by Rupert Sheldrake
Noetic
Sciences Review, (Summer 1994 ), 30 4-9
Since ancient times, a
strong and pervasive belief in the efficacy of prayer – for the living
and the dead – reinforces the notion that consciousness is not limited
to the physical body. Not only do traditions throughout the world
share a belief that prayers may in some way help (or invoke help
from) deceased ancestors, many cultures throughout history have
believed that prayer can bring about changes in the physical
circumstances of the living.
If prayer affects things in the physical world, its effects should
be measurable, and science should be able to investigate it. There
is a very scattered literature on this, but when you bring it all
together as Larry Dossey has done in his recent book,
Healing Words (Harper San Francisco, 1993), you see there is
quite a large number of interesting experiments with challenging
results. Out of 131 controlled experiments on prayer-based healing,
more than half showed statistically significant benefits. One of the
best known is a double blind study of 393 patients in the coronary
unit at San Francisco General Hospital. In this experiment, 192
patients, chosen at random, were prayed for by home prayer groups,
the others were not. The prayed-for patients recovered better than
the controls, and fewer died.
In order to make sense of these data on the efficacy of prayer,
science will have to change its underlying assumptions about the
nature of causality. Currently, the standard view is still purely
mechanistic – notwithstanding all the recent talk about chaos and
complexity theory. When applied to the life sciences, chaos and
complexity theory – even with the help of highly sophisticated
computer modeling – still explain the world in terms of mechanical
causes involving known physical and chemical processes.
The data from empirical studies of prayer, as well as from the large
literature reporting
psi research in telepathy,
clairvoyance and psychokinesis,
seriously challenge the mechanistic view. Some other causal agent
besides the mechanics of electrochemical interactions is required to
make sense of the observed phenomena.
Holistic thinkers generally divide into two main categories. The
majority want to have holism on the cheap. They want a
holism which
doesn’t conflict with science as we know it. Instead of exploring
the possibility of new causal factors, they prefer to explain
holism
in terms of complexity and self-organization of conventional
mechanical forces, modeled with sophisticated mathematics and the
latest computer techniques. Nothing essentially different from
physical and chemical interactions is considered to account for the
properties of living systems.
The other group of holists, a minority among which I include myself
and Larry Dossey, think that there is more to it than just
what we know about chemistry and physics and clever mathematical
models. My view is that there are other causal factors in nature,
processes that make actual differences – causes in nature which bring
about new kinds of effects that we have to take into account in
order to understand our experience and the world. These new causal
factors are involved in things like paranormal phenomena, prayer and
healing.
The whole thrust of my morphic resonance theory is to say there is
more to nature than just the standard forces in physics. And what’s
more these other agents are at the very heart of the way things are
organized in chemistry, in life, and in consciousness.
Prayer and Mental Fields
How might prayer fit in with the scientific view of things? I shall
focus on two broad categories of prayer: petitionary
and intercessory. In petitionary prayer
we ask for something for ourselves; in intercessory
prayer we pray to a higher power for the benefit of other people
(either living or dead).
In praying for other people and for ourselves we ask a higher power
to bring about a particular result. For me, this is what
distinguishes prayer from positive thinking. Positive thinking
involves nothing more than one’s own mind, one’s own desires and
wishes, but petitionary and intercessory
prayer are
put in the context of a higher power. For this reason positive
thinking does not fit into the category of prayer – even though it is
often confused with it.
Whether petitionary or intercessory, prayer clearly
poses a challenge to the mechanistic view of the world. According to
this view, there is no way that thoughts going on in your head,
which at most create small electrochemical disturbances barely
detectable a few inches from your head even by highly sensitive
apparatus, could affect someone or something at a remote distance.
If you were practicing positive thinking or some of the more
specifically directed forms of petitionary prayer, you
could resort to explanations in terms of telepathy, or if it were a
prayer affecting physical objects, you might say it was
psychokinesis. But such explanations serve only to replace
one set of explanations which lie outside the scope of modern
mechanistic science with another set. There is nothing in
mechanistic science that could allow mere thoughts inside my mind,
whether cast in the form of prayer or as positive thinking, to
affect things at a distance. It just can’t happen.
The key to understanding prayer as a scientific phenomenon requires,
in my view, getting away from the idea of the mind as somehow inside
the brain. If we think our minds are confined to our
brains – the
standard view – then since what goes on in our brain occurs in the
privacy and isolation of our own skull it can’t affect anyone else.
However, I see minds being field-like in nature (part of my general
view of morphic fields), and I see mental fields as
the basis for habitual patterns of thought. Mental fields go beyond,
through, and interface with the electromagnetic patterns in the
brain. In this way mental fields can affect our bodies
through our
brains. However, they are much more extensive than our brains,
reaching out to great distances in some cases.
As soon as we have the idea that the mind can be extended through
these mental fields, and over large distances, we have a medium of
connection through which the power of prayer could work. We are no
longer dealing with a purely mechanical system in the brain, with
absolutely no way of connecting the brain and the observed
effect – for if that were the case the phenomenon of effective prayer
would have to be dismissed as delusion or coincidence. With a mental
field, however, we have a medium for a whole series of connections
between us and the people, animals and places we know and care about
– with the rest of the world, in fact. When we pray, those extended
mental fields would be the context in which prayer could work
non-locally.
Non-Localized Mind
Clearly, this does not amount to a fully articulated scientific
theory of prayer; it is highly speculative. But, I believe, it is
also very clear that we need to have a much broader view of how the
mind is extended beyond the brain. We need a theory of what I call
the "extended mind" as opposed to the conventional scientific view
of the "contracted mind" holed up inside the skull. This view of a
contracted mind came from Descartes in the seventeenth century. It
is a model of consciousness which separates our minds from the whole
world around us into a small region in the brain – a model of the mind
which plainly contradicts direct experience. For example, when you
see this page in front of you, you experience it as being outside
you, not inside your brain. To say that this and all your other
perceptions are located in your brain is a theory, not an
experience.
It is important, however, not to envisage the extended mind as some
amorphous field, a kind of undifferentiated Universal Mind. I don’t
think we should make a large leap from the concept of a contracted
mind to a boundless universal mind. Such a jump isn’t helpful
scientifically.
My idea of morphic fields is that even though they are
extended and non-local in their effects, they are still part of our
individual and collective mind, but not to be equated with some
ultimate Universal Mind. The morphic fields are not
God. They are non-local in the sense that they can spread out over
immense distances (as, for instance, gravitational fields do), so
that if I were praying about somebody in Australia
from my home in London the morphic field
would carry the information and the prayer could work. But my
mental
field wouldn’t usually spread out to Mars, for example, because
there is nothing connecting me to someone on that planet. If someone
I knew had traveled there on a spaceship, then there would be a
link. For morphic fields to have a mental connection I
believe there has to be something that links you to the other
person. Even if you have never met the other person, I believe just
knowing their name or something about them seems to be enough to
establish a connection, though this connection is likely to be
weaker than that between people who know each other well.
You could picture it something like this: When two people come into
contact and establish some mental connection (perhaps experienced as
affection, love, even hate) their morphic fields in
effect become part of a larger, inclusive field. Then, if they
separate from each other it is as if their particular portions of
the morphic field are stretched elastically, so that
there remains a "mental tension" or link between them. There has to
be something like this that relates the two people.
Nested Sets of Morphic Fields
Morphic fields are organized in nested hierarchies
(see below) . For example, there are morphic fields
surrounding the atoms in our bodies, which are within the higher
level morphic fields of molecules, organelles, cells,
organs and limbs, all of which exist within the morphic field
associated with the entire body. The body field, in turn, would be
within the field of relationships that constitute a family, within a
larger social group. Societies, in turn, are embedded within
ecosystems, and ecosystems within the planetary system, "Gaia".
And by extrapolation, we could extend the series of nested
morphic fields until we reach out beyond planetary, solar
system and galactic limits to encompass the entire universe.
Even Einstein’s space-time field of gravitation is a universal,
cosmic field holding everything together and linking the entire
universe, in fact, making it a uni-verse. It does the same
thing as the World Soul or Anima Mundi of neo-Platonic philosophy.
It embraces the whole cosmos. There are levels upon levels of
morphic fields within fields, within which we are embedded. Human
life is embedded in vastly larger fields of organization. To what
degree they are conscious still remains in the realm of speculation.
But I would assume that higher-level fields are not less, and
probably more, conscious than we are. I would think they are more
conscious than we are not simply because they are larger in size,
but because they are more inclusive, contain more complexity, and
encompass more possibilities.
I think that is one way of interpreting traditional doctrines about
super-human intelligences, or cosmic intelligences, usually thought
of in Christianity as the hierarchy of the angels. The word "angel"
normally conveys the image of a good-looking youth with wings; but
that’s simply a pictorial representation. The traditional doctrine
behind that image, however, is of a super-human intelligence. And if
the solar system and galaxy have intelligence, then one might be an
angel and the other an archangel. In some traditional Christian
doctrines there are, for instance, nine hierarchies of angels or
levels of intelligence. And I would see these as equivalent to
intelligences, minds or organizing fields at different levels of
complexity. The galactic angels, for instance, would embrace or
include those of solar systems, which in turn would include those of
planets.
This is a description of a cosmos which has intelligence at every
level, not a view that sees consciousness as something that emerged
from unconscious matter. Conscious intelligence was there to start
with. The place to look for it is not going to be in atoms or quanta
(although there may be some kind of consciousness there), but in
solar systems and galaxies and in the whole cosmos. There may be all
these different levels of imagination, intelligence, and mind
throughout the whole of the cosmic organization. All traditional
doctrines that I know of have recognized something of that kind.
Opening Up To The Numinous
As a scientist I wasn’t always interested in prayer. In fact, in
earlier days I believed it was all nonsense. I was an atheist; God
had no room in my scientific education. After graduating from
Cambridge, I thought I had outgrown childish belief structures like
religion, and that rational science was the way forward. I had a
typical secular-humanist atheistic worldview for a long time, well
into my thirties. And this, of course, is the worldview that most of
my scientific colleagues still have. They regard religion as a relic
from a superstitious age. In that context, prayer is completely
meaningless, except insofar as people believe in it they may derive
some psychological benefit – a kind of "placebo effect".
Then in 1968 I visited India, and all the materialist assumptions I
took for granted just didn’t seem to work any more. What struck me
most was the experience of being immersed in a culture that worked
in an entirely different way to what I had been accustomed. In this
exotic culture, the idea of what we might call "other realms" – the
supernatural or spiritual – was simply taken for granted by
practically everybody. There was a palpable sense of another
dimension to life, everywhere you looked, and everywhere you went.
As an atheist, of course, my initial reaction was to think they were
deluded in their beliefs. Yet on the other hand, these beliefs
produced a fascinating culture. Even people living in the extremes
of poverty seemed to have more joy in their lives than most people I
knew who lived in the lap of plenty. I was touched deeply by the
natural human warmth, and the quality of the people and of their way
of life. According to the materialist beliefs I had, poverty equaled
misery; wealth and good medical attention meant, if not happiness,
then at least a much better quality of life. In India I saw it
wasn’t as simple as that. The people there were poor beyond the
comprehension of most Westerners, yet everywhere they walked about
with the most radiant smiles. Walk along a street in London, Paris
or New York and you see mostly harried, worried faces. That
difference impressed me very deeply.
The contrast between the sense of inner joy and peace I experienced
all around me in India compared with the tense way of life in the
West was so striking that I decided to investigate meditation. For
about four years I did various forms of Hindu practice. This didn’t
conflict with my scientific attitude because meditation didn’t
challenge my whole scientific worldview. On the contrary, I could
approach my study of meditation in a truly scientific spirit. Its
appeal is that you do it and see if it works. It’s empirical. You
sit, you calm your breath and you observe what happens. I started
with Transcendental Meditation which sounded scientific in that it
was supposed to lower lactose levels in the blood, have beneficial
effects on the circulation, and calm brain activity. I found that
meditation did indeed work. I experienced within myself that calm I
was seeing all around me in India.
As a scientist I wasn’t troubled. I could understand meditation by
explaining to myself that it wasn’t opening me up to other realms of
consciousness, but that it was simply changing the physiological
state of my brain. To say that breathing in a particular way and
doing a particular kind of mental activity could affect my mental
and physical state did not challenge my worldview.
Nevertheless, although I could follow Hindu practices, India was
such a completely different civilization and culture that there was
no way I’d ever be an Indian. I began to have a sense that I would
need to recover my own tradition if I were to share in the deep
perceptions and peace that I saw in the people around me.
Furthermore, after living there a while, I also saw the shadow side
of the Hindu tradition, which I hadn’t seen in my earlier brief
visit. There is a fatalistic lack of concern for other people that
was alien to me. That view was at variance with my more optimistic,
progressivist Christian culture.
In India I came face to face with the realization that rooted in the
Christian tradition is the sense that you can, and should, help
other people; we can aim for some better state of affairs on Earth,
for the whole of society. When I talked with my Indian friends and
colleagues, it became very clear that I had this view deep within
me. I realized that this sense didn’t come from Hindu philosophy,
nor from my atheistic outlook. Instead, I saw it came from a deeply
embedded Christian view of the world that I carried with me
unwittingly. In fact, I realized this partly because in conversation
with my Indian friends they would frequently point out that so much
of what I was expressing was a Christian view. The repeated
revelation of this, even to an avowed atheist, was difficult to
ignore.
I spent some time living in Father Bede Griffith’s
ashram, and I found that coming back to a Christian path
made sense to me. I began praying and discovered that it was more
helpful to me than meditating. I would say that meditation involves
a kind of separation between the practice and the rest of one’s
life; it is going into another space altogether. You could say that
contemplative prayer would have the same effect. But for me,
ordinary petitionary and intercessory
prayer, such as the "Lord’s Prayer", links the events of my daily
life directly with my practice. I pray about what I’ve done that day
and what’s coming up the next day. It’s a matter of bringing the
very fabric of one’s life – relationships, work, and personal
concerns – into the context of the spiritual life.
How Do Mental Fields Work?
My hypothesis of morphic resonance and
morphic fields has grown out of the notion in developmental
biology of "morphogenic fields". This idea dates back
to the 1920s in the work of biologists A. Gurwitsch and
Paul Weiss. In modern developmental biology these fields are
usually regarded as heuristic devices, or as mathematical
abstractions with no causal effect. By contrast, I interpret them to
be causal fields with an inherent memory given by morphic resonance;
in other words I regard them as one kind of morphic field. Other
kinds of morphic fields include behavioral fields,
responsible for coordinating instinctive or learned behavior, mental
fields, responsible for organizing mental activity, and social
fields, responsible for organizing social groups.
If fields are the medium of mind then what you have in the brain is
an interface between one kind of field and another kind of field.
All organization in the body has morphic fields underlying it.
Morphic fields in the brain interact with
electromagnetic (EM) fields in
the brain. However, the nature of this interaction is indirect.
Rather than morphic fields working directly through
the electromagnetic field, they interact through both affecting the
same thing – in this case, physical activity within the brain.
I am not saying that there is a linear-type causal relationship
between brain-electromagnetic-morphic fields. I regard mental
fields as one kind of morphic field that affects the brain, shaping
its activity, and this affects the EM field associated
with the brain.
Here you’ve got fields acting on fields: morphic fields surrounding
all the cells, tissues and organs of the body, as well as in
molecules and cell membranes, and indeed in quantum-matter fields.
This is contrasted with the more usual view of the spirit-matter
dichotomy – where mechanical matter and ineffable spirit interact in
some kind of quasi-miraculous way. If you say that the spirit acts
on the EM field, you’ve got a problem of miraculous
intervention.
On the other hand, if everything in nature is organized by fields,
and if mental fields are a more subtle kind of field, you’ve got no
sharp dichotomy – you’ve got fields acting through fields at all
levels of reality. So the mind-body problem ceases to be a sharp
dichotomy.
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