Proof of Heaven?

pohOn a recent trip to Germany, I picked up a copy of Eben Alexander’s bestselling book Proof of Heaven, an account of what he claims was a near-death experience which he underwent while in coma. It turns out the book has been more than controversial: he has not only been roundly criticized by materialists (masquerading as scientists) but also (surprise, surprise) by a bunch of Christian fundamentalist zealots, disturbed that the picture Alexander paints of the afterlife does not fully accord with their biblicist preconceptions.

This is a book which certainly has its faults. Trivially, it is not a proof of anything: Alexander’s experience cannot be repeated nor can it be falsified; it can only be taken on trust. Hence the precipitation to impugn his character. I find these attempts (which will cost you $1.99 just to read) unconvincing and beside the point. Alexader’s experiences, in so far as they are laid out in the book, are of limited intrinsic interest and scope – what is of interest is the fact that he had them, and not, beyond some general features, what they were. He had to make a book out of it, and accordingly most of the book is more of a dramatic retelling of the facts surrounding his falling into coma and emerging from it, rather than what he experienced when he was there. Apart from the fact that the end is preannounced, he makes a fair job of it: it is quite readable, and this is hardly a flaw. Towards the end of the book, he starts unfortunately to belabor endlessly his rather simple message, and this becomes irritating. But so much for the literary critique.

What Alexander describes is hardly surprising to anyone with a knowledge of the literature on near-death experiences (what he elsewhere calls “non-local consciousness”) and on reincarnation. If the purpose is to get a feel for what these experiences look like, other sources would offer a much better comparative overview. Indeed, Alexander’s own account is rather obviously colored by his cultural and religious environment; this is perhaps inevitable but underlines that a cross-cultural approach would be more scientifically interesting.

Alexander goes to inadequate lengths to avoid giving the impression that what was surprising to him necessarily should be to anyone else. I did not find his account surprising in the least. Nor do I lay much importance by the question of whether his neo-cortex was or was not incapacitated throughout the experience. I do not at all see why this should be critical and I believe experiences that multitudes of people have had under the influence of entheogenic substances – or for that matter in dreams, shamanic journeys or waking reality – have plenty in common with his own. This hardly invalidates his experience, rather the reverse. I do not think there is any “scientific” explanation for the content, or even fact, of any of these other experiences either. All such “explanations” fall well short of capturing the subjective intensity of the experiences in question.

Ultimately, I see little reason why someone disinclined to believe in the possibility of consciousness existing apart from the brain, and not knowing him personally, would be swayed by Alexander’s account. Nevertheless, I certainly wish him well in trying to move mentalities in that direction. His story, in isolation, is hardly the dynamite for the materialist worldview which he makes it out to be.

Its true power, which he does not mention at all, lies elsewhere. Even if it features pastors and prayer groups, even if he is moved to tears by the eucharist, it still does not accord with the primitive, brutalist worldview of Christian (or any other) fundamentalists. Imagine this: God is unconditional love. Yes, you read that right: unconditional. It doesn’t matter if you are Muslim, Christian or Jew, it doesn’t matter if you believe in a salvation history or do good works, you are loved unconditionally.

That sort of puts a spanner in the business model of all those whose value proposition depends on helping you negotiate God’s favor in the afterlife.

And on this key point, anyone whatsoever who has ever had any genuine spiritual experience – including those who would rather avoid the term of God like me – knows that Alexander is absolutely right.

I guess it’s just a technicality that this is not a proof of heaven.

Ennui

On his excellent blog, my friend (teacher?) Dirk Liesenfeld recently posted an article discussing (in German of course) a question that we probably all have asked ourselves – what happens once you reach enlightenment?

As a child I asked myself a similar question – doesn’t heaven sound really boring? Of course that’s actually a bit of a different question since here we are talking not about individual life perpetuated after death, but about continued life before death when all striving is nonetheless over. Still these questions have in common that they both cast doubt on how hard one should try to attain salvation and, in particular, is there any great rush?

Dirk describes us two scenarios. One leads to physical death and/or insanity (that one is particularly unappealing), the other to living in an almost unnoticed state of bliss, as pure love. Statistically the former case seems to predominate – though that may of course just be because the latter cases make a lot less noise. You get crazy, he says, in particular when the whirlwind of enlightenment tears up the roots of your humanity. There is nothing wrong with that craziness, per se, but it must seem unattractive to a potential disciple and certainly it seems a bit of a waste that someone who could share so much with the world doesn’t end up doing so. Though whether the world has the slightest interest in listening is, of course, another question.

The problem I have is that to feel estranged from daily life really doesn’t require one to be enlightened. It doesn’t even require one ever to have experienced tantra or any other authentic spiritual experience. It requires no more than a certain sensitivity to the complete madness and cruelty that surrounds us and its shocking juxtaposition to what is truly of value and beautiful. One of the main obstacles to spiritual growth must be, surely, the unbearableness of that shocking realization of human suffering, Weltschmerz. How much of it, indeed, can one person bear without going crazy?

In the world I know, the one I know in my heart I mean, all things are sacred. The joy that we experience in contact with others and with the world around us is beyond words. People love each other. No one would hurt a child. And this is not some idle utopia, nor even confined to tantra workshops, it is a part of my daily reality.

A much greater part, though, is spent being painfully reminded of how much the few positive things I can bring into the world are massively outweighed by the brutality of the established order. That’s both depressing and a major weight around my shoulders. It seems likely that this great mass of deadly inertia affects me negatively much more than I affect it positively.

Although I do not think my views are exceptionally odd or unnatural, I do find it very difficult to make any connection with the way most people think. It tires and bores me to have to listen to their stereotypes, prejudices and hatefulness. It tires and bores me to have to explain that, no, I don’t think like that and, yes, life is quite fine without such ludicrous baggage around my neck (or is it, in fact? for it is also rather lonely).

My partner and I organized, once, a party in lingerie. Half of our friends were so shocked by the very idea of this that they haven’t spoken to us since (and that’s the ones we dared to invite – of course there were plenty who never even got onto the guest list). Of those who did come, some were convinced we intended an orgy. Others, a few, came and had fun. But not one has tried anything similar, and most have not even invited us back to anything at all.

Personally, I simply didn’t and still don’t get what the issue could be. Isn’t that just fun? And as for any sex occurring – isn’t that both very unlikely and not a big deal? So what exactly is going on? Why do the most varied people suddenly gang up against me whenever I want to be just, well, normal, honest, natural? And why is it so hard to find anyone else on the same wavelength?

I have frankly no answer to this question. The only thing I can say is that if even the slightest authenticity is so difficult for the world around me to bear, there seems little point in settling for half measures.