, 1997). We identified only some studies
pointing to a combination of factors from two quad-
rants, Upper Right + Lower Right, that is, genetic lia-
bility to stressful environment (Kendler, 1998;
Kendler et al., 1997), and only one study emphasising
multiple causes from three quadrants, Upper Left +
Lower Left + Lower Right, namely, negative thinking
patterns, social relationships, and social stresses (Barry
et al., 2000).

Cognitive therapy is mostly concerned with the

Special Topic: Depression

109

post-post formal levels of development, calling them
“second and third tier” (Wilber, 2000c). Self-development
is seen more like a spiral than as neat levels on a lad-
der, but nevertheless, in order to move to one develop-
mental wave, the preceding level must have been con-
quered. Wilber emphasises that no wave can be
skipped in favour of a higher one, and every wave has
an equal importance for the overall spiral. The main
point is that each wave is equally important and any
jump is dangerous and ultimately impossible, so that
the mission of the therapist is not to help people to
move to higher waves, but to help clients to accommo-
date and integrate the waves where they are in the pres-
ent moment.

The sense of self (“ego”) develops from the egocen-

tric level, when it is dominated by its narcissistic needs,

moral stage 1, and animistic worldview, to the socio-
centric level, when it identifies with its family needs,
moral stages 2 to 3, and mythic worldview. Then the
self develops to the world-centric level, when it identi-
fies with needs of the whole world, is at moral stages 4
to 5, and holds a pluralistic postconventional world-
view. Further, development can still proceed to the
transpersonal level, when the ego is transcended and
what remains is a total identification with the Kosmos,
a post-post conventional worldview, or One Taste, and
a moral stage defined by Jesus by His commandment:
“Love your neighbour like yourself!.” Table 1 shows a
graphical representation of all the levels of develop-
ment correlated with memes, worldviews, psy-
chopathologies and treatments (Wilber, 2000a).

Why is it important to know the levels of develop-

108

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Table 1. Structures, levels, memes, worldviews, pathologies and therapies according to Wilber

assess the socioeconomic and environmental factors
that may be a pathogenic source. The remedies here
may be political, economic, and environmental sup-
port, education, and skills training (Nezu et al., 2000).

For multiple-etiology MDD, a more complete IT

may be given, working on several quadrants either
sequentially or in parallel. For a double-cause MDD,
say intrapsychical and interpsychical problems, Upper
Left Quadrant + Lower Left Quadrant, CT may be
given for correcting negative thoughts, or helplessness,
and afterwards or in parallel one may also give IPT for
correcting interpersonal relationship skills. For a
triple-cause MDD, say intrapsychical, interpsychical
and interobjective problems (economic problems),
Upper Left + Lower Left + Lower Right Quadrant, one
may prescribe CT, IPT, and a social skill training.

IT for MDD is concerned with a quick reduction

of symptoms and recovery without relapse. In order to
prevent relapse, a maintenance therapy may be given,
either individually or in group. The integral therapist
may give the client an integral transformative practice
(ITP) that is expected to be carried out for the whole
life, as a means of preventing the recurrence, enhancing
the quality of life, and raising the level of conscious-
ness for the benefit of the individual as well as society.

Today a few studies on MDD treatment acknowl-

edge the efficacy of addressing multiple quadrants in
combination: Upper Left (psychotherapy) + Upper
Right Quadrant (pharmacotherapy) is more efficient
than one form alone (Nierenberg, 2001; Beitan &
Klerman, 1991; Thase et al., 1997). The decision to
use combined medication and psychotherapy in the
treatment of MDD (Petit et al., 2001) must be based
on severity of symptoms, quality of depression, dura-
tion of disability, and response to previous treatments,
and not on ideological views favoring one treatment
over the other. Some researchers have found that med-
ication does not interfere with the patient’s capacity to
participate in psychotherapy, and because of the reduc-
tion of the symptoms, the patient’s capacity to make
use of social learning is increased (Klerman &
Weissman, 1993).

Based on existing research, IT may propose, for the

treatment of MDD caused by factors from the Upper
Left + Upper Right Quadrant a double intervention, a
combination of CT with pharmacotherapy (Rush &
Hollon, 1991; Blackburn et al., 1986; Kupfer &
Frank, 2001; Savard et al., 1998).

For an etiology of the Upper Right + Lower Left

Quadrant, a double combination of IPT with pharma-
cotherapy (Klerman & Weissman, 1993; Weissman et
al., 2000; Frank et. al., 2000; Reynolds et al., 1992,
1999) may be given. Unfortunately we don’t have
today any research on a treatment for MD that covers
three or four quadrants together—maybe with a few
exceptions (Pinsof, 1995; Lazarus, 1995).

The main point of IT is that it is an “all-quadrant,

all-level, all-lines” therapy, engaging the intentional
(Upper Left), behavioural (Upper Right), cultural
(Lower Left) and social (Lower Right) in all relevant
dimensions. The weakness of cognitive therapy as well
as other therapies is that they don’t recognise that the
various levels of interior consciousness have correlates
in the other quadrants. Wilber says, “Human beings
have different levels: body, mind, soul and spirit, and
each of these levels has four aspects: intentional,
behavioural, cultural and social.”

So far we have discussed treatment of MDD at the

first five fulcrums, but there are also higher levels of
consciousness development, and now we shall intro-
duce therapies that are concerned with these higher
fulcrums. These are the transpersonal therapies, and
address the levels of soul and Spirit. IT acknowledges
all transpersonal therapies, adding the “all-quadrants,
all-levels, all-streams” healing perspective that may be
pursued by the transpersonal therapist. Until the pub-
lication of Wilber’s book “Sex, Ecology and
Spirituality,” transpersonal therapists were not consid-
ering the integral perspective, being mostly concerned
with only one or two quadrants. The four quadrants
are present until the last fulcrum, when the Kosmos
becomes “One Taste” and division loses all meaning,
but until the last fulcrum it is important to practice
transpersonal therapy from an integral perspective.
Today, there are very few evaluated transpersonal ther-
apies, so there must be caution in recommending and
using such approaches. Many Western transpersonal
theorists have proposed different therapies for differ-
ent fulcrums, based on their private experience with
clients, but there is no agreement among them, and
their proposals are of an exploratory nature (Boorstein,
1991, 1997; Scotton et al., 1996; Rowan, 1993;
Boggio Gilot, 1995, 1996; Weil, 1988; Wilber et al.,
1987; Descamps et al., 1990; Leloup & de Smedt,
1986; Claxton, 1996).

Therapies that can successfully address a sixth ful-

crum MDD may be mentioned: Jungian therapy
(Jung, 1957; Singer, 1995), psychosynthesis (Assagioli,

Special Topic: Depression

111

self-pathology from the first five fulcrums, in the
Upper Left Quadrant, while other factors from other
quadrants are overlooked. From this point of view CT
is reductionistic in its etiological views, and only later
new changes have occurred to include also factors from
the Lower Left Quadrant, that is, interpersonal and
affective factors.

Integral Therapy is also concerned with higher

developmental fulcrums, the transpersonal levels con-
sisting in soul and Spirit. MDD can be caused by
transpersonal causes, and it is important to mention
here the Kundalini phenomena (Shannella, 1992;
Greenwell, 1990; White, 1990; Krishna, 1989, 1993;
Yang, 1992; Satyananda, 1993), the Dark Night of the
Soul (St. John of the Cross, 1988; Tweedie, 1993;
Roberts, 1993; Segal, 1996), and spiritual emergencies
(Grof & Grof, 1990; Bragdon, 1990, 1993),which are
the most common causes of psychopathology in the
higher fulcrums. Kundalini awakenings can cause
MDD and the integral therapist must consider this
possibility.

Treatment of Depression in IT

is not a particular psychotherapy in itself, but
rather a therapeutic approach, which makes use

of the existing therapies on the market in an integrated
way, in order to cover all four domains that define a
client. Treatment of MDD in IT implies treating each
client as a unique individual, with a specific develop-
mental history and particular bio-psycho-social com-
petencies. Even if the cause of MDD is the same in
two individuals, the treatment of MD in each of them
may be different, based on the personal developmental
history and the competencies in the four quadrants
that have been assessed in the Integral Psychograph
(Wilber, 2000c). Treatment can ideally be seen as an
all-four-quadrants endeavour—“all quadrants, all lev-
els, all lines”—just as psychopathology can be seen as
caused by all four quadrants.

Prevention of depression is one of the main con-

cerns of IT, and studies have shown that this effort
must be both personal, by engaging in an integral
transformative practice (ITP), and political, in order to
prevent rather than cure depression (Dadds, 2001).

IT makes use of clinical interview, using the

ICD-10/DSM-IV-TR, in assessing the MDD togeth-
er with a specific assessment of some of the major
lines/streams of development (cognitive, moral, inter-

personal, affective/emotional, spiritual) and
levels/waves of development using individual tests.
The test results may be shown on an Integral
Psychograph as the psychological profile of the client
(Wilber, 2000a; 2000c). The Integral Psychograph
shows levels of each developmental line, vertical and
horizontal type of self development (ego development)
(Descamps et al., 1990), level of basic pathology, pre-
dominant needs (motivations), moral stage, spiritual
development, level of object relations, and so forth.
This profile can be interpreted to prevent and discov-
er psychopathology.

In order to find the best therapy for MDD, the

integral therapist needs to identify its possible causes
from each of the four quadrants using a battery of psy-
chological tests: Psychological Map, Form A, The
Values Test (the first two tests have been developed by
Spiral Dynamics), Dimensions of Self Concept,
Defense Mechanisms Inventory [Revised], Bessell
Measurement of Emotional Maturity Scales, Social
Adjustment Scale, Social-Emotional Dimension Scale,
Quality of Life Questionnaire, and Kundalini
Experiences Inventory. Based on the Integral
Psychograph an IT should be suggested.

Cognitive therapy rarely makes use of tests and

gives a standard treatment for any type of client, while
IT acknowledges the uniqueness of the individual
clients and their complexity and diversity, calling for a
tailor-made treatment for each individual. This char-
acteristic also makes the randomisation of treatment,
as practised in other therapies, inappropriate. IT pro-
poses a detailed identification of the causes of MDD,
and based on this first assessment, there may be given
one or a combination of therapies for treating MDD,
covering “all quadrants, all levels, all lines.” The quality
of IT is that it can integrate apparently different psy-
chotherapies, seen as complementary rather than
mutually exclusive.

For interventions in the Upper Left Quadrant, the

integral therapist can choose from a number of self-
psychotherapies, such as psychodynamic, cognitive,
humanistic, or transpersonal. In the Upper Right
Quadrant, he or she can choose between various drugs,
CTS, ECT, vagus nerve stimulation, or acupuncture
(Allen et al., 1998). In the Lower Left Quadrant, the
therapist may choose different therapies, such as trans-
actional analysis (Berne, 1975), relational therapy
(Magnavita, 2000), and volunteer community work
therapy. In the Lower Right Quadrant, he or she can

110

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

on MDD tends to acknowledge only one, two, or
three quadrants, mostly independently rather than
together. Further, today’s research effort on MDD is
much dictated by funding provided by the drug com-
panies which are mainly interested in research on the
Upper Right Quadrant, so as to sell more drugs and
make more profit. This is a serious problem, and IT
research using a quadruple perspective may prove too
expensive and wide to be funded; this may change if
we make the case for IT well known.

The weakness of IT is that it is highly specialised,

that it requires therapists qualified in more than one
therapy, as well as higher levels of personal develop-
ment, at the second tier and beyond. The assessment
process in IT may take too long but the costs may
prove little in the long run, both for the individual and
society. The Integral Transformative Practice that may
be given to a client in order to prevent future MDD
episodes may prove difficult, needing to cover 31
streams of consciousness at 17 levels in 4 quadrants,
hence 2108 consciousness variables to develop (de
Quincey, 2000). IT has already got critics who com-
plain about Wilber’s limited description of Upper
Right (Combs, 2001) or Lower Left Quadrant
(de Quincey, 2000), but even critics acknowledge the
importance of IT in opening a new perspective in
treatment. Anecdotal criticism has been raised on the
length of training: if an integral therapist should qual-
ify as a Ph.D. in each of the four quadrants, education
would take some 7x4=28 years! Clearly, IT needs highly
qualified therapists who are familiar with both phe-
nomenological approaches and quantitative research
methods. But the most important qualification must
be Spiritual Awakening, if the integral therapist is to
counsel clients on transpersonal levels. Enlightenment
must come first in any IT curriculum, and only then
can the development of the streams and waves be
engaged in a gradual manner, from an awakened per-
spective on the Kosmos, following the recommenda-
tions of Zen Master Chinul (Buswell, 1992). Once,
the author of this paper asked Ken Wilber (2000e)
how can the self be developed after enlightenment. It
is believed that after enlightenment there is nobody
left to identify with the body, and no self to do any
integral practice. Here is Wilber’s answer:

How to function with the Unborn is indeed the
question. Yet how simple that ultimately is, for
notice: Right now, you are spontaneously and
effortlessly aware of the clouds floating by in the

sky, feelings floating by in the body, thoughts float-
ing by in the mind. There is a consciousness that is
already noticing all that, and is spontaneously and
effortlessly present. All of those things—clouds,
feelings, thoughts—all drift by in your own vast
consciousness, right here, right now. But what
about that consciousness itself? what color is that?
where is it located? where is your mind right now?
does it have a shape or size or color? In fact, your
own consciousness right now is without shape or
form, but it beholds all the shapes and forms float-
ing by. Your own consciousness right now is without
color, yet it beholds all the glorious colors passing
by. It is without taste, yet can taste all the flavors
that arise moment to moment. Your own conscious-
ness, in other words, is without taste or color or
shape or form. Your own consciousness—right now
at this very moment, and just as it already is—is in
fact the great formless Unborn. Even your own
body and feelings and thoughts and mind arise in
the vast openness of your own ever-present aware-
ness, and that present awareness is none other than
Spirit itself. In short, you are aware of yourself exist-
ing now. That of which you are aware is your indi-
vidual self; that which is aware of your individual
self, right now, is God.

And you, as pure witness, are that God, that

Goddess. You, as pure witness, are the Divine itself,
right here and right now; whereas you, as an object
of that Self, are the mortal, finite, limited thing you
are used to calling yourself (“dinu” or “tom” or
“ken” or “amy”). It is not impossible, or even hard,
to rest as the great empty Witness, the great
Unborn, and simultaneously exercise any object
that arises in this great open awareness—such as
your body, your ego, your psyche, or anything else
that arises.

The integral view, then, embraces both absolute

(Unborn and empty Consciousness) and relative
(any and all Forms that arise in that vast infinite
space that you are). May this infinite great Unborn,
which you always already are, tacitly announce itself
to you when you aren’t looking, and slowly begin to
reorganize your entire being along lines that can
never be whispered. (Wilber, 2000e)

We need a new therapy for the new millennium, and
the IT may prove to be the quantum leap therapy,
helping the field to make the shift, from the present-
day meme (Wilber, 2002) to the second tier.

Special Topic: Depression

113

1993; Ferrucci, 1995), Gestalt therapy (Perls, 1994),
and logotherapy (Frankl, 1985; Fabry, 1981).

The traditional transpersonal therapies that can

successfully address MDD generated by a transpersonal
cause at the seventh fulcrum are mainly from the East
and include Kundalini yoga (Swami Satyananda,
1993a, 1993b; Swami Sivananda, 1985), Yoga (Swami
Rama, Ballentine & Swami Ajaya, 1993), and Chi
Kung (Chia & Chia, 1993; Yang, 1992; Lu, 1991).
The few Western transpersonal therapies that address
this level are: Hara therapy (Dürckheim, 1988), bio-
genetics (Katchmer, 1993), neo-Reichian therapy
(Reich, 1993) and the holotropic breathwork of
Stanislav Grof (Grof, 1985; Grof & Bennett, 1993).

The eighth-fulcrum therapies that can address an

eighth-fulcrum MDD are mostly found in the tradi-
tional mystical traditions of both East and West, such
as Christianity (St. Nikodimos & St. Makarios, 1981;
St. Teresa of Avila, 1988), Theravada Buddhism
(Buddhaghosa, 1975; Narada, 1975; Surangama
Sutra, 1978), and Tibetan Buddhism (Cozort, 1986).

The last fulcrum that may cause MDD is the

ninth, which is the domain of Spirit and causal reality.
At this level there are few traditional therapies:
Mahamudra (Namgyal, 1986), Dzogchen (Clemente,
1996), Advaita Vedanta (Godman, 1985), and Zen
(Buswell, 1992; Kapleau, 1989; Hirai, 1989).
Recently, a new generation of enlightened Westerners
has arisen who may have something of value to offer
(Tolle, 1999; Kornfield, 1993; Segal, 1996; Packer,
1999; Ardaugh, 1999; Parsons, 2000; Lumiere &
Lumiere-Wins, 2000; Parker, 2000). Reaching the end
of human development, the fear of death or annihila-
tion may give rise to MDD, and here some bibliother-
apy may ease the anguish (Sogyal Rimpoche, 1992; Da
Avabhasa, 1991; Blackman, 1997).

Finally, there are yet untested integral approaches

to treat MDD from this perspective, but the best we
can offer is Ken Wilber’s recommendations for treat-
ment in a case with existential depression and in one
with a life-goal apathy and depression:

A client with existential depression, postconven-
tional morality, suppression and sublimation
defence mechanisms, self-actualization needs and a
centauric self-sense, might be given: existential
analysis, dream therapy, a team sport (e.g., volley-
ball, basketball), bibliotherapy, t’ai chi chuan (or
prana circulating therapy), community service and
kundalini yoga....A client who has been practicing

zen meditation for several years, but suffers life-
goal apathy and depression, deadening of affect,
postconventional morality, postformal cognition,
self-transcendence needs, and psychic self-sense,
might be given: uncovering therapy, combination
weight training and jogging, tantric deity yoga
(visualization meditation), tonglen (compassion
training), and community service. (Wilber, 1998, p. 252).

Finally, IT is an “all-quadrant, all-levels, all-lines” ther-
apy, which addresses equally the intrapsychic (Upper
Left Quadrant), behavioural (Upper Right), cultural
(Lower Left) and social (Lower Right) in all their
dimensions.

Discussion

he most comprehensive view for studying humans
is from an “all-quadrant, all-level, all-lines” per-

spective. The multiple factors of the etiology of depres-
sion are better integrated by integral theory than cog-
nitive theory, or any other theory for that matter. CT
has searched for MDD etiology only in the Upper
Left, and lately also in the Lower Left, while IT has
taken into account all quadrants, and all the interac-
tions between them. IT proposes that the causes for
MDD can be multiple and their accumulative effect
account for the intensity of the symptoms. There are
today some efforts toward psychotherapy integration
(Glass et al., 1998), but though valuable, this is still far
from a comprehensive research on “all quadrants, all
levels, all lines.” The answer to the first question of this
study is clear: integral theory is more accommodating
for the etiology of MDD than cognitive theory.

Integral Therapy can be more efficient in the treat-

ment of depression than other therapies, if the synergy
ensured from the combination of multiple therapies
makes a difference, but today we have no studies to
support this. Further, the public seems not to be real-
ly open to a combination of treatments (e.g., combin-
ing psychotherapy and pharmacotherapy), and the
first choice is psychotherapy alone (Hall & Robertson,
1998). CT has a very good record of efficiency and as
a single therapy it may be the therapy of choice even
from an integral perspective. The answer to our second
question is that CT is better than IT in treating
episodes of MDD, but has no clear advantages for pre-
venting recurrence.

Finding empirical support for IT is difficult today,

because the existing meme in psychological research

112

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Buddhaghosa, B. (1975). The path of purification:

Visuddhimarga. Kandy, Sri Lanka: Buddhist
Publication Society.

Buswell, R.E., Jr. (1992). Tracing back the Radiance:

Chinul’s Korean way of Zen. Honolulu: University of
Hawaii Press.

Chambless, D. L., Baker, M. J., Baucom, D. H., Beutler,

L. E., Calhoun, K. S., Crits-Christoph, P., Daiuto, A.,
DeRubeis, R., Detweiler, J., Haaga, D.A.F., Bennett
Johnson, S., McCurry, S., Mueser, K.T., Pope, K. S.,
Sanderson, W.C., Shoham, V., Stickle, T., Williams,
D. A., & Woody, S.R. (1998). Update on empirically
validated therapies, II. Clinical Psychologist, 51, 3–16.

Chan, D. W. (1995). Depressive symptoms and coping

strategies among Chinese adolescents in Hong Kong.
Journal of Youth and Adolescence, 24(3), 267–279.

Cheung, C. K., Leung, K. K., Chan, W. T., & Ma, K.

(1998). Depression, loneliness and health in an
adverse living environment: A study of bedspace resi-
dents in Hong Kong. Social Behaviour and Personality,
26(2), 151–170.

Chia, M., & Chia, M. (1993). Awaken healing light of the

Tao. Huntington, New York: Healing Tao Books.

Clark, D. A., Beck, A. T., & Alford, B.A. (1999).

Scientific foundations of cognitive theory and therapy of
depression. New York: Wiley.

Claxton, G. (Ed). (1996). Beyond therapy: The impact of

eastern religions on psychological theory and practice.
Woollahra, Australia: Unity Press.

Clemente, A., (Ed). (1996). Dzogchen: The self-perfected

state—Chögyal Namkhai Norbu. Ithaca, NY: Snow
Lion Publications.

Combs, A. (2001). All-levels, all quadrants: A review of

Ken Wilber’s “A theory of everything.” Journal of
Consciousness Studies, 8(11), 74–82.

Cozort, D. (1986). Highest yoga tantra: An introduction to

the esoteric Buddhism of Tibet. Ithaca, NY: Snow Lion
Publications.

Culbertson, F. M. (1997). Depression and gender: An

international review. American Psychologist, 52,
25–31.

Da Avabhasa (1991). Easy death: Spiritual discourses and

essays on the inherent and ultimate transcendence of
death and everything else. Clearlake, CA: The Dawn
Horse Press.

Dadds, M. R. (2001). Fads, politics and research:

Keeping prevention on the mental health agenda.
Prevention and Treatment, 4.

DeLongis, A. (2000). Coping skills. In G. Fink (Ed.),

Encyclopedia of stress. San Diego: Academic Press.

DeRubeis, R. J., Gelfand, L. A., Tang, T. Z., & Simons,

A. D. (1999). Medications versus cognitive behavior
therapy for severely depressed outpatients: Mega-
analysis of four randomised comparisons. American
Journal of Psychiatry, 156, 1007–1013.

Descamps, M. A., Cazenare, M., & Filliozat, A. M.

(1990). Les psychothérapies transpersonnelles. Lavour,
France: Editions Trimégiste.

Dobson, K. S. (1989). A meta-analysis of the efficacy of

cognitive therapy for depression. Journal of
Consulting and Clinical Psychology, 57, 414–419.

Dürckheim, K. G. (1988). Hara: The vital centre in man.

London: Mandala.

Eisemann, M., & Vrasti, R. (1995). Modelele vulnerabil-

itatii in psihopathologie. In R. Vrasti & M. Eisemann
(Eds), Depresii—noi perspective (pp.1–7). Bucuresti:
Editura All.

Elkin, I., Shea, T., Watkins, J. T., Imber, S. D., Sotsky, S.

M., Collins, J. F., Glass, D. R., Pilkonis, P. A., Leber,
W. R., Docherty, J. P., Fiester, S. J., & Parloff, M. B.
(1989). NIMH Treatment of Depression Collaborative
Research Program: General effectiveness of treatments.
Archives of General Psychiatry, 46, 971–982.

Ellis, A., & Dryden, W. (1987). The practice of rational

emotive therapy. New York: Springer.

Evans, M. D., Hollon, S. D., DeRubeis, R. J., Piasecki,

J. M., Grove, W. M., Garvey, M.J., & Tuason, V. B.
(1992). Differential relapse following cognitive therapy
and pharmacotherapy for depression. Archives of
General Psychiatry, 49, 802–808.

Fabry, J. B. (1981). The will to meaning: Foundations and

applications of Logotherapy. New York: New American
Library.

Fenner, P., & Fenner, P. (2001). Essential wisdom teach-

ings. York Beach, Maine: Nicolas-Hays, Inc.

Ferrucci, P. (1995). What we may be: The vision and tech-

niques of psychosynthesis. London: Thorsons.

Frankl, V. (1985). Man’s search for meaning. New York:

Washington Square Press.

Freud, S. (1959). Mourning and melancholia. In J.

Strachey (Ed. & Trans.), The standard edition of the
complete psychological works of Sigmund Freud (Vol.14,
pp. 237–260). London: Hogarth Press. (Original
work published 1914).

Frank, E., Grochocinski, V. J., Spanier, C. A., Buysse, D.

J., Cherry, C. R., Houck, P. R., Stapf, D. M., &
Kupfer, D. J. (2000). Interpersonal psychotherapy
and antidepressant medication: Evaluation of a
sequential treatment strategy in women with recur-
rent major depression. Journal of Clinical Psychiatry,
61(1), 51–57.

Special Topic: Depression

115

References

Abramson, L., Seligman, M., & Teasdale J. (1978).

Learned helplessness in humans: Critique and refor-
mulation. Journal of Abnormal Psychology, 87, 49–74.

Alexander, C., & Langer, E. (Eds). (1990). Higher stages

of human development: Perspectives on adult growth.
New York: Oxford University Press.

Allen, J. J. B., Schnyder, R. N., & Hitt S.K. (1998). The

efficacy of acupuncture in the treatment of major
depression in women. Psychological Science 9(5),
397–401.

Alloy, B., Abramson, L., Metalsky, G., & Hartledge, S.

(1988). The hopelessness theory of depression: The
role of goals and the self–evaluation process.
Cognitive Therapy and Research, 11, 665–680.

American Psychiatric Association, (1993). Practice guide-

lines for major depressive disorders in adults.
American Journal of Psychiatry, 150 (suppl.4), 1–26.

American Psychiatric Association. (2000). Diagnostic

and statistical manual (4th ed.), text revision.
Washington.

Ardagh, A. N. (1999). Relaxing into clear seeing:

Interactive tools in the service of self-awakening. Nevada
City, CA: Self Press.

Arkowitz, H. (1992). Common factors therapy for

depression. In J.C. Norcross & M.R. Goldfried
(Eds.), Handbook of psychotherapy integration (pp.
402–433). New York: Basic Books.

Arieti, S., & Bemporad, J. (1980). The psychological

organisation of depression. American Journal of
Psychology, 137, 1360–1365.

Assagioli, R. (1993). Psychosynthesis: A manual of princi-

ples and techniques. Glasgow: Harper Collins.

Barber, J. P., & Muenz, L. R. (1996). The role of avoid-

ance and obssesiveness in matching patients to cogni-
tive and interpersonal psychotherapy: Empirical find-
ings from the treatment for depression collaborative
research program. Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology, 64, 951–958.

Barry, M. M., Doherty, A., Hope, A., Sixsmith, J., &

Kelleher, C. C. (2000). A community needs assess-
ment for rural mental health promotion. Health
Education Research 15(3), 293–304.

Barondes, S. H. (1999). Mood genes: Hunting for origins

of mania and depression. New York: Oxford University Press.

Beck, A. T. (1967). Depression: Clinical, experimental and

theoretical aspects. New York: Harper & Row.

Beck, A. T., Bush, A. J., Shaw, H. F., & Emery, G.

(1979). Cognitive therapy for depression: A treatment
manual. New York: Guilford Press.

Beitman, B. D., & Klerman, G. L. (1991). Integrating

pharmacotherapy and psychotherapy. Washington:
American Psychiatric Press.

Berne, E. (1975). Transactional analysis in psychotherapy.

New York: Ballantine Books.

Blackburn, M., Eunson, K. M., & Bishop, S. (1986). A

two-year naturalistic follow-up of depressed patients
treated with cognitive therapy, pharmacotherapy and
a combination of both. Journal of Affective Disorders,
10, 67–75.

Blackman, S. (1997). Graceful exits: How great beings die.

New York: Weatherhill.

Blatt, S. J., Zuroff, D. C., Bondi, C. M., & Sanislow, III

C.A. (2000). Short- and long-term effects of medica-
tion and psychotherapy in the brief treatment of
depression: Further analyses of data from the NMH
TDCRP. Psychotherapy Research, 10(2), 215–234.

Boggio Gilot, L. (1995). Principi di psicologia transper-

sonale: Le frontiere del potenziale umano oltre l’io e la
normalità. Roma: Associazione Italiana di Psicologia
Transpersonale.

Boggio Gilot, L. (1996). Il cammino della coscienza oltre

l’io: Principi e metodi di psicologia transpersonale.
Assisi: Cittadella Editrice.

Bohart, A. C., O’Hara, M., & Leitner, L. M. (1998).

Empirically violated treatments: Disenfranchisement
of humanistic and other psychotherapies.
Psychotherapy Research, 8, 141–157.

Boorstein, S. (Ed.). (1991). Transpersonal psychotherapy.

Stanford: JTP Books.

Boorstein, S. (1997). Clinical studies in transpersonal psy-

chotherapy. New York: SUNY Press.

Bowlby, J. (1977). The making and breaking of affectional

bonds: Aetiology and psychopathology in the light of
attachment theory. British Journal of Psychiatry, 130,
201–210.

Bowlby J. (2000). Loss: Sadness and depression. New York:

Basic Books.

Boutros N.N., Miano A.P., Hoffman R.E., & Berman

R.M. (2001). EEG monitoring in depressed patients
undergoing repetitive transcranial magnetic stimula-
tion. Journal of Neuropsychiatry and Clinical
Neurosciences 13(2): 197–205.

Bragdon, E. (1990). The call of spiritual emergency: From

personal crisis to personal transformation. San
Francisco: Harper & Row.

Bragdon, E. (1993). Helping people with spiritual prob-

lems. California: Lightening Up Press.

Brown, G. W., & Harris, T. (1979). Social origins of

depression: A study of psychiatric disorders in women.
New York: Macmillan.

114

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Lin, N., Ye, X., & Ensel W.M. (1999). Social support

and depressed mood: A structural analysis. Journal of
Health and Social Behaviour, 40(4), 344–359.

Lizardi, H., Klein, D. N., Quinette P. C., et. al. (1995).

Reports of the childhood home environment in early-
onset dysthymia and episodic major depression.
Journal of Abnormal Psychology, 104(1), 132–139.

Lu, K. Y. (1991). The secrets of Chinese meditation. York

Beach, ME: Samuel Weiser.

Lumiere, L. M., & Lumiere-Wins, J. (Eds.). (2000). The

awakening west: Evidence of a spreading enlightenment.
Oakland, CA: Clear Visions Publications.

Magnavita, J. J. (2000). Introduction: the growth of rela-

tional therapy. In Session: Psychotherapy in Practice,
56(8), 999–1004.

Mahoney M. J. (Ed.). (1995). Cognitive and constructive

psychotherapies: Theory, research, and practice. New
York: Springer.

Manning, D. W., & Frances A.J. (1990). Combined

therapy for depression: A critical review of the litera-
ture. In D.W. Manning & A.J. Frances (Eds.),
Combined pharmacotherapy and psychotherapy for
depression (pp. 1–34). Washington, DC: American
Psychiatric Press.

Manson, S. M. (1994). Culture and depression:

Discovering variations in the experience of illness. In
W. J. Looner & R. S. Malpass (Eds.), Psychology and
culture. Boston: Allyn & Bacon.

Millon, T. (1996). Personality and psychopathology. New

York: Wiley.

Munoz, R. F., Mrazek, P. J., & Haggerty, R.J. (1996).

Institute of Medicine Report on Prevention of Mental
Disorders: Summary and commentary. American
Psychologist, 51, 1116–1122.

Namgyal, T. T. (1986). Mahamudra: The quintessence of

mind and meditation. Boston & London: Shambhala.

Narada, M. T. (1975). A manual of Abhidhamma:

Being Abhidhammatha Sangaha of Bhadanta
Anuruddhacarya. Kandy, Sri Lanka: Buddhist
Publication Society.

Nezlek, J. B., Hampton, C. P., & Shean, C. (2000).

Clinical depression and day-to-day social interaction
in a community sample. Journal of Abnormal
Psychology, 109, 11–19.

Nezu, A. M., Nezu, C.M., & D’Zurilla. (2000).

Problem-solving skills training. In G. Fink (Ed.),
Encyclopedia of stress. San Diego, CA: Academic Press.

Nierenberg, A. A.(2001). Current perspectives on the

diagnosis and treatment of major depressive disor-
ders. American Journal of Management Care, 7(11),
353–366.

Nolen-Hoeksema, S. (1990). Sex differences in depression.

Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press.

Norcross, J.C., & Goldfried, M.R. (Eds.). (1992).

Handbook of psychotherapy integration. New York:
Basic Books.

Norges, forskningsråd. (1999). Behandling av depresjon i

allmennpraksis-konsensuskonferanse 9–10 Nov. 1999,
Rapport nr. 14. Oslo.

Quincey de, C. (2000). The promise of integralism: A

critical appreciation of Ken Wilber’s integral psychol-
ogy. Journal of Consciousness Studies, 7(11–12),
177–208.

Packer, T. (1999). The light of discovery. Boston: Charles

E. Tuttle.

Pahkala, K., Kivelae, S. L., & Laippala, P. (1991).

Relationships between social and health factors and
major depression in old age in a multivariate analysis.
Nordisk Psykiatrisk Tidsskrift, 45(4), 299–307.

Parker, J. W. (2000). Dialogues with emerging spiritual

teachers. Fort Collins, CO: Sagewood Press.

Parsons, T. (2000). As it is: The open secret to living an

awakened life. Carlsbad, CA: Innerdirections
Publishing.

Passer, M. W., & Smith, R. E. (2001). Psychology:

Frontiers and Applications. Boston: McGraw Hill.

Perls, F. (1994). Gestalt therapy: Excitement and growth in

the human personality. Guernsey, Channel Islands:
Souvenir Press.

Petit, J. W., Voelz, Z.R., & Joiner, T. E. (2001).

Combined treatments for depression. In M.T.
Sammons & N. B. Schmidt (Eds.), Combined treat-
ment for mental disorders: A guide to psychological and
pharmacological interventions. Washington, DC:
American Psychological Association.

Pinsof, W. M. (1995). Integrative problem centered therapy:

A synthesis of family, individual and biological therapies.
New York: Basic Books.

Poslusny, S. M. (2000). Street music or the blues? The

lived experience and social environment of depres-
sion. Public Health Nursing, 17(4), 292–299.

Price, I. (1999). Steps toward the memetic self. Journal of

Memetics—Evolutionary Models of Information
Transmission, 3, 1–6.

Prochaska, J. O., & DiClemente, C. C. (1992). The

transtheoretical approach. In J.C. Norcross & M.R.
Goldfried (Eds.), Handbook of psychotherapy integra-
tion, (pp. 300–334). New York: Basic Books.

Rama, S., Ballentine, R., & Swami Ajaya (1993). Yoga

and psychotherapy: The evolution of consciousness.
Honesdale, PA: Himalayan Institute.

Reich, W. (1993).The function of orgasm. Guernsey,

Channel Islands: Souvenir Press.

Special Topic: Depression

117

Gable, S. L., & Shean, G. D. (2000). Perceived social

competence and depression. Journal of Social and
Personal Relationships, 17(1), 139–150.

Garfield, S. L. (1996). Some problems associated with

”validated” forms of psychotherapy. Clinical
Psychology: Science and Practice, 3, 218–229.

Gardner, H. (1985). Multiple intelligences. New York:

Basic Books.

Glass, C. R., Arnkoff, D. B., & Rodriquez, B. F. (1998).

An overview of directions in psychotherapy integra-
tion research. Journal of Psychotherapy Integration,
8(4), 187–209.

Godman, D. (Ed). (1985). Be as you are: The teachings of

Sri Ramana Maharshi. London: Arkana.

Greenwell, B. (1990). Energies of transformation: A guide

to the Kundalini process. Cupertino, CA.: Shakti River
Press.

Grof, S. (1985). Beyond the brain: Birth, death and tran-

scendence in psychotherapy. Albany, NY: SUNY Press.

Grof, S., & Bennett, H. Z. (1993). The holotropic mind:

The three levels of human consciousness and how they
shape our lives. San Francisco: Harper.

Grof, S., & Grof, C. (Eds). (1989). Spiritual emergency:

When personal transformation becomes a crisis. Los
Angeles: Jeremy P. Tarcher/Perigee.

Hall, L. H., & Robertson, M. H. (1998). Undergraduate

ratings of the acceptability of single and combined
treatments for depression: A comparative study.
Professional Psychology: Research and Practice, 29(3),
269–272.

Hammen, C. (1991). Depression runs in families: The

social context of risk and resilience in children of
depressed mothers. New York: Springer-Verlag.

Henry, W. P. (1998). Science, politics, and the politics of

science: The use and misuse of empirically validated
treatments research. Psychotherapy Research, 8, 126–140.

Hirai, T. (1989). Zen meditation and psychotherapy.

Tokyo: Japan Publications.

Hollon, S. D. (1996). The efficacy and effectiveness of

psychotherapy relative to medications. American
Psychologist, 51, 1025–1030.

Ingram, C. (1987). Ken Wilber: The pundit of transper-

sonal psychology. Yoga Journal, September/October,
38–49.

Jensen, J. P., Bergin, A. E., & Greaves, D. W. (1990). The

meaning of eclecticism: New survey and analysis of
components. Professional Psychology: Research and
Practice, 21, 124–130.

Joiner, T. E., & Coyne, J. C. (Eds). (1999). The interac-

tional nature of depression: Advances in interpersonal
approaches. Washington, DC: American Psychological
Association.

Jung, C. G. (1957). Psychiatric studies. In Collected

works, Vol. 1. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Kapleau Roshi, P. (1989). The three pillars of Zen. New

York: Anchor Books.

Katchmer, G. A. (1993). The Tao of bioenergetics: East

and West. Jamaica Plain, MA: YMAA Publication
Centre.

Kendler, K. S. (1998). Major depression and the environ-

ment: A psychiatric genetic perspective.
Pharmacopsychiatry, 31(1), 5–9.

Kendler, K. S., & Karkowski-Shuman, L. (1997).

Stressful life events and genetic liability to major
depression: Genetic control of exposure to the envi-
ronment? Psychological Medicine, 27(3), 539–547.

Klerman, G. L., & Weissman, M. M. (Eds). (1993). New

applications of interpersonal psychotherapy.
Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Press.

Kornfield, J. (1993). A path with heart: A guide through

the perils and promises of spiritual life. New York:
Bantam Books.

Kovaks, M., & Beck, A.T. (1978). Maladaptive cognitive

structures in depression. American Journal of
Psychiatry, 135, 525–533.

Krishna, G. (1989). The awakening of Kundalini.

Ontario: FIND Research Trust and Kundalini
Research Foundation.

Krishna, G. (1993). Living with Kundalini: The autobiog-

raphy of Gopi Krishna. Boston & London:
Shambhala.

Kupfer, D. J., & Frank, E. (2001). The interaction of

drug and psychotherapy in the long-term treatment
of depression. Journal of Affective Disorders, 62(1–2),
131–137.

Lambert, M. J., Shapiro, D. A., & Bergin, A. E. (1986).

The effectiveness of psychotherapy. In S. L. Garfield
& A. E. Bergin (Eds), Handbook of psychotherapy and
behaviour change (3rd ed.), pp.157–212. New York: Wiley.

Lampropoulos, G. K. (2000). A reexamination of the

empirically supported treatments critiques.
Psychotherapy Research, 10(4), 474–487.

La-Roche, M. J. (1999). The association of social rela-

tions and depression levels among Dominicans in the
United States. Hispanic Journal of Behavioral Sciences,
21(4), 420–430.

Lazarus, A. A. (1995). Multimodal therapy. In R. J.

Corsini & D. Wedding (Eds), Current psychotherapies.
Itaska, IL: Peacock.

Lin, N., & Lai, G. (1995). Urban stress in China. Social

Science and Medicine, 41(8), 1131–1145.

Leloup, J.-Y., & de Smedt, M. (Eds.) (1986). Médecines

nouvelles & psychologies transpersonnelles. Paris:
Question de.

116

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Tseng, W. S., Asai, M., Liu, J., Pismai, W., et al. (1990).

Multi-cultural study of minor psychiatric disorders
in Asia: Symptom manifestations. International
Journal of Social Psychiatry, 36, 252–264.

Tweedie, I. (1993). The chasm of fire: A woman’s experi-

ence of liberation through the teachings of a Sufi master.
Shaftesbury: Element Books.

Vrasti, R., & Eisemann, M. (1995). Depresii: Noi perspec-

tive. Bucuresti: Editura All.

Wachtel, P. L. (1997). Psychoanalysis, behaviour therapy

and the relational world. Washington, DC: American
Psychological Association.

Wachtel, P. L., & McKinney, M. (1992). Cyclical

dynamics and integrative psychodynamic therapy. In
J. Norcross & M. R. Goldfried (Eds.), Handbook of
integrative psychotherapy, (pp. 335–370). New York:
Basic Books.

Wachtel, P. L., & Messer, S. B. (Eds.). (1998). Theories of

psychotherapy—Origins and evolution. Washington:
American Psychological Association.

Wandersman, A., Poppen, P. J., & Ricks, D. F. (Eds.).

(1976). Humanism and behaviourism: Dialogue and
growth. Elmsford, NY: Pergamon.

Wassermann, E., & Evans D.L. (2001). Acute mood and

thyroid stimulation hormone effects of transcranial
magnetic stimulation in major depression. Biological
Psychiatry, 50(1), 22–27.

Weissman, M. M., Markowitz, J. C., & Klerman, G. L.

(2000). Comprehensive guide to interpersonal therapy.
New York: Basic Books.

Weissman, M. M. (2001). Treatment of depression:

Bridging the 21st century. Washington, DC: American
Psychiatric Press.

Weil, P. (1988). L’homme sans frontières: Les états modifiés

de conscience. Paris: L’Espace Bleu.

Welwood, J. (2000). Toward a psychology of awakening:

Buddhism, psychotherapy, and the path of personal and
spiritual transformation. Boston & London:
Shambhala.

Whiffen, V. E., & Aube, J. A. (1999). Personality, inter-

personal context and depression in couples. Journal of
Social and Personal Relationships, 16(3), 369–383.

White, J. (1990). Kundalini, evolution and enlightenment.

New York: Paragon House.

Wilber, K. (1977). The spectrum of consciousness.

Wheaton, IL: Quest.

Wilber, K. (1998). The eye of the spirit: An integral vision

for a world gone slightly mad. Boston & London:
Shambhala.

Wilber, K. (1999). The collected works of Ken Wilber, Vol.

1–4. Boston & London: Shambhala.

Wilber, K. (2000a). Integral psychology: Consciousness,

spirit, psychology, therapy. Boston & London:
Shambhala.

Wilber, K. (2000b). The collected works of Ken Wilber,

Vol. 5–8. Boston & London: Shambhala.

Wilber, K. (2000c). A theory of everything: An integral

vision of business, politics, science and spirituality.
Boston & London: Shambhala.

Wilber, K. (2000d). Waves, streams, states and self:

Further considerations for an integral theory of con-
sciousness. Journal of Consciousness Studies, 7(11–12),
145–176.

Wilber, K. (2000e). On-line conference with Ken Wilber

on TOE from Shambhala Publications, post for Dinu
Stefan Teodorescu.

Wilber, K. (2002). Boomeritis. Boston & London:

Shambhala.

Wilber, K., Engler, J., & Brown, D. (1986).

Transformations of consciousness. Boston & London:
Shambhala.

Wolpe, J. (1982). The practice of behaviour therapy (3rd

ed.). New York: Pergamon.

Yang, J.-M. (1992). The root of Chinese Chi Kung: The

secrets of Chi Kung training. Jamaica Plain, MA:
YMAA Publication Center.

Zlotnick, C., Kohn, R., Keitner, G., & Dell-Grotta, S. A.

(2000). The relationship between quality of interper-
sonal relationships and major depressive disorder:
Finding from the national comorbidity survey.
Journal of Affective Disorders, 59(3), 205–215.

Special Topic: Depression

119

Rey, J. M., & Walter, G. (1997). Half a century of ECT

use in young people. American Journal of Psychiatry,
154, 595–602.

Reynolds, C. F., Frank, E., Perel, J. M., & Imber, S.D.

(1992). Combined pharmacotherapy and psy-
chotherapy in the acute and continuation treatment
of elderly patients with recurrent major depression: A
preliminary report. American Journal of Psychiatry,
149(12), 1687–1692.

Reynolds, C. F. III., Frank, E., Perel, J. M., Imber, S. D.,

Cornes, C., Miller, M. D., Mazumdar, S., Houck, P.
R., Dew, M. A., Stack, J. A., Pollock, B. G., &
Kupfer, D.J. (1999). Nortriptuline and interpersonal
therapy as maintenance therapies for recurrent major
depression: A randomized controlled trial in patients
older than 59 years. Journal of the American Medical
Association, 28(1), 39–45.

Richter, G. (1995). Evenimentele stresante de viata si

suportul social. Semnificatia lor pentru tulburarile
depresive. In R. Vrasti & M. Eisemann (Eds.),
Depresii: noi perspective, (pp. 94–107). Bucuresti:
Editura All.

Roberts, B. (1993). The experience of no-self: A contempla-

tive journey. New York: SUNY.

Robinson, L. A., Berman, J. S., & Neimeyer, R. A.

(1990). Psychotherapy for the treatment of depres-
sion: A comprehensive review of controlled outcome
research. Psychological Bulletin, 108, 30–49.

Rowan, J. (1993a). Subpersonalities. London: Routledge.
Rowan, J. (1993b). The transpersonal: Psychotherapy and

counselling. London & New York: Routledge.

Rush, A. J., & Hollon S. D. (1991). Depression. In B. D.

Beitman & G. L. Klerman (Eds.), Integrating phar-
macotherapy and psychotherapy. Washington, DC:
American Psychiatric Press.

Safran, J. D. & Greenberg, L. S. (1991). Emotion, psy-

chotherapy and change. New York: Guilford.

Safran, J. D., & Segal, Z. V. (1990). Interpersonal process

in cognitive therapy. New York: Basic Books.

Satcher, D. (1999). Mental health: A report of the Surgeon

General. Washington, DC: U.S. Department of
Health and Human Services.

Savard, J., Laberge, B., Gauthier, J. G., Fournier, J-P.,

Bouchard, S., Baril, J-G., & Bergeron, M.G. (1998).
Combination of fluoxetine and cognitive therapy for
the treatment of major depression among people with
HIV infection: A time-series analysis investigation.
Cognitive Therapy and Research, 22(1), 21–46.

Scotton, B. W., Chinen, A. B., & Battista, J. R. (Eds.)

(1996). Textbook of transpersonal psychiatry and psy-
chology. New York: Basic Books.

Segal, S. (1996). Collision with the Infinite: A life beyond

the personal self. San Diego, CA: Blue Dove Press.

Segrin, C. (1997). Interpersonal communication prob-

lems associated with depression and loneliness. In P.
Andersen & L. K. Guerrero (Eds.), Handbook of com-
munication and emotion: Research, theory, applications
and contexts. San Diego, CA: Academic Press.

Seligman, M. E. P. (1975). Helplessness: On depression,

development and death. San Francisco: Freeman.

Seligman, M. E. P., & Isaacowitz, D.M. (2000). Learned

helplessness. In G. Fink (Ed.), Encyclopedia of stress.
San Diego, CA: Academic Press.

Shannella, L. (1992). The Kundalini experience: Psychosis

or transcendence? Lower Lake, CA: Integral Publishing.

Singer, J. (1995). Boundaries of the soul: The practice of

Jung’s psychology. Woollahra, Australia: Unity Press.

Sogyal Rimpoche. (1992). The Tibetan book of living and

dying. London: Rider.

St. Nikodimos of the Holy Mountain & St. Makarios of

Corinth (1981). The Philokalia. London: Faber &
Faber.

St. John of the Cross (1988). The dark night of the soul.

London: Hodder and Stoughton.

St. Teresa of Avila (1988). The interior castle. London:

Hodder and Stoughton.

Stoebe, W. (1997). Social psychology and health.

Buckingham, UK: Open University Press.

Street, H., Sheeran, P, & Orbell, S. (1999).

Conceptualizing depression: An integration of 27
theories. Clinical Psychology and Psychotherapy, 6, 175–193.

Surangama Sutra (1978). Trans. Charles Luk. Bombay:

B.I. Publications.

Swami Satyananda S. (1993a). Yoganidra. Munger: Bihar

School of Yoga.

Swami Satyananda S. (1993b). Kundalini tantra.

Munger: Bihar School of Yoga.

Swami Sivananda R. (1985). Kundalini yoga for the West.

Boston & London: Shambhala.

Teasdale, J. D. (1999). Metacognition, mindfulness and

the modification of mood disorders. Clinical
Psychology and Psychotherapy, 6, 146–155.

Thase, M. E., Greenhouse, J. B., Frank, E., Reynolds, C.

F. III, Pikonis, P. A., Hurley, K., Grochocinski, V., &
Kupfer D.J. (1997). Treatment of major depression
with psychotherapy and psychotherapy-pharma-
cotherapy combination. Archives of General Psychiatry,
54(11), 1009–1015.

Tolle, E. (1999). The power of now: A guide to spiritual

enlightenment. Novato, CA: New World Library.

118

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Dobkin de Rios & Winkelman, 1989; Peters, 1989)
while others have doubts about this (Walsh, 1995).
Whether shamanism is regarded as a separate phenom-
enon or as a form of spirituality conceived broadly, it
is particularly interesting in relation to the perennial
philosophy, because there is a large literature testifying
to its ubiqitous distribution in the world; there are also
reports about revival or continuation of shamanism in
industrial cultures (Eliade, 1964; Halifax, 1979;
Harner, 1982, 1995; Nicholson, 1987; Dobkin de
Rios & Winkelman, 1989; Peters, 1989; Gilberg &
Gilberg, 1992; Darling, 1997; Shim, 1997).

Since religion and spirituality are important aspects

of the life in our “Global Village,” I think it is impor-
tant, also for practical reasons, that we exchange views
on these matters. Mutual understanding of both simi-
larities and differences will be helpful for the development
of a peace culture, which will be important or even
necessary for a sustainable way of life on this planet.

End Note

The content of this paper is influenced by prolonged
exchange in the Spirituality SIG, ISSS and in the
Center for Interdisciplinary Research, CIRIP, in par-
ticular with Pierre Marchais, Søren Brier, and Grethe
Sørensen.

The 42nd Annual Conference of The International

Society for the Systems Sciences (ISSS), 1998.
http://www.isss.org Distributed on CD rom. Eds.
Janet K. Allen and Jennifer Wilby.

References

Atkinson, J. (1992). Shamanism today. Annual Review of

Anthropology, 21, 307–330.

D’Adamo, A. (1995). Science without bounds: A synthe-

sis of science, religion and mysticism. Internet
http://etext.archive.umich.edu Section: Religious Texts.

Darling, Airyn. (1997). A shamanic path. Internet

http://www.personal.umich.edu/~airyn/shamanic
with informative links.

Dobkin de Rios, M. and Winkelman, M. (Eds.) (1989).

Shamanism and altered states of consciousness.
Journal of Psychoactive Drugs, 21(1), 1–134.

Eliade, M. (1964). Shamanism. New York: Pantheon

Books.

Forman, R. (Ed.) (1997). The problem of pure conscious-

ness. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Gilberg, M., & Gilberg, R. (1992). Bibliography on

shamanism. Copenhagen: The National Museum.

Happold, F. (1970). Mysticism. A study and an anthology.

London: Penguin Books.

Harner, M. (1982). The way of the shaman. New York:

Bantam Books.

Harner, M. (1995). Interview: To shaman or not to

shaman—Is that the issue. Brain and Mind, 20(8), 8.

Huxley, A. (1945). The perennial philosophy. New York:

Harper and Row.

Katz, S. (Ed.). (1978). Mysticism and philosophical analy-

sis. London: Sheldon Press.

Katz, S. (Ed.). (1983). Mysticism and religious traditions.

Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Marchais, P. (1997). On the concept of spirituality.

Cybernetics & Human Knowing, 4(4), 43–45.

Marcus, A. (1962). Mystik og mystikere (in Danish).

Copenhagen: Gyldendals Uglebøøger.

Nææss. A. (1967). Filosofiens historie II (in Danish).

Copenhagen: Vinten.

Nicholson, S. (Ed.). (1987). Shamanism. London: The

Theosophical Publishing House.

Perry, W. (1971). A treasury of traditional wisdom.

London: George Allen and Unwin.

Peters, L. (1989). Shamanism: Phenomenology of a spir-

itual discipline. Journal of Transpersonal Psychology,
21(2), 115–137.

Rothberg, D. (1989). Understanding mysticism:

Transpersonal theory and the limits of contemporary
epistemological Frameworks. ReVision, 12(2), 5–21.

Shim, J. (1997). The making of traditional Korean

philosophies. In the Proceedings of the 41st Annual
Meeting of the ISSS (Y. Rhee and K. Bailey, Eds.)
Tennessee Tech University, Cookville, TN 38505
USA: International Society for the Systems Sciences,
ISSS, http://www.isss.org

Smith, H. (1987). Is there a perennial philosophy?

Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 55,
553–566.

Stace, W. (1960). Mysticism and philosophy. London:

Macmillan.

Toegel, J. (1991). Eine theologie des zeitgeistes. Vienna:

Dissertation an der Grund-und Integrativwissentschaftlichen
Fakultäät der Universitäät Wien. English abstract in
Dissertation Abstracts International, 54(4) Winter
1993, no. 54/4301c, pp. 997c–998c.

Underhill, E. (1955). Mysticism. New York: Noonday

Press.

Vaughan, F., & Walsh, R. (Eds.) (1989). Mysticism

reconsidered. ReVision, 12(1), 3–49 and 12(2), 3–46.

Walsh, R. 1995. Phenomenological mapping: A method

for describing and comparing states of consciousness.
Journal of Transpersonal Psychology, 27(1), 25–56.

Correspondence regarding this article should be
directed to the author at the
Center for Interdisciplinary Research, Bygaden 24 B,
Suog. DK-4000 Roskilde, Denmark
Fax/phone: +4546384611
Email: arandup@mobilixnet.dk

Reader’s Commentary

121

y “The Perennial Philosophy” is generally
understood a philosophy of experienced spiritu-
ality saying that there is something similar or a

common core to all experiences of spirituality and
mysticism—across cultures and across the ages. In our
time, this idea was revived by Aldous Huxley (1945),
and has received support from a number of authors
(Underhill, 1955; Stace, 1960; Marcus, 1962; Næss,
1967; Happold, 1970; Perry, 1971; Smith, 1987;
Vaughan & Walsh, 1989; D’Adamo, 1995). There has
also been opposition, however, asserting that because
of the important cultural differences there is no peren-
nial philosophy (Katz, 1978, 1983). The views of Katz
have been criticized by several authors (Rothberg,
1989; Walsh, 1995; Forman, 1997).

Personally, I tend to agree with the “perennialists,”

though I understand that, for example, a Jewish mys-
tic, who sees the “being joined” to God (the devekuth)
as the essence of his spirituality, may find experiences
not including God essentially different from his or her
own. On the other hand, the Jewish tradition, like
many other traditions, has a general view of humanity
(all descending from Adam and Eve) which could be
an opening for the perennial philosophy.

Spiritual experiences are often said to be ineffable,

transverbal, and this, of course, makes it difficult to
discuss the idea of the perennial philosophy in words.
So I must admit that my positive attitude to this phi-
losophy depends on intuition more than on reason.

The general conception of the perennial philoso-

phy described above rests on a broad conception of
spirituality, but there are various more restricted con-
ceptions, and spirituality within such limits has also
been supposed to be perennial. The perennial trait has
therefore been associated with several different concep-
tions of spirituality.

Thus, Toegel (1991) thinks that genuine (“echte”)

spirituality or transcendence does not include experi-
ences obtained by special techniques such as
Transcendental Meditation; he regards genuine spiri-
tuality as a gift, to which you can be open, and thinks
that the search for a technique to obtain it is one of the
surest ways to prevent it. Still he thinks that this “gen-
uine spirituality” is perennial and, in support, he refers
to many authors from our time including the well-
known Chögyam Trungpa, Pierre Teilhard de
Chardin, the “Anonymus d’outre tombe,” and Carl
Gustav Jung. Toegel admits that besides the “genuine
spirituality” there exists a sphere of extraordinary expe-
riences (“peak experiences,” shamanic travels, and
many others) which are also widespread, and which
can lead to impressive states of mental clarity and con-
centration. He distinguishes, however, these phenom-
ena strictly from the “genuine spirituality” and is thus
against the broad conception of spirituality.

Another restricted, Christian view of perennial

spirituality has been presented to me by my friend
Pierre Marchais: “Authentic spirituality (i.e. as in the
Judeo-Christian traditions) is destined for all humanity
and for those who want to receive it. Christ has come
for all men, who are free to receive him or not.” This
“authentic spirituality” is denoted with the French
word “surnaturel,” while other forms of transcendence
(Eastern mysticism for instance) are called “suprana-
turel” (i.e., not so much dissociated from the natural as
is the surnaturel). Marchais thinks that also the
supranaturel may be perennial, but he distinguishes
strictly between the surnaturel and the supranaturel
and is thus, like Toegel but in another way, against the
broad conception of spirituality (Marchais, 1997, and
personal communications, 1994–1998).

Shamanism is regarded by some authors as a form

of spirituality or mysticism covered by the general
perennial philosophy (Eliade, 1964; Nicholson, 1987;

120

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

The Perennial Philosophy

Axel Randrup

Center for Interdisciplinary Research, CIRIP

Roskilde, Denmark

READER’S COMMENTARY

Stanley Krippner (United States) is a psycholo-
gist best known for his research in such fields as
altered states of consciousness, anomalous dreams,
and shamanism. At Maimonides Medical Center,
he directed a dream laboratory and, in 1972, he
began teaching at Saybrook Graduate School,
designing the curriculum in Consciousness
Studies. In 1973 he was elected President of the
Association for Humanistic Psychology and in
1983 became President of the Parapsychological
Association. He has written, edited, co-authored,
or co-edited over 1,000 articles and 15 books. The
latter include The Mythic Path; The Psychological
Effects of War Trauma on Civilians; Varieties of
Anomalous Experience; Extraordinary Dreams; and
Broken Images, Broken Selves. In 2002 he received
the American Psychological Association Award for
Distinguished Contributions to the International
Development of Psychology.

Charles D. Laughlin (Canada/United States) is
an emeritus professor of anthropology and reli-
gion in the Department of Sociology &
Anthropology, Carleton University, Ottawa,
Ontario, Canada. He is co-author of Biogenetic
Structuralism (1974), The Spectrum of Ritual
(1979), and Brain, Symbol and Experience (1990),
all from Columbia University Press. He has done
ethnographic fieldwork among the So of
Northeastern Uganda, Tibetan lamas in Nepal
and India, Chinese Buddhists in Southeast Asia,
and most recently the Navajo people of the
American Southwest.

Jaime Llinares Llabréés (Las Palmas, Gran
Canaria) is a clinical psychologist and Jungian
analyst, with a degree in philosophy and theology.
He is founder of the REPSI method (Intensive
Spiritual, Mental and Somatic Revision); founder
and director of the Integral Psychology Orienting
Center; vice-president of the Spanish
Transpersonal Association (ATRE); vice-president
of the European Transpersonal Psychology
Association (ETPA); lecturer; and author of several
essays.

Axel A. Randrup (Denmark) is president of the
International Independent Research Center
CIRIP (Roskilde, Denmark; Paris, France) and
editor of its home page, Interdisciplinary
Psychiatry and Philosophy (www.cirip.mobil-
ixnet.dk).With an initial degree in chemical engi-
neering, he specialized in biochemistry and is
author or co-author of about 140 articles on virus
research, blood lipids, psychopharmacology, and
the dopamine hypothesis of psychoses. He
received his doctoral degree from Copenhagen
University. Since his high school days, he has been
interested in idealist philosophy, and in recent
years he has published papers in this field too (i.e.
the on-line overview paper “What is Real?”
[http.//philsci-archive.pitt.edu/archive/00001216]).
Since early childhood he has been experiencing
what he now calls spiritual experiences (he initial-
ly thought of them as “intensity” or “meditation”).
These experiences are described by him as very
intense and absorbing and as containing a
transpersonal element of unity with nature and
with ideas and concepts in natural science. Lately
some experiences have gone beyond natural science
and approached what in India is called shunyata.

Steven Taylor (Great Britain) is a lecturer at City
College Manchester, England. He regularly writes
for New Renaissance and Abraxas magazines; his
most recent publications include “Lawrence the
Mystic” in The Journal of D.H. Lawrence Studies
and “Where Did It All Go Wrong? James
DeMeo’s Saharasia Thesis and the Origins of War”
in The Journal of Consciousness Studies. He has
recently specialised in the study of time percep-
tion, resulting in his book Out of Time: The Five Laws
of Psychological Time and How to Transcend Them
(Paupers’ Press, UK; www.reinventingyourself.com).
He is presently in a state of chronic tiredness—
and extreme happiness—because of the recent
birth of his baby son.

Contributors

123

Laura Boggio Gilot (Italy) is a psychologist, psy-
chotherapist, and meditation instructor who is
founder and president of the Italian Association of
Transpersonal Psychology (AIPT), cofounder and
president of the European Transpersonal
Psychology Association (ETPA), and cofounder
and former president of the European
Transpersonal Association (Eurotas). She is author
of several essays and books, and lectures in various
institutions.

Allan Combs (United States) is a professor, sys-
tems theorist, consciousness researcher, and neu-
ropsychologist at the University of North
Carolina at Asheville and Saybrook Graduate
School. He has authored and coauthored over 50
articles, chapters, and books related to conscious-
ness, including Changing Visions: Human
Cognitive Maps Past, Present, and Future;
Synchronicity: Through the Eyes of Science, Myth,
and the Trickster; Mind in Time: The Dynamics of
Thought, Reality, and Consciousness; and (with Ken
Wilbur) The Radiance of Being: Understanding the
Grand Integral Vision: Living the Integral Life, best-
book award winner of the Scientific and Medical
Network.

Marc-Alain Descamps (France) is a social psy-
chologist, psychoanalyst, and former professor at
the University Renéé Descartes. He is president of
the French Transpersonal Association (AFT),
cofounder and counselor of the European
Transpersonal Psychology Association (ETPA),
and cofounder and former treasurer of the
European Transpersonal Association (Eurotas).
He is author of several essays and some 20 books.

Manuel Garcia Barroso (France) was born in
Spain in 1930 and has been a French resident
since 1958. He is a psychiatrist, psychoanalyst,
and psychodramatist and was a university lecturer
on psychodrama in Paris for many years. From
1970 to 1996 he served as Assistant Director of
the Centre Psycho-Pédagogique Claude-Bernard
in Paris, which focuses on the relationship
between emotional problems and cognitive dis-
turbances in
children and adults from ages 1 to 27. He spent
several summers at the Esalen Institute in Big Sur,
California, where he increased his knowledge of
humanistic psychology and discovered transper-
sonal psychology through S. Grof. Since then, he
has been involved in the transpersonal movement
in a holistic and integral way. He has written
many articles and has lectured in France, Spain,
Belgium, and Italy on psychoanalysis, psychodrama,
humanistic psychology, and transpersonal psy-
chology. He now devotes himself to his private
practice of psychoanalysis and psychotherapy with
a transpersonal approach. He also teaches in the
Faculté Libre de Dévelopment et de Psycho-
thérapie in Paris. He is an active member of ETPA.

Harry Hunt (Canada) is Professor in the
Department of Psychology, Brock University, St.
Catharines, Ontario, Canada and a student in the
Almaas Diamond-Heart work. He has published
numerous empirical and theoretical articles on
states of consciousness and is the author of The
Multiplicity of Dreams and On the Nature of
Consciousness, both with Yale University Press, and
most recently of Lives in Spirit: Precursors and
Dilemmas of a Secular Western Mysticism, with
State University of New York Press.

122

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

ABOUT OUR CONTRIBUTORS

The International Journal of Transpersonal

Studies (IJTS) is dedicated to theory, research,
practice, and discourse in the area of transpersonal
studies. Transpersonal studies may be generally
described as a multidisciplinary movement con-
cerned with the exploration of higher conscious-
ness, expanded self/identity, spirituality, and
human potential.

The IJTS publishes original theoretical, analytic,

methodological, empirical (both qualitative and
quantitative), practice-oriented, and artistic arti-
cles which focus upon topics falling within the
domain of transpersonal studies. The Journal is
committed to maintaining a focus on transper-
sonal experience, concepts, and practices while
embracing theoretical, methodological, and cross-
disciplinary pluralism; that is, IJTS is committed
to ensure that the fullest possible range of
approaches to inquiry and expression are repre-
sented in the articles published. Though there is
no restriction on who may publish in the IJTS,
emphasis is given to the publication of articles
from a spectrum of international contributors.

Each edition of the IJTS consists of three sections:

General: The General section is dedicated to orig-
inal articles of high quality which are judged to be
of potential interest to a wide audience of readers.
Articles published in this section embody eclectic
topics of study and/or approaches to inquiry and
expression. Ideally, a diversity of articles on theory,
research, and practice/application will find repre-
sentation in each edition of the journal.

Special Topics: The second section contains sev-
eral articles dedicated to a specific theme or topic
germane to transpersonal studies. Examples of
potential themes/topics include the following:
Qualitative and quantitative methodologies in
transpersonal studies, contributions of specific
disciplines to transpersonal studies (e.g., transper-
sonal approaches in anthropology, psychology,
medicine, sociology, ecology, biology, art, and
music); conceptions of consciousness; ecstatic
experience; systems of knowing; entheogenic/psy-
chedelic research; applications of transpersonal
theory and/or practice (e.g., related to global sus-
tainability, health care, organizational systems,
and psychotherapy); issues important to the
development of transpersonal studies (e.g., histo-
ry of transpersonal studies, transpersonal studies
in designated geographically or politically bound-
ed areas such as in Europe or China); and post-
modern perspectives on transpersonal studies.

Reader Comments: A third section of the journal
is dedicated primarily to reader reactions, responses,
and comments to articles published in IJTS.
Emphasis is given to reader comments that are
scholarly in nature and which clarify and/or
extend concepts and/or ideas discussed in pub-
lished articles. However, also included are reviews
of notable recently published books, articles from
other journals, and special events (e.g., professional
conferences).

Editorial Policy

125

Dinu-Stefan Teodorescu (Norway) is a spiritual
searcher and helper, born in Romania, with spon-
taneous awakening experiences since childhood.
He is currently an M.A. candidate in clinical psy-
chology (University of Tromso, Norway). He is founder
and first president of the Norwegian Transpersonal
Association http://www.sv.uit.no/student/dinteo/C.

Jason Throop (United States) is a doctoral candi-
date in the program for psychocultural studies
and medical anthropology at University of
California in Los Angeles, USA. He is currently
conducting his dissertation research on the cultural
patterning of chronic pain perception in Yap
(Wa’ab), Federated States of Micronesia. His
email is jthroop@ucla.edu

Evgeny A. Torchinov (Russia) passed away on
July 12, 2003. He was head of the Department
of Oriental Philosophy and Cultural Studies,
Faculty of Philosophy, St. Petersburg State
University, Russia. He had published more than
100 articles and books on different aspects of the
history of religious and philosophical doctrines in
China (Buddhism and Taoism) and on the prob-
lems of religious studies and comparative religions
in general. The IJTS editors extend their deepest
condolescences to Dr. Torchinov’s family, col-
leagues, and friends. Readers wanting further
information are encouraged to contact Dr.
Stanislav Leykin at coutout@beep.ru or Dr.
Vladimir Kolotov at vladimirkolotov@netscape.net.

Roger Walsh, MD, Ph.D. (United States) is pro-
fessor of psychiatry, philosophy, and anthropology
at the University of California at Irvine. His pub-
lications include Paths Beyond Ego: The
Transpersonal Vision and Essential Spirituality: The
Seven Central Practices.

Editors:

Douglas A. MacDonald, Ph.D.
Department of Psychology
University of Detroit Mercy
4001 West McNichols Road
Detroit, Michigan 48219-0900
Email: macdonda@udmercy.edu or
pneumaticscope@sprint.ca

Harris L. Friedman, Ph.D.
Saybrook Graduate School and Research Center
Mail: 1255 Tom Coker Road S.W.
LaBelle, Florida 33935
Email: hfriedman@saybrook.edu or
harrisfriedman@floraglades.org

124

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Editorial Policy and Manuscript Submission Guidelines

Subscriptions

Rates:
Individual/Institution:

US $25 for one year;
US $45 for two years.

Students:

US $20 for one year;
US $38 for two years

Subscriptions to the 2003 edition of IJTS and all
subsequent editions can be made by contacting
Launita Robinson at ijts@saybrook.edu or by call-
ing 1-415-394-5220.

Payment for subscriptions can be made by

check, money order, or credit card (VISA or
Mastercard). Make checks and money orders
payable to Saybrook Graduate School and
Research Center and mail them to
Launita Robinson

Saybrook Graduate School and Research Center
450 Pacific, Third Floor
San Francisco, CA 94133-4640

Checks and money orders must be made out in
American funds.

If paying by credit card via mail, please send

the following information to Launita Robinson at
the address above: Name, type of subscription
(e.g., individual/institutional, student, one or two
year), address, daytime telephone number, fax
number, email address, name of credit card (i.e.,
VISA or Mastercard), expiration date of credit
card, and signature.

Back Issues

Reprints of back issues of Volumes 17–21 can

be obtained by contacting
Panigada Press,
1001 Wilder Avenue, Suite 1004
Honolulu, HI 96822 USA.

Cost is US$12.00 each for Volumes 17, 18,

and 19 and US$24.00 each for Volumes 20 and
21. Destinations in the USA are sent via media
mail. For priority mail, add US$3.00 per volume.
Non-USA destinations are sent via surface mail.
For airmail, add US$10.00 per volume (Canada
and Mexico add US$4.00 per volume).

Make checks or money orders payable to:

The International Transpersonal Studies
Foundation (for Volumes 17–21). Please include
your name and mailing address in your letter to
Panigada Press.

Subscriptions

127

Manuscript Submission

All manuscripts should be written in English and
prepared in accordance with the guidelines of the
most recent edition of the Publication Manual of
the American Psychological Association. When
submitting manuscripts for the General or Special
Topics sections, include an abstract (up to 120
words) and a biographical statement for each
author (up to 175 words). For manuscripts sub-
mitted to the Reader Comments section, an
abstract and biography are not required.

Manuscripts for the General and Special

Topics sections should not exceed 10,000 words
(including text, references, notes, etc.).
Submissions for the Reader Comments section
should not exceed 4,000 words (including text,
references, etc.) and the cover letter should speci-
fy the IJTS article, book, article from another
source, or special event which is the basis of the
manuscript.

Manuscripts submitted to IJTS must be origi-

nal and neither previously published nor under
consideration for publication elsewhere.
Submission of a manuscript assumes commitment
to publish it in the IJTS if it is accepted. All state-
ments are the responsibility of the authors and do
not necessarily represent the views of the editors
or staff of IJTS. Contributing authors are respon-
sible for obtaining written permission, where
appropriate, to reprint copywritten material.

Editors review all manuscripts at time of sub-

mission to assess their general suitability for
publication in the IJTS. Manuscripts submitted
for the General or Special Topics sections which
are deemed suitable for consideration for publica-
tion are subsequently peer-reviewed. Manuscripts
deemed unsuitable are returned to the correspon-
ding author without undergoing the peer-review
process. Manuscripts submitted for the Reader
Comments section may or may not receive peer
review.

When a manuscript is accepted for publica-

tion, the author will be asked to send a hard copy
of the final draft accompanied by a matching disk
or, if possible, provide the final draft to the editors
in the form of an e-submission. Thereafter, page

proofs and a copyright transfer agreement will be
sent to the first author and must be returned with-
in one week.

Manuscripts may initially be submitted in hard

copy, on disk, or, most preferably, through elec-
tronic means. The Publisher and Editors are not
responsible for the loss or damage of materials
sent to them.

Electronic submissions should be emailed to

Douglas A. MacDonald, Editor, at the following
email address: macdonda@udmercy.edu Please
send manuscripts as an IBM PC-compatible
attachment in Word or Wordperfect format.

If submitting on disk, send an IBM PC for-

matted 3.5" floppy disk containing a copy of the
manuscript to the address below. The disk should
be clearly labeled with authors’ names, title of
submitted manuscript, file name, and format
(e.g., Word, Wordperfect).

For hardcopy submissions, send four copies of

manuscripts to the address below:

Douglas A. MacDonald, Ph.D. Editor
International Journal of Transpersonal Studies
Department of Psychology
University of Detroit Mercy
4001 McNichols Road, P.O. Box 19900
Detroit, Michigan 48219-0900

126

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Subscriptions and Back Issues

128

The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, 2003, Volume 22

Sixteenth International Transpersonal Conference

Mythic Imagination and Modern Society:
The Re-Enchantment of the World

Riviera Resort in Palm Springs, CA, USA
June 13–18, 2004
(June 12, 19, & 20 Pre- and Post-Conferences)

Presenters (partial list):

Angeles Arrien
Christina Grof
Stanislav Grof
Michael Grosso
Michael Harner
Jean Houston
Chungliang Al Huang
Jack Kornfield
Stanley Krippner
Ervin Laszlo
Bernard Lietaer
John Mack
Albrecht Mahr
Michael Mead
Ralph Metzner
Ram Dass
Peter Russell
Richard Tarnas
Charles Tart
Frances Vaughan
Roger Walsh

ITA has waited eight years to gather again an outstanding
group of extraordinary individuals – scientists, consciousness
explorers, healers, spiritual teachers, economists, artists,
authors and more.

This June, we will explore the mythic motifs and forces under-
lying the current global crisis and collaborate in the discovery
of a new myth, one that inspires peaceful coexistence and
reverence for life in all of its glorious manifestations.

Join us in delving into the mystery through evocative lectures,
experiential sessions, rituals, music, dance, visual arts, laughter
and more.

For more information

and an early registration discount visit us at:

www.itaconferences.org

Call us at: (415) 575-6115

Program Coordinators: Stanislav and Christina Grof

Co-sponsored by:

Saybrook Graduate School and Research Center and others

Distance Learning

— Closer Than You Think

•

Guided Independent Mentorships

•

Internationally Renown Faculty

•

Accredited (W.A.S.C.)

•

Humanistic and Transpersonal

Orientation

•

M.A.

Ph.D. in Psychology,

Human Science, and
Organizational Systems

•

Transformational Studies in:

Consciousness

Spirituality,

Marriage

Family Systems,

Alternative Modes of Health

and

Healing,

Organizational Development

and

Management,

Creativity Studies,
Community Development,
Team Building,
Peace Studies.

Apply in June for a September start date.
Apply in December for a March start date.

GRADUATE SCHOOL • RESEARCH CENTER

www.saybrook.edu

800-825-4480

Wyszukiwarka

Podobne podstrony:
The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies 1998 2011 Content and Links
The Journal of Transpersonal Psychology Vol 26 1 (1994)
The Journal of Transpersonal Psychology Vol 27 1 (1995)
Immanuel Wallerstein Islam, the West and the World (1999 Journal of Islamic Studies)
The Journal of Transpersonal Psychology Vol 29 1 (1997)
Walter Block Anarchism and Minarchism [ ], Journal of Libertarian Studies, Volume 21, No 1 (Spring
Mansour Pasupathi The wisdom of experience Autobiographical narratives International Journal of Beha
Towards an understanding of the distinctive nature of translation studies
Armorial of The International Association of Amateur Heralds
The International Court of Justice Court of the U N doc
star wars the secret journal of doctor demagol by john miller(1)
With Microscope and Tweezers An Analysis of the Internet Virus of November 1988
Chromatopelma cyaneopubescens First detailed breeding in captivity with notes on the species Journal
extraction and analysis of indole derivatives from fungal biomass Journal of Basic Microbiology 34 (
extraction and analysis of indole derivatives from fungal biomass Journal of Basic Microbiology 34 (
RVW O M in Journal of the International Folk Musick
8 4 1 1 The Internet of Everything Naturally Instructions

więcej podobnych podstron