The Living Universe (7 page)

The behavior of slime mold is another clear illustration of sentience in the smallest organisms. Slime molds are primitive organisms that originated very early in Earth's history and are not classified as either a plant or an animal. For most of its life, slime mold exists as a single-cell organism, living in moist soil, feeding on decaying bark, leaves, and other matter on the forest floor. When the food supply runs out, something remarkable happens: between 10,000 and 50,000 individual cells come together to create a multicellular
organism. Individual cells organize themselves, without the aid of an apparent leader, into a flower-like stalk supporting a ball of spores. This micro “super-organism” seems to have a will of its own and is able to move across a forest floor, responding to changes in light and temperature. Upon reaching a better feeding area, the multicellular entity releases its spores into the air, dispersing them into the more favorable feeding ground. New single cells grow from the spores and then go about their foraging as individuals.
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Through its actions, slime mold demonstrates that, at the fundamental level of individual cells, some form of primary consciousness is able to communicate with the consciousness of other cells to co-create a larger entity. In turn, this larger entity is able to respond to the surrounding environment and to work for collective survival.

Another single-celled organism that is more conscious than we thought is the amoeba. Studying their microscopic feeding patterns in a Petri dish, scientists have discovered they demonstrate a rudimentary consciousness—they do not move about randomly; instead, they are able to remember the last turn they made as they go about looking for food.
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Again we find a primary consciousness operating at the simplest levels of biological organization.

Turning to a higher level of complexity and the world of plants, scientists have found plants can communicate with one another using subtle odor molecules. Plants can send out chemical signals that repel insects; they can also attract insects that eat the pests that feed on their leaves. Not only can plants use chemical signals in their defense, they can also use them to warn other plants of danger, enabling their neighbors to jump-start their defenses.
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Again, we find a rudimentary knowing or a discerning sentience.

When we turn to the world of animals, we find elements of human-like consciousness that indicate we are not unique, as we
previously thought.
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For example, self-recognition is not restricted to humans. Great apes, as well as elephants, dolphins, magpie birds, and pigeons, are able to recognize themselves in a mirror.
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A capacity for empathy and feeling for another animal has been observed in primates, dolphins, whales, elephants, dogs, hippos, birds, and even some rodents. Elephants will remain by the body of a deceased member of their group for hours in an apparent gesture of respect, and this suggests the capacity for compassion. Tool making has been observed in crows, chimps, and bonobos (a species of great apes). Dolphins have also shown they can use tools; for example, they will sometimes use the spiny body of a dead scorpion fish to get a moray eel out of its hiding place. The ability to understand language has been observed in dolphins, bonobos, and parrots. Overall, there is a continuum of consciousness and an array of animals has demonstrated an active consciousness and a much richer cognitive life than previously suspected. Although we humans have an advanced capacity for reflective consciousness, we are not a unique and separate form of life; instead, we have simply progressed further along a spectrum of reflective consciousness.

Because we find evidence of primary perception or some form of consciousness operating at the level of atoms, molecules, single-cell organisms, plants, and animals, we should not be surprised that sentience is a basic property of the universe. It is when we move to the human realm that we find the most direct evidence that consciousness is not confined within the brain; it is, instead, a field property of the universe itself.

Although the topic is still controversial among more traditional scientists, the properties of consciousness have been a subject of intensive scientific research for more than forty years. Sometimes called psychic or “psi” research, this field explores a wide range of
phenomena and human capacities that allow us to connect with the world beyond our physical bodies. In the previous chapter, I described the exhaustive inquiry of the consciousness researcher Dean Radin. Based upon decades of research, Radin concluded that consciousness is a capacity that includes both “receiving” and “sending” potentials. Let's consider each aspect of consciousness.

Evidence of the
receiving potentials
of consciousness comes from experiments on a type of psychic skill sometimes called “remote viewing.” Remote viewing is the ability to gather meaningful information about a remote person or location by intuitive or non-physical means. In remote viewing, the receiver is not expected to acquire exact information, but intuitive impressions regarding, for example, the actions and location of a specific individual. Radin found that remote viewing has been “repeatedly observed by dozens of investigators using different methods.”
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He concluded that a capacity for conscious knowing “operates between minds and through space.”

Evidence of the
sending potentials
of consciousness comes from experiments dealing with mind-matter interactions, such as the ability to influence the swing of a pendulum clock. Radin concluded that “After sixty years of experiments . . . researchers have produced persuasive, consistent, replicated evidence that mental intention is associated with the behavior of physical systems.”
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I would be reluctant to write so specifically about consciousness as a permeating property of the universe had I not had the opportunity to learn about this first hand in a scientific laboratory. The opportunity to explore our intuitive connections with the cosmos arose unexpectedly. As mentioned in the introduction, in the early 1970s I was working as a senior social scientist at the think tank SRI International doing studies of the long-range future. At that time
I was invited to participate in the psychic research experiments that were launched on behalf of NASA by two senior physicists, Harold Puthoff and Russell Targ.
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One experiment grew into several and over the next three years I would often spend several days each week in their engineering laboratory where, for several hours at a time, I was engaged in both formal and informal experiments. Results from the formal, rigorously controlled experiments have been reported in some of the most prestigious science and engineering journals in the world.
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After the success of the early years, the psi research became a secret project of the CIA and I chose to drop out because of ethical considerations—I did not want to contribute to an exploration of the potential for psychic warfare. Many years later, I learned that the CIA continued to fund this research for two more decades.
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As mentioned earlier, during the time I was intensely involved with the psychic research, I was also deeply involved with meditation, primarily Buddhist approaches to mindfulness and concentration. With powerful synergy, the combination of intense meditation and feedback from impartial scientific experiments gave me useful tools for learning about the ecology of consciousness.

To illustrate our capacity for intuitive knowing, I'd like to return to remote viewing and briefly describe a series of controlled experiments in which I was involved. In practical terms, the procedure for testing “seeing at a distance” was of stark simplicity. I was locked in a bare room with a pad of paper, a pencil, and a tape recorder and then asked, after waiting half an hour for the travel time of my colleague, to describe the area surrounding the location of the outbound experimenter. The target person was someone I knew well, so I could intuitively connect with them. After my door was locked, the destination of the outbound person was selected by another scientist
(not otherwise involved in the experiment) by drawing an envelope at random from a locked safe that contained more than a hundred possible locations. My task was to describe in words and drawings the location of the distant person. Was he on a boat in the bay? In a car on the freeway? In a grove of redwood trees? In a movie theater? In the room next door? My only instructions were, “Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and tell us what you see.” Although impressions were subtle and fleeting, I gradually learned that we all have an intuitive ability to “see” at a distance. Through our intuition, each of us can acquire useful impressions, images, and insights about a distant person or place. In my experience and that of other subjects, the descriptions were sufficiently accurate to be matched with the actual locations to a statistically significant degree.
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Instead of an unusual capacity accessible to only a special few, I think remote viewing—using our intuitive capacities to connect with the world at a distance—is a
universally accessible capacity
. Our perceptions may be momentary, but they can still contain accurate and useful information. With practice, we can extend our consciousness, “tune in” to the larger world, and receive impressions that, while fleeting and sketchy, still have a measure of accuracy. Many people already recognize our inborn capacity for intuitive knowing. As mentioned in
Chapter 1
, national surveys in the United States indicate that two-thirds or more of the adult population report having some kind of extrasensory or intuitive experience.

I was also involved with another set of psychic experiments that explored the “sending” aspects of consciousness, or the potential to interact with matter via our intuitive faculties, which is sometimes called
psychokinesis
. To explore the sending, or expressive, aspect of consciousness, SRI researchers assembled instruments from one of the finest engineering and research laboratories in the world. A
range of experimental apparatus was set up for me to interact with, and learn from, over a period of several years. In one experiment, I was able to move a clock pendulum, sitting at rest, while a laser beam registered and recorded the movement on a strip-chart recorder. In a second experiment, I engaged a “frozen” electrical field by interacting with a sensor placed inside a canister of extremely cold, liquid helium while the interactions were registered on a strip-chart recorder, sometimes far outside the “noise level” or random variation of the system. In a third experiment, I “pressed” on a highly sensitive scale that was locked in another room and connected to a strip-chart recorder that registered any motion.

Unlike the highly controlled remote viewing experiments, the psychokinesis experiments were largely exploratory and informal. With the more relaxed laboratory conditions, I would spend several hours at a time exploring my intuitive connection with the experimental apparatus. My primary motivation was to understand how the cosmos worked—and the feedback was powerful and convincing. As I learned through trial and error over a period of nearly three years, I received striking evidence that we all participate in a subtle though powerful ecology of consciousness.

I took away a number of important insights from these diverse experiments in what might be called “cosmic feedback training.” First, we
all
have an intuitive faculty and literal connection with the universe. An empathic connection with the cosmos is not restricted to a gifted few, it is an ordinary part of the functioning of the universe and is accessible to everyone.

Second, participating in these experiments demonstrated to me that our being does not stop at the edge of our skin but extends into and is inseparable from the universe. We are
all
connected with the deep ecology of the universe and each of us has the ability to extend
our consciousness far beyond the range of our physical senses. I am reminded of the wisdom of George Washington Carver, a great educator and botanical researcher, who said that “If you love it enough, anything will talk with you.”

Third, our intuitive connection with the cosmos is easy to overlook. Before I became involved in these experiments, I didn't pay much attention to the small, intuitive twinges and feelings that would arise and then pass away. They seemed so subtle that I assumed they were simply part of my bodily experience. Only gradually did I come to appreciate the extent to which I was experiencing my participation in a larger field of aliveness.

Fourth, I learned that psi functioning is not about achieving dominance over something (mind
over
matter) but rather learning to participate with something in a dance of mutual exchange and transformation. This is a two-way process in which both parties are changed by the interaction.

Fifth, at the same time these experiments were convincing me that consciousness is a field property of the universe, they also made me much more skeptical about the need for channeling, crystals, pendulums, pyramids, and other intermediaries to access our intuition. Validating consciousness as a basic property of the universe does not automatically validate all claims of paranormal phenomena. It is important to bring a critical and discerning science to this inquiry. We are just beginning to use the tools of science to cut away the superstition and find what is real and what is not. Our universe is a place of miracles, but it is not a place of magic. It is a miracle that anything exists at all. However, once the miracle of our universe exists, we find lawful dynamics at work throughout.

Sixth, scientific evidence of the existence of psychic functioning has been mounting for decades and is now so overwhelming that
the burden of proof has shifted to those who would seek to dismiss its existence.
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It is time to move beyond the narrow, brain-based view of consciousness because it no longer explains important scientific evidence and it severely limits our thinking about the scope and depth of our connection with the universe.