I hope that you do not mind my slow response. After taking too long to consider your post, life got busy. I also found it difficult to write this post because it is the first time I have shared the experience that follows outside of immediate family.
In your response to my posts, you made no mention of the religious aspects, or my observations regarding psychology. Is this what you meant by not mixing methodologies and disciplines? Just ignore anything that is not science, or science-based philosophy? Or is it that you don't understand psychology and do not want to comment? Why do you not comment about the religious aspects?
I don't agree. Although quantum mechanics may one day prove that the metaphysical has some basis in reality, it is not going to explain how the metaphysical works within us and between us. If anything, it will just create more questions and confusion. This would be a lot like proving that everything is energy. OK, but what does that have to do with whether or not my furnace is working, or what there is to eat for dinner? Sometimes we need a more practical explanation of the workings of our lives, and quantum mechanics is not going to give us that.Ginkgo wrote:Quantum mechanics has some relevance to this area. There have been a number of scientific investigations into entanglement and non-locality when it comes to ESP.Gee wrote: So if it is true that "The contents of two containers can not connect magically.", and it is true that minds connect in bonding, then it has to be true that minds are not solely the contents of a container. They have to be able to extend outside of ourselves. So I can not buy into the idea that the mind is only internal.
From my perspective, quantum mechanics seems the most likely stepping stone when it comes to bridging science and religion. But this is a fair way down the track.
The most likely next stepping stone is psychology, as it is already bridging that gap. Psychology is the only science that is really studying emotion, which is what moves and activates most of the paranormal/supernatural -- imo. Although neurology has finally teamed up with endocrinology and is making some headway, that study is more to do with discovering what emotion is and proving how it works in order to manipulate and control it, rather than teaching us how to live with our emotions or to understand how they work and affect us. Religion has always been the one to teach us how to deal with our emotions, and it is interesting to note that some Eastern religions are very compatible with the understandings of psychology.
First, let me state that I am not talking about "Dial-a-Psychic" as that is more about entertainment and chicanery than it is about ESP. I am talking about the average person, who seems to know things, but has no idea of how that knowledge was acquired. Knowledge does not come into our minds with a label regarding it's origin -- we have to figure it out if we want to know where the knowledge came from. Psychology helps us to label that knowledge and can help to identify what is ESP and what is not. Consider what ESP is; it is an Extra Sense that we Perceive things through. But how does it work? What is this "sense", as it does not seem to be the five senses that we understand. People have called it "a gut feeling", instinct, intuition, and various other things, but the truth is that we sometimes know things without rhyme or reason.
Ten years ago, my husband died from cancer. We used Hospice. He died at home, and I learned more about death than I ever wanted to know. It occurs to me that in this country, the U.S., we do our best to try to civilize death. When we think that someone is close to dying, we send them to a nursing home for care, and when we think death is immenent, we send them to a hospital. The person will then be given medications and sometimes surgeries to try to "save" them, and be put on an IV drip which can artificially prolong their death. If they are savable, this can be a good thing; if they are not, then it just looks like a good thing. Hospice showed me that looking like a "good thing" is not always a "good thing" for the patient, but that is a subjective consideration, and I want to discuss this from my perspective as a witness to death.
I have four different images of my husband in my mind on the day that he died; two of them make perfect sense; two of them do not. The first image is of an elderly man that most people would guess is about 90 years old. His body was frail and weakened to the point that he looked like a holocaust victim, mostly bones. This was caused by the ravages of cancer. The second image of him is of a healthy strong man in his late 50's, the true image of him. Science would say that the first image is the real one as that is what he physically looked like. I would say that the second image was the real one, because that is who and what he was.
But I also have two images of him in his early forties on the day he died. These images are almost identical, except that in one of them he has a glowing aura of light around his face that extends 10 or 12 inches out from him. These are the images that don't make sense.
Because of a set of circumstances that include my philosophic nature, my need to analyze everything, my training when I worked with the mentally handicapped, a stupid argument, and some dumb luck, I have been able to analyze why I have these two images in my mind that don't make sense. Although I can not give a full accounting of my considerations here, following is a synopsis of the events as I remember them.
When my husband passed, I was sleeping in a twin bed that was pushed up next to his hospital bed, which was where I had slept for months. My sister-in-law woke me up and told me that my husband was no longer breathing. I said, "Yes he is." and proceded to get up. It was my intention to get up, find my glasses, and show her how silly she was being, but as I started to move, I froze. I was on my right side and had lifted myself so that I was resting on my right elbow, when I felt my husband's presense along my left side. I could not have moved if my life depended on it because I felt as if getting up would cause me to push into or through him. It was disconcerting to realize that if he was on my left side, he had to be floating in the air. I could see my 90 year old-looking husband in front of me and feel my 40 year old husband beside me. I did not want to look to my left because the only thing more disturbing than seeing my husband floating in the air, would be feeling him there, but not seeing him there, so I looked at my sister-in-law, who was facing me. She did not look to my left, she did not react to him, so I concluded that he was not actually there -- which was a relief.
By this time, I was fully awake, so I took the time to consider what was going on. I realized that my husband was concerned that he had done something wrong -- maybe he was not supposed to die. I also realized that his "presence" was a reaction to my words, "Yes he is." regarding his breathing, and immediately confirmed that, yes, he was supposed to die. No one would want him to stay in that broken body. I then felt relief and maybe gratitude coming from my husband, and he floated away. From the time that I said, "Yes he is." to the time of him leaving was only seconds, but a lot transpired in those seconds. I proceeded to get up, check his body which was still very hot, and confirm that he indeed had stopped breathing. He had passed, but then I already knew that because of his presence next to me.
Later that night, I gave myself a kind of report where I "reported" the events of that night to myself so that they were translated into thought in my rational mind. This was something that I had been trained to do decades before while working with the mentally handicapped. In that job we were required to report all incidents by the end of our shifts. It was explained to us that emotional memory changes over time, so if something traumatizes us, it is very important to record the events as soon as possible, before they have time to change. I have been using this kind of self reporting since learning about it and find that it helps me to have more accurate memories of emotional events. I did not concern myself with the fact that my internal vision of my husband was of him in his early forties, because I assumed that, that was his self image presented to me. Like in the old days when it was said that the blind see, the deaf hear, no one is really old or sick looking, and the crippled are whole after they die, I assumed that this was a self image created by him.
I was comfortable with my understanding of what had happened until about two years later. I was going through photo albums when I came across one of my favorite pictures of my husband and noted that this was how he looked in my mind's eye on the night he passed. I smiled at the memory, then frowned. He hated that picture. I remembered arguing with him about it. When I looked at that picture, I saw the man that I loved; I saw his strength, his wisdom, his determination to protect and care for his family, his love. But when he looked at that picture, he saw a middle-aged man with his shirt off, whose muscles were not as cut and defined as they were years before. He said that the picture should be thrown out, which was why I found it in my small personal album. I had removed it from the family album because it looked like he might just "disappear" it. So why would he show me a self image that he hated? It made no sense. After 20 years of marriage there were plenty of images of him that we both liked.
After carefully considering everything that I knew about the situation, I had to conclude that the image of him in his forties did not come from him -- it came from me. So did I imagine the whole thing? It was a possibility and had to be considered. So I dug out the "report" that I had made to myself, and later written down, and compared it with what I had learned. After studying this for days, I concluded that the image did indeed come from me, but the emotion did not. The problem with the emotion was perspective. I could find no way to make sense out of his concern that he should not be dying yet, or his gratitude and relief when he realized that it was OK to die -- from my perspective. There were a lot of emotions from my perspective that night, and I could make sense of his fear of dying (but he wasn't afraid), or anger about him leaving me, or regret that our marriage was over, or my fear or love, but the emotions that I felt weren't from my perspective -- so they were not from me. And what about that "halo" that I now saw around his forty year old image? That was not in the "report", and it was not in the image that I saw in my mind that night.
The image of him that I "saw" that night was of a vague body along my left side and a face turned up toward me -- no halo. But the image in my mind when looking at pictures was of a frontal view of his head and shoulders like a portrait with a halo. When did the second image appear in my mind? I have no idea. It was many years before I finally got some answers to the "halo" question. I was reading about how emotional memory stores in the brain/mind, and that emotional memory actually grows or changes over time. One article likened emotional memory to film being put into chemicals and stated that it seems to almost "develop". Of course the next question would be does it develop as it interprets what the mind "saw", or does it develop with our imaginations? Or is it some combination of both? I suspect that it is a combination.
If I had not made that "report" to myself that night, which locked my memories into my mind, I suspect that the only image that I would have of "seeing" my husband in my mind, would be the one with the halo. I would have forgotten the original image and replaced it with the current image, so I would be spending some time trying to figure out if my husband was a better man than I thought. Maybe attributing some saintly or holy qualities to him. My husband was a good man, but he was not saintly, and had as many weaknesses as he had strengths. So if I do not see my husband as having been saintly, then why did my mind interpret a halo? Since religious figures and "Gods" are seen as having halos, it is a possibility that the mind interprets energy, essence, or spirit, whatever you want to call it, as a halo. If one could see the "aura" of a person in their mind's eye, but see no actual physical representation, it could be interpreted as a halo. The physical representation of a "God" would be part interpretation, part imagination, and part self-identity, so that any "God" would seem to be of the customs and race of the person interpreting.
Consider that of the three images that were in my mind that night, the 90, 50, and 40 year old husbands, all of them had emotion and trauma attached to the memories, but the 90 year old came into my mind from vision, seeing a physical thing; the 50 year old came into my mind through my memories and thoughts; only the 40 year old came into my mind through emotion, and this is the one that changed. After learning about anthropomorphism, I have come to the conclusion that I had an anthropomorphic experience when my husband passed, and suspect that this is how anthropomorphism works. We interpret emotions that we experience because we can not know emotion without thought, but we can know that the emotions are not from our perspectives. The two other things associated with anthropomorphism are a loss of the fear of death and a vague feeling that one has acquired knowledge without understanding how. I experienced both of these.
So in conclusion, I have a lot to thank psychology for; I would never have made the original "report" to myself and would have had no way of knowing my emotional memory changed. So there would have been nothing to investigate and no way to do it. I probably would have gone with the religious ideas and started building monuments to the memory of my husband. So, yes, I see psychology as the discipline that can build a bridge between religion and science.
G