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Altering Consciousness
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Altering Consciousness
Multidisciplinary Perspectives
Volume 1: History, Culture, and the Humanities
Acknowledgments vii
Preface: Extending Our Knowledge of Consciousness ix
Charles T. Tart
Chapter 1 Altering Consciousness: Setting Up the Stage 1
Etzel Cardeña
Chapter 2 A Paradigm for Understanding Altered Consciousness:
The Integrative Mode of Consciousness 23
Michael Winkelman
We want to acknowledge first the forebears of these books, the men and
women who across many thousands of years have descended into dark
caves, led community rituals, and explored consciousness-altering plants
in order to encounter anew the world and their selves. We recognize our
pioneers in Plato in the West, Pantanjali in the East, and other exemplars
of first-rate intellects who laid the groundwork for integrating the insights
of alterations of consciousness into our views of reality. Among the found-
ers of modern psychology and anthropology there were notables such as
William James and Andrew Lang who articulated and incorporated altera-
tions of consciousness into their theories of human mind and behavior.
Even during the decades-long exile of consciousness by behaviorism,
some brave souls dared to engage in research on altered states, among
them Stanley Krippner, Arnold Ludwig, Robert Ornstein, and Jerome
Singer in psychology, E. E. Evans-Wentz, Erika Bourguignon, Michael
Harner, Joseph Long, and Charles Laughlin in anthropology, and Albert
Hofmann in pharmacology. Among those who helped to point out the
importance of studying alterations of consciousness as a basic element of
human experience, the leading figure in establishing them as a legitimate
area of scientific inquiry was Charles T. Tart, an erstwhile engineering stu-
dent turned psychologist.
Our two volumes are dedicated to these and the many other pioneers
of inquiry into consciousness who provided the foundations for the per-
spectives developed here. We thank Debbie Carvalko, the senior acquisi-
tions editor who made Altering Consciousness possible, and our many
contributors, without whom these volumes would not have seen the light
of day. We especially would like to thank Julie Beischel, Cheryl Fracasso,
viii Acknowledgments
David E. Nichols, and Moshe Sluhovsky, who came to the rescue when it
looked as if we might not be able to include some important topics.
We are also very fortunate to have been the recipients of the generosity
of Anna Alexandra Gruen, who gave us permission to use the extraordi-
nary images of Remedios Varo in our covers, and of Judith Gómez del
Campo, who made it happen.
Dedications
Michael dedicates these volumes to the next generation of investigators
who will take the foundations of a multidisciplinary science of altered con-
sciousness described here and produce a more comprehensive
paradigm for understanding these inherent aspects and potentials
of human nature.
Some people have called me the “father” of altered states research, cor-
rectly or not, so let me play that role to introduce this very important Alter-
ing Consciousness set, hopefully entertaining you with a recollection of the
early history of studying altered states while making some methodological
points and adding some bits of history.
There’s an old story we have all heard, in many variations, but it keeps
going around for good psychological reasons.
A man returns home late one night and finds his somewhat tipsy neighbor
crawling around on hands and knees under a streetlamp, earnestly search-
ing for something.
“What are you looking for?”
“My house key.”
“Oh, I’ll help.” So our protagonist gets down on hands and knees and
searches too, but is unable to find any key. After some time has gone by
he asks, “Just where did you lose them?”
“Back there, in that dark alley.”
“Well then why in the world are we looking here, instead of there?”
“The light is better here.”
I’ve been a psychologist for almost half a century now and I often think of
this story when I look at our collective research efforts. Some major keys
to “houses” of the mind, to domains of consciousness, seem to be nearby,
in dark, messy, taboo, or methodologically ambiguous places, but we can
do such nice, scientifically rigorous studies here in the light cast by ordi-
nary consciousness. Most of our colleagues are here in the lamplight of
x Preface
doing studies of the effects of LSD and psilocybin, and I was an occasional
participant. Go into one of those alleys, pick up a key or two, and go
through some doors. Some of those doors did indeed lead to Freudian
basements, and I got some vivid, gut-wrenching education in aspects of
psychopathology (in me, no less!) of which textbook learning was a pale
shadow. And some of those doors led to places of light and apparent
knowledge that was way, way brighter and clearer than what the street-
lamp of ordinary consciousness cast on the consensus consciousness side-
walk, and I got some powerful glimpses of the potential heights of human
experience as well as the depths. I wrote about what I learned from psy-
chedelic experiences some years later (Tart, 1983).
My California postdoc was with Ernest Hilgard, another former American
Psychological Association president, and a real gentleman and scholar. His
laboratory at Stanford was devoted to doing hypnosis research thoroughly
and carefully, systematically exploring one of those dark alleys, as it were,
and Hilgard and colleagues’ work considerably advanced the field. Some
of it was like the bulk of mainstream psychological research, 10 percent
changes in, say, hypnotizability with age. Other parts of it were standard-
ized and routine, you got used to them, but really incredible. I spend
10 minutes hypnotizing a talented student with a standard procedure,
for example, reading a script really, and a few minutes later I tell him for
a minute that he can’t smell anything, all sense of smell is gone, and then
I tell him, “See, you can’t smell, I’ll hold a bottle of something with an odor
under your nose, you take a good sniff to see that you can’t smell any-
thing.” What I hold 1 inch under his nostrils is a bottle of household
ammonia. He takes a deep sniff and shows no reaction! I ask if he smelled
anything, he says no. Be very careful if you try this at home: The smell is not
only powerful, it’s quite painful!
All this from talking to someone for a few minutes, reading a standard-
ized script, no special “hypnotic powers” or the like on my part . . . For re-
ally talented volunteers, we used chemical lab ammonia that was 10 times
as strong.
My years of hypnosis research also repeatedly exposed me to the blind-
ness commitment to particular methodological approaches could bring. In
my 2 years with Hilgard, for instance, a big question in the field was
whether hypnosis was something special, an altered state of consciousness
(ASC), or just various degrees of ordinary suggestibility without any spe-
cial alteration of consciousness. A partial but straightforward approach
to studying this was to either hypnotize volunteers or not and then give
them a standardized suggestibility test: Would the hypnotized people be
more suggestible? A colleague and I found considerable bias in doing such
Preface xiii
well aware that dreams and hypnosis were part of the much larger spec-
trum of significant qualitative changes in the way consciousness could
function, ASCs, and I felt a strong need to understand that larger spectrum
if I was to understand the more specialized work I was doing. Toward that
end, I published my Altered States of Consciousness: A Book of Readings
anthology in 1969 (Tart, 1969) to give researchers and students a look at
this wider spectrum. I knew about these variations of consciousness from
wide reading, but most people didn’t. There wasn’t that much research
material to begin with, and it was widely scattered, a lot in places most
psychologists would never come across it, such as the basic discovery
material on lucid dreams that originally appeared in the Proceedings of the
Society for Psychical Research (van Eeden, 1913).
In the ASC book, I reprinted several articles each about general aspects
of ASCs, the hypnagogic state, dream consciousness, meditation, hypno-
sis, minor psychedelics like marijuana and major psychedelics like LSD,
mescaline and psilocybin, and some beginning psychophysiological stud-
ies of ASCs. But, as I said, in spite of intensive effort in searching widely in
the literature, there often wasn’t much to find. For instance, I “boasted” in
my introduction to the ASC section on meditation that I was reprinting
two thirds of the English language research literature on meditation. This
sounded impressive until you realized I had only been able to find a total
of three articles.
Amusingly but usefully, a few years after publishing the ASC book, the
same thing happened to meditation as had happened with dreams while
I was a graduate student. No one would admit to cultural biases, but, as
I mentioned earlier, we scientific psychologists knew all that meditation
and spiritual stuff was delusional and probably psychotic, crazy practices
done by little people who sat cross-legged in the mud. And then an article
was published in that so-prestigious journal Science (Wallace, 1970) that
showed there were physiological correlates of meditation. All of a sudden,
politically speaking, just like with dreams, meditation became “real” and a
legitimate topic of research. Now there are more than a thousand research
studies of meditation, although most are, from my perspective, still too
elementary, showing meditation is good for relieving stress-related prob-
lems but not yet really addressing the deeper psychological and spiritual
issues it was designed to shed light on.
Returning to my Altered States anthology, its publication was timely
and it became a bestseller for a scientific book, often serving as the text-
book for courses on ASCs that now could be taught since they had a text,
and helping to stimulate research in some areas. The Altered States book is
more than 40 years old now, though, and I’m very pleased these two
xvi Preface
volumes will replace it with much more extensive, sophisticated, and up-
to-date material. New research after the publication of ASCs has been
uneven, though.
For example, one of the most promising lines, research on the psycho-
logical and transpersonal effects of psychedelic drugs and their therapeu-
tic value when used properly, had been showing great promise, although it
was still in its infancy. Such research was essentially stopped by the hyste-
ria over drugs and the so-called war on drugs in the 70s. Studies biased
toward showing negative effects of psychedelics, which could justify the
government’s position, got funded. In terms of long-term benefit, studies
of physiological aspects of psychedelics were funded to some extent, and
the incredible power of LSD to produce major changes in consciousness
in such minute, microgram doses has been credited with stimulating our
whole new era of brain chemistry research.
Our materialistic climate in science, of course, has longed privileged
physiologically oriented research over psychology per se, and while I’ve
always valued physical and physiological findings and contributed a little
to them myself (Tart, 1963, 1967b), I regret the effect it has had on mak-
ing more phenomenologically oriented, psychological research a poor
stepchild. As I said above, I don’t subscribe to the bias that anything
physical or physiological is automatically more important, “real,” and “sci-
entific” than the psychological, and I wish my colleagues were more sensi-
tive to the assumptions and biases in a too-materialistic approach. Indeed,
I sometimes tease my physical science colleagues by changing the usual
distinction between the “hard” and “soft” sciences by talking about the
“hard” and “easy” sciences. The physical sciences are easy; what happens
is pretty independent of the nature and mood of the scientists doing the
research, but psychology is hard because of all the biases that can creep
in. “Subjects” are smart, sensitive problem solvers, and many psycholo-
gists have unrecognized hopes, fears, and biases of their own that partici-
pants pick up on, to complicate things. In the 70s it looked like we were
going to really tackle problems of experimenter bias (Rosenthal, 1963,
1966) and demand characteristics (Orne, 1962), but interest quickly dis-
appeared. I would argue it was repressed, as we have too much investment
in our status of being “objective” scientists, but that’s too broad an issue to
go off into here, except to note that being in ASCs will sometimes make
one’s biases clear—and if we want to think about possible parapsychologi-
cal contributions to experimenter effects, it gets really complex (Tart,
2010a).
One of my last major contributions—perhaps a mistake, perhaps
premature—to ASC research was my proposal for the creation of
Preface xvii
1
I called the book States of Consciousness, which was a mistake, as being so like Altered
States of Consciousness, people confused them and assumed they’d already read it. Friends
have teased me ever since that, in accordance with the common custom with sequels of
films, I should have called it Son of Altered States, or Altered States Strikes Back . . . . ;-)
Preface xix
References
Aserinsky, E. K. N. (1953). Regularly occurring periods of eye motility and con-
comitant phenomena during sleep. Science, 118, 273–274.
Hastings, A., Hutton, M., Braud, W., Bennett, C., Berk, I., Boynton, T., Dawn, C.,
Ferguson, E., Goldman, A., Greene, E., Hewett, M., Lind, V., McLellan, K., &
Steinbach-Humphrey, S. (2002). Psychomanteum research: Experiences and
effects on bereavement. Omega: Journal of Death and Dying, 45, 211–227.
Malcolm, N. (1959). Dreaming. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.
Moody, R. (1992). Family reunions: Visionary encounters with the departed in a
modern-day psychomanteum. Journal of Near-Death Studies, 11, 83–121.
Murphy, G. M., & Murphy, L. B. (1968). Asian psychology. New York: Basic
Books.
Orne, M. (1962). On the social psychology of the psychological experiment: With
particular reference to demand characteristics and their implications. American
Psychologist, 17, 776–783.
xx Preface
Altering Consciousness:
Setting Up the Stage1
Etzel Cardeña
What’s in a Name?
The two volumes of Altering Consciousness cast a wide net across various
disciplines and evaluate the role that altered states of consciousness
(ASC)2 and the procedures to induce them have played, and continue to
play, in human history. Disputing the bias that ASC is a topic of concern
only to drug-addled youngsters or exotic cultures, the contributors to
these volumes show that we cannot have a full understanding of human
culture and our biological heritage without considering spontaneous and
induced alterations of consciousness.
There is no denying that researching consciousness is no longer the
academic death knell that it used to be some years ago, but the area has
been mostly one dimensional, or perhaps two dimensional if we add
studies on sleep and dreams, and most of the current discussions about
consciousness revolve around philosophical or neuroscientific issues of
waking consciousness and perhaps a few pathological states while main-
taining a safe distance from the implications of ASC to the nature of
consciousness and our apprehension of reality. These volumes aim to
address that imbalance.
Current discussions of consciousness have mostly ignored the fact that
we transit among different states of consciousness even while “being
awake,” that these states exhibit differing configurations of cognition,
emotion, physiology, and behavior, and that what is postulated about one
state may not apply to others. As I have argued elsewhere (Cardeña, 2009),
1
This chapter benefited from the lucid and loving suggestions of Sophie Reijman.
2
The standard abbreviation in this volume for “altered states of consciousness” both in sin-
gular and plural is ASC. Also note that to help cross-reference other relevant chapters in
the two-volume set there are editorial square brackets [ ] throughout the chapters.
2 Altering Consciousness
at least in some respects the Western world has not added much to the
contributions made by Socrates and Plato in this area more than 2,000 years
ago [see Ustinova, this volume]. Socrates maintained that the beginning of
wisdom depends on defining one’s terms and, from that perspective, the
study of consciousness in general has been fairly unwise. One of the most
confusing aspects in the literature on consciousness is that different concepts
of the term are used often without any seeming awareness of their distinc-
tions (cf. Natsoulas, 1983). Thus, writers may speak about the problem of
consciousness when, in fact, there are many problems, including the “hard”
problem of the relationship between qualia and neurological processes, but
also the integration of different sources of information into an experiential
unity, personal identity across time, and so on (Natsoulas, 1981). Lack of
agreement as to what different authors actually mean when using the term con-
sciousness seems to be more the rule than the exception, but “there is nothing
to prevent discussion and organized research into aspects of ‘consciousness’
denoted by a given, specific usage of that term” (Velmans, 2009, p. 142).
Throughout these volumes we will be using the terms altering conscious-
ness (which emphasizes not only altered phenomenology but also the
procedures to bring it about), altered consciousness, and altered states of
consciousness because they have become the most recognizable and used
cognates. At the same time, I agree with Bunge’s (1980) warning that to
speak literally of “states of consciousness” reifies consciousness as an entity
whereas it is the creature (human or otherwise) who experiences these
variations. A different criticism of the ASC term (Rock & Krippner, 2007) is
that it confuses the basic sense of consciousness as being aware of something
with the phenomenal field of the episode of consciousness; they propose
instead that it would be more appropriate to speak of altered pattern of
phenomenal properties [see also Beischel, Rock, & Krippner, this volume].
Although I am sympathetic to their analysis, their suggestion disregards a
long historical precedent (cf. Natsoulas, 1983) and is unlikely to substitute
at this point for the easier-on-the-tongue ASC. Also, although it has not
gained traction in this context, a phrase such as modalities of experiencing
would be a closer indication that we are dealing with an ever-changing
dynamic event rather than a static one (James, 1890). With these caveats in
mind, we will continue to use the term ASC for convenience’s sake.
Ludwig described an ASC as
contents of consciousness that are inside the brain and modulate or realize
these contents” (p. 141). Leaving aside their arguable (cf. Kelly et al., 2007;
Presti, and Beauregard, Volume 2) a priori materialistic position that con-
sciousness is by definition caused by brain mechanisms (see below), what
they propose is nothing new. Their “background mechanisms” could be
easily exchanged for “dynamic pattern,” and Tart (1975) distinguished
decades ago between the (phenomenal) contents of consciousness and
states of consciousness. Kallio and Revonsuo also reiterate the earlier,
although not credited, position (Natsoulas, 1983) that ASC “create phe-
nomenal contents of consciousness that misrepresent or create delusional
beliefs of the surrounding world and oneself” (pp. 141–142). This type
of naı̈ve realism is questionable (cf. Hoffman, 2009), and it completely
ignores one of the most interesting facts about hypnosis and similar proce-
dures, namely that, up to an extent, committing to that “delusional belief”
may bring about experiential and physiological changes that no longer
make it delusional (Cardeña & Beard, 1996). Furthermore, it assumes
that mystical and other states are delusional by definition, although that
is very much an open question (Wulff, 2000; see also Geels, this volume,
Beauregard, and Windt, Volume 2). The notion that the “ordinary” state
of consciousness is not at least partly delusional or incomplete is another
questionable assumption (Hoffman, 2009; Tart, 1975; see also Shear,
Volume 2). Mishara and Schwartz (Volume 2) propose a phenomenologi-
cally grounded approach to this issue in which ASC provide alternatives
to the “natural” but naive realism. This position, to me, is less biased and
more promising than that argued by Kallio and Revonsuo.
Kallio and Revonsuo (2003) also flirt with a type physicalist theory of
ASC (p. 134) but prudently conclude that much more needs to be known
about the relationship between phenomenal experience and brain states
before such a view can be advocated. As Velmans (2009) points out in
reference to Dennett but also applicable to their approach, defining con-
sciousness as a brain function (or assuming that ordinary consciousness
is the state that provides us the best description of all of reality) begs the
question and brings about an unjustified premature closure.
A different terminological problem in ASC is that authors often fail to
specify what it is they are talking about. Let us take for instance a term often
used in the literature, trance (and also trance-like). It is often used to refer to
some nebulous and unspecified ASC, for instance the trance after a hypnotic
induction, or while listening to a beautiful piece of music, or while experi-
encing being possessed by another entity, or while becoming unresponsive
to others, or while fainting, and so on. The Oxford English Dictionary (OED)
described six different senses of trance, and many authors use the term to
Altering Consciousness 5
avoid having to actually define what it is that they are describing either in
this or in other cultures (Cardeña & Krippner, 2010). A similar point can
be made about the term ecstasy, which may denote an intense emotional
or visual experience, and/or a sensation of being lifted out of one’s body!
To avoid these confusions, we have asked contributors to describe what
they mean experientially (and at times neurophysiologically) with the terms
they use. This does not mean, of course, that a concept may not involve
different dimensions. For instance, the concept of absorption includes
important variations such as whether this process refers to a narrow or
expanded consciousness and whether the focus is internal or external
(Tellegen, 1992). Nonetheless, we need to establish the empirical basis for
possible variations within a phenomenon rather than assuming them by fiat
or hiding them behind some vague concept.
Classifying ASC
Although some Eastern traditions developed sophisticated classifications
of meditative states (Goleman, 1988; see Maliszewski et al., Shear, and
Zarrilli, this volume), such was by and large not the case in the West, where
an etiological rather than a phenomenological approach became dominant.
An important exception is perhaps the first systematic categorization of
alterations of consciousness developed by Plato (as discussed by his teacher
Socrates) in his Phaedrus (1961), where he postulated four different types of
manias, or states in which humans could be affected by a divinely inspired
form of “madness”: prophetic (the ability to see into the future, as in the
sibyls of the oracles in Greece), poetic (providing inspiration for artistic
and other forms of creation), initiatory (relevant to spiritual rituals), and
erotic (centered on transcendent love).
When the Christian tradition became dominant, it generally questioned
any form of direct experience of the divine and deemed it far more impor-
tant to discern the putative provenance of the alterations of consciousness,
whether God or the Devil [see Sluhovsky, this volume]. Probably it was
not until the discussion of mesmeric/hypnotic depth levels during the the
18th and 19th centuries that a more descriptive classification of states of
consciousness was attempted in the West [see Cardeña & Alvarado, this
volume]. By the end of the 19th century, a study of multiple consciousness,
dissociation, hypnosis, mediumship, and related phenomena was central to
the birth of clinical psychology (Ellenberger, 1970).
The early part of the 20th century was auspicious for the study of altera-
tions of consciousness, not always cast within psychopathology. Probably
6 Altering Consciousness
(Lanius et al., 2010). Nor do I agree with my coeditor that all ASC can be
neatly arranged into four modes [see Winkelman, this volume], one of
which is characterized by neurophysiological integration and synchro-
nicity. In fact, as Noirhomme and Laureys show [see Volume 2], some of
the most synchronous brain states involve seizures and comas, and we
have evidence that mystical-type reports are related to reduced, not
increased, synchronicity (Cardeña, Lehmann, Jönsson, Terhune, & Faber,
2007). I do agree with my coeditor, however, that a neurophenomenolog-
ical approach matching careful phenomenological descriptions with neu-
ral functioning (cf. Lutz & Thompson, 2003) is very promising, as long
as it is not confused with the contemporary “neurolatry” in which clear
conceptualization takes second place to just finding some kind of increase
in neural activity somehow connected to some type of experience, disre-
garding a clear description of the state of consciousness evaluated and
the limitations of brain imaging (see Sanders, 2009). Whichever classifica-
tion we eventually arrive at should be conceptually clear and offer justice
to the complexity of both mental and brain events. Hobson (2008) offers
promising insights in his careful comparison of waking and dreaming con-
sciousness, although his three-variable model (AIM: activation, source of
input, and neuromodulation) is probably not yet complex enough for a
comprehensive taxonomy of ASC.
transitions and changes even within the ordinary baseline waking state
(cf. Kunzendorf & Wallace, 2000), as there are in ASC. For instance, among
some very highly hypnotizable individuals, distinct patterns seem to emerge
spontaneously during hypnosis: At the beginning, subtle alterations in their
physical body, followed by experiences of being in a different phenomenal
place than their physical body, culminating with experiences of being in a
dreamlike reality and/or transcendental experiences such as merging with
a light or complete emptiness, experiences that are parallel to those reported
by some “deep” meditators (Cardeña, 2005; Davidson & Goleman, 1977).
Another important but under-researched topic is Tart’s notion (1975)
that the transition between states of consciousness is characterized by tran-
sient cognitive and physiological disorganization. Observations of different
phenomena such as the transition from waking to sleep (Foulkes & Vogel,
1965), the changes between different alters in individuals with dissociative
identity disorder, erstwhile known as “multiple personality” (Putnam,
1988), and those between an ordinary or a spirit possessed-identity
(Cardeña, 1989), support Tart’s proposal. Shamanistic healers also describe
that their transition into an ASC becomes much smoother and more con-
trollable with time (e.g., Cardeña, 1991, Winkelman, this volume). The
dynamic properties of such transitions can be evaluated neurophysiologi-
cally according to both small changes within a state (i.e., EEG microstates;
Vaitl et al., 2005) and longer and more impactful transitions between states
(e.g., from being awake to going under anesthesia or going to sleep).
Besides transient alterations of consciousness, Western and Eastern
traditions have long posited more permanent changes in consciousness
under such terms as reaching enlightenment, sainthood, or kundalini. Such
change may come after long-term meditative or philosophical practice
(cf. Bakan, Merkur, & Weiss, 2009), or quite fortuitously (e.g., Wren-
Lewis, 1988). Robert Forman has called a permanent or semipermanent
change a dualistic mystical state (Forman, 1999; also Geels, and Shear, this
volume). We need additional systematic inquiry into long-term effects of
ASC related to near-death, mystical, and drug experiences, and others
(cf. Cardeña et al., 2000; Tart, 1991), along the lines of neurophysiologi-
cal and psychological research on meditation (e.g., Cahn & Polich,
2006; Easterlin & Cardeña, 1998–1999).
suggestible to hypnosis at different times of the day (see Wallace & Fisher,
2000), so biological cycles should also be a variable to consider [see Kokoszka
& Wallace, Volume 2].
Introducing Volume 1
Volume 1 provides an overview of the history of altered consciousness,
before covering cultural aspects and the humanities. Although Western
academic literature is predominant, some chapters provide an overview
of alterations of consciousness in non-Western settings and groups. It is
fitting that the most influential contemporary author on AC since William
James, Charles T. Tart, open the volumes with a preface in which he
describes how impoverished the psychological study of the topic was
before he stormed the academic bastion with his research and publica-
tions. I follow with this introduction in which I set the stage for the vol-
umes that follow, trying to clarify unnecessary conceptual obfuscations
and calling for research on the topic that respects its complexity and does
not give short shrift to individual differences or the ever-changing nature
of conscious experience. The next introductory chapter is by Michael
Winkelman, who introduces his Integrative Model of Consciousness,
which ambitiously aims to integrate evolutionary, neurophysiological,
and anthropological views on a model of ASC.
The historical section opens with a scholarship tour de force by Yulia
Ustinova, who covers an enormous historical and geographical terrain
from prehistory to late antiquity. She includes her fascinating account of
how caves have been associated with the induction of ASC not only among
prehistoric groups but also among the classical Greeks (Ustinova, 2009).
The next contribution is by Moshe Sluhovsky who, following his
acclaimed book (2007), surveys the Western medieval mental landscape,
underlining how some of the best minds of their time tried to make sense
of the unusual alterations of consciousness and behavior they observed,
trying to discern whether their source was divine or diabolic. Besides the
mostly spontaneous phenomena studied by Sluhovsky, the Medieval Ages
also included a serious study of a number of techniques that would cur-
rently fall under the umbrella of meditation (Baier, 2009).
Although the Age of Enlightenment diminished the overbearing
influence of the Church, the discernment problem did not go away but
underwent a transformation so that ASC tied to mesmerism/hypnosis and
14 Altering Consciousness
References
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precursor of psychoanalysis. Albany: SUNY Press.
Barber, T. X. (1976). Advances in altered states of consciousness & human potential-
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Baier, K. (2009). Meditation and contemplation in high to late medieval
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of parapsychology (pp. 305–322). New York: Parapsychology Foundation.
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Cardeña, E., Lehmann, D., Jönsson, P., Terhune, D., & Faber, P. (2007). The neu-
rophenomenology of hypnosis. Proceedings of the 50th Annual Convention of the
Parapsychological Association, 17–30.
Cardeña, E., Lynn, S. J., & Krippner, S. (Eds.). (2000). Varieties of anomalous
experience: Examining the scientific evidence. Washington, DC: American
Psychological Association.
Cardeña, E., Maldonado, J., van der Hart, O., & Spiegel, D. (2009). Hypnosis. In
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(pp. 427–457). New York: Guilford.
Cardeña, E., & Terhune, D. (2008). A distinct personality trait? The relationship
between hypnotizability, absorption, self-transcendence, and mental boundaries.
Proceedings of the 51st Annual Convention of the Parapsychological Associa-
tion, 61–73.
Cloninger, C. R., Przybeck, T. R., & Svrakic, D. M. (1993). The tridimensional
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Davidson, R. J., & Goleman, D. J. (1977). The role of attention in meditation
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291–308.
Deutsch, D. (1988). A musical paradox. Music Perception, 3, 275–280.
18 Altering Consciousness
might legitimately claim that we still do not have a science of altered con-
sciousness.
Scientific fields, as conceptualized by the historian and philosopher of
science Thomas Kuhn (1970) in his now classic The Structure of Scientific
Revolutions, have regular features called paradigms that guide research
and provide general modes of explanation. In his Postscript—1969 Kuhn
(1970, p. 175) clarified his concepts of paradigm, emphasizing two levels
of use, which he distinguished with new terms:
1) the disciplinary matrix, the common beliefs, values, and techniques of a group
of scientists that provides the universally accepted concepts and practices of
the field and frameworks for most research; and
2) exemplars, an element of the disciplinary matrix, defined as concrete models
used for solutions to research problems.
Modes of Consciousness
Similarities in manifestations of waking, deep sleep, and dreams across
species and cultures reflect common underlying biological structures.
These biologically structured foundations are discussed as modes of con-
sciousness. A mode of consciousness is a biologically based functional sys-
tem of organismic operation that reflects conditions of homeostatic
balance among brain subsystems to meet global organismic needs (see
Winkelman, 2010, for discussion and details). Different modes of con-
sciousness are revealed in the congruencies in the primary daily patterns
of variation in behavior and experiences of humans and other animals.
We share with other animals the daily cycles of sleep and waking, with
homologous brain structures responsible for these patterns. Similarly,
humans share the dream mode of consciousness with most mammals.
Their presence in other animals indicates the transcendent nature of these
human modes of consciousness. In addition, humans experience altered
consciousness, conceptualized here as the integrative mode of conscious-
ness. Although learning and cultural factors produce variance in these
modes of consciousness in humans, their similar patterns cross-
culturally (and across species) reflect underlying biological functions and
organismic functions and needs:
These modes are so basic to organismic operation that they are function-
ally wired in multiple ways into brain structures, as illustrated in the brain’s
30 Altering Consciousness
Hypnosis as Dissociation
Selection for a biological disposition to these highly focused internal
states of awareness and limbic–frontal integration characterized by theta
wave discharge patterns is illustrated by hypnosis (Crawford, 1994).
Highly hypnotizable people have attentional filtering mechanisms that
provide a concentration with a simultaneous dissociation of some cogni-
tive features [see Cardeña & Alvarado, this volume]. Crawford proposed
that hypnosis and its enhanced attention reflect an interaction between
subcortical and cortical brain mechanisms that enable highly hypnotizable
people to sustain attention as well as disattention. A consequence of the
highly hypnotizable individual’s more efficient frontal limbic attentional
systems is the ability to disattend to extraneous stimuli, known as cogni-
tive inhibition, which is associated with enhanced theta-wave production.
A Paradigm for Understanding Altered Consciousness 35
Conclusions
Explaining AC requires neurophenomenological approaches that link
biological functions and structures to the cultural processes producing
experience. These neurophenomenological approaches (e.g., Laughlin,
McManus, & d’Aquili, 1992; Winkelman, 2010) illustrate that alterations
of consciousness engage special forms of knowing. A prominent manifes-
tation of altered consciousness involves imagetic representations known
as a presentational symbolism (Hunt, 1995). This system of visual symbol-
ism provides knowledge—one might even say wisdom—beyond that of
our rational language-based consciousness, exemplified in the out-of-
body experiences of shamans. Altered consciousness reflects this early
A Paradigm for Understanding Altered Consciousness 39
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PART I
Historical Perspectives
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CHAPTER 3
Consciousness Alteration
Practices in the West
from Prehistory to Late
Antiquity
Yulia Ustinova
Preliminary Remarks
In discussion of any personal experience, the account of the experience is
crucial. In the absence of first-hand reports, a researcher may employ a
witness’s testimony. When studying the distant past, we usually have none
of these. Prehistory covers the period before the invention of writing.
Processes and events in prehistory can be determined on the basis of
archaeological evidence, while explanatory models provided by other
disciplines, such as anthropology, neuroscience, and cognitive psychol-
ogy, can broaden our understanding. Nonetheless, prehistoric humans
remain essentially mute, and their practices and experiences can only be
reconstructed with various degrees of probability. The invention of writ-
ing changes the situation, of course, but less dramatically than one would
wish. Texts from the Ancient Near East seldom focus on alterations of con-
sciousness, and this meager information is often open to contradictory
interpretations. Even in a richly documented epoch, such as Classical
Antiquity, personal accounts of alteration of consciousness are very rare,
and we are dependent on abundant second-hand descriptions and passing
references concerning manipulation of consciousness.
Although ancient sources on altered states of consciousness in prehistory
and even in antiquity differ substantially from the records available by means
of modern science, this evidence is of crucial importance. Modern science
with its experimental approach exists only since the 16th century, and
46 Altering Consciousness
Prehistory
Palaeolithic mind is notoriously elusive, even more so its transient
alterations. In the absence of a single recorded word, Stone Age people
can communicate with us by means of their art. Its most fascinating genre
is represented by paintings and engravings that were created in the depth
of subterranean caverns, featuring mostly animals and mysterious signs
and very rarely depicting humanlike figures (Figure 3.1). Many of these
murals are breathtakingly beautiful, for instance the panels in the famous
caves of Lascaux (ca. 17,000 before present) and Chauvet (ca. 30,000
before present) in France and Altamira (ca. 14,000 before present) in
Spain (Beltran, 1999; Chauvet, Brunel Deschamps, & Hillaire, 1995;
Lorblanchet, 1995; Ruspoli, 1986). What motivated a human being, Homo
sapiens like us, to clamber down, encumbered with lamps and pigments,
hundreds of meters into an enormously long and frightening cave, in
order to depict there animals and enigmatic signs? Using observations of
existing communities who create rock art, the San in southern Africa and
the Indians of the far west of North America, as well as neuropsychological
studies of various methods of manipulation of consciousness, D. Lewis-
Williams (2002) convincingly demonstrates that it was imagery of altered
states of consciousness that led the prehistoric painters to image making in
the depth of the caves. He argues that signs depicted inside many caves,
whether zigzags, grids, or dots, are modeled on geometric percepts that
often emerge at the outset of altered states of consciousness (entoptic or
phosphene forms). Proceeding further toward full-fledged hallucinations,
Consciousness Alteration Practices in the West from Prehistory to Late Antiquity 47
Figure 3.1 Portion of a panel in the cave Les Trois Frères, ca 15,000 before present.
Lewis-Williams, 2002, ill. 44, p. 195. Reproduced by a kind permission of J. Clottes
1
Or perhaps even earlier; see Mithen, 2005.
Consciousness Alteration Practices in the West from Prehistory to Late Antiquity 49
Figure 3.3 Fragments of the Tuleilat Ghassul frescoes: 1–5: elements of the ‘Star
fresco’; 6: mask from the ‘Room of the bird’; 7: mask from the ‘Star fresco.’ Drawing
by Y. Sokolovskaya, after Mallon, Koeppel, and Neuville, 1934, frontispiece and pl. 68.
The first wine was perhaps produced by dates. Vine (Vitis vinifera) seems to
have been cultivated there by the end of the Neolithic period, and archaeo-
logical finds from Mesopotamia and Egypt illustrate brewing and drinking
of beer (Rudgley, 1993, p. 31; Sherratt, 1997, pp. 389–419).2
Mind-altering agents in prehistoric societies were almost exclusively
used in religious contexts, as both archaeological record and comparative
anthropological material demonstrate. Medical and recreational uses
became divorced from the ritual only recently, when the modern distinc-
tion between sacred and secular emerged (Merlin, 2003, pp. 295–296;
Sherratt, 1997, pp. 405–407). In any case, there is no doubt that prehis-
toric humans manipulated their minds by use of psychoactive substances.
It is most probable that they also employed other techniques, such as sen-
sory deprivation, and it is likely that experiences induced by various meth-
ods of alteration of consciousness are reflected in the prehistoric art.
Protohistory
Protohistoric peoples differ from many other nonliterate societies in
the fact that the modern scholar does not find them entirely silent. For in-
stance, Iranian-speaking nomads and seminomads living in the Black Sea
area and Central Asia were neighbors, trade partners, enemies, or allies
of the Greeks, Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians, and other literate peoples.
These peoples left texts that supply precious information on the lifestyle of
the barbarians, including their practices of consciousness alteration.
Herodotus, who wrote in the 5th century BCE, describes (4, 73–75) a
strange Scythian habit: They construct a tent, make a pit in its centre, put
red-hot stones into it, throw hemp seeds on the stones, and “howl in joy” in
the steam. Herodotus interpreted this custom as a purification rite, performed
after funerals. Although he did not recognize the role of hemp as hallucinogen,
he faithfully recorded the technique. His account was corroborated when cop-
per censers with hemp seeds, as well as stones and poles, were discovered in
burial mounds, dated to the 5th century BCE, erected in Siberia by another
subgroup of the Scythians and exceptionally well preserved because of the
perpetual frost (Rudenko, 1970). It is clear that various Iranian-speaking peo-
ples used hallucinogens in their religious ceremonies, and Scythians of Europe
and Asia employed hemp, Cannabis sativa, as a psychoactive substance.
As to alcohol, the Celts and the Germans drank beer. The first indispu-
table evidence of mead in temperate Europe dates to the first millennium
2
However, A. Sherratt (1997, pp. 389–419) infers drinking other kinds of intoxicating
beverages from the proliferation of ritual pots, especially beakers, in later Neolithic Europe.
52 Altering Consciousness
BCE. At the same time, colonial contacts with the Classical world brought
wine to Gaul, Spain, and Scythia (Sherratt, 1997, pp. 394–396).
3
Although some experts assume that Sumerian and Assyrian texts contain references to
opium (e.g. Kapoor, 1995, pp. 1–4; Stuart, 2004, p. 77), others are much more cautious
in their reading (Krikorian, 1975). There is no unequivocal evidence on the use of opium
in these cultures.
4
The incisions show that the capsules were deprived of the sap in order to obtain the opiates.
Consciousness Alteration Practices in the West from Prehistory to Late Antiquity 53
although these methods seem to have played a minor role in these civiliza-
tions. Noteworthy are 18th century BCE Mari texts recording divine
messages delivered by male and female prophets, referred to either as
ecstatics or respondents. The former seemed to act spontaneously, as if
possessed by the spirits, whereas the latter were perhaps able to control
the spirits in order to obtain their message [other authors such as Rouget,
however, use enthusiasm to describe spirit possession (see also below) and
ecstasy to describe out-of-the-boy and visionary experiences].The mode of
revelation and the prophet’s lifestyle usually remain obscure, but in some
cases the behavior of the diviner is described as bizarre. In Neo-Assyrian
sources, frenzied prophets are mostly women and occasionally transgender
individuals, engaged in the cult of Ishtar, who proclaim the divine
words (Bottéro, 1974, pp. 89–93; Durand, 1997; Haldar, 1945, pp. 21–29;
Nissinen, 2000; Overholt, 1986).
In ancient Israel of the monarchical period (ca. 1000–586 BCE),5 in
contrast to other Near Eastern cultures, inspired prophecy, which was
considered directly communicated by a deity, played a prominent role.
The Old Testament prophet or seer is an intermediary between the human
and divine worlds; he is sometimes called “man of god” and described as
“dreamer of dreams,” and the experience is usually referred to as vision
(Grabbe, 1995, pp. 82–84, 108–112; Haldar, 1945, pp. 108–126; Huffmon,
2000, pp. 63–69; Wilson, 1980).6 It is noteworthy that the latter ability is
attested to not only by the text of the Bible, heavily edited during the postexilic
period, but also by an inscription discovered at Deir Alla in Jordan, datable
to 840–760 BCE, which states in its first line that the pagan prophet
Balaam has seen the gods (van Kooten & van Ruiten, 2008). Although
groups of ecstatics, known as “sons of the prophets” or “bands of prophets,”
experienced collective alterations of consciousness (e.g. 1 Samuel 10: 5, 10;
19: 20, King James Version), normally the seer attained illumination indi-
vidually. The revelation could comprise mental pictures of the future or
sights of the other world, such as encounters with divine councils, heavenly
armies, and awesome god-sent apparitions. Such figures as Samuel, Elijah,
and Elisha, combining the characteristics of sages, sorcerers, medicine
men, and seers, may be classified as belonging to the shamanistic type:
According to Kings 1 and 2, they multiplied oil, flour, and other substances,
called fire or water from the heavens, purified lands, healed leprosy, and
5
The historical books of the Old Testament received their definite form only after the
Babylonian exile; hence the ongoing debate on the accuracy of the data on early prophecy.
6
Female prophets are exceptional, but seem to perform in the same manner as male seers
(Huldah in 2 Kings 22. 11–20; 2 Chronicles 34. 22–28).
54 Altering Consciousness
performed the supreme feat of resurrecting the dead (Aune, 1983, p. 83,
86–87; Grabbe, 1995, p. 149). Elisha’s demise was no less miraculous than
his life: He was taken to heaven by a fiery whirlwind (2 Kings 2: 11). It seems
that some prophets were capable of reaching out-of-body states at will:
Elisha followed in spirit his servant, and Ezekiel claimed that a spirit seized
him and carried away (2 Kings 5: 26; Ezekiel 3: 12). The revelatory ASC of
these “men of god” could be spontaneous and uncontrolled or deliberately
induced by various methods, such as rhythmical music, dancing, and even
use of hallucinogens (e.g., 1 Samuel 10: 5; 1 Kings 20: 36; 2 Kings 3: 15;
Zechariah 13: 6; 4 Ezra 14: 39). Their behavior was so manifestly anomalous
that hostile sources branded them as mad (Jeremiah 29: 26; Hosea 9: 7; 2
Kings 9: 11).7
While the deeds of the Old Testament prophets were deemed worthy
of record, their subjective experiences usually remain concealed. We are
fortunate to have detailed accounts of Ezekiel’s multiple harrowing visions
of unearthly force, among them the following overwhelming experience
(Ezekiel 1–3):
The word of the Lord came expressly unto Ezekiel the priest . . . and the
hand of the Lord was there upon him. And I looked, and behold, a whirl-
wind came out of the north, a great cloud, and a fire unfolding itself . . . Also
out of the midst thereof came the likeness of four living creatures. And . . .
they had the likeness of a man . . . And when they went, I heard the noise
of their wings, like the noise of great waters, as the voice of the Almighty,
the voice of speech . . . And above the firmament that was over their heads
was the likeness of a throne, as the appearance of a sapphire stone: and upon
the likeness of the throne was the likeness as the appearance of a man above
upon it . . . This was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord.
And when I saw it, I fell upon my face, and I heard a voice of one that spake.
And he said unto me, Son of man, stand upon thy feet, and I will speak
unto thee. And the spirit entered into me when he spake unto me, and set
me upon my feet, that I heard him that spake unto me . . . He said unto
me, Son of man, eat that thou findest; eat this roll, and go speak unto the
house of Israel . . . Then did I eat it; and it was in my mouth as honey for
sweetness . . . Moreover he said unto me, Son of man, all my words that I
shall speak unto thee receive in thine heart, and hear with thine ears . . .
Then the spirit took me up, and I heard behind me a voice of a great rush-
ing, saying, Blessed be the glory of the Lord from his place. I heard also the
noise of the wings of the living creatures that touched one another . . . So
the spirit lifted me up, and took me away, and I went in bitterness, in the
7
Cf. Saul’s stripping off his clothes (1 Samuel 19. 2–24); Isaiah’ remaining naked for three
years (Isaiah 20. 3); Ezekiel’s austerities and magic (Ezekiel 4–5).
Consciousness Alteration Practices in the West from Prehistory to Late Antiquity 55
heat of my spirit; but the hand of the Lord was strong upon me. Then I
came to them of the captivity at Tel-abib . . . and remained there astonished
among them seven days.
Ancient Greece9
In ancient Greece, certain forms of anomalous behavior, considered to
be inspired by supernatural forces, were actively sought, whereas others
were dismissed as negative and abhorred. “Our greatest blessings come
to us by way of madness, provided it is given us by divine gift,” says
Socrates in Plato’s Phaedrus (244A). In contrast, other kinds of madness
were expunged, either by purifications or other religious means, or by
more rational methods. Plato further explains that the divine madness is
produced by “a divinely wrought change in our customary social norms”
(Phaedrus 265A) and states that there are four types of god-induced frenzy
or mania: prophetic, initiatory, poetic, and erotic (Dodds, 1973, p. 64).
Following Plato, we will survey some most remarkable cases of different
kinds of madness. In Greece, prophecy inspired directly by a divinity was
8
“Merkabah literature,” Sholem, 1987, pp. 19–24.
9
This section of the paper is largely based on my book: Ustinova, 2009b.
56 Altering Consciousness
that drinking from the sacred pool at Claros inspires wonderful oracles
but shortens the life of the drinker (Pliny, Natural History 2. 232; Iambli-
chus, On the mysteries 3. 11). The life-shortening factor was most probably
not the sacred water alone but the way of life of the medium.
In contrast, in many oracular centers inquirers received the response directly
from the deity, who appeared to them in a dream or in a revelation. We are for-
tunate to have a unique account of an experience in such a sanctuary. Tropho-
nius, whose oracle was in Lebadeia (Central Greece), was believed to have
vanished there beneath the earth and to live in a cave under a hill as an
oracular god. The oracle in Lebadeia already existed by the 6th century BCE
(Bonnechere, 2003; Schachter, 1981–1994, Volume 3; Ustinova, 2002).
The descent to Trophonius is described in detail by Pausanias, who
wrote his Description of Greece about 140 CE (Pausanias 9. 39). The prepa-
ration for the consultation took several days and included not only prelimi-
nary sacrifices but also secluded lodging in a small building, cold baths,
prayers, special diet, and sexual abstinence, as well as music and dancing.
Only when well-prepared for the tremendous experience, that is,
exhausted, tense with anticipation, and disposed to hallucinating, did the
petitioner descend to Trophonius’ cave. The symbolism of the sanctuary
was that of the netherworld: At night two boys, personifying Hermes, the
conductor of the souls to realm of the dead, led the person to the oracular
cave. The prophetic sanctum was most probably an artificial circular hole,
several meters deep: The inquirer lay on the ground, and then he was
swiftly drawn into another hole, as if by an eddy. The inner space was per-
haps a small recess at the bottom of the larger grotto, where only the feet of
the people entered, while they remained stretched out on the floor (Bonne-
chere, 2003, pp. 159–163). In fact, the image of the whirl could derive from
the vortex experienced by the inquirers at the beginning of their prophetic
ASC, induced by the immersion into the dark coolness of the grotto.10
Immediately after the stay in the underground cave, the inquirer took a seat
on the chair of the goddess of Memory and recounted his experience to the
10
For a different reconstruction of the layout of the prophetic grotto see: Rosenberger,
2001, pp. 37–38, fig. 2.
A feeling of passage through a rotating dark space defined by the experiencer as tunnel,
cave, corridor, well, spiral, vessel, or swirl, is characteristic of the initial stages of ASC. This
experience is frequently reported by participants in laboratory experiments investigating
the effects of stress and various hallucinogens, and often appears in anthropological
accounts of altered states of consciousness as experienced by shamans and other religious
practitioners (Harner, 1990, pp. 28–30; Siegel & Jarvik 1975; Merkur, 1989, pp. 136–
137). Reclining position, like the one assumed by the consulters at the Trophonium, can
also trigger visions (Siegel, 1980, p. 925).
58 Altering Consciousness
priests. Only after this procedure was the suppliant, semiconscious and
paralyzed with terror, allowed to be taken away by his relatives.
The suppliant’s experience in this sanctuary is described in a dialogue enti-
tled The Daimonion of Socrates by Plutarch, philosopher, biographer, and priest
at Delphi, who lived ca. 50–120 CE. This is a fascinating account of the com-
munication of a young Athenian named Timarchus, who spent 2 nights and a
day in the cave, in a world beyond normal experience (590B–592F):
He said that on descending into the oracular crypt his first experience was of
profound darkness; next . . . he lay a long time not clearly aware whether he
was awake or dreaming. It did seem to him, however, that at the same
moment he heard a crash and was struck on the head, and that the sutures
parted and released his soul. As it withdrew and mingled joyfully with air
that was translucent and pure, it felt . . . that now, after long being cramped,
it had again found relief . . . ; and next it faintly caught the whir of something
revolving overhead with a pleasant sound . . . He saw islands illuminated by
one another with soft fire, taking on now one colour, now another . . . All this
he viewed with enjoyment of the spectacle. But looking down he saw a great
abyss . . . most terrible and deep it was . . . After an interval someone he did
not see addressed him: “Timarchus, what would you have to explain?”
“Everything,” he answered . . .
“Nay,” the voice replied, “in the higher regions we others have but little
part . . . ; but you may, if you wish, inquire into the portion of Persephone
[the Netherworld] . . . Of these matters . . . you will have better knowledge
. . . in the third month from now; for the present, depart.”
. . . Once more [Timarchus] felt a sharp pain in his head, as though it
had been violently compressed, and he lost all recognition and awareness
of what was going on around him; but he presently recovered and saw that
he was lying in the crypt of Trophonius near the entrance, at the very spot
he had first laid himself down. . . .When he had come back to Athens and
died in the third month, as the voice had foretold, we were amazed . . .
At first there was wandering, and wearisome roaming, and some fearful
journeys through unending darkness, and just before the end, every sort
of terror, shuddering and trembling and sweat and amazement. Out of
these emerges marvelous light, and pure places and meadows follow after,
with voices and dances and solemnities of sacred utterances and holy
visions. Among these the completely initiated (mystes) walks freely and
without restraint; crowned, he takes part in rites, and joins with pure and
Consciousness Alteration Practices in the West from Prehistory to Late Antiquity 61
pious people; he observes the crowd of people living at this very time unini-
tiated and unpurified, who are driven together and trample each other in
deep mud and darkness, and continue in their fear of death, their evils
and their disbelief in the good things in the other world. Then in accor-
dance with nature the soul stays engaged with the body in close union
thereafter.
Figure 3.4 Raging maenad. Wine cup by Brygos painter, Athens, 490 BCE.
Drawing by Y. Sokolovskaya, after Beazley, 1963, p. 371, No. 15.
his or her usual identity, becomes one with the god and is called bacchos
(Graf & Johnston, 2007; Jeanmaire, 1970; Seaford, 2006).
Both men and women participated in mystery rites in honor of Dionysus,
and in several places only married women were admitted. The rites included
sacrifices, wine drinking, and dancing to intoxicating tunes that inspired
breaking the regular norms of behavior and reached their climax at the
revelation of the main mystery. Scenes of initiations, preserved on works
of art, depict the initiate, head veiled, being led toward another figure, who
is about to disclose the great secret, a basket filled with fruit (a symbol of
fertility), among which a huge phallus rises (Figure 3.5). Preparation
and alteration of the state of consciousness, referred to by Aristotle, were
necessary to ensure that viewing trivial objects like this basket produced
the sensation of a direct encounter with the divine, imparting exclusive
knowledge that elevated the initiate to his new blessed state.
Consciousness Alteration Practices in the West from Prehistory to Late Antiquity 63
the body is constantly breaking in upon our studies and disturbing us with
noise and confusion, so that it prevents our beholding the truth, and in fact
we perceive that, if we are ever to know anything absolutely, we must be
free from the body and must behold the actual activities with the eye of
the soul alone. And then, as our argument shows, when we are dead we
are likely to possess the wisdom which we desire and claim to be enam-
oured of, but not while we live. For, if pure knowledge is impossible while
the body is with us, one of two things must follow, either it cannot be
acquired at all or only when we are dead; for then the soul will be by itself
apart from the body, but not before. And while we live, we shall, I think, be
nearest to knowledge when we avoid, so far as possible, intercourse and
communion with the body
For Socrates, in order to reach the ultimate truth, the mind of a mortal
must cease to be merely human and mingle with the divine. To attain the
superhuman wisdom, the soul must be liberated from its connection with
the body. He says in the Phaedo that in order to transcend the limits of
incarnate knowledge, the philosopher must terminate his worldly exis-
tence, and only then is he able to reach the real divine postcarnate knowl-
edge (Cornford, 1952, p. 58; Morgan, 1990, pp. 55–79).
The Greeks knew several ways to liberate their souls from the con-
straints of the body and still remain alive. Some mystics claimed that they
could release their souls at will; independent of the body, the soul could
achieve superhuman knowledge. Others attained states of intense concen-
tration by means of meditation-like techniques. Ordinary people on the
verge of death reported out-of-body experiences involving the feeling of
their soul’s flight. Possession by a deity, divinely inspired madness,
enabled temporary abandonment of the human self and transformed an
individual into a medium, uttering words coming from the deity rather
than from the mortal mind. The variance in the ability to attain ASC was
not unknown to the Greeks. Plato notes: “Many bear the Bacchic rod,
but few are Bacchants” (Phaedo 69D).11
11
For mystics and out-of-body experiences, see Ustinova, 2009b, pp. 177–217.
Consciousness Alteration Practices in the West from Prehistory to Late Antiquity 65
At the climax of the Isiac initiation, the votary was “alone with the Alone,”
to use the phrase of Plotinus, a philosopher and mystic (Witt, 1971, p. 160).
The initiate experienced “voluntary death and eternal salvation,” an ineffable
communion with the divine, that “produced a profound and elevating effect”
(Apuleius, Metamorphoses 11. 21–25). Apuleius’s description of the initiate’s
intense happiness in front of Isis’s statue, in the innermost place in her tem-
ple, attests to spirituality imbued with a sensuous element. This experience,
which could be incited by the sublimation of eros, developed into a genuine
mystic union with Isis, a radiant all-encompassing joy (Griffiths, 1986,
p. 59). Achieved as a result of the solitary vigil, it came from within the
initiate’s mind, which means that the Isiac initiation closely approximated
the revelations attained by individual seers or sages.
The earliest evidence of hypnotic-type techniques seems to date from
the third century CE. The Demotic Magical Papyrus discovered in Egypt
contains a description of a curious divinatory technique, based perhaps
on a state conducive to revelations (Waterfield, 2003, p. 43):
You take a new lamp . . . and lay it . . . on a new brick, and you take a boy
and seat him upon another new brick, his face being turned to the lamp,
and you close his eyes and recite these things that are (written) above down
into the boy’s head seven times. You make him open his eyes. You say to
him, “Do you see the light?” When he says to you: “I see the light in the
flame of the lamp,” you . . . ask him concerning everything that you wish
after reciting the invocation . . . (column 16; Griffith & Thompson, 1904,
pp. 112–113)
Often I have woken up out of the body to myself, out from all the other
things, but inside myself; I have seen a beauty wonderfully great and felt
assurance that then most of all belonged to the better part; I have actually
Consciousness Alteration Practices in the West from Prehistory to Late Antiquity 67
lived the best life and come to identify with the divine; and set firm in it I
have come to that actuality setting myself above all else in the realm of Intel-
lect. Then after that rest in the divine, when I have come down from Intel-
lect to discursive reasoning, I am puzzled how I ever come down, and how
my soul has come to be in the body when it is what it has shown itself to be
in itself, even when it is in the body.
Conclusions
Since the Stone Age, human beings have manipulated their conscious-
ness. There is little doubt that psychotropic plants were used in the Neo-
lithic period, and it is most probable that this and other methods of
consciousness alteration, such as sensory deprivation, auditory driving,
and extensive motor behavior were employed even earlier, during the
Palaeolithic. With the invention of writing and subsequent development
of literature, descriptions of individual experiences of divine revelations,
out-of-body states, and related practices made their appearance. Ancient
Greeks went farther and began to expound altered states of consciousness
as a complex world view, basing their approach on the belief that human
ability to attain the ultimate truth is limited by nature, and only liberation
from the restraint of the mortal flesh can allow a glimpse into the realm of
the absolute. These ideas persisted till late antiquity and were further
developed by the adherents of syncretistic cults and philosophical schools
12
However, on its way to the absolute, Plotinus’s soul is exalted above the beauty, Ennead
6. 9. 9–11.
68 Altering Consciousness
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Introduction
The concept of an altered state of consciousness presupposes notions of
selfhood and consciousness that are stable enough to be altered and trans-
formed. In the Western Christian tradition, self and consciousness have
always been bound with notions of a relatively coherent inner self and
the existence of external agencies—spirits—that, at times, can take posses-
sion of this inner self and change it. The change could last anything from a
few seconds to a lifetime, could be voluntary or involuntary, and could
have either permanent or only short-term impact on the living subject
whose self is being possessed. An alteration of consciousness could be
ritualized, enabling a person to achieve a goal (usually spiritual) that could
not be achieved by normative human potentialities, and, alternatively,
could be spontaneous, unstructured, and chaotic. It could lead to a condi-
tion that could be evaluated by society as either positive or negative. It
could endow people with the halo of sanctity or label them as sick.
Theologians, philosophers, natural philosophers, and physicians par-
ticipated in ongoing efforts throughout the Classical Age, the Middle Ages,
and the early modern period to develop and systematize epistemologies of
the self and of consciousness and to address the physiological and psycho-
logical implications of the theories they developed. Once they moved away
from a consensual understanding that self, consciousness, and altered states
of consciousness exist, however, there was very little they agreed on. Where,
74 Altering Consciousness
exactly, is the location of the self and of consciousness within the body and
where does the alteration of the self take place? The mind–body nexus in the
Western tradition, starting, in fact, even prior to the Christian era, blurred
the boundaries between the inner and the outer parts of the self. The human
body was understood to be porous, and external forces could act internally
just as much as internal processes shaped the outer body.
Fragmented and inconclusive evidence from different peripheral corners
of Europe documents the possible existence of pre-Christian shamanistic
traditions throughout the continent. Although their exact configurations
differed according to local traditions and circumstances, they all shared a
few characteristics. From Greenland and Iceland to Siberia, from Lapland
to the Balkans and Sicily, some individuals were recognized as vessels who
had unique powers to transmit messages from deities and from the dead
to the community or to one of its members, or, alternatively, to deliver
the community’s or an individual’s requests to the divine powers (Pócs,
1999; Pócs, 2005, with very detailed bibliography; but see also de Blécourt,
2007). These professional spiritual leaders (healers, mediums, shamans)
used dream divination, hydromancy, crystal gazing, induced yawning, and
trance states as divinatory techniques (Buchholz, 2005; Tuczay, 2005). A
trance state in this context has been defined as a psychobiological condition
that enables the surrendering of the body to external entities and the fall into
catalepsy (immobility), and it was understood as a precondition for a com-
municative act (Crapanzano, 1987, p. 14). The interaction with the deity
or the dead was usually construed either as mostly an imaginal journey of
the shaman’s soul to the realm of the divine or of the deceased ancestors
(i.e., the shamanic “magical flight”), or, less often, as a penetration of his or
her soul by a supernatural entity (i.e., “spirit possession”; see Cardeña,
1996, and Winkelman, 1992, for further discussions of this distinction).
Although most European shamans practiced alone and in secrecy, in some
parts of Europe entire groups of practitioners (males as well as females) par-
ticipated in a collective alteration of consciousness. Using incantations,
dancing (Tarantism), recitations, and maybe hallucinatory drugs, they
waged battles against malevolent entities. These battles of the good people
against enemies—evil or night spirits, donne di fuori (women from outside),
Mistresses of the Night, and others—were assumed to heal individuals,
overcome maleficium, and save the crops and guarantee fertility (Ginzburg,
1966, 1991; Henningsen, 1990; Pizza, 1996, 1998; William of Auvergne,
1674, p. 1066). While folklorists and ethnographers have catalogued and
differentiated among distinct types of such alterations of consciousness, it
is important to keep in mind a number of caveats. First, their morphological
differences notwithstanding, the cosmological framework of all of these
Spirit Possession and Other Alterations of Consciousness 75
resulted from the control (whose exact nature was open to debate) of
demonic entities over the self. Although in cases of a unitive mystical expe-
rience with the divine only the spirit itself determined the length of the
experience, a demonic possession necessitated an intervention by healing
professionals (saints, charismatic figures, or both lay and religious exor-
cists), whose intervention terminated the possession.
In this chapter, I trace some historical transformations of the Christian
idiom of spirit possession. The sense of change over time sometimes gets
lost in anthropological and ethnopsychiatric discussions of ASC that too
often assume stable conceptual notions of the interactions among humans
and divine or diabolic entities. The two forms of alteration of conscious-
ness I discuss, however, went through a major historical reconfiguration.
They had separate and distinct histories from the early Christian period
until about the 13th century. From then on, they started to resemble each
other morphologically more and more (Caciola, 2000, 2003; Elliott,
2004; Newman, 1985). As Nancy Caciola rightly pointed out: “We can . . .
legitimately speak of two kinds of spirit possession existing in the Middle
Ages—one malign and one benign—that were outwardly indistinguishable
from one another” (Caciola, 2000, 272). This growing similarity between
two phenomena that were theologically very different, even antithetical,
and that occupied the extreme ends of the malevolence–benevolence spec-
trum, troubled theologians and threatened the stability of presumed clear
distinctions between the realms in which God and Satan can act and
among the forms possessions could take. The confusion, in turn, led, by
the later part of the period under discussion (the 16th and 17th centuries),
to new definitions of both divine and demonic possessions, to new tech-
niques of discerning the differences between them, and then to processes
of legitimazing or delegitimazing of specific forms of ASC and the individ-
uals who experienced them.
Divine Possession
Following St. Augustine, the medieval Christian tradition recognized
three experiences of union with the divine. “Spiritual experience is more
excellent than the corporeal, and intellectual is more excellent than spiritual”
(Augustine, 1982, p. 213). In intellectual mystical experiences, the mystic
acquires an inward presence of the divine independently of any sensory
form. Spiritual experiences involve imaginary hearing or seeing things with
the spiritual (as opposed to the bodily) senses (imaginations). Finally, corpo-
real experiences are perceived through the body and its real senses. An intel-
lectual unitive experience is the most reliable, while spiritual and corporeal
Spirit Possession and Other Alterations of Consciousness 77
Diabolic Possession
Unlike divine possession, the techniques of which could be learned (but
it is worth repeating, demanded an “infusion” of the divine spirit to actually
occur), diabolic possession in the Christian tradition was never self-induced.
It was always regarded as an undesired intrusion and always necessitated an
intervention by healing experts who could expel the demonic spirit from the
possessed body. Here, too, there was no consensus among medieval and
early modern theologians and other experts concerning the exact nature,
origins, and configuration of this malign ASC. Individuals could be pos-
sessed by either revenants (souls returning from the realm of the dead),
Satan himself, or other (lesser) demonic agents; they could remain possessed
for many years or only for a short while; they could manifest their possession
in purely physical symptoms, purely “psychological” symptoms, or both;
and they could be relieved of their possession by a local lay or religious
professional (exorcist), by the charisma of a saint (dead or alive), or only by
Spirit Possession and Other Alterations of Consciousness 79
Exorcism
Divine possession, as we pointed out, was induced by God, and only
God determined its length. But malignant spirits, who possessed a body with
God’s permission as a result of satanic wickedness, could and should be
expelled. Christ cast out possessing demons by the power of his command,
but his disciples no longer enjoyed this power, and they expelled demons
by invoking Christ’s name (Mark 16.17; Matthew 8.16, 10.1). Throughout
the Middle Ages, numerous traditions coexisted in the Christian West
concerning exorcism. Within the religious hierarchy, both charismatic
saints (both males and females) and ordained exorcists expelled demons
from possessed bodies. Alongside them, many lay individuals also
employed supernatural powers to cast out demons. It is extremely difficult
to generalize about these healers’ sources of authority. Some gained their
power through esoteric knowledge passed to them from relatives (usually
mothers or other female relatives). Others acquired exorcismal powers
because they were the third, fifth, or seventh sons of fathers who were
themselves third, fifth, or seventh sons in their lineage. Some acquired rep-
utation as exorcists because they were born on Good Friday or Christmas
Day, others because they were born with the caul (Del Rio, 2000, p. 50;
Ginzburg, 1966; Sluhovsky, 2007, 39–49).
The rituals used to expel demons also varied. Living charismatic figures,
whether they were religious or lay, often followed the tradition and invoked
Spirit Possession and Other Alterations of Consciousness 83
Christ, but at times their mere presence in a place was enough to cleanse a
possessed body (Brigitta of Sweden 1990, p. 8; Il primo processo per San
Filippo Neri, 1957–1963, 1:100, 156–157, 214–215, 401; 2:75, 136–139,
142–143, 170–171, 268; 3:290–291; Vita sanctae Genovefae, 44). Cult prac-
titioners in saints’ shrines usually invoked both Christ and the local saint,
who had been herself or himself renowned in her or his own lifetime for
performing successful exorcisms. Professional religious exorcists followed
prescribed rites and formulas, which varied from place to place, and both
they and lay exorcists used a combination of Christian prayers, saints’ relics,
fumigations, incantations, herbs, and a mixture of amulets and other parali-
turgical and magical techniques. Making the sign of the Cross over the pos-
sessed body was a common and successful technique, as were reading
citations from the Bible, reciting names of demons and forcing them to
reveal their names, recalling the Christian myth of creation, Incarnation,
Crucifixion, and redemption, and, at times, using physical violence against
the demon (Maggi, 2001; Sluhovsky, 2007, pp. 36–70).
The need to systematize exorcismal practices arose only in the early
16th century as part of the Catholic Church’s ongoing battle against “super-
stitious” beliefs and practices. Many techniques that had been tolerated by
the church and often used by clerical exorcists themselves were now
deemed to be unauthorized, superstitious, and at times even criminal. A
first effort to compile an authorized Catholic rite of exorcism was initiated
by Pope Leo X in 1513, and in the last quarter of the 16th century the
Franciscan exorcist Girolamo Menghi authored five books in which he
offered practicing exorcists a collection of legitimate rites. These books
were then incorporated into the massive compendium the Thesaurus exor-
cismorum of 1608. Hundreds of other guides circulated in the early modern
Catholic world, and even the publication of the Rituale Romanum of 1614
did not put an end to the spread of alternative variations. What all these
books had in common was a demarcation of the boundaries between
authorized and unauthorized techniques of exorcism and between purely
physical aliments and diabolic possession, and a growing attention to the
uncertainty of all symptoms, both physical and “psychological” (Libellus
ad Leonem X, 1723, c. 688; Thesaurus exorcismorum, 1608). At the same
time that the curative aspect of exorcism was being codified for the first
time, an equally or maybe more important process was going on. With
the clericalization of exorcism that, I argue, started in the 15th and 16th
centuries, exorcism acquired an additional meaning. Clerical exorcism
was now also used as a technique that enabled clerics to discern possessing
spirits. Thus, for example, when the 16th century Spaniard Teresa of Avila
was first experiencing her mystical visions, her father confessor
84 Altering Consciousness
Summary
At the center of my chapter is the argument that, although both
divinely and demonically inspired forms of altered states of consciousness
have always existed in the Christian West, it is important to note the his-
torical changes these idioms went through and to contextualize these
transformations within their precise historical settings. Divine possession,
as we have seen, broke away from the confined walls of male monastic
communities in the twelfth and 13th centuries and reshaped Christian
mysticism, prayer, and men’s and women’s access to the divine. New the-
ology of contemplation and new practices popularized and democratized
possession by the divine spirit, while affective, imaginary, and sensory
techniques enabled unlearned but nonetheless spiritually inclined indi-
viduals, including women, to pursue new forms of religiosity and altera-
tion of consciousness.
Possession by demonic entities also witnessed a transformation in the
later Middle Ages. Its symptoms, which in the past had been mostly physical,
now became psychological. And with this change, a new set of quandaries
arose: How could demonic entities possess the soul, which is supposed to
be immune to their penetration? Who is to decide that a person is possessed
when she does not exhibit the traditional physical symptoms of diabolic
possession? How does one discern possessing spirits? The fact that both
divine and demonic possession were assumed now to take place within
the human soul and that both led to alterations in consciousness that were
morphologically similar created a theological, conceptual, and philosophi-
cal confusion. Unsurprisingly, then, the church’s attempt to redraw the
boundaries between divine and diabolic possession went hand in hand
with its systematic effort to delegitimize most forms of affective mysticism.
Spirit Possession and Other Alterations of Consciousness 85
Among the means it employed to pursue this goal was the old technique of
exorcism. Just as the discernment of possessing spirits was a new technique
that shifted power from the laity to the clergy, the new employment of
exorcism as a probative mechanism restricted its own use to religiously
trained exorcists.
Both forms of spirit possession have continued, however, to exist. Even
after the restriction on some forms of female contemplative experiences
that could lead to unity with the divine and annihilation of the self, and
even after new and stringent rules for the authentication of mystical expe-
riences were codified, some women continued to be recognized as “true”
mystics and had their divine possessions authenticated (Bergamo, 1992;
Vidal, 2006). Similarly, Christian believers continue to this day to become
possessed by evil spirits. The etiology of demonic possession is restricted
nowadays to very precise types of “mental illness,” and the Catholic
Church demands that a diagnosis of mental illness is ruled out by “medical
and psychological experts” before a definition of diabolic possession is
advanced (De Exorcismis, 1998). The Catholic Church, in other words,
still maintains the 2000-year-old Christian tradition of defining alteration
of consciousness through encounter with possessing spirits.
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Spirit Possession and Other Alterations of Consciousness 87
Introduction
The alterations of consciousness, discernment strategies, and explanatory
models described in the previous chapter [see Sluhovsky, this volume] con-
tinued throughout the 18th century, although the Age of Enlightenment
would bring its own ideology to bear on these matters. Even earlier, the
physician Duncan in 1634 had attributed the phenomena of the possessed
nuns of Loudun to “folly and error of the imagination” and suggestion by
the confessors rather than to supernatural causes (in de Certeau, 2000,
pp. 135–136). The 17th century had a cadre of outstanding thinkers such
as Leibniz and Descartes, but their rational models of the universe were still
undergirded by God and religion; thus, the 18th century stands out thanks
to a plethora of important works that pushed rational analyses above and
beyond religious concerns. The groundbreaking works of Kant, Voltaire,
and the French Encyclopedists set the stage for a search for knowledge per-
haps unparalleled since the Al-Andaluz period during the Arabic reign of
the Iberic peninsula in which rational and empirical concerns were harmo-
niously integrated with a mystical vision (Bakan, Merkur, & Weiss, 2009).
Similarly to classical Greece (cf. Dodds, 1951/1973), however, the age
of enlightenment and rationality in Europe and the Americas had a corre-
sponding and perhaps partly reactive set of religious and quasi-religious
movements in which alterations of consciousness and behavior were a
major concern for a large segment of the population, even though many
of these manifestations had, earlier on, been condemned by the Christian
1
We are grateful for the editorial assistance of Alan Gauld.
90 Altering Consciousness
Hypnotic Somnambulism
Although Mesmerism as a theory came into disrepute following the
reports by the commissions, the idea of animal magnetism as a physical
agent persisted longer than it is generally realized (Alvarado, 2009). A stu-
dent of Mesmer, A. M. J. Chastenet, Marquis de Puységur (1751–1825),
would introduce changes in practice that are the true predecessors of con-
temporary hypnotic practice. When he treated the peasant Victor Race for
a lung condition, Puységur noticed that he did not go into a mesmeric cri-
sis (perhaps because he did not have any models as to how he should
behave and/or perhaps because he might have been delirious) but instead
seemed to be experiencing and acting as if he were in a dream, which he
could not recall once he seemed to come out of that state as if waking
up. This and similar manifestations were called somnambulism, which
means carrying out complex acts in a sleeplike state. This presumed asso-
ciation between mesmeric phenomena and sleep would be retained in the
later term hypnos, which refers to the Greek god of sleep.
Puységur and other contemporary practitioners also noted a number of
potential parapsychological phenomena, for instance, that patients in the
state of magnetic somnambulism reputedly knew the cause of their own
and others’ diseases and were able to indicate the means of healing them
(Chastenet de Puységur, 1820, p. 1). Crabtree (1993) has listed for us
various described alterations in consciousness: a sleepwalking kind of
consciousness, a different reservoir of knowledge and memory during that
state, loss of the sense of identity, suggestibility to the mesmerist’s commu-
nications, heightened memory, alterations in the senses, apparent insen-
sibility to pain, and a special rapport with the magnetizer. Crabtree
(1988) has also documented copious sources that describe potential psi
phenomena during the magnetic state, including the apparent communi-
cation of the sensations or behaviors of the magnetizer to the magnetized
without any known sensory or logical links (community of sensation and
of muscular action), telepathy, becoming mesmerized at a distance with-
out sensory or logical intermediation, clairvoyance of remote (in time
and place) events and of medical conditions, and awareness of spiritual
things and beings (see also Dingwall, 1967–1968).
94 Altering Consciousness
As a general rule . . . the sleeper does not remember, after waking, what he
may have seen, felt, tasted, smelled, heard, spoken, or done, during his
sleep; but when next put to sleep, he recollects perfectly all that has
occurred, not only in the last sleep, but in all former sleeps, and, as in
the ordinary state, with greater or less accuracy, although usually very
accurately indeed. He lives, in fact, a distinct life in the sleep, and has,
what is called, a double or divided consciousness . . . (Gregory, 1851,
p. 82)
(E)ach state admits of many degrees and the characteristics of either of them
may be only slightly or only very transiently presented; and in the second
place, unless special means are adopted, it is very easy to mistake the
alert state for normal waking, and the deep state for sleep. (Gurney,
1884, p. 62)
96 Altering Consciousness
When the sleeper has become fully asleep, so as to answer questions readily
without waking, there is almost always observed a remarkable change in
the countenance, the manner, and the voice. On falling asleep at first, he
looks, perhaps, drowsy and heavy . . . But when spoken to, he usually
brightens up, and, although the eyes be closed, yet the expression becomes
highly intelligent . . . a person of a much more elevated character than
the same sleeper seems to be when awake . . . In the highest stages of the
magnetic sleep, the countenance often acquires the most lovely expression
Altered Consciousness: Age of Enlightenment Through Mid–20th Century 97
. . . As to the voice, I have never seen one person in the true magnetic sleep,
who did not speak in a tone quite distinct from the ordinary voice of the
sleeper . . . softer and more gentle, well corresponding to the elevated and
mild expression of the face . . . For the sleeper, in the magnetic state, has a
consciousness quite separate and distinct from his ordinary consciousness.
He is, in fact, if not a different individual, yet the same individual in a
different and distinct phase of his being; and that phase, a higher one.
(pp. 80–82)
Mediumship
Besides putative exceptional powers, some of the anomalous experien-
ces reported by gifted participants during magnetic/hypnotic sessions
2
Even before mesmerism, there have been discussions of such phenomena as alternate
consciousnesses and psychogenic amnesia (Gauld, 1992), and from early mesmerism
onward it was proposed that mesmeric and—later—hypnotic techniques provided access
to one or more selves that manifest different characteristics from the normal, waking self
or identity (Crabtree, 1993; Ellenberger, 1970). Thus, the clinical phenomena that were
first discussed under the umbrella of such terms as hysteria, double or multiple personality
and, more recently, dissociative identity disorder became associated with hypnotic phe-
nomena and techniques. This is evident, for instance, in the works of Pierre Janet
(1889), Breuer and Freud (1895/1955), and many other pioneers of clinical psychology
and psychiatry (Ellenberger, 1970; see also Spiegel & Cardeña, 1991). The relationship
between hypnosis, suggestion, and identity multiplicity has been contentious. Suffice it
to say here that although some authors have criticized the reality of identity multiplicity
or fragmentation as mere cultural creation or, worse, iatrogenic suggestion, research has
overwhelmingly shown a relationship between dissociation (including identity fragmenta-
tion), exposure to trauma, and hypnotic capacity (for a review, see Cardeña & Gleaves,
2007), although this relationship seems to occur only in a subgroup of highly hypnotizable
individuals (Terhune, Cardeña, & Lindgren, 2011).
98 Altering Consciousness
mentioned contact with angels and departed spirits, and there were some
who interpreted these literally (Billot, 1839; Cahagnet, 1851; cf. Gauld,
1992, p. 3). One such mesmeric subject was an English woman called
Emma. According to the report:
But in passing out of trance, the stages are usually of longer duration than
when she enters it. She frequently repeats statements apparently made to her
by the “communicators” while she is in the purely “subliminal” stage, as
though she was a “spirit” controlling her body but not in full possession of it,
Altered Consciousness: Age of Enlightenment Through Mid–20th Century 101
and, after her supraliminal consciousness has begun to surge up into view, she
frequently has visions apparently of the distant or departing “communicators.”
(pp. 400–401)
I conceive also that no Self of which we can here have cognisance is in real-
ity more than a fragment of a larger Self,—revealed in a fashion at once
shifting and limited through an organism not so framed as to afford it full
manifestation. (1903, Vol. 1, p. 15)
Here . . . we have the consciousness of a subject split into two parts, one of
which expresses itself through the mouth, and the other through the hand,
whilst both are in communication with the ear. The mouth-consciousness
is ignorant of all that the hand suffers or does; the hand-consciousness is
ignorant of pin-pricks indicted upon other parts of the body. (James,
1889, p. 551)
But even before his treatise on religious experience, in his 1896 Lowell
lectures he had discussed dreams, hypnosis, automatism, “hysteria,”
multiple personality (nowadays dissociative identity disorder), and a
number of other alterations of consciousness (Taylor, 1983).
Besides Myers and James, many if not most of the pioneers in clinical
psychology/psychiatry at the end of the 19th century and beginning of
the 20th were very much involved in the study of altered consciousness.
To give just some examples, besides his foundational work on dissocia-
tion, Pierre Janet (1926) provided a thorough account of various ASC of
some of his patients including Madeleine, whom he treated for 22 years
and who experienced mystical transports and other intense emotional
events. The Swiss professor of psychology Théodore Flournoy (1854–
1920) gave a detailed case analysis of the medium Hélène Smith (1861–
1929, pseudonym of Catherine Elise Müller) who, among other things,
experienced visiting the planet Mars (Flournoy, 1900). He described the
creative abilities of the subconscious, particularly as it was expressed
via mediumship. His work is also an exemplar of the influence of the
psychosocial environment on subconscious creations, including the
effects of suggestion and surrounding beliefs, topics of much concern
in the study of “hysteria” and hypnosis during the late 19th century
(Alvarado, 1991).
Altered Consciousness: Age of Enlightenment Through Mid–20th Century 105
There were also exceptions within academia such as the short-lived but
extraordinarily fruitful research by Clark L. Hull (1884–1952; 1933) of
hypnosis, although it was clear that even he was primarily interested in
behavior rather than consciousness. After the impressive efforts of both
the Society for Psychical Research and the American Society for Psychical
Research, Joseph Banks Rhine (1895–1980) led an impressive program
of investigation of parapsychological phenomena at Duke University,
although, perhaps because of his original training in botany, he did not
seem to be as interested in the alterations of consciousness that have long
been associated with them (cf. Alvarado, 1998).
With regard to the neurosciences, some of the most eminent minds
during the first half of the 20th century devoted considerable time to
researching altered consciousness. Santiago Ramón y Cajal (1852–1934),
1906 Nobel prizewinner and a towering figure for his work on the neuron,
did research on hypnosis, mediumship, and parapsychological phenom-
ena, although unfortunately a book he had written on the subject got lost
during the Spanish Civil War (Sala et al., 2008). Hans Berger (1873–1941)
created the EEG to try to obtain an “objective” measurement of possible
telepathic communications, which his sister seemed to experience when
he had an unexpected and serious accident (Millet, 2001). Charles Richet
(1850–1935), another Nobel laureate for his work on physiology, devoted
a substantial part of his life to research hypnosis, mediumship, and psi
phenomena (Alvarado, 2008).
We will also mention briefly a tendency outside of both the academic
and clinical spheres (some therapists such as C. G. Jung were clearly influ-
enced by a non-academic visionary tradition). For lack of an accepted
name, we can refer to it as the goal to radically change or expand one’s
ordinary state of consciousness. Although some religious and esoteric
practices such as alchemy have had this goal (Cavendish, 1967), the
period covered by this paper also includes other attempts, some of them
still influential, to “expand” or “awaken” or, to paraphrase William Blake’s
(1757–1827) line, cleanse the doors of perception. This “cleansing” typi-
cally includes questioning the absolute value of rationality and the “given-
ness” of reality as presented by the senses, an idea present in Plato and
recurrent throughout history and in various places such as American tran-
scendentalism. To achieve this goal, various esoteric traditions have
advanced practices to alter one’s state of consciousness and, at times, to
“derange the senses” to use the phrase of the French poet Arthur Rimbaud
(1854–1891; cf. Cavendish, 1967).
Besides the use of psychoactive drugs, covered in other chapters, it is
worth mentioning other proposals to achieve this altered consciousness.
Altered Consciousness: Age of Enlightenment Through Mid–20th Century 107
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CHAPTER 6
Introduction
Although consciousness in its various senses has received attention as a
construct for more than three millennia, in modern psychology altered
states of consciousness (ASC) have often been deemed pathological or
anomalous and outside of conventional Western psychological frame-
works. Eastern traditions, however, have developed intricate vocabularies
for describing these inner episodes of altered consciousness and spiritual
experiences and assign them a deeper grasp on reality.
The purpose of this chapter is to survey the preceding 50 years of
research on altering consciousness. Using Kuhn’s (1962) perspectives of sci-
entific paradigms (i.e., the systemic features of scientific fields that guide
research and provide models for the solution of research problems), we
will highlight how the field has been reconceptualized during this time.
Kuhn suggested that science approaches a topic like consciousness from
the standpoint of the prevailing paradigm—in this case, materialism—
until evidence for alternative interpretations reaches a critical mass and
new explanatory models take hold. For example, experiences of ASC
viewed as pathological by the existing psychological paradigm of the
1940s and ’50s were eventually embraced as normative experiences exem-
plifying heightened awareness, transpersonal development, and even
spiritual transcendence by the turn of the century.
This shift is evident in the publication during recent decades of texts
that treat ASC as normal and healthy experiences—though uncommon
114 Altering Consciousness
Out-of-Body Experiences
During an out-of-body experience (OBE), an individual experiences
him- or herself outside of the physical body, often floating or traveling
away from the body. The prevalence of OBEs ranges from 10% to more
than 80% depending on the population in question (e.g., general, stu-
dents, certain personality types, groups with parapsychological interests).
116 Altering Consciousness
Summary
The early study of ASC suffered some degree of definitional “fuzzi-
ness,” though some efforts at operationalization, including the Linton-
Langs questionnaire (Linton & Langs, 1962) were attempted. At that
stage, the necessary and sufficient conditions for ASC to be inferred had
not been formulated, but ASC including out-of-body experiences had
begun to move out of the realm of exotica and into the laboratory.
The 1970s
Honing Definitions
In 1972, psychologist Stanley Krippner extended previous definitions
of ASC by comparing the changes that occur during ASC to the individual’s
“normal” state rather than the comparison to “general norms” that Ludwig
(1966) made. Krippner proposed the following characterization: “a mental
state which can be subjectively recognized by an individual (or by an
objective observer of the individual) as representing a difference in
psychological functioning from the individual’s ‘normal’ alert state”
(1972, p. 1). While ostensibly resolving previous problems associated
with operationalizing the qualifier sufficient, Krippner’s definition
neglected to operationalize mental state and normal alert state. In addition,
it failed to specify whether changes in the pattern and/or the intensity of
psychological functioning are different.
Reconceptualizing the Field of Altered Consciousness 117
Expanding Methods
Tart continued to advocate for the systematic investigation of ASC in
1972 when he proposed that the fundamental principles of the scientific
method could be utilized to address ASC using what he termed “state-
specific sciences” (SSS), which would provide
He also emphasized that the creation of SSS “neither validates nor inva-
lidates the activities of normal consciousness sciences . . . [It] means only
that certain kinds of phenomena may be handled more adequately within
these potential new sciences” (p. 1207). Tart later refined his suggestion
by proposing that ASC could be studied “on their own terms” as “state-
specific perceptions and logics” (1998, p. 103). For example, ordinary
waking states operate according to the logic of binary and linear segmenta-
tion (i.e., duality and temporality, respectively), whereas ASC such as
samadhi ostensibly do not. Tart emphasized that “the methods of essential
science (observation, theorizing, prediction, communication/consensual
validation) can be applied from within various SoCs and ASCs” to generate
118 Altering Consciousness
Psychedelics
Although it can be argued that the use of psychedelic—or “mind-
expanding”—drugs peaked during the 1960s, the majority of research on
these substances occurred during that as well as the following decade and
included studies of marijuana (e.g., Tart, 1971), psilocybin (e.g., Leary,
1967–1968), and lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD; e.g., Houston, 1969).
The most interesting findings from studies of marijuana intoxication
demonstrated contradictions between the subjective experiences of the
user and objective reality. It was shown that experiences of increased
visual acuity (Moskowitz, Sharma, & Shapero, 1972), tactile sensitivity
(Milstein, MacCannell, Karr, & Clark, 1974), sensory abilities (Roth,
Tinklenberg, & Kopell, 1976), and perceptions of others’ emotions
(Clopton, Janowsky, Clopton, Judd, & Huey, 1979) were not reflected in
related objective measures. In addition, researchers in the 1970s demon-
strated marijuana’s effects on attention, memory, perception of time, crea-
tivity, driving ability, cognition, and mood (reviewed in Farthing, 1992).
During this decade, Siegel (e.g., 1977) performed controlled research
on the form, color, movement, and actions of visual hallucinations pro-
duced by psychoactive substances including LSD, psilocybin, marijuana,
and mescaline by using an image classification system that participants
were trained to use to describe their experiences. Siegel and Jarvik
(1975) proposed that the same mechanism is involved in the production
of visual hallucinations by different hallucinogens (as well as other situa-
tions such as migraines) because of the similarities in the content of the
hallucinations regardless of the substance involved.
Near-Death Experiences
A global sensation, the publication of physician Raymond Moody’s
book Life After Life (1975) first brought the unique altered state that
Moody called a “near-death experience” (NDE), the subjective experience
of surviving clinical death, into light. Moody described 150 cases and rec-
ognized 15 commonly recurring elements of NDEs (e.g., ineffability, a
brilliant light, an out-of-body experience, a tunnel, feelings of quiet and
peace, meeting others, and a border or limit) but noted that “both the
Reconceptualizing the Field of Altered Consciousness 119
Other Inquiries
The experimental approach to ASC was extended in the early 1970s
when Jean Houston and Robert Masters (1972) developed the Altered
States of Consciousness Induction Device (ASCID) to induce religious-
type experiences in a laboratory setting. The ASCID is a “metal swing or
pendulum in which the subject stands upright, supported by broad bands
of canvas and wearing blindfold goggles” (p. 310). Participants were more
likely to report that their experiences were “religious” if they were spiritual
growth seekers with a readiness or need for such an experience. Positive
aftereffects from the ASCID included improved family relationships and
a sense of continuing growth by one theologian participant (Houston &
Masters, 1972).
Another unique alteration in consciousness that garnered attention in
the 1970s was spirit possession, which involves a voluntary or involuntary
dissociative state in which the individual’s personality is substituted by
that of purported “spirits” (Bourguignon, 1976). In possession trance, alter-
ations of consciousness occur in which the possessing entities may speak
and engage in other observable behaviors (Bourguignon, 1976). Posses-
sion trance is a state welcomed by trance mediums who, during readings,
freely turn over control of their bodies to “spirit guides,” deceased loved
ones, or other “friendly” entities for a prescribed purpose and length of
time, as well as being embraced by other individuals engaged in certain
religious or secular practices.
Perhaps the form of altered consciousness that people experience most
often, dreaming was examined extensively during the 1970s. Though the
association between the rapid eye movement (REM) periods of sleep and
dreaming was first noted by Aserinsky and Kleitman in 1953, the physio-
logical parameters of dreaming were more thoroughly investigated during
the 1960s and ’70s. For example, Dement (1976) noted specific brain
120 Altering Consciousness
wave and respiration patterns during REM periods. The content of dreams
was also studied during this decade. Snyder (1970) and colleagues col-
lected more than 600 dream reports from roughly 50 college and medical
students and concluded that dreaming consciousness “is a remarkably
faithful replica of waking life” (p. 133) containing environments, objects,
and people similar to those experienced during waking consciousness.
In addition, Van de Castle (1971) found cross-cultural differences in
dream content and Winget, Kramer, and Whitman (1972) noted that
differences in gender, age, and socioeconomic status were also associated
with differences in content.
Mapping Consciousness
The development of various cartographies of consciousness that
emphasized an empirical domain was another notable feature of the
1970s. These included Ken Wilber’s spectrum of consciousness, which con-
sisted of various levels (e.g., ego, existential, Mind). Wilber’s (1974, 1975,
1977) model argues that Eastern metaphysics and Western psychology are
not incompatible; rather, they address different states within the spectrum
of consciousness (e.g., Freudian psychoanalysis is useful for addressing
the “Shadow level” while Eastern psychologies relate to the “level of
Mind”).
In 1975, psychiatrist Stanlislav Grof published his seminal work
Realms of the Human Unconscious, which outlined a cartography of the
human psyche derived from his research on LSD psychotherapy. Grof’s
cartography proposed spatial and/or temporal expansion of consciousness
within and beyond Einsteinian space-time, as well as psychoid experiences
where mind/matter duality ostensibly collapses (e.g., in instances of puta-
tive psychokinesis).
Psychiatrist Roland Fischer (1971, 1972, 1976) also formulated a car-
tography of ASC on a perception–meditation continuum that emphasizes
differences between ergotropic and trophotropic arousal. Ergotropic arousal
refers to hyperaroused states such as shamanic journeying experiences
while trophotropic arousal denotes hypoaroused states such as zazen or
samadhi meditation (Fischer, 1971).
In contrast to these cartographies of consciousness, which described
an empirical reality to ASC, this decade also accommodated several con-
structivist perspectives. This involved philosophers of religion addressing
the epistemology of ASC, especially mystical experiences. The key ele-
ments of the constructivist position were distilled in Steven Katz’s influen-
tial edited volume Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis (1978). The
Reconceptualizing the Field of Altered Consciousness 121
Summary
This decade witnessed a concern with addressing terminological issues
and, more importantly, a shift from definitions of ASC to the development
of more sophisticated models exemplified in cartographies that acknowl-
edged the phenomenological diversity of ASC. In addition, systematic
research was performed on specific ASC including psychedelic drug use,
near-death experiences, spirit possession, and dreaming.
The 1980s
Mystical States
During the 1980s, philosophers of religion continued to reflect on ASC
and substantiated the decontextualist position, as exemplified in Robert
Forman’s 1986 article “Pure Consciousness Events and Mysticism” (c.f.,
Almond, 1982; Kessler, & Prigge, 1982). Forman defined a pure conscious-
ness event (PCE) as a waking state of consciousness devoid of phenomeno-
logical content. A substantial body of evidence in the form of introspective
accounts was produced to support the contention that the PCE exists
cross-culturally. For example, Bucknell (1989) asserted that the “third
non-material jhana” encountered during Buddhist meditative practice is
consistent with the introvertive mystical experience “in which both the
thought-stream and sensory input have ceased, leaving zero mental con-
tent” (p. 19).
The 1980s also witnessed a resurgence of anthropologically inspired
studies of consciousness, exemplified in the neoshamanic practices that
were becoming rather popular amongst westerners. For example, in a
seminal study published in 1980, Peters and Price-Williams examined
the ethnographic literature pertaining to 42 different cultures and delin-
eated several transcultural factors indicative of shamanic ecstasy including
mastery or control with respect to both the entrance and duration of the
altered state, the ability to communicate with spectators, and postevent
memory (p. 397). In later research, Noll (1983) used a state-specific
122 Altering Consciousness
Empirical Attitudes
Empirical approaches to ASC continued to be developed in other areas
in the 1980s and were exemplified by clinical psychologist Ronald Pekala,
who extended research regarding ASC with quantitative instruments that
permitted operationalization of ASC (Pekala, 1985; Pekala & Levine,
1982–1983). The first version of this instrument (the Phenomenology of
Consciousness Questionnaire) was revised into the Phenomenology of
Consciousness Inventory (PCI; Pekala & Kumar, 1986), a 53-item ques-
tionnaire that quantifies 12 major dimensions (altered state, rationality,
positive affect, arousal, self-awareness, memory, inward absorbed atten-
tion, negative affect, altered experience, volitional control, vivid imagery,
and internal dialogue) and 14 minor dimensions (joy, sexual excitement,
love, anger, sadness, fear, body image, time sense, perception, meaning,
visual imagery amount, vividness, direction of attention, and absorption;
Pekala, Wenger, & Levine, 1985). The PCI builds on the theoretical foun-
dations of earlier consciousness researchers in operationalizing three dif-
ferent states of consciousness (SoCs): identity or I-states that exhibit
nonsignificantly different “phenomenological intensity and pattern param-
eters” (Pekala, 1991, p. 231); discrete or D-states that exhibit a signifi-
cantly different intensity and pattern relative to another SoC; and
discrete altered or A-states, which are D-states that exhibit significantly
higher altered-state-of-awareness intensity ratings relative to another SoC.
In 1985, Dittrich and his colleagues developed the APZ-OAV Ques-
tionnaire (Abnormer Psychischer Zustand refers to altered or abnormal men-
tal states) to quantify ASC induced by hallucinogens and other stimuli
(e.g., sensory deprivation; Dittrich, von Arx, & Staub, 1985). This 66-item
Reconceptualizing the Field of Altered Consciousness 123
Lucid Dreaming
Lucid dreaming, one’s experience of being aware that one is dreaming,
gained notoriety in the 1980s. Snyder and Gackenbach (1988) found that
the majority of U.S. adults have had at least one lucid dream. The phe-
nomenology of lucid dreams differs from that of nonlucid dreams in that
the former usually contain more auditory and kinesthetic imagery, more
control over the direction of the dream, and fewer dream characters
(Gackenbach, 1988). Perhaps the most intriguing research done on this
topic was performed by investigators at Stanford University and involved
participants able to voluntarily enter into the lucid dream state and con-
sciously alter their eye movements (LaBerge, Nagel, Dement, & Zarcone,
1981), respiration rates (LaBerge & Dement, 1982), and level of sexual
arousal (LaBerge, Greenleaf, & Kedzierski, 1983), which were simultane-
ously tracked by the researchers. Tholey (1988) later proposed that lucid
dreaming could serve as a clinically relevant tool for personal integration
because resistance to frightening characters or situations is limited; the
dreamer can focus on individuals, places, times, or situations of relevance;
and the dream ego can recognize and then alter certain aspects of the
personality.
Hallucinations
The scientific paradigm shift continued to be demonstrated in the
1980s through the surge of research on hallucinations that, until that time,
were generally viewed from a psychopathological standpoint rather than
“in terms of psychological processes known to be responsible for normal
124 Altering Consciousness
Summary
The 1980s were characterized by the development of more operation-
alized psychophenomenological approaches to experimentally investigate
whether an altered state effect had been induced and to empirically differ-
entiate among ASC using quantitative instruments and anthropological
approaches. Furthermore, specific states including lucid dreaming and
hallucinations were investigated.
The 1990s
Meditation
Although research from prior decades investigating meditation (i.e., a
procedure used to intentionally control one’s attention for the purpose of
achieving a short- or long-term benefit) focused on the perceptual (e.g.,
Brown, Forte, Rich, & Epstein, 1982–1983; Walsh, 1978), emotional
Reconceptualizing the Field of Altered Consciousness 125
Experimental Approaches
During the 1990s, psychologists began investigating shamanic phenom-
ena using experimental rather than anthropological methodologies. For
example, Wright (1991) found that a shamanic drumming group reported
numerous shifts in mental functioning (e.g., changes in time sense, affect,
and imagery vividness) relative to baseline. Maxfield (1994) reported exper-
imental evidence suggesting that shamanic drumming facilitates theta activ-
ity that, in turn, promotes the production of ASC. In another study,
Woodside, Kumar, and Pekala (1997) reported that “trance” postures and
monotonous drumming were associated with a myriad of phenomenologi-
cal effects (e.g., self-awareness and absorption) compared to baseline. How-
ever, Woodside et al. concluded that their results were indicative of a
discrete state of consciousness rather than an altered state of consciousness.
In 1994, psychiatrist Rick Strassman and his team published prelimi-
nary data regarding a 126-item quantitative instrument (i.e., the Halluci-
nogen Rating Scale; HRS) that they developed to assess the subjective
effects of hallucinogenic drugs (Strassman et al., 1994). The HRS items
were derived from interviews with 19 N,N-dimethyltryptamine (DMT)
users and were organized according to the following six predetermined
clinical clusters: (1) somaesthesia, (2) affect, (3) perception, (4) cognition,
(5) volition, and (6) intensity. Strassman and his colleagues (1994)
discovered varying patterns of visual hallucinations, bodily dissociation,
126 Altering Consciousness
Summary
During the 1990s, researchers formulated techniques to further inves-
tigate the phenomenological diversity of ASCs and experimental method-
ologies were applied in a variety of new contexts (e.g., meditation,
shamanic drumming, hallucinogenic drugs).
Reformatting Terms
In a recent series of theoretical essays, Rock and Krippner (2007a,
2007b, 2011) have argued that definitions of the term consciousness clearly
differentiate: (1) consciousness (i.e., awareness) from (2) the content of
consciousness (i.e., phenomenology, e.g., visual imagery, affect, time
sense), whereas definitions of [altered] states of consciousness (e.g.,
Krippner, 1972; Ludwig, 1966; Tart, 1969a) confuse consciousness with
its content. That is to say, Tart, Ludwig, and Krippner asserted that ASC
refers to shifts or deviations in the content of consciousness rather than
consciousness itself. Rock and Krippner further argued that this confusion
is avoided if the term altered pattern of phenomenal properties replaces
altered states of consciousness. This change would then compel reconceptu-
alizing the field of altering consciousness as altering phenomenology and have
numerous implications for future research. Paradigm shifts are necessary
for any field of inquiry to retain its vitality and, therefore, avoid suc-
cumbing to stasis. Perhaps reconceptualizing altering consciousness as alter-
ing phenomenology will serve to revitalize this field as we enter the second
decade of the new millennium.
Summary
During the first decade in the new century, altered states including
hypnosis, mediumship, and hallucinogenic drug use continued to be
investigated with a multiplicity of methods and in increasingly complex
ways. In addition, the terms used to describe consciousness and its
changes have been called into question and alternatives suggested.
Concluding Remarks
The previous 50 years of consciousness research have witnessed sig-
nificant changes in the definitions, methods, and theories that investiga-
tors have used to address ASC. As members of the general public
continue to intentionally engage in, experiment with, and embrace altered
states personally (e.g., through meditation, psychedelic drugs, lucid
dreaming, and hypnosis) or simply endorse these states as interested
observers concerned with learning about them through books, articles,
and television shows, academics and researchers will ideally keep investi-
gating these and other similar phenomena using open minds, sound meth-
ods, and varied approaches.
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134 Altering Consciousness
Cultural Perspectives
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CHAPTER 7
Experiences
II. The major Eastern traditions focusing on developing higher states of
consciousness all hold that meditation, when successful, can enable the
activity of the mind to settle down and disappear entirely so that its funda-
mental inner nature, independent of all the contents of ordinary aware-
ness, can be experienced with clarity. Different traditions may interpret
the experience differently, according to their different theories, but there
is wide agreement that the experience is fundamentally important, for it
is said to enliven our true inner nature and help free it to express itself nat-
urally and fulfillingly throughout life. Gaining the experience is also said
to enhance psychological and physiological integration and functioning
and to have all sorts of beneficial effects, including liberation of our natu-
ral tendencies for compassion and helpfulness and enhanced performance
in all areas of life. And most important for our present discussion, it is said
to be the basis of growth of a unique higher state of consciousness referred
to as “liberation” or “enlightenment,” the overarching goal of all the major
meditation traditions.
The experience itself is extraordinarily simple. Indeed, it appears to be
the logical ultimate of simplicity. For it has nothing in it all—no percep-
tion of objects, no colors or sounds, no feelings or emotions, no thoughts.
This of course is not easy to imagine. In fact, it is impossible to imagine. For
if anything we can imagine were in it, it would not be this completely
empty experience. What is the experience like? By all accounts it is not like
anything at all. Just itself. Yet it is different from unconsciousness. For
unlike unconsciousness, when one comes out of the experience, one can
remember it. What is it remembered as? Not as anything at all. Just itself.
Some traditions, such as Yoga and Vedanta, call the experience “pure
consciousness” inasmuch as it appears to be consciousness itself, that is,
what remains when everything one is conscious of has been removed from
consciousness. Buddhist traditions generally refer to it as “emptiness,”
reflecting the fact that it is empty of everything that can be imagined.
Vedanta also refers to it as “Being,” since all that can be said about it when
one emerges seems to be that it was. Many Buddhists also often refer to it
as “nonbeing,” since there seems to be nothing there. Zen Buddhists refer
to it in all of these ways, reflecting both the usefulness and inadequacy of
Eastern Approaches to Altered States of Consciousness 141
all these terms. All the traditions naturally link the terms used to their pre-
ferred metaphysical beliefs. But all questions of metaphysics and terminol-
ogy aside, in tradition after tradition all over the world, the descriptions
make it clear that what is being referred to appears to be completely empty
of empirical content, so empty, in fact, that it does not even contain the
internal perceptual manifold or “space” in which such content could
appear.
The standard descriptions of the experience can easily seem incompre-
hensible to people who have never had it. So they may often try to “explain
them away” as empty words, reflecting little more than the preconceptions
of people committed to metaphysical traditions and their terminology.
People who have had the experience, however, find the above sorts of
descriptions quite natural, regardless of their backgrounds, metaphysical
or not. Indeed, anyone with much familiarity with the topic is likely to
know, or at least know about, people who had the experience spontane-
ously and only later became drawn to some meditation tradition or other
after they learned that it seemed to describe the experience they had
already had.
Laboratory studies of meditators also give us good reason to take the
above sorts of experiential reports seriously. Meditation traditions have
reported for centuries that the experience is accompanied by significant
reduction of metabolic activity, including most conspicuously complete
cessation of respiration. This is found in many Indian traditions, includ-
ing, for example, the Yoga Sutras, the canonical text of Yoga. It is found
in ancient Taoist texts. The association is so standard that Chinese Zen
even uses the expression “breath stops” as a name for the experience itself.
Laboratory studies of people practicing traditional meditation procedures
now provide objective, scientifically significant corroboration of such
reports. Studies of people practicing the Transcendental Meditation (TM)
technique from Advaita Vedanta, for example, show extremely high corre-
lation between reported instances of the experience and cessation of per-
ceptible respiratory activity, as reported in the traditional literature. They
also report that the O2 and CO2 levels in the blood remain unchanged
during these episodes of respiratory suspension, consistent with the tradi-
tional accounts of reduction of metabolic activity. They also have found
other physiological parameters unknown to prescientific observers, such
as high frontal alpha EEG coherence, correlated with this and closely
related meditative experiences. (e.g., Travis et al., 2010; Travis & Wallace,
1997)
The application of these findings to the question of whether traditional
sorts of descriptions of the pure consciousness/emptiness experience
142 Altering Consciousness
E1. The time comes when no reflection appears at all. One comes to notice
nothing, feel nothing, hear nothing, see nothing . . . But it is not vacant
emptiness. Rather it is the purest condition of our existence. (Zen: K.S.,
quoted in Austin, 1998, p. 473)
2
This is not to say that reports that are false and/or simply confused cannot also occur.
Meditation traditions have accordingly devised various protocols to separate valid from
invalid reports. To minimize the risk of their being thwarted, these protocols are generally
not a matter of public record and will not be discussed here.
Eastern Approaches to Altered States of Consciousness 143
E4. Then I knew that my little me had become big Me . . . I felt like I had
been reborn into the purity and innocence of a new-born child, yet I felt
wise, like a person who had lived for a long time. My inner awareness is
immovable, stable, integrated, flexible and confident. I am no longer
dependent on changing circumstances, friendships, or activities for
an inner stability peace and fulfillment. (TM) (D.N., in Maharishi, 1977,
p. 81)
E5. I noticed a totally new feeling of softness and sweetness develop. There
were days when I felt my heart melting as if I could take everything in cre-
ation into myself and cherish it with the greatest love. Often I would have
long periods of the day when everything I saw seemed to be glowing with
divine radiance. (TM) (J.B., in Maharishi, 1977, p. 81)
E6. The least expression of weather variation, a soft rain or a gentle breeze,
touches me as a—what can I say?—miracle of unmatched wonder, beauty,
and goodness. There is nothing to do; just to be is a supremely total act . . .
When I am in solitude I can hear a “song” coming forth from everything.
Each and every thing has its own song; even moods, thoughts, and feelings
have their finer songs. (Zen) (D.K., in Kapleau, 1972, p. 268)
E7. My self, activity, and what I am interacting with, as well as one object
with another, all seem to be connected through perception. Body and
environment are not separated. It seems all of creation constitutes the
fluctuations of my body and consciousness. These fluctuations have a
quality of sameness. The same style of wave function is in everything.
It also seems that every object contains all sizes of waves, all in
some kind of synchrony. Yet underlying that, there is no movement or
fluctuation. (TM) (L.A., in Maharishi, 1977, p. 84)
E8. The least act, such as eating or scratching an arm, is not at all simple. It
is merely a visible moment in a network of causes and effects reaching
144 Altering Consciousness
From the perspective of our ordinary waking state experience, these six
experiences, filled with such things as “expansion of self,” refined percep-
tion, bliss, universal love, and unity with all of nature, are all quite
remarkable. They are precisely the kinds of things that often attract peo-
ple, especially in the West, to meditation in the first place.
The first thing that we can note is that all of these higher states of con-
sciousness are defined in terms of the relation of pure consciousness/emp-
tiness to all the other contents of our awareness. In the first of these states,
pure consciousness/emptiness is experienced alone by itself. And this
experience is widely held to be the precondition of recognizing the expe-
riential nature of consciousness itself, as contrasted with the all the other
things we experience, in the first place. That this should be the case
should not be surprising. Our attention is normally drawn to what is
changing in experience. This is a psychological truism, and information
Eastern Approaches to Altered States of Consciousness 145
screen but direct expressions of its nature. But for our purposes it will be
enough simply to recognize the typical descriptions of the phenomeno-
logical nature of HS3, where everything, internal and external alike, is per-
ceived as emerging from the same pure consciousness/emptiness that one
experiences in HS1. With this, the whole universe, oneself included, is
perceived as a single unified existence.3
We should note here, however, that while major nondual traditions
such as Zen Buddhism and Advaita Vedanta clearly emphasize all the
“higher” states as described above, nondual traditions such as Yoga and
Dvaita Vedanta argue that one could never in fact perceive the single
ground of everything, despite how things might appear to an advanced
experiencer. For even if pure consciousness can (and should) be experi-
enced as the ground of different individuals’ awareness, this does not
imply that the pure consciousness experienced by each has the same
source, any more than pure water drawn from two different wells has to
come from the same aquifer. Theravada Buddhism rejects the notion that
the emptiness an advanced practitioner can recognize everywhere repre-
sents a fundamental “ground” either of oneself or the universe as a whole,
for they reject the notion of such a ground in the first place. Nevertheless,
all questions of metaphysical interpretations aside, there is wide agree-
ment among the major traditions that the above higher states (or variations
extremely close to them), defined phenomenologically, not only exist but
also represent important advanced stages of spiritual growth.4
V. The above higher states map is rather abstract. So to fill it out some-
what, let us return to the experiences described earlier. The descriptions
3
It is worth noting that pure consciousness/emptiness, as devoid of empirical qualities, is
the only phenomenologically definable “thing” (or non-thing) that, logically speaking,
could ever be experienced as the ground of all possible experiences. For anything that
has empirical qualities of its own would be incompatible with logically possible experien-
ces where those qualities were not present.
4
Compare, for example, emphatic comments to this effect by Samdong Rinpoche (noted
scholar and head of the Dalai Lama’s government in exile) in Shear and Mukherjee,
2006, p. 360.
We can also note that the first and third of the higher states described above (pure con-
sciousness/emptiness by itself and as the ground of everything, respectively) correspond to
the “introvertive” (IME) and “extrovertive” (EME) mystical experiences identified by Walter
Stace in the mid 1900s and often held by scholars to be the two central mystical experien-
ces. Stace, however, took the IME to be the more advanced experience (perhaps because,
unlike the EME, it seems to have nothing in common with ordinary experience), and as a
result was puzzled by the fact that the supposedly more advanced IME experience was
recorded in the literature much more often than the supposedly less advanced EME. The
map and gloss above resolve Stace’s puzzle by showing, and explaining, the actual
sequence of development traditionally described.
Eastern Approaches to Altered States of Consciousness 147
consist of four pairs of examples drawn from Zen and TM. The first pair
(E1 and E2) consists of examples of pure consciousness/emptiness; the
second (E3 and E4) consists of examples of what is often called “expansion
of self;” the third (E5 and E6) consists of examples of refined aesthetic and
expanded affective perception; and the fourth (E7 and E8) consists of
examples of perceptions of a deep unity with all of nature. The relation
of the first pair of experiences (E1 and E2) to the higher states map is
transparent: both experiences, as already noted, are examples of pure
consciousness/emptiness by itself, the first higher state described by
the map. The relation of the other pairs to the map, however, will need
some explanation.
The second pair, for example, states
E4. Then I knew that my little me had become big Me . . . I felt like I had
been reborn into the purity and innocence of a new-born child, yet I felt
wise, like a person who had lived for a long time. My inner awareness is
immovable, stable, integrated, flexible and confident. I am no longer
dependent on changing circumstances, friendships, or activities for an
inner stability peace and fulfillment. (TM)
5
We should note that Theravada Buddhism, emphasizing the Buddhist doctrine of “no-
self,” eschews such talk about “Self.” However East-Asian Mahayana Buddhism, referring
to the Mahaparisamadhi Sutra they take to be preserved in Tibet and China but lost in India
and South-Asia, regularly asserts that the “no-self” doctrine is a preliminary one that
Buddha said was to be superseded (for sufficiently advanced practitioners) by a doctrine
of transcendental Self of the sort described above. Thus the above terminology, although
consistent with Mahayana, is inconsistent with Theravada. Terminology aside, however,
they all appear to have the experiences described above.
Eastern Approaches to Altered States of Consciousness 149
recognize for example that inconsistent claims about the contents and
implications of experiences often arise from the fact that different states
of consciousness are being referred to. It can also help us see that seem-
ingly unrelated descriptions can often actually reflect the same higher
state. Sorting things out in this way is not always easy, of course, since
experiential accounts are often formulated in and/or alluded to in very dif-
ferent ways in different traditions and cultures. Still, with the above map
otherwise obscure relationships can often become transparent. Thus, for
example, it is easy to see that the following account of a disciple’s experi-
ence, written by Shankara, the 8th-century Advaita Vedanta Master, refers
to the map’s highest state, HS3.
I dwell within all beings as the Atman [Self], pure consciousness, the
ground of all phenomena, internal and external. I am both the enjoyer
and that which is enjoyed. In the days of my ignorance, I used to think of
these as being separate from myself. Now I know that I am all. (Shankara,
1970, p. 105)
A short while ago my attendant monk told me that it was raining too hard
and the audience might find it too difficult to hear me . . . Most people
might say the sound of the rain itself is the great sermon. Is this right? I
say no, it is not! The sound of the rain—this is the sermon you are giving.
(quoted in Suzuki, 1971, p. 5)
On its own, the assertion “the sound rain is the sermon you are giving”
might simply seem to be a typical Zen enigma. But Butsugen’s meaning
becomes clear when he follows the above remark with the story of Gensh’s
(another famous Zen master) responding to a monk’s warning shout of
“Tiger!” by shouting back,
“It is you who are the tiger!”
Tiger, rain, you, everything . . . all one thing. That’s how it seems in the
map’s highest state. For, D. T. Suzuki, commenting on the above text,
adds, here “all the worlds in the ten quarters are [experienced here as]
your whole body” (p. 6).
The map’s phenomenological categories can thus, in short, be used to
identify state-specific structural features of diverse types of experiences,
150 Altering Consciousness
L1. senses
L2. discursive thinking
L3. discriminative intellect
L4. pure individuality or ego8
L5. pure bliss (pure positive affect)
L6. pure consciousness (pure emptiness)
6
The best-known examples of this, of course, are the traditional disputes between Theravada
and Mahayana.
7
Portions of this section have been adapted from Shear, in Walach and Schmidt, in press.
8
Technically this is identifiable as the deepest stratum of L3. For ease of expression, and to
emphasize its importance, however, it will be referred to here as a separate “level” (L4)
rather than “the deepest stratum of L3.”
Eastern Approaches to Altered States of Consciousness 151
We are all familiar with the first two levels, “senses” and “discursive
thinking.” The phenomenological nature of the first level, the “senses,”
needs no special explanation. The second level, “discursive thinking,” is
where thinking in words, as in ordinary internal discourse, takes place.
The third level, “discriminative intellect,” is more abstract. It is said to
underlie the activity of discursive thinking and intelligent activity in gen-
eral. Without it, we would not be able to distinguish different sensory
objects, recognize that words are particular kinds of “objects,” or even
understand that words relate to other things, much less relate to them
meaningfully. As abstract as this level is, however, its existence can be rec-
ognized experientially in the preverbal thinking of the kinds ordinary peo-
ple sometimes, and highly creative people often, report.
The deeper levels are less likely to be familiar. All of them lie outside the
ordinary range of experience. They are all highly abstract. And they are
usually first experienced clearly only as a result of meditation. Level L4,
“pure individuality” or “ego,” at first may appear to be completely empty
and thus seem to be the experience of pure consciousness/emptiness we
have been discussing. For it is completely devoid of all sensations, thoughts,
images, and other localized phenomenal objects—all the kinds of things, in
other words, that we are ordinarily aware of. This can occur after the activity
of the more superficial levels has settled in meditation and their phenom-
enal objects have disappeared, while one nevertheless remains awake. It is
in effect experience of the “space” of mind—the phenomenological mani-
fold. Traditionally the experience is likened to that of being a disembodied
observer in the midst of vast emptiness. Thus, in the language of Vedanta,
one is said to “hold one’s individuality” in a “void of abstract fullness,”
steady like “a lamp in a windless place.”9
This experience might easily be confused with that of pure consciousness/
emptiness discussed above. But unlike the experience of pure consciousness/
emptiness, this experience is not completely empty, phenomenologically
speaking. For the sense of being a disembodied observer or “mind’s eye”
in the midst of vast emptiness makes it clear that it still contains the “I–it”
structure of ordinary experience, even if the “it” has been reduced so far
towards nothingness that nothing but the emptiness of the phenomenal
manifold remains to be experienced. In the middle of the experience, one
does not think “Ah, emptiness,” since this would be a thought, and there
9
The above terminology is from the tradition of Advaita Vedanta, as in Maharishi, 1967.
Compare also the first of the tree experiences in the following from the Zen tradition:
“[inner] space becomes the object of consciousness, followed by an awareness of
objectless infinity, and then by absorption into a void which has ‘nothingness’ as its object”
(Austin, 1998, p. 474).
152 Altering Consciousness
are no thoughts or other phenomenal objects here. But the empty structure
can be remembered, and recognized conceptually, when one returns to
more ordinary levels of awareness. It can also be remembered as permeated
by abstract undifferentiated objectless bliss.
Level L5, “pure bliss (or pure positive affect),” is even more abstract. For
here there is no longer any sense even of being an observer or having a
vantage point. Thus even the empty subject–object duality of L4 is no longer
present. All that remains is abstract bliss or well-being itself—“happiness
beyond the superlative,” as the Bhagavad Gita, canonical to most Indian
traditions, puts it.
Level L6, “pure consciousness (pure emptiness),” is simply the pure
consciousness/emptiness we have been discussing, the logical ultimate of
abstraction.
VIII. The basic link between the levels and states maps is straightfor-
ward: The pure consciousness/emptiness of the deepest level, L6, of the
levels map is the same pure consciousness/emptiness central to the defini-
tions of all the states described by the higher states map. The first higher
state HS1 amounts to experiencing this deepest level by itself. The second
higher state HS2 amounts to experiencing it as a stable component of one’s
awareness in general. The third higher state HS3 amounts to experiencing
everything in terms of its nature. And so far as the traditions that focus on
these higher states are concerned, the central function of meditation is to
enable attention to settle down through all the levels of inner awareness
until the deepest level is first experienced and then enlivened throughout
all of one’s awareness in the appropriate ways.
The same process of moving attention from the surface levels through
the intermediate levels to the deepest level and back again also is found
to enliven the intermediate levels as well. Which particular levels are enliv-
ened to what degree is highly variable and depends on such things as the
particular techniques practiced and the nature and degree of development
of individual meditators. But it is a widely reported effect. And it is not
hard to recognize in some of the experiences we described earlier.
Repeated experience of the deep bliss-filled level L5, for example, is
often followed by experiences of aesthetic beauty and expansive love such
as those described in
E5. I noticed a totally new feeling of softness and sweetness develop. There
were days when I felt my heart melting as if I could take everything in cre-
ation into myself and cherish it with the greatest love. Often I would have
Eastern Approaches to Altered States of Consciousness 153
long periods of the day when everything I saw seemed to be glowing with
divine radiance. (TM)
E6. The least expression of weather variation, a soft rain or a gentle breeze,
touches me as a—what can I say?—miracle of unmatched wonder, beauty,
and goodness. There is nothing to do; just to be is a supremely total act . . .
When I am in solitude I can hear a “song” coming forth from everything.
Each and every thing has its own song; even moods, thoughts, and feelings
have their finer songs. (Zen)
E7. It also seems that every object contains all sizes of waves, all in some kind
of synchrony. Yet underlying that, there is no movement or fluctuation. (TM)
E8. The least act, such as eating or scratching an arm, is not at all simple. It
is merely a visible moment in a network of causes and effects reaching for-
ward into Unknowingness and back into an infinity of Silence where indi-
vidual consciousness cannot even enter. (Zen)
Practical Effects
IX. In culture after culture, it is taken for granted that access to the deeper
levels of awareness and development of higher states of consciousness
154 Altering Consciousness
and the goal are as different as a boat and the shore it should take one to.
Ancient texts and modern teachers alike often make it clear that they do
not think of the goal in terms of withdrawal from life but as the basis for
maximum success in it.
The traditions we have been discussing are often quite explicit about
this. It is a theme in many Zen stories. It is expressed in the Bhagavad-
Gita’s injunction that we should become established in pure conscious-
ness as the basis for performing action (yogastah kurukarmani). The fact
that this injunction is given to a warrior on the battlefield, where perfor-
mance is a life-and-death matter, is especially telling. The same theme is
a well-known feature of the Zen and Taoist martial arts that have had
ample time—and the highest motive—to determine what really does and
does not really work in practice. And, moving from battle to high culture,
throughout much of Asia practices designed to produce higher states are
integrated into the training in artistic disciplines such as poetry, calligra-
phy, painting, and dance, both because of the efficiency in action and
the creativity, refined perception, deep positive affect, and intimacy with
nature they are thought to produce. 10 Comparable ideas have been
reflected in well-known Taoist texts and stories about artisans as well as
artists and warriors since the time of Laotse and Chuangtse.
As valuable as such purported external effects of higher states might
be, the major meditation traditions all consider them secondary to the
internal psychological ones. These include such things as psychological
stability, happiness, joy, creativity, freedom from dysfunctional cravings,
and liberation of our natural tendencies to be concerned for the welfare
of others—all features of what psychologists today often refer to as “self-
actualization.”
XI. How seriously should we take such claims? All of them, internal as
well as external, are just the kinds of things that modern scientific proto-
cols are designed to examine.11 And in recent decades, thousands of stud-
ies have been conducted on the psychological, physiological, and
10
Compare, for example, D. T. Suzuki’s fascinating Zen and Japanese Culture (Suzuki,
1970).
11
Claims about fantastic abilities such as being able to become invisible, walk on water,
change one’s size at will, and so forth, are also often found. Texts such as the Yoga Sutras
even list techniques intended to develop them in the service of enlivening subtler levels
of awareness and helping the nervous system become fully integrated. Such texts also con-
tain strong warnings, however, that it is all too easy to become attached to such abilities
and distracted from the goal of enlightenment. In the absence of credible scientific evi-
dence for such abilities, however, we need not deal with them here.
156 Altering Consciousness
12
The two preceding paragraphs were adapted from the “Introduction” to Shear, 2006,
p. xvi.
Eastern Approaches to Altered States of Consciousness 157
insist that it is likely to be years, and others hold that only very few people
have the ability to gain them at all.
Perhaps because the topic is relatively new to modern Western cul-
ture, people nevertheless have often tended to lump all meditation proce-
dures together and think of them as more or less equivalent. This has led
to significant errors in interpreting the existing research. One has been to
take the many conflicting outcomes on given variables as implying that
meditation (conceived generically) has no significant effect at all. An
opposite error has been to assume that results found for one procedure
can simply be presumed to be produced by other procedures as well.
Both of these mistakes are of course methodologically unsound. They
are also unfortunate. The first diminishes interest in further research.
The second has often led people to begin to practice particular proce-
dures on the basis of results reported for some other procedure and, not
finding the expected result, to become disillusioned and reject meditation
in general.
What is needed is a concerted, nuanced research program to determine
which procedures produce what experiences and states on what subpopu-
lations and over what time frames. Only then will we know how practical
the idea of gaining the remarkable experiences, states, and effects we have
been discussing really is.
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Cognitive Processes, 11, 21–30.
Travis, F. T., & Wallace, R. K. (1997). Autonomic patterns during respiratory
suspensions: Possible markers of transcendental consciousness. Psychophysiol-
ogy, 34, 39–46.
CHAPTER 8
reassembling each person with new capacities and powers that empow-
ered the shaman as a wounded healer.
Eliade’s suggestion that shamanism was a worldwide phenomenon,
sharing common characteristics and functions in diverse cultures, was
reinforced by a subsequent generation of researchers (Halifax, 1979;
Harner, 1982; Hultkrantz, 1978) who emphasized additional features of
shamanism such as: occurring in hunter-gatherer societies; serious illness
as part of the selection process; a calling by the spirits; a death/rebirth
experience; a deliberate vision quest for spirit contact; the capacity to fly;
a special relationship to animal spirits involving transformation into an
animal; and the potential for malevolent use of power to cause sickness
or death. These intuitive and impressionistic approaches to shamanism
have led to the assimilation of many different types of practitioners under
the label of shamanism. Uncertainty regarding the empirical status of sha-
mans and their characteristics has persisted because of the relative recency
of formal cross-cultural studies.
Shamanistic Healers
In addition to the shamans, other types of religious practitioners
(shaman/healers, mediums, and many healers) also shared the core char-
acteristic of shamanism suggested by Eliade (1964), namely altering con-
sciousness in community rituals to interact with spiritual entities.
Furthermore, they also all engage in divination and healing rituals. These
common features that they share with shamans led Winkelman (1990)
to propose the inclusive term shamanistic healers. Shamanistic healers
represent a human universal; every society has religious healing practi-
tioners who have a central concern with ritual procedures for altering con-
sciousness. Shamanistic healers also share other central characteristics:
spiritual interpretations of therapeutic processes; the utilization of spirit
entities as projective mechanisms for representing the unconscious; sym-
bolic and ritual restoration of social relations; and removal of illness attrib-
uted to spirits or other humans.
Fasting
Restrictions on foods in general are typical preparations for shamanic
activities. Training of the neophyte typically involves dietary restrictions
for several weeks to a few months and may extend for as long as several
years. Fasting can affect serotonin synthesis, resulting in hallucinations, dis-
sociation, paranoia, and megalomania (Fessler, 2002). Fasting induces in the
body a hypoglycemic state that can cause seizures and increases susceptibil-
ity to driving influences on the EEG reflecting effects on the pituitary and
adrenal glands, which stimulate the hypothalamus and hippocampal-septal
systems. Fessler proposed that severe dietary constriction results in an adap-
tive reduction of serotonin activity, which promotes increased risk-taking
and impulsivity. Food deprivation produces depersonalization experiences
as well [see Cardeña, Volume 2] and can cause sleep disruption due to
reduced levels of melatonin precursors; these disruptions can produce the
visionary consciousness associated with shamanism.
Sexual Abstinence
Shamans are typically expected to be celibate before and after their cer-
emonies, a restriction that may be imposed for years during training.
These restrictions appear to have physiological bases associated with the
physiological dynamics of both sexual orgasm and ecstatic altered states
Shamanism and the Alteration of Consciousness 171
The soul journey involves the capacity to take perspectives of others, man-
ifested in seeing one’s own body as it would appear from another’s per-
spective. The taking of the role of the other toward one’s self provides for
forms of awareness in a visual-spatial mode operating independent of the
constraints of the physical body/world. This body-based sense of knowing
is the most fundamental form of information processing of the body.
that this capacity for mental time travel primarily evolved for anticipating
future events, reflecting selection for mental processing of future predic-
tions and decision-making.
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Shamanism and the Alteration of Consciousness 179
Human beings are remarkably social creatures, and the minds of develop-
ing infants take shape in interactions with other people, notably the main
caretaker in the early months [see Granqvist, Reijman, & Cardeña,
Volume 2]. What may be less readily appreciated is the degree to which
human consciousness is molded by culture, producing potentially lifelong
changes that may require nothing less than a conversion experience to shift
them in any fundamental way, so much so that one person’s “normal state”
may be someone else’s “altered state.” No account of altering consciousness
in society would be complete without first discussing these enduring
changes in consciousness, which are addressed in Part 1 of this chapter.
Human societies also employ instrumental means of producing tempo-
rary shifts in consciousness, and these too vary cross-culturally, in part
because they are shifts from a culturally variable norm. These short-term
changes are discussed in Part 2, followed by their relationship to social
structure (Part 3) and social change (Part 4).
Culturally induced altered states in pre-industrial societies are com-
monly believed to be, and experienced as, spiritual in nature. Thus many
pre-industrial societies are “polyphasic” (Laughlin, McManus, & d’Aquili,
1992), that is, they value altered states (ASC) as sacred and socially con-
structive, whereas the post-industrial West is “monophasic,” that is, it
exclusively valorizes a waking state that is assumed to be predominantly
“rational.” Culturally instituted ASC may be just as common in monopha-
sic societies, but they are either not perceived as orthodox (for example,
“speaking in tongues” is commonplace in charismatic but not Anglican
churches) or are secularized (such as states induced by the social con-
sumption of alcohol or the clinical use of hypnosis) or criminalized (as
in the recreational use of drugs that are less traditional than—in the
West—alcohol, caffeine, or tobacco). In Part 5, in the light of everything
reviewed to that point, I discuss what we might infer about the nature of
human spirituality.
182 Altering Consciousness
age group will be your “brothers” and “sisters,” their mothers will be your
“mothers,” and so on. One or more other clans will be your “affines” (in-
laws) and you and your siblings will marry someone from an affinal clan.
Radcliffe-Brown (1931, p. 97), studying kinship in Australia, found that
classificatory siblings have almost identical personalities. Mauss (1925/
1967) notes that, in clan-based societies, individuals are identified with
groups, groups themselves are regarded as “persons,” the gifts they
exchange are perceived as continuous with the giver, and clan chiefs are
conflated with their people, including dead ancestors and as-yet-unborn
children. This expansion of the concept of personhood can take a form
that Johansen (1954, p. 36) called “the kinship I.” For example, a Maori
chief may relate the history and myths of his people using the first person
singular pronoun throughout: referring to his ancestors not as “they” but
as “I” and to mythic culture heroes such as Maui not as “he” but as “I.”
The economic systems of clan-based societies take the form of gift
exchange (Mauss, 1925/1967). Egalitarian societies (those without formal
leaders or social hierarchy) generally exchange like for like. If I give you a
pig with a patch over one eye, then, after a suitably respectful delay, you
must give me a pig with a patch over one eye. This must be a different
pig; to give my own pig back to me would be a deeply insulting rejection
of my gift. More complex and hierarchical societies have competitive
exchange systems in which gifts are supposedly given in a spirit of gener-
osity and respect, but the covert intent is self-promotion and the humilia-
tion, degradation, or ruin of your rivals. The “monster child” (Mauss,
1925/1967) of gift exchange is the potlatch system of northwest coastal
America. A chief would invite his rivals to a feast, at which “honored
guests” would be forced to witness an orgy of wealth destruction. This
would oblige them, at some future date, to reciprocate with an even more
reckless destruction of their own wealth. Failure to fulfil one’s obligations
in this relentless system would lead to “loss of face,” dishonor, and, ulti-
mately, social exclusion.
Just as classificatory kinship involves inflated self-perceptions, so gift
exchange is associated with fragmentation of the self. Leenhardt (1949/
1979), for example, notes that Melanesians appear to have no coherent
ego; rather, selfhood is defined in terms of multiple exchange relation-
ships, as the hub of a wheel is defined by its spokes. Each relationship
casts the person in a different role with a different set of attributes and atti-
tudes. Because gifts are regarded as continuous with the giver, persons are
further conceived as “partible” (Strathern, 1988).
Moreover, the “useless trade goods” exchanged in competitive systems
are regarded as “persons” in their own right (Mauss, 1925/1967). They
184 Altering Consciousness
have personal names, are believed to have human-like minds and emo-
tions, and are held to be capable of articulate speech. The belief that
non-human agents and objects have humanlike minds and motives is
known as “animism.” The fact that gifts are regarded as persons suggests
some linkage between animism and gift exchange.
Animism commonly incorporates another belief known as “perspecti-
vism” (Viveiros de Castro, 1998). That is, nonhuman agents not only have
humanlike personalities but also perceive themselves and the world from
a human perspective. For example, a jaguar lapping the blood of its prey
sees itself as a human drinking manioc beer; a vulture eating rotten meat
sees maggots as grilled fish. And, just as animals see themselves as human,
they see humans as animals, and such perceptions depend on relations of
carnivory. Jaguars and spirits eat humans, so they perceive us as white-
lipped peccaries (animals that humans eat). Conversely, white-lipped pec-
caries see humans as jaguars or spirits. Further, the way animals, spirits,
and humans see each other is not thought of as a matter of appearance ver-
sus reality: All these conflicting perceptions are realities. All beings live in
a multitude of parallel universes, playing a different role in each, deter-
mined by the entity whose perspective creates that particular universe.
Significantly, “other” humans, including affines, are seen as animal, and
it seems likely that perspectivism is interlinked with the perspectival rela-
tionships of classificatory kinship (Viveiros de Castro, 1999): My kin will
see me as “human” while my affines will see me as “animal”; and since
sex is equated with “eating,” these perceptions likewise depend on rela-
tions of “carnivory.” Incest equates with cannibalism and both are
regarded as abhorrent.
Paradoxically, perspectival worldviews frequently include the belief
that animals are actually humans wearing animal suits. This belief persists
in hunting communities that regularly butcher meat, so it would seem that
animal costume transforms the human all the way through to the bones.
When a human dons an animal mask or costume in ritual, this is not
thought to conceal a human identity, but to create an animal one. A peren-
nial fear in people with such beliefs is of meeting an animal in human
form. If the animal greets the person, and the person—mistaking the ani-
mal for a human—responds, then the person will be instantly transformed
into an animal of that species (Viveiros de Castro, 1998). Shape-shifting is
not regarded as something miraculous but as an accident waiting to hap-
pen. For people with such beliefs, there is no essential body. Selfhood is
perceived as profoundly unstable and readily transformed by a simple
change of appearance or attitude.
Altered Consciousness in Society 185
status or rank are removed. The novitiates may be stripped naked, painted
with mud or black pigment, and declared to be “invisible.” In calendrical
rites, on the other hand, there is commonly a Saturnalian inversion of
the normative order, with the humble temporarily elevated to dominate
the powerful. Or again, if cannibalism is regarded as abhorrent in the
everyday world, it becomes a sacrament during ritual—whether real can-
nibalism, as among the Avatip in New Guinea (Harrison, 1993), or
make-believe cannibalism, as in Christian communion. The same can
apply to incest. Among the Eskimos, the whole of the winter was regarded
as “ritual time.” Married partners were separated, and sexual intercourse
took place between “incestuous” couples (Rasmusson, 1976).
Victor Turner (1969) coined the term “anti-structure” to describe the
transitional topsy-turveydom of the liminal phase of ritual. However, he
pointed out that in secular Western societies, where ritual participation
is no longer mandated by awesome spiritual potencies, the anti-
structural functions of religion have been taken over by the subjunctive
“what if ?” of leisure activities: entertainment, recreation, and the cultural
arts (Turner, 1982). Without such anti-structural episodes, Turner
believed, postindustrial societies could not continue to function. The
theory of anti-structure holds that human life alternates between the struc-
tural role play of everyday life and the anti-structural role play of ritual or
recreational activity. Furthermore, conflicts created by the inevitable con-
tradictions within social structure cause friction, disputes, and “social
dramas,” increasing entropy within the system. Anti-structural phases are
necessary to maintain, repair, and reinvigorate human social orders. Also,
when shifting circumstances require adaptive change in the normative sys-
tem, anti-structural processes are again required; they are the source of
new culture.
Transformation and revitalization may be the principal functions of
ASC, which frequently show a striking parallel to van Gennep’s three rit-
ual phases. Sleep, for example, is bracketed by hypnagogic and hypno-
pompic experiences. Several authors (Bateson, 1955; Huizinga, 1955;
Jennings, 1995; Schechner, 1977; Turner, 1982; Winnicott, 1974) have
noted that childhood play, in line with van Gennep’s transformative phase
of ritual, takes place in a “transitional space” where the rules or demands
of everyday reality are suspended. They also note that this is essential to
enculturation. Childhood itself might be regarded as a “transitional
space”—an extended period of irresponsibility in which children,
shielded from the demands of adult society and survival, are free to
explore and expand their own developmental possibilities and the affor-
dances of the society and culture into which they have been born.
Altered Consciousness in Society 189
All social play requires a shift in perception. For example, a play fight
should not be confused with a real fight. Make-believe play in particular
is dependent on dissociation, since two views of reality, one perceived
and the other invented, must not be confused (Leslie, 1987). A child pre-
tending that stones are sweets should not swallow the stones, mistaking
them for sweets. Without dissociative ability, pretend play could hardly
have evolved as it has. Perhaps the most signal achievement of human
beings has been the discovery of institutional means of inducing collective
anti-structural states, exploiting our innate powers of make-believe, disso-
ciation, and suggestibility in the service of large-scale cooperation [see
Cardeña & Alvarado, this volume].
the ancestors to realize what is going on and redirect the cargo to the
proper beneficiaries. One way of doing this is to copy the colonial “magic,”
which might include such potent rituals as taking afternoon tea.
Cargo cult activity in the Pacific increased greatly during and after
World War II, when vast quantities of military goods and supplies passed
through the islands. In the earliest cargo cults, the faithful would build
wooden jetties where the ancestral ships could dock, but recent cults built
airstrips, control towers, wooden headphones and radios with bamboo
aerials, and “decoy” aeroplanes made out of timber, palm thatch, and
bark, bound with vines (Burridge, 1960). They mimicked the landing sig-
nals used by ground staff and at night lit signal fires and torches to mark
out the landing strip, all to attract the expected flood of riches from their
bountiful ancestors.
Quite dramatic alterations of consciousness are common in cargo cults.
Participants whirl, shake, dance, chant, foam at the mouth, or couple pro-
miscuously in a frenzied attempt to attract the desired cargo (Burridge,
1960). The Vailala Madness, one of the earliest well-documented cargo
cults, gained its name from the behavior of its followers, which included
speaking in tongues, fits of shaking, and similar phenomena (Worsley,
1970).
Although the beliefs of cargo cultists are clearly based on a cultural
misperception, their motivations are human universals: demands for rec-
ognition, dignity, equality, and justice. People who have a traditional
ideology of giving and sharing cannot understand why White people,
who have so much when they have so little, show no impulse to redress
this inequity in a manner perceived as normal and human. Burridge
(1960), following his own fieldwork in Melanesia, believed that cargo
cults might provide useful insights into more dramatic social upheavals
such as the French and Russian revolutions.
Cargo cults exemplify a broader class of messianic, millenarian, or
nativistic movements, having much in common with the Ghost Dance
cults of North American and prophetic movements in Africa (Burridge,
1960). Jack Wilson (formerly Wavoka) has left us his own account of the
vision in which he was given the Ghost Dance (Mooney, 1896). Wilson
met God face to face in Heaven. There he saw his ancestors enjoying their
favorite pastimes and a beautiful land filled with game. God instructed
him on what to teach his people. They must love each other, work hard,
and live in peace with Whites. They must not steal, lie, or fight and must
forego the self-mutilation associated with mourning the dead. Wilson
was convinced that if all Indians observed God’s teachings and performed
the 5-day Ghost Dance at the prescribed intervals, there would be no
194 Altering Consciousness
disease or old age, and the dead would be reunited with the living. The
entire Earth would be renewed, swept clean, and filled with food, happi-
ness, and love.
As the Ghost Dance spread widely across the American West, some
interpretations acquired a more militant character, notably with the intro-
duction of the Ghost Shirts. These garments, often decorated with birds,
turtles, stars, and other spiritually important motifs, were believed to ren-
der the wearer bulletproof. Despite the peaceful nature of Jack Wilson’s
original message, the “crazy” dancing spread alarm among U.S. author-
ities, which culminated in the massacre of more than 200 Lakota Sioux
at Wounded Knee in 1890 (Brown, 1970).
An earlier nativistic movement among the Iroquois, led by the Seneca
prophet Handsome Lake, influenced Anthony Wallace’s (1956) theory of
revitalization movements, which he defined as a “deliberate, organized,
conscious effort by members of a society to construct a more satisfying
culture” (p. 265). Wallace, based on cross-cultural studies, theorized that
these politico-religious movements are responses to severe stress caused
by colonial, racial, or class oppression. They are usually founded by a spir-
itually inspired prophet or charismatic leader who predicts an imminent
transformation of the world order, elimination of oppression, restoration
of traditional values, and freedom from want. In Wallace’s view, all the
“higher religions,” including Buddhism, Islam, and Christianity, origi-
nated as revitalization movements.
Egalitarian societies, by definition, lack leaders and resist any attempt
by one person to dominate others (Erdel & Whiten, 1994; Katz, 1982;
Jennings, 1995), although respected healers—those perceived as having
outstanding abilities to deal with spiritual agencies—might be thought of
as “charismatic” and can initiate social change, as in the Temiar case
reported by Noone (1939). Max Weber (1978, p. 242) defined charisma,
which he regarded as a chaotic phenomenon devoid of purpose or mean-
ing, as “a certain quality of an individual personality by virtue of which he
is considered extraordinary and treated as endowed with supernatural,
superhuman or at least specifically exceptional powers or qualities.” Émile
Durkheim took the contrary view that charisma is not some property of an
extraordinary individual but rather is projected onto an individual by his
or her followers. “Theatrical theories” such as Durkheim’s make charisma
a two-way relationship; the audience bestows the role onto the leader, and
the leader acts the part accordingly. The power that the charismatic indi-
vidual appears to exert is the result of “collective effervescence,” a state
of transcendent excitement that occurs “whenever people are put into
closer and more active relations with one another” (Durkheim, 1912/
Altered Consciousness in Society 195
Final Thoughts
In this chapter, I have reviewed some of the evidence that the plasticity
of the human mind, its capacity for both enduring and transient altera-
tions of consciousness, is a core prerequisite for human social and cultural
functioning. While discussing long-term changes in consciousness, how-
ever, I did not speculate about the kind of consciousness we might have
196 Altering Consciousness
if not changed by culture. The fact that so many ASC are experienced as
numinous, noetic, and spiritual is particularly intriguing. Did human reli-
giousness evolve genetically, is it a product of culture, or is there perhaps a
third alternative? Genealogical evidence (Horrobin, 1998) implicates some
genetic influence on religiousness, while research in epileptic patients sug-
gests that religious ideation may be hard wired in the temporal lobes
(Ramachandran & Blakeslee, 1998, 175–177, 179–188, 285n–286n).
Some cultural and cognitive anthropologists have proposed that religion
might be explained by a genetically evolved “symbolic module” (Sperber,
1994), “neurognostic processes” (Laughlin et al., 1992) or a hominid
“mimetic controller” (Winkelman, 2002). Social anthropologists, on the
other hand, are more inclined to adopt the Durkheimian view that ritual
is the necessary precursor of human culture, including religion. Different
again are those scientists who (often covertly) hold spiritual beliefs
(Barušs, 2008). For them, spirit has a much more profound ontological
status. Such divergent views, however, may not be mutually incompatible.
When observing Ndembu initiation rites, Victor Turner (1969) noted
that, after all signs of personal distinction had been removed, and follow-
ing a series of painful and humbling ordeals, the novitiates entered a state
of intimate unity which he called communitas, in contrast to the normative
state of everyday living which he called societas. The communitas state sug-
gested to him a solution to an apparent paradox. Why is it, he asked, that
people claim to discover “truth” in the world of artifice and pretence cre-
ated by ritual (1982, p. 114) or by theatre and art (pp. 115–116)? The
answer, he suggested, is that the actor dons a mask to expose the false
mask of societas. Anti-structural genres cut through the “hypocrisy of cul-
ture.” The structured world of everyday life is itself artificial, but the
“truth” experienced by artists, mystics, and others is some kind of bedrock
reality. This cannot be a cultural product. Turner (1982, pp. 113–114)
cites Burridge (1979) on the protoindividual that can become apparent
in ritual liminality, and, in his earlier work (1969, p. 128), claims that,
in the productions of prophets and artists, “we may catch glimpses of that
unused evolutionary potential in mankind which has not yet been extern-
alised and fixed in structure.” Ritually induced communitas is a spontane-
ous phenomenon, not something scripted into the traditional formalities
of ritual. The suspension of societas enables people to experience some-
thing for themselves, not something they have acquired from their ances-
tors by cultural transmission. It is a discovery rather than an invention.
Elsewhere, however, he implies that it is not genetically determined
either. Turner (1969, p. 128) avers that communitas, even though it surely
involves a release of instinctual energies, cannot be reduced to anything
Altered Consciousness in Society 197
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202 Altering Consciousness
Introduction
With a focus on virtual reality, techno-rave culture, and “psychedelic
trance,” this chapter explores practices of consciousness alteration within
contemporary countercultures. By contemporary, I mean the period from
the 1960s to the present, with the chapter addressing the continuing leg-
acy of earlier quests for consciousness expansion. Central to the discus-
sion is the development and application of spiritual technologies (cyber,
digital, and chemical) and the appeal of traditional cultures in the lifestyles
of those sometimes referred to as “modern primitives.” I also pay attention
to specific individuals, “techno-tribes,” cultural formations and events heir
to and at the intersection of these developments, with special observations
drawn from the Boom Festival—Portugal’s carnival of consciousness. Fur-
thermore, the chapter considers the prevalence of DiY consciousness echoed
in practices of modern shamanism. As the contiguity between altering
consciousness and altering culture is explored, the chapter considers the
psychological and political dimensions of that which has been variously
held as “consciousness” among spokespersons and participants within
visionary-, arts-, and techno-cultures.
*Portions of this chapter are adapted from “Neotrance and the Psychedelic Festival” by
Graham St John. Published in Dancecult: Journal of Electronic Dance Music Culture, 1(1),
35–64, 2009.
204 Altering Consciousness
movement, what Henri Bergson (1944 [1907]) called the “life-force” and
what has generally been regarded as “universal consciousness” could be
accessed and reaffirmed through chosen activities in the phenomenal
world like Transcendental Meditation, dance, and travel to places of spiri-
tual significance. Radical immanence was practiced and cosmic conscious-
ness achieved in alternative subcultural lifestyle trends exemplified by the
followers of the Grateful Dead, members of the Rainbow Family of Living
Light, and, later, Burners, those inhabitants of the annual Burning Man
Festival in Nevada’s Black Rock Desert, who Gilmore (2010, p. 96) indi-
cates are performing a “spirituality” that is fundamentally “experiential.”
One of the chief ingredients in this development was LSD-25, the com-
pound discovered in the late 1930s by Sandoz chemist Albert Hofmann.
With Hofmann as its unwitting midwife, this potent mind-altering sub-
stance (“acid”) was crucial to the birth of the “psychedelic” (“mind-
manifesting”) movement and its aesthetic legacy (“psychedelia”), whose
artistic expressions had, by the 1970s, permeated popular Western cul-
ture. LSD is a curious story, for it is, in its spectacular amplification of
divergent predispositions, a neutral agent [see Nichols & Chemel, Volume
2]. The truth of this statement is well documented by Martin Lee and
Bruce Shlain (1985), who illustrate that, over the course of the Cold
War, the CIA explored LSD’s power as a tool for mind control, coveting
its potential utility to alter consciousness (to produce “an exploitable alter-
ation of personality”) to secure state interests and funded a nationwide
network of psychiatrists and other operatives for whom LSD was a “psy-
chotomimetic” (psychosis-mimicking) drug. For “hippies,” LSD was
hailed as a chief means to enhance an already altered worldview that had
percolated among those for whom the “imperialist United States of
America” was the primary cause of discontent and target of disavowal.
That is, psychedelics were enabling those already seeking alternative path-
ways to “turn on” to higher states of consciousness of the kind conveyed in
the writings of Aldous Huxley. In The Doors of Perception (1954) (usually
published with Heaven and Hell: 1956), and Island (1962), Huxley
endorsed the view that mescaline and other psychedelics were integral to
mystical experience in the modern era. Railing against a culture of con-
formity and acquiescence in the shadow of the mushroom cloud, newly
circulating psychoactives were considered the shortest and most effective
route to cosmic consciousness yet: an atomic blast of consciousness for
an atomic age. Following on from the nitrous oxide-fuelled insights
of William James in The Varieties of the Religious Experience (1902) and
Bergson’s understanding of the mind as a “reducing valve” articulated in
his Creative Evolution (1944 [1907]), Huxley divined that psychedelics
206 Altering Consciousness
enabled users to turn off the perceptual “screens” and “filters” that typi-
cally blind one to the Other World accessed by saints, seers, mystics,
and prophets throughout history [see Geels, this volume; Beauregard,
Volume 2]. He thus acknowledged the psychophysiological basis of these
universal visionary mind states that were no less real and could be
achieved without fasting or a lifetime of meditational training.
Although Huxley saw the necessity for consciousness evolution with
the assistance of LSD, as Jay Stevens illustrates in Storming Heaven
(1989), the artistic, economic, and political elite was at odds with the likes
of visionary poet Allen Ginsberg and maverick psychologist Timothy
Leary, who used the mass media to promote LSD and facilitate conscious-
ness change. For Leary, who would develop a model (the Eighth Circuit
Model of Consciousness) in which psychedelics were integral to the evolu-
tion of consciousness (Leary, 1977), cosmic consciousness was not to be
restricted to elites. Together with ex-Harvard colleagues Richard Alpert
(aka Ram Dass) and Ralph Metzner, Leary produced an instruction
manual for consciousness expansion modeled on the Tibetan Book of the
Dead and inspired by a sojourn to India. As The Psychedelic Experience
(Leary, Metzner, & Alpert, 1964) conveyed, LSD was configured as a kind
of program for ego-death. As a manual that attempted to sequentialize the
psychedelic experience such that a predictably enlightened outcome
might be achieved, the manual was, in part, a programmatic counterpoint
to the contemporaneous efforts of the celebrated author of One Flew Over
the Cuckoo’s Nest, Ken Kesey, whose Merry Pranksters orchestrated the
mid-1960s west coast Acid Tests. Enabling collective states of entrance-
ment, the Acid Tests were a kind of “freak” rite of passage, the outcome
of which held a degree of uncertainty—not unlike later rave and trance
events. On the front lines of psychedelia, Kesey and his collaborators were
change agents for whom consciousness alterants enhanced existing views,
much the same way that LSD amplified the psychotic disposition of
Charles Manson and his “family,” or “armed” various individuals and
revolutionary cells associated with the Weather Underground.
One of the critical moments in the birth of this movement was the
Gathering of the Tribes for a Human Be-in. Emerging out of the impulse
toward cultural transformation building in San Francisco’s Haight-
Ashbury district in the mid-1960s, this momentous event, in which more
than 20,000 people participated, was held in Golden Gate Park on Janu-
ary 14, 1967. It was the nadir of the Summer of Love, and editor of the
San Francisco Oracle Allen Cohen promoted the event as a meeting of the
minds, namely the Berkeley radicals and the Haight-Ashbury hippies
(Perry, 1984, p. 122)—in other words, the diverse membership of an
Spiritual Technologies and Altering Consciousness 207
2
DMT (N,N-dimethyltryptamine) is a naturally occurring tryptamine found in many plants
worldwide and is created in small amounts by the human body during metabolism. DMT-
containing plants are commonly used in several South American shamanic practices, and it
is usually one of the main active constituents of the drink ayahuasca.
208 Altering Consciousness
of Timewave Zero (McKenna & McKenna, 1993). Although the East had
been a popular destination among post-1960s spiritual seekers in the
wake of Leary, the McKennas’ expedition illustrated how the lore, prac-
tice, artifacts, and psychotropes of Amerindian cultures have influenced
those desiring departure from core Western values and practice. The pop-
ularity of the McKennas’ ideas also demonstrated the appeal of the shaman
as anarchist. An advocate of what Des Tramacchi (2006) has called “self-
shamanism,” with his mesmerizing Irish brogue, wit, and charm, Terence
McKenna would become a draw-card within the world psychedelic com-
munity from the 1980s through to his early death in 2000. In one inspired
mid-1990s presentation, he inveighed that “our world is endangered by
the absence of good ideas . . . of consciousness,” and that the objective
of the psychedelic experience was “to participate in the redemption of
the human spirit,” charging neoshamanic experimentalists to “bring back
a small piece of the picture and contribute it to the building of the new
paradigm.”
had fired revelation is discussed by John Markoff (2005), and Fred Turner
(2006) argues that “digital utopianism” is rooted in the psychedelic
counterculture via Stewart Brand’s Whole Earth network and its retooling
of technologies from LSD to computers in the quest for consciousness,
wholeness, and liberation. Although computer-mediated utopianism
would take form in multiplayer role-playing games that found an exem-
plar in Second Life, perhaps the crowning achievement of DiY (do-it-
yourself) techno-utopianism is the Burning Man Festival that, in a massive
transmutation of the utopian subjunctivity (something that is imagined or
at least has not happened yet) native to “virtual reality,” or perhaps more
accurately “the metaverse” (the term used by Neal Stephenson in his
1992 science fiction novel Snow Crash), is annually rebooted on the hard
white canvas of the Black Rock Desert, Nevada (Gilmore & Van Proyen,
2005).
The countercultural approach to new information technologies was far
more complementary to its idealism than is often recognized. Although
many embraced Jacques Ellul’s interpretation in The Technological Society
(1964) of an essentially “Manichean” technology or mistrusted the dehu-
manizing and centralizing “technocratic” bureaucracy railed against by
Theodore Roszak in The Making of a Counter Culture (1968), as Turner
conveys, with countercultural appropriation of cybernetic and ecological
discourse, the mythology of the personal and communally empowering
computer evolved into a romantic/transcendentalist embrace of “machines
of loving grace.” Indeed, the repurposing of cyber, chemical, and commu-
nications technologies was intended to inaugurate a New Consciousness
post-1960s. Lifestyles characterized as “better living through circuitry”
constituted a simultaneous phenomenological détournement of life under
capital and a quest for an alternate world. Thus, here, altering conscious-
ness would be implicit to altering social, cultural, and political structures.
But although “Web 2.0” applications and technologies such as web
applications, social networking sites, wikis, and blogs have facilitated
interactive information sharing as well as user-centered design and
collaboration, neoliberal globalization and state power have given rise
to a “digital divide” and Internet surveillance, circumstances undermining
the “digital utopia.” Criticism has also come from virtual reality pioneer
Jaren Lanier. Earlier forecasting the revolutionary impact of the World
Wide Web, Lanier (2010) grew to criticize what he called the “digital
Maoism” associated with the likes of Wikipedia, Facebook, and Twitter
and other virtual communities that are elevating the “wisdom of
mobs” and computer algorithms over the intelligence and judgment of
individuals.
210 Altering Consciousness
of personal space reappear; smiley faces give way to sour expression” and
participants “become connoisseurs of poisons, mix ‘n’ matching toxins to
approximate the old high” (Reynolds, 1997, pp. 86–87). And moral panic
concerning youth consumption of illicit consciousness alterants within
these contexts has triggered potentially draconian legislation such as the
RAVE Act (2003) in the United States, whose architects were apparently
Reducing America’s Vulnerability to Ecstasy.
In the history of rave, the raising or expanding of consciousness is as
important as its relinquishment in trance. Through the 1990s and the fol-
lowing decade, techno-rave culture offered upgrades on the techniques of
the human potential movement whose holistic practices had become con-
sistent with utopian, ascensionist, and evolutionary fantasies implicated in
the cybernetic revolution. As a form of body transcendence, mind re-
leasing, and self-awakening alongside meditation and yoga, certain forms
of raving appeared to be integral to an ongoing consciousness revolution,
a praxis in the repertoire of techniques of self-realization. The crowning
achievements in this development are what have been known as “con-
sciousness clubs” or intentional parties, exemplified by Fraser Clark’s
London club Megatripolis, one of the earliest postrave conscious parties
(see St John, 2009a, Chapter 4). In 1995, Clark opened the short-lived
club Megatripolis West in San Francisco, the location fitting given that
the city hosted the original tribal gathering model. With events promoted
as “Hyperdelic Carnivals,” “Cyborganic Be-Ins,” and the “Digital Be-In”
(Hill, 1999), in the early 1990s San Francisco held status as a nexus for
conscious raving. By 1997, something of a global be-in had manifested
as the Earthdance International festival. Promoted as the Global Dance
Party for Peace, Earthdance is a synchronized global dance festival that
began as a Free Tibet movement fundraiser and by 2010 was being held
in more than 300 locations in more than 50 countries with participating
events giving at least 50% of their profits to charities specifically address-
ing peace, relief efforts, environment, and world youth.
the ecstatic and conscious pursuits of the 1960s, infused with the inde-
pendent remixological practice endogenous to electronic music produc-
tion and performance, harnessing the communication capabilities of the
Internet, and evolving a multimedia psychedelic arts scene, psytrance is
an EDMC whose larger international festivals are among the most cultur-
ally diverse music and dance events globally. From the 1960s, Goa
became an experimental outpost for middle-class dropouts seeking experi-
ence through transcendent states of subjectivity characterized across the
decades by disciplinary practice, ecstatic pleasure, and visionary states. A
place where charas (handmade hashish) remained legal until the mid-
1970s, Goa became a laboratory of what Davis (2004) identifies as “spiri-
tual hedonism”: an experience at the crossroads of the erotic/immanent
and cognitive/transcendent. With “freaks” undertaking, as Anthony
D’Andrea (2007) points out, the simultaneous “horizontal” (geo-spatial)
and “vertical” (spiritual-psychedelic) journey from home/rational states,
Goa was populated by self-exiled Westerners for whom travel to the
Orient facilitated escape from the cage of Occidental rationality, enabling
a mystical Orientation eventually packaged as trance tourism. Early Full
Moon beach parties were spearheaded by California expatriate DJ Goa
Gil, who became a sadhu (ascetic holy person) and advocated “re-
creating ancient tribal ritual for the twenty first century.” In his critique
of Goa trance, Arun Saldanha (2007) argues that White “freaks” have been
able to experience “tribal ritual” to the exclusion of brown-skinned natives.
During the 1970s and 1980s, the experimental traveler-enclave fermented
a distinct “Goa trance” sound and sensibility that would be transported
around the world. Goa trance labels, albums, and events emerging in the
mid-1990s would promote and package the trance experience as a tran-
scendent journey adopting Oriental imagery and iconography to assist
the journey. With the Goa aesthetic transportable, enthusiasts on the dance
floor could consume the Goa experience, be exposed to the mystique, and
access the metaphysical lore without ever having set foot in India.
Over the next decade, as the genre exploded into various subgenres,
scenes, and aesthetics, psytrance made an impact across western Europe,
Israel, North America, Australia, Japan, South Africa, and elsewhere, gain-
ing popularity more recently in Russia, Brazil, and Mexico.
In this period, psytrance would become fertile ground for the appro-
priation of symbols and praxis of Amerindian cultures, especially regard-
ing consciousness alteration via the use of native herbs and their
chemical analogues. From the United States to Germany and Australia
and indeed among Brazilians, Mexicans, and Chileans of Portuguese
and Spanish decent, countercultural participants have long found
214 Altering Consciousness
3
Also known as “diviner’s sage,” Salvia divinorum has a long and continuing tradition of use
by indigenous Mazatec in Oaxaca, Mexico, where is it used by shamans to facilitate vision-
ary states of consciousness during curing or divination sessions and is also used to treat ail-
ments.
Spiritual Technologies and Altering Consciousness 215
the Dance Temple, Boom’s main dance floor is a stage for the performance
of a freak persona. Accommodating the creative recombination of aes-
thetics, undisciplined embodiment, and psychosomatic states, Boom is a
freak theatre, a staging ground for what Victor Turner had called the “sub-
junctive mood” (Turner, 1984, p. 21), an experimental state or atmos-
phere where occupants (wearing outfits with theriomorphic [animal-
like], anime, superhero, mythical, and extraterrestrial themes, adopting
stylized glyphs printed on clothing, badges, and personalized patches,
and through innovative dance moves) indulge in alternate personas [see
Whitehead, this volume]. Participants are illuminated under UV lights,
caught in lasers, distorted by hypnagogic projections as they commit to
the acrobatics of fire staff, glow-poi twirling, and club juggling. And in
dreadlocked and shaven-hair aesthetics, multiple piercings, dermal
anchors, tattoos, and other body modifications popularized in accordance
with a “modern primitive” aesthetic (Vale & Juno, 1989), they become
freaks on display. The queering of gender is also not uncommon,
with females perfecting androgynous appearances and males adopting
effeminate styles. Although the Temple is a context permitting participants
to freak their bodies, it is also a context for self-immolation in the furnace
of dance. With up to 40,000 bodies from more than 80 countries
connected through persistent rhythms, intense consumption, body modi-
fications, and self-abandonment, Boom orchestrates the individual partic-
ipant’s connection to a subterranean carnivalesque body.
The psychedelic festival enables new modes of identification
through altered conditions of consciousness that are interpreted via
narrative frameworks and folk themes apparent in vocal samples from
various media sources (e.g., cinema, TV, documentaries, and radio)
used in music production and in event decor and fashion. The main
themes I have explored include the figures of the alien, the monster,
and the indigene, who, from their various outer, abject, and ancient
positions afford gnosis to disenchanted moderns. In the former, as
chiefly expressed in the context of Goa (or “cosmic”) trance, the inner
journey is facilitated by the sound apocalypse of self-discovery as analo-
gized in the encounter with extraterrestrial aliens (St John, 2011c). Hosted
within the subgenre of dark trance (or “darkpsy”), monsters, especially the
living-dead zombie poached from horror cinema, burlesque the unpredict-
ably re/animated condition of the trance dance floor (St John, 2011d).
And, throughout the psytrance development, indigenes are embraced in
the search for knowledge, consciousness, and re-enchantment (St John,
2012). In their adoption of a shifting assemblage of dress options, body
modifications, hairstyles, adornments, and inscriptions, psytrance
Spiritual Technologies and Altering Consciousness 217
4
From the first edition of the in-Village publication, the “liminal zine” Pathways.
220 Altering Consciousness
5
“Transmissions from the Edge”: Retrieved February 9, 2008, from http://boomfestival.org/.
6
The universal experience of ritual “liminality,” the potent threshold first articulated by
Arnold Van Gennep in his study of rites of passage (1960) and then developed by Victor
Turner (1982).
Spiritual Technologies and Altering Consciousness 221
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Spiritual Technologies and Altering Consciousness 225
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CHAPTER 11
Altered Consciousness
in Philosophy
Jennifer M. Windt
Though this be true, I must nevertheless here consider that I am a man, and
that, consequently, I am in the habit of sleeping, and representing to myself
in dreams those same things, or even sometimes others less probable, which
the insane think are presented to them in their waking moments. How often
have I dreamt that I was in these familiar circumstances, that I was dressed,
and occupied this place by the fire, when I was lying undressed in bed? At
the present moment, however, I certainly look upon this paper with eyes wide
awake; the head which I now move is not asleep; I extend this hand con-
sciously and with express purpose, and I perceive it; the occurrences in sleep
are not so distinct as all this. But I cannot forget that, at other times I have
been deceived in sleep by similar illusions; and, attentively considering those
cases, I perceive so clearly that there exist no certain marks by which the state
of waking can ever be distinguished from sleep, that I feel greatly astonished;
and in amazement I almost persuade myself that I am now dreaming.
(Descartes, 1996, I.5)
given moment. This allows Descartes to apply his radical doubt to all
beliefs derived from sensory perception, including his beliefs about the
external world as well as his own body.
The dream problem recurs in the Sixth Meditation, where Descartes
employs two strategies to reconcile the possibility of knowledge with the
deceptive nature of dreams. First, he now realizes that there is indeed a
considerable difference between dreaming and wakefulness: Dreams are
not connected to the events of waking life and are prone to sudden
changes. He concludes that he
ought to reject all the doubts of those bygone days, as hyperbolical and
ridiculous, especially the general uncertainty respecting sleep, which I
could not distinguish from the waking state: for I now find a very marked
difference between the two states. (Descartes 1996, VI.24).
Whether it is certain that, if you dream that you are wondering whether you
are dreaming or not, you cannot dream that your dream coheres with ideas of
past events succeeding each other in a long chain. If this is a possibility, then
things which seem to you in your dream to be events belonging to your past
life can equally well be deemed genuine, no less than if you are awake.
(Hobbes, 1975–1999).
1
Descartes’s concession to Hobbes that “a dreamer cannot really connect the contents of
their dream with the ideas of past events, although they can dream that they are making
the connection” (Hobbes, 1975–1999) contradicts this point, as this would mean that
rational thought is not, after all, recognizable in the dream state.
232 Altering Consciousness
Early dream research supported the view that dreams are typically
single-minded and lack attempts at rational thought (Rechtschaffen,
1978). However, it is becoming increasingly clear that cognitive activities
such as thinking and speaking occur relatively frequently not only in lucid
dreams (in which the dreamer knows that she is currently dreaming and
can often voluntarily control the dream; see LaBerge & Gackenbach,
2000) but also in nonlucid ones (Kahn & Hobson, 2005; Meier, 1993).
Prelucid dreams, in which the dreamer wonders whether she is dreaming
but concludes that she is not, are particularly interesting because they
present evidence that reasoning itself can go astray in dreams (Brooks &
Vogelsong, 1999; for a philosophical discussion, see Windt & Metzinger,
2007). In dreams, one can have the impression of engaging in rational
thought or remembering something about one’s waking life and be com-
pletely wrong. Just as genuine instances of reasoning and remembering
occur in dreams, so do instances of mock reasoning and mock memories,
in which the dreamer merely has the impression of being rational. The
phenomenology of knowing, thinking, and remembering seems to be par-
ticularly vulnerable to this type of corruption in the dream state, showing
that the mere availability of cognitive capacities says nothing about their
reliability. In many dreams, the “evidence of reason” is mere phenomenal
evidence, without epistemic value. This, in turn, invites a deeper episte-
mological problem: Even though rational thought is possible in dreams,
it may not be recognizable. If this analysis is correct, this presents an addi-
tional obstacle against solving the problem of dream skepticism and sug-
gests that the threat posed by dreaming may be more extensive than
Descartes believed. If we cannot distinguish between real reasoning and
mock reasoning, we once more cannot rule out that we are dreaming at
any given moment. Moreover, dreaming would not only render sensory
knowledge of the external world dubitable but would also question one’s
ability to recognize whether one’s current reasoning is reliable.2
In sum, the problem appears to be that once one takes the possibility of
dream deception seriously, it becomes virtually insoluble, and indeed Des-
cartes’s exposition of the problem has proven to be much more influential
than his proposed solution. One thing that makes Cartesian dream
skepticism so compelling is its appeal to everyday experience. This is a
type of deception most people have experienced and thus can identify
2
One could attempt to deflate this by saying that if one only dreams that one reasons, one
also only dreams that one is deceived; see for instance Sosa, 2007. However, this still
means that one can’t tell the difference between real and dream reasoning and so does
not solve the problem.
Altered Consciousness in Philosophy 233
It may be said that, though when dreaming I may think that I am awake, when
I wake up I know that I am awake. But I do not see how we are to have any
such certainty; I have frequently dreamt that I woke up; in fact once, after
ether, I dreamt it about a hundred times in the course of one dream. [ . . . ]
I do not believe that I am now dreaming, but I cannot prove that I am not.
account both for the occurrence of hallucinations and the seeming open-
ness of perception. Crane (2005) reconstructs the argument from halluci-
nation as follows (see also Smith, 2002):
currently realize that they are dreaming and are able to use this knowledge
to engage in dream control.
There are several problems for intentionalist theories of perception.
First, there is the question of how to explain the possibility of misrepre-
sentation. To understand how representation is possible, we first have to
understand how misrepresentation is possible. According to Dretske
(1994), for instance, interesting cases of misrepresentation stem from the
nonderived representational capacities of the system in question and
require a certain threshold of complexity.
Another problem for representational theories is that it is controversial
whether the qualitative aspects of phenomenal states can really be cap-
tured in terms of representational content. For pain experiences, for in-
stance, there may be something over and above that which the pain
sensation is directed at, namely the sheer ickiness of pain. Many philoso-
phers think this is something for which no representational analysis is
available (Block, 1997; Peacocke, 1983; Shoemaker, 1990; but see Tye, 2000).
A more general objection is that intentionalism fails to explain the ap-
parent openness of perception (McDowell, 1987). If the phenomenal
character of perception is determined by representational content, how
does this explain the subjective experience of having direct and unmedi-
ated perceptual access to the world? Presentational content (Metzinger,
2003) may be a solution to this problem. Perceptual presence itself can
be described as a representational property by representing the object of
perception as present. From the third-person perspective, this representa-
tional property says nothing about the actual presence of such mind-
independent objects: The experience could also be a hallucination. The
third premise of the argument from hallucination equivocates phenom-
enal and epistemological readings of experience: Phenomenal sameness
is not sufficient for sameness on the third-person, epistemological level
of description, and in this latter sense, hallucination and genuine percep-
tion are not the same kinds of experience. Presentational content thus pro-
vides a new way of conceptualizing the difference between perceptual and
belief states in terms of different forms of representational content. Beliefs
are experienced as representations. In thinking, you are always aware of
the construction process and know that your thoughts are not constrained
by the actual state of the environment but could be wrong. Unlike
thoughts, perceptual states have not only representational but also presen-
tational content. This is why perceptual states, unlike belief states, are
experienced as providing immediate access to the world even when they
do not, as in hallucination and dreams.
236 Altering Consciousness
Disjunctivism
Unlike the intentional or representational theory, disjunctivism tries to
uphold the commonplace, naı̈ve realistic view of perception (Byrne &
Logue, 2009). To do so, it denies the “common kind assumption” (Martin,
2004), according to which hallucinations and genuine perception are fun-
damentally the same kind of mental event. The disjunctivist will argue,
first, that subjective indistinguishability does not suffice for belonging to
the same common kind. Subjective indistinguishability is all that halluci-
nations and genuine perception have in common. Their most fundamental
common description is merely disjunctive: My experience of seeing the
ocean is either a genuine perception of the ocean or a hallucination of the
ocean. Nonetheless, each disjunct belongs to a more fundamental kind,
namely perception or hallucination, and there is no more fundamental
way of describing what they have in common.
What the disjunctivist has to explain, then, is the subjective indistin-
guishability between hallucinations and genuine perception. Martin
(2009) does this by introducing the distinction between how things seem
epistemically and how they seem phenomenally. Hallucinations and per-
ceptions are epistemically indistinguishable, because the person under-
going them is unable to tell whether he is hallucinating or perceiving.
But it does not follow that hallucinations and genuine perception also
have the same phenomenal character. Whereas the phenomenal character
of genuine perception is determined by the perceptible properties of
mind-independent objects, no such characterization is available for hallu-
cinations, because no such objects exist. Hence, the two can be regarded
as radically different types of states that are merely “yoked together” by
the subjective report and their epistemic indistinguishability (Martin,
2009, p. 96).
A central advantage of this view is the claim that perception is exactly
what it naively and pretheoretically seems to be, namely a way of gaining
direct access to the objects of perception. A positive account of hallucina-
tions, however, is not the main goal of disjunctivism, and most disjuncti-
vists focus on saying what hallucinations are not rather than what they
are (Dancy, 1995). Some disjunctivists even claim that it is not like any-
thing to hallucinate, a view that contradicts the commonplace view of hal-
lucination (Smith, 2002).
However, there are exceptions. Fish (2008, 2009) attempts to give a
positive account of hallucinations that integrates empirical findings on
hallucinations. Fish (2008) explains hallucinations by saying that they
seem to feel the same as genuine perception because they are epistemically
Altered Consciousness in Philosophy 237
3
Of course, empirical research results supporting the phenomenal similarity between hal-
lucinations and perception could also increase the bite of the problem. This would be
the case if all or even some dreams can be conceptualized as global, multimodal hallucina-
tions with the same phenomenal character as waking experience. It is interesting to
note, however, that dreams are not typically discussed in the context of the problem of
perception.
Altered Consciousness in Philosophy 239
4
However, philosophers disagree as to whether dreams involve complex hallucinations or
should rather be regarded as imaginative states comparable to daydreaming and waking
fantasy (Ichikawa, 2009; McGinn, 2004; Sosa, 2007).
242 Altering Consciousness
plausible (Windt, 2010). If it is true that dreams often lack a detailed body
representation including body parts, this may help elucidate the relation-
ship between bodily experiences and their functional and neurophysi-
ological correlates. It also suggests that the experience of fully embodied
selfhood can be dissociated from other levels of self-related processing
such as cognition, as in lucid dreams.
Finally, Revonsuo’s (2000, 2006) work on consciousness gives a par-
ticularly prominent role to dreams. Going beyond the contrastive analysis
between dreaming and standard waking consciousness (Windt & Noreika,
in press), he suggests that dreaming “reveals consciousness in a very special,
pure, and isolated form” (Revonsuo, 2006, p. 75) and thus can be used as a
theoretical and research model of consciousness. Dreaming “depicts con-
sciousness first and foremost as a subjective world-for-me” (Revonsuo,
2006, p. 75) and may not only reveal the universal features of conscious
experience but also help investigate the neural correlates of consciousness
independently of the potentially confounding factors of sensory input and
motor output. Moreover, because dreams can be seen as offline simulations
of waking consciousness, this means that consciousness itself is essentially a
process of simulation: “[ . . . ] not only are dreams experiences but, in a way,
all experiences are dreams” (Revonsuo, 2006, p. 55). Dreaming thus gives
rise to the virtual reality metaphor of conscious experience.
The modeling approach is controversial, and other researchers have
suggested that dreaming can be regarded as a model of the positive symp-
toms of psychosis, both on the phenomenal and the neurophysiological
levels of description, and differs in important ways from standard wake-
fulness (Hobson, 1999; see Windt & Noreika, in press, for a critical dis-
cussion). Nonetheless, Revonsuo’s approach is interesting, because it not
only shows how ASC can be used to inform a philosophical theory of con-
sciousness and the self but also suggests that the use of altered conscious-
ness as a model of standard wake states might lead to testable predictions.
Another theme that has been discussed in the context of pure con-
sciousness is meditative states. Neurophenomenology (Lutz & Thompson,
2003; Varela, 1996) attempts to bring together aspects of Husserlian phe-
nomenology with cognitive neuroscience. By training participants in intro-
spective practice, the precision of first-person reports is supposed to be
enhanced and their integration with empirical research results thereby
facilitated (Thompson, 2006). A core idea is that meditative practice,
which has a long tradition in Eastern culture, exemplifies such a disci-
plined first-person approach (for a review of meditative practices from a
neuroscience perspective, see Lutz, Slagter, Dunne, & Davidson, 2008).
244 Altering Consciousness
The interesting point here is that trained meditators are seen as experts
regarding not just meditative states but conscious experience itself and
are considered as scientific collaborators rather than only experimental
participants. As in the discussion on dreaming as a model of waking
consciousness, however, it is an open question whether insights from
meditation research can actually be generalized to standard waking
consciousness [see Shear, this volume].
The idea that ASC could be a source of knowledge and insight nicely
complements the epistemological problem of dream skepticism dis-
cussed above, and there is a tension in the literature on altered conscious-
ness between viewing ASC as higher states of consciousness or,
conversely, as pathological conditions, the latter point predominating in
the psychological literature since the 19th century (Aleman & Larøi,
2008) [see Lukoff, Volume 2]. Rather than viewing them as opposites,
the close conceptual relationship between madness, deeper forms of
insight, and prophecies of divine origin was already highlighted by Plato
in the Phaedrus. At the same time, the popular notion of ASC as conveying
heightened insight has always provoked philosophical skepticism. Aristotle
(2008) criticized the widespread trust of his contemporaries in prophetic
dreams, commenting that the only way in which dreams could foretell
future events was by coincidence and that this type of experience was
most likely to befall “commonplace persons and not the most intelligent”
[cf. Luke, Volume 2].
This theme was taken up by Locke in the Essay Concerning Human
Understanding. The main goal of his chapter on enthusiasm is to show that
revelation, by itself, is not reliable, as one can never be sure that it is a
genuine revelation rather than a product of enthusiasm:
Immediate revelation being a much easier way for men to establish their opin-
ions, and regulate their conduct, than the tedious and not always successful
labour of strict reasoning, it is no wonder, that some have been very apt to
pretend to revelation [ . . . ]. Their minds being thus prepared, whatever
groundless opinion comes to settle itself strongly upon their fancies is an illu-
mination from the spirit of God, and presently of divine authority [ . . . ].
(Locke, 1997, IV. XIX, 5, 6)
The point is that the mere strength of one’s persuasions is not enough
to justify revelation; without outward signs to convince one of the truth of
one’s persuasions, or without their withstanding the test of reason,
246 Altering Consciousness
In addition to OBEs, the notion of the separability of mind and body may
have also been fed by nocturnal dreams. Although dreams often lack the
strong emotional impact and extremely realistic quality of OBEs, it may be
this more pedestrian character that commends them for the widespread
belief in the soul. Though often more impressive and impactful, OBEs are
comparatively rare, whereas most people are at least occasionally able to
recall dreams. This means that the protoconcept of the soul can truly appeal
to everyone’s first-person experience of having glimpsed a world beyond the
real one and having left their physical body behind during sleep.
Of course, it is important to point out that such theories about the ori-
gin of beliefs in old hags or theoretical positions such as mind–body dual-
ism say nothing about the epistemological status of these beliefs, nor do
they support any ontological conclusions. They explain the intuitive
appeal of such beliefs and maybe even our proneness to develop corre-
sponding philosophical theories. At the same time, showing that such
experiences as OBEs can be explained in neurophysiological terms
and can even be induced experimentally through electrical stimulation
cannot, from a strictly logical point of view, disconfirm the existence of a
soul that is separable from the body (see Metzinger, 2005). But of course,
having an experience of a certain type, no matter how convincing, also
does not support ontological statements about the actual existence of a
soul, as little as it licenses one to infer the actual existence of old hags or
vicious incubi.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank Thomas Metzinger and Sebastian Dieguez for
helpful comments on an earlier draft. This chapter was supported by the
Barbara-Wengeler Foundation and the Volkswagen Foundation.
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CHAPTER 12
one can therefore study (1) the experiential dimension, (2) the consequen-
ces of the mystical experience in the life of the individual, (3) different rit-
uals or mystical exercises, (4) the intellectual aspect, that is, how the
mystic interprets his or her experience, and, finally (5) the ideological
dimension, that is, the religious tradition to which the mystic possibly
belongs. We will now have a closer look at these five dimensions, with
an emphasis on the experiential dimension.
Mystical experience is the core of mysticism, at least from a psychologi-
cal perspective. It has an enormous motivational potential, for example by
changing people’s lives or by being the incentive for the mystic to continue
on the long and arduous path of spiritual transformation. A fundamental
question, often debated in scholarly studies of mysticism, is whether so-
called revelatory experiences, visions, and voices, should be included in
the study of mysticism. The classical study of Walter Stace excludes them
from the category of mystical experiences because they “have the character
of sensuous imagery,” whereas mystical experiences are nonsensuous
(Stace, 1960, p. 49; see also Wainwright, 1981, p. 1ff ). Another reason,
according to Stace, is that mystics themselves regard them as less impor-
tant or even as an obstacle to spiritual maturity. However, neglecting
visions for this reason would be just as inappropriate as if a psychologist
neglected dreams for the dubious reason that the client regards them as
trivial or meaningless (see Moore, 1978, p. 119f ).
This prevalent attitude is the probable explanation of why there are so
few psychological studies of religious visions, which appear to be more
common among women than men. One of the major studies in this field
is the monumental work of the Swedish scholar Ernst Arbman (1963,
1968, 1970), which definitely places religious visions in the study of mys-
ticism. He even goes as far as to state: “Mysticism may be said to be tanta-
mount to visionary-ecstatic religious practice or religiosity” (1963,
p. 547). In this chapter, visions and voices will be included. The examples
presented below do not appear within a Christian context, but the history
of Christianity is rife with visionary experience (e.g., Christian, 1981; Din-
zelbacher, 1981; Zimdars-Swartz, 1991).
Religious visions belong to the category of kataphatic experiences, usu-
ally expressed in the language of personal relations. A second category is
called apophatic experiences, expressed for example in the impersonal lan-
guage of infinity. The two categories are not mutually exclusive. The
abstract or impersonal God of Jewish mysticism, called Eyn Sof (“without
end”) or Ayin (“nothingness”) is apophatic, while the outflow from this
abstract principle, the 10 Sephirot, is described in kataphatic terms
(“Wisdom,” “Understanding,” “Love,” etc.). The great Muslim mystic Ibn
Altered Consciousness in Religion 259
for instance by a free flow of imagery and thoughts (Leuner, 1977, p. 74f.;
see also Loewald, 1978). It can be used by the ego’s synthetic function,
striving for homeostasis.
Now, let us see if this model sheds more light on the analysis of vision-
ary experiences. The first story belongs to my study of about 100 persons
who reported visionary and auditory experiences. In addition, I will
present a few examples of historical cases, firmly established within
the great religions of the world (for additional examples, see Geels,
2003a).
faeces, and when I vomited there was blood.” He finally came to a doctor,
who gave him 1 more month to live. Why do you drug addicts always
come too late? the doctor wondered. Reidar then decided to inject a final
dose of heroin and climbed up on the highest bridge in Gothenburg, ready
to jump. How long had he been standing there? Hundreds of cars stopped
in order to see what was going on. A police officer tried to talk to him,
using a megaphone, while simultaneously trying to reach for Reidar. At
this desperate moment he both heard and saw Jesus:
In front of me I saw the outline of a face. Was I hallucinating again? But the
outline became clearer. I did not see clear features, but I saw that there was
a crown of thorns on top of the head and that the hair was curly and shining
gold. It sort of radiated light from it, and I saw two hands, the palms of
which were wounded, stretched out to me. And I heard a voice, so soft
and fatherly loving, as I have never heard before. “Reidar, Reidar,” I heard.
“You have tried everything in life. You have lost everything. There is noth-
ing more left. The only thing you look forward to is to take your life. If
you decide to do that, you will be lost eternally and there will be no
memory of you. But you have forgotten to count with me. Put what is left
of your life in my hands and I will heal and save you.”
Reidar does not know how he managed to climb down from the
bridge. From that moment on, his life became organized. About 18 months
later he married, and had two children. Reidar still visits prisons, but now
as a pastor, preaching the gospel of Jesus.
Bearing the model of personality in mind, a few general remarks on the
psychology of visionary experience can be given. The acute crisis prior to
the vision activates the synthetic function, which uses autosymbolic repre-
sentations as a psychological process that is most suited for its goal: homeo-
stasis, equilibrium. The result is a religious vision, establishing order in a
chaotic system. In other words, religious visions can be understood as auto-
symbolic representations of intrapsychic conflicts, a dynamic process
“chosen” by the synthetic function in order to establish homeostasis. It is
striking that the content of the informants’ visions fit so well into their situa-
tions of disorder. The religious visions immediately establish order in chaos.
The vision not only shapes the crisis, it solves it as well. Religious visions, or
object representations like Jesus, Muhammad, the Goddess Kali, or Angels,
are symbolic representations of order instead of chaos.1
1
A similar model has been proposed by Arieti (1976), who suggested a creative integration
of primary and secondary thinking, leading to a “magic synthesis” in what he calls the
tertiary process.
268 Altering Consciousness
Case Study II: Encounter with Jesus in the Dormitory—Gertrud of Helfta (1256–1301)
In Germany, southwest of Magdeburg, stood a Benedictine convent in
a little place called Helfta. The convent was founded in 1229 and is known
for having been the residence of several of the most important female mys-
tics in Germany. One of them was Gertrud, later known as Gertrud the
Great of Helfta. One of her main occupations was writing, especially on
mystical themes, both in Latin and German.
We know very little about Gertrud’s early life (see Marnau, 1993). It is
highly conceivable that she was placed in the convent when her parents died
when she was 5 years old. In the convent, she received an excellent educa-
tion. The nuns studied not only great church fathers such as Augustine but
also important contemporary authors such as the Victorines and Cistercian
masters.
In her autobiographical writings, we find some information about
Gertrud’s conversion and spiritual experiences. Just like many other
mystics, she divided her life into a “before” and an “after,” referring to her
conversion. In Gertrud’s case, this means that her routine life in a Christian
convent now was altered into a totally God-centered life. Gertrud was
25 years old when she had a visionary encounter with Jesus in a youthful
figure, “about 16 years of age, handsome and gracious.”2 The time and place
of her vision are important. She was in the dormitory, “as dusk was falling.”
Gertrud had been worried for about a month. An older nun had just
entered the room, and Gertrud bowed her head in veneration and respect,
as is the custom. When she looked up again, she saw the youthful figure.
“Courteously and in a gentle voice,” he spoke to her. “Why are you so sad?
2
The following account is based on Gertrud of Helfta, The Herald of Divine Love, book II,
translated by M. Winkworth (1993, pp. 94ff).
Altered Consciousness in Religion 269
As he was saying this, I looked and saw, between him and me, that is to say,
on his right and on my left, a hedge of such length that I could not see the
end of it, either ahead or behind. The top of this hedge was bristling with
such large thorns that there seemed no way to get back to the youth. As I
hesitated, burning with desire and almost fainting, suddenly he seized me
and, lifting me up with the greatest ease, placed me beside him. But on
the hand with which he had just given me his promise I recognized those
bright jewels, his wounds, which have canceled all our debts. (Col. 2:14)
Let me be submerged in the abyss of the sea of your most merciful good-
ness. Let me perish in the deluge of your living love, as a drop of the sea
dies in the depth of its fullness. Let me die, let me die, in the outpouring
of your immense mercy, as dies the spark of flame in the irresistible force
of the flood.3
Gertrud became known as a humble and wise woman, often visited for
spiritual guidance. Her spirituality centers around the concept of love,
God’s love to mankind—He loved us first—and, as a result of this gift,
3
Gertrud of Helfta, Documenta spiritualum exercitionum, 4, quoted in McGinn (1998,
p. 274).
270 Altering Consciousness
our love to God. But her writings are focused on the second person of the
Trinity. God is love and Jesus is Gertrud’s spouse. Influenced by the Song
of Songs, the Book of Esther, and the language of human love, Gertrud
describes her spiritual experiences, sometimes in unvarnished erotic lan-
guage. The bridegroom prefers to be alone with his bride, in the nuptial
chamber, where they can “delight one another with the charm of intimate
converse and tender embraces” (in Marnau, 1993: 32f; see also 28ff ).
In her later writings, Gertrud did not ascribe her spiritual experiences
such great importance. The more positive, tangible, cataphatic character
of her descriptions altered into a more abstract, apophatic language. Could
it be that one no longer is aware of one’s beloved in the kiss of embrace?
Instead of using such tangible words, Gertrud prefers to speak about a
sense of intimate, inspiring presence, a presence also to be experienced
in events of everyday life—in different religious acts, in the sacraments,
and in particular in holy communion (see Marnau, 1993, p. 40ff ).
Bridal mysticism belongs to the marks of medieval spirituality. Jesus as
a young man appeared to her in a troublesome life situation, but she does
not mention the nature of her trouble. We will have to assume that she
was a child of her time, influenced by what has been called the “new mys-
ticism” (McGinn, 1998). It involved lively visualizations of the life of Jesus,
especially the Passion. Considering these circumstances, it comes as no
surprise that Gertrud’s trouble found a solution in a vision of Jesus.
According to the proposed model of interpretation, the vision can be
described as an autosymbolic representation of her need of consolation.
The content of the vision is clearly related to the spirituality of her time:
bridal mysticism and visualization as a main spiritual exercise.
colleague, working in the same field. The two scholars worked with two
totally different approaches. They could not communicate.
Our theoretical model can shed more light on the experience of anger.
The one-pointedness of meditative practice, focusing for example on one’s
breathing, means that the adaptive functions of the ego structure are partly
shut down or inhibited. This means two things. First, the mediating func-
tions weaken, they cannot adequately regulate the balance between the
unconscious id and the superego. Second, this in turn means a weakening
of defences. In such a state, the green light has been given for the constant
pressure of the unconscious id towards the ego.4 Metaphorically speaking,
when the defensive forces are absent, and when there is no one in the
observation tower (the adaptive functions), and the negotiators rest (the
mediating functions), then foreign powers (unconscious needs) can
invade the landscape. In the case of Frank, it concerns a strong emotion,
suppressed for years. Other emotions can, of course, also be actualized.
In addition, meditative practice can also lead to creative solutions. A state
of receptivity allows for other cognitive processes to break through, for
example associative processes, so needed in creativity.
Now, does this model also have a heuristic value when it comes to the
so-called pure consciousness event? Yes, I think so. These experiences do
occur spontaneously, as Robert K. C. Forman has shown in his books. In
such cases, they are retrospectively interpreted. In most cases, however,
they are reported by so-called classical mystics in the great mystical tradi-
tions. We again touch upon the concept of mystical death. A definition of
this state of consciousness has been given by the Swedish scholar Ernst
Arbman, who laid the foundations for a cross-cultural study of mystical
death,5 quoting primarily Christian mystics. Arbman defines mystical
death as:
the deep absorption in the object of belief which completely wipes out the
mystic’s waking consciousness or mental life, the whole of his normal
human self, but at the same time makes him go through an incomprehen-
sible inner transformation corresponding to his highest religious and ethi-
cal strivings and ideals.
4
Here I am using the word ego in the classical psychoanalytical sense, as a component in
Freud’s structural model of personality. It is not to be equalled with the ego structure,
which comprises all functions and representations of the personality.
5
See e.g. Arbman 1968, pp. 37ff, 133–189, and 379ff. Unfortunately, the monumental
work of Arbman in three volumes did not receive the international attention it deserves.
272 Altering Consciousness
Arbman not only describes what Forman depicts as the pure con-
sciousness event, he also mentions the other side of the picture: the trans-
formed self, “perfect man” (Sufism) or “the true human being” (Meister
Eckhart), or whatever that state has been called in the mystical traditions.
However, Arbman did not present a psychological interpretation of mysti-
cal death. With the aid of the organismic model of the ego structure, as
presented above, we can explain it. Mystics in different traditions do
describe mystical death and spiritual transformation as the goals of the
mystical life. In order to reach these goals, they use a whole range of spiri-
tual exercises or techniques. These techniques usually aim at a narrowing
of the field of awareness through meditation, prayer, isolation, or a combi-
nation of them. In terms of our model, these techniques lead to an
inhibition not only of the ego’s adaptive functions but also of its defensive
and mediating functions. This is a process of extinction or annihilation,
resulting also in the inhibition of our inner representations and the expe-
rience of the I as an active agent. Most of us are aware of the fact that
we do things best when we are not aware of doing them. The mystic
describes a similar process, but more radical, and in a religious context.
But the experience of “no-self” (Roberts, 1982) does not mean that
the whole ego-structure has been inhibited. The experience of nothing
(Meister Eckhart uses the medieval German word niht) is also a something
(medieval German iht). From a scholarly perspective, Stace (1960) men-
tioned the vacuum-plenum paradox. This concept agrees with Eckhart’s
distinction between iht and niht, or Saint John of the Cross’s speech about
nada (nothing, a contentless state) and todo (everything, the transformed
personality).
If we return to the paradigms as described above, the conclusion is
that Forman’s position can be fruitfully combined with the constructivist
view as defended by Katz. Humans construct most of the time, but
during exercises in for example relaxation or meditation, religiously
motivated or not, we do our best to deconstruct. When we are successful
and reach the goal of our strivings, the “ground” or perhaps “counter-
point” of our personality, we will eventually return to the world of phe-
nomena—and reconstruct. The world will then not be the same. Even
though Zen Buddhists can say things like “before enlightenment I chop
wood and fetch water; after enlightenment I chop wood and fetch
water,” underlining the continuity of spiritual development, they also
mean to say that the enlightened person “touches the dead trees and lo!
They come into bloom.”
Altered Consciousness in Religion 273
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274 Altering Consciousness
Science arose from poetry—when times change the two can meet again on a
higher level as friends.
—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
1
Carroll’s three-layer taxonomy comprised the ordinary state, which precludes the admis-
sion of the fantastic, the liminal “eerie state” in which there is consciousness of both
quotidian reality and the otherworldly, and the “trance” state in which only the extraordi-
nary world is perceived.
Colored Inklings 279
If we reach and enter that course, it will lead thinking into a dialogue with
poetry, a dialogue which is of the history of Being. Scholars of literary his-
tory inevitably consider that dialogue to be an unscientific violation of what
such scholarship takes to be the facts. Philosophers consider the dialogue to
be a helpless aberration into fantasy. But destiny pursues its course
untroubled by all that. (Heidegger, 1971, p. 96)
From its earliest days, writing has been part of the human quest to express
our being, and it is striking that the earliest writings tell stories of the
development of conscious awareness and the fear of that consciousness
ending at the moment of death. In the Epic of Gilgamesh, a tale inscribed
on stone tablets a thousand years before the Iliad and the Bible, the poet
tells of how Enkidu the wild man makes love to Shamhat the harlot priest-
ess for 6 days and 7 nights, an event that awakens his consciousness as a
human being rather than an animal, for “now he had reason, and wide
understanding” (George, 2003). Similarly, in the Bible (Genesis 3:3),
Adam and Eve partake of the forbidden fruit, their eyes are opened, and
they realize that they are naked—another story of sudden consciousness
and self-awareness, but followed in this instance by shame, a self-
conscious emotion indicating the underlying presence of Theory of Mind
Ancient scriptures may not give accurate accounts of the evolution of the
species Homo sapiens, but perhaps they can shed more light on our awak-
ening into conscious awareness.
The creation of literature has been long thought to involve other, non-
ordinary states of mind. In the Ion, Plato suggests that poetry is art of
divine madness, or inspiration. The Muse speaks and the poet is only
her mouthpiece; the authorial voice is not that of the normal person but
mysterious and other. Yet in The Philosophy of Composition (1846), Edgar
Allan Poe poured cold water on this notion of writers composing in “a spe-
cies of fine frenzy—an ecstatic intuition,” pointing instead to the “elabo-
rate and vacillating crudities of thought . . . at the cautious selections and
rejections—at the painful erasures and interpolations . . . which, in
ninety-nine cases out of the hundred, constitute the properties of the liter-
ary histrio.” Nevertheless, Freud returns to the idea of the writer operating
outside a normative state of consciousness in his 1907 lecture Creative
Writers and Day-Dreaming. For Freud, there is an analogy between the
activity of literary creation and the world of daydreams, play, and fantasy
280 Altering Consciousness
The second Epistle of Peter claims that “no prophecy of Scripture . . . was
ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were
carried along by the Holy Spirit.” Likewise in the Book of Revelation, Saint
John reports that prior to experiencing the first of his visions, he was “in
the Spirit” when he heard a loud voice bidding him, “What thou seest,
write in a book.” While the meaning of the expression “in the Spirit” is
open to interpretation, it does seem to imply some altered state of aware-
ness. Tradition has it that Saint John received his apocalyptic visions while
living as a hermit in a cave on the island of Patmos. A state of isolation
potentially resulting in the kind of sensory deprivation that facilitates the
production of an ASC through the reduction of extroceptive stimulation
and/or motor activity (Tart, 1990).
At first glance it may seem paradoxical that ineffable religious ecstasy has
so often led individuals to attempt to put ineffable experiences (which are
by their very definition inexpressible) into words. Nevertheless, it is striking
that the recipients of such spiritual favours often write copiously in their
attempt to describe them. The incommunicable seems to create the drive
to communicate, but why would descriptions of mystical and creative states
be similar? James Joyce once commented that “I like the notion of the Holy
Ghost being in the inkbottle” (Ellmann, 1976, p. 100). Alternatively, Alice
Flaherty (2004) has proposed four possible explanations drawing on her
dual experiences as a neurologist and as a person with both bipolar disorder
and hypergraphia, the overwhelming urge to write. It may be that because
creativity and mystical experience are both pleasing and culturally valued
experiences, metaphors from one pleasure are freely used to describe
another, just as love might be described as warm or sweet. A second hypoth-
esis, the one shared by the previously mentioned saints and prophets, is that
writing is driven by God. A third possibility is that literary and religious
inspiration use a similar language because of the ancient link between the
arts and religion. For the greater part of human history, most art has been
sacred art. Finally, it may be that literature and religious experience arise
from similar brain regions, a hypothesis that complements but does not nec-
essarily replace the previous three explanations.
Religiosity in general and dissociated states in particular, have been
found to be associated with activity in the temporal lobes (Bear & Fedio,
282 Altering Consciousness
the telling of tales, and I will tell you one that fits the time . . .” Drugs have
played a substantial role in shaping literary creation.
In the East, numerous folktales from the Middle East and Central Asia
make reference to hashish; it makes its appearance in the Thousand and
One Nights, and 13th-century Sufi poets praise its “meanings and the state
of illumination it can bring about” (Boon, 2002, p. 127). From the West,
both Chaucer and William Shakespeare mention drugs in their works, and
of particular interest is Shakespeare’s mention in Sonnet 76 of “Invention
in a noted weed.” Thackeray (1999) argues that Shakespeare’s use of the
term “weed” is not only a veiled reference to hemp but also a reference to
the perception that the use of hallucinogenic compounds was a source of
inspiration for the invention of verse. In Sonnet 38, Shakespeare appeals
for a “Tenth Muse” in addition to the nine classical Muses as sources of
inspiration, and it is suggested that this Tenth Muse was cannabis. Thack-
eray et al. (2001) claim to have found further support for this theory, with
the chemical analysis of organic residues in clay pipes from Stratford-
Upon-Avon in England uncovering chemical indications of cannabis.
Shakespeare may or may not have been a stoner, but in the early-
19th-century Romantic period, an explosion of drug use certainly erupted
among writers. This phenomenon was perhaps most famously recorded
by the essayist Thomas De Quincey in his largely autobiographical Confes-
sions of an English Opium-Eater (1821/1994), in which he gives an account
of his early life and the growth and effects of his opium addiction. In a
foreshadowing of Freud’s thoughts on literary creativity and dreams, De
Quincey notes that the main phenomenon by which opium expressed
itself to him permanently, and the sole phenomenon that was communi-
cable, lay in the dreams and the peculiar dream scenery that followed its
use: “Here is the briefest possible abstract of the total case—The final
object of the whole record lay in the dreams. For the sake of those the
entire narrative arose” (De Quincey, 1821/1994, p. 168). Romantic poets
Percy Bysshe Shelley, William Wordsworth, Lord Byron, and John Keats
all produced works while under the influence of opium and laudanum, a
mixture of alcohol and opium derivatives, easily available without pre-
scription. When Samuel Taylor Coleridge invited a friend to come for a
visit, he coaxed him to bring along some drugs “and I will give a fair trial
to opium, henbane, and nepenthe . . . By the bye,” he added, “I have
always considered Homer’s account of nepenthe as a banging lie”2 (cited
in Ebin, 1965, p. 103). Opium excited Coleridge’s fascination with the
2
A pun perhaps on the word “Bhang”—a preparation of cannabis used in India and
Pakistan.
284 Altering Consciousness
When I placed my head upon my pillow, I did not sleep, nor could I be said
to think . . . I saw—with shut eyes, but acute mental vision—I saw the pale
student of unhallowed arts kneeling beside the thing he had put together.
I saw the hideous phantasm of a man stretched out, and then, on the work-
ing of some powerful engine, show signs of life, and stir with an uneasy,
half-vital motion.
Of course the use of drugs was not confined solely to English writers;
19th-century French writers such as Théophile Gautier, Arthur Rimbaud,
Colored Inklings 285
3
The title is a reference to William Blake’s Swedenborg-inspired book The Marriage of
Heaven and Hell (1790) in which he argues: “If the doors of perception were cleansed every
thing would appear to man as it is, infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all
things through narrow chinks of his cavern.”
286 Altering Consciousness
I have always been a poor visualizer. Words, even the pregnant words of
poets, do not evoke pictures in my mind. No hypnagogic visions greet me
on the verge of sleep. When I recall something, the memory does not
present itself to me as a vividly seen event or object . . . . To those in whom
the faculty of visualization is strong my inner world must seem curiously
drab, limited and uninteresting. (p. 5)
It warms one and brings one closer to people. Mushrooms whirl you inside,
too close to yourself. They produce a temporary therapeutic psychosis. I
never felt better. But there’s no wisdom there. I solved the secret of the uni-
verse last night, but this morning forgot what it was. (Leary, 1983, p. 61)
It has been argued that alcohol can give writers confidence by helping
overcome a form of literary “stage fright” caused by doubts about their
ability to write (Goodwin, 1988, p. 186). Yet this is far from being a
risk-free strategy. Ernest Hemingway, a confirmed alcoholic, once dubbed
alcohol the Giant Killer of American Letters, and it is perhaps significant
that five of the first seven American-born writers awarded the Nobel Prize
for literature had problems with alcohol: Sinclair Lewis, Eugene O’Neill,
William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway, and John Steinbeck (Oyebode,
2009). Thankfully, other addiction-free methods for altering conscious-
ness were conveniently available.
difficult to define” (Breton, 1924/2005a, p. 729) and noted that in 1919, his
attention had been called to the more or less fragmentary sentences that
arise from unknown origins when sleep is near. Considering these frag-
ments with their remarkable imagery to be first-rate poetic material, he
and others began to contemplate how to induce such material into existence
by voluntary means.
Breton and Soupault’s publication Les Champs magnetiques (1920) was
his first attempt. Before sitting down to write, both men tried to empty
their minds of any conscious internal stimulation or external distraction
and assumed as passive a state as possible to concentrate the mind on
itself, awaiting the poetic phrases of an inner voice. When those phrases,
came they immediately copied them down onto paper. At the end of the
first day of this experiment, they had about 50 sheets of writing conveying
“a very special sense of the picturesque.” Explicitly stating that the source
of this “magical dictation” was the unconscious, Breton noted its elusive-
ness and its tendency to flee at the slightest intrusion from the outside
world (Breton, 1922/2005b).
Automatic writing (or psychography) is itself surprisingly difficult to
define in a satisfactory manner, but it is generally considered to be the pro-
duction of scripts that do not arise from the conscious thoughts of the
writer. Considered by some to be evidence of spirit communication or
incidents of thought transference (i.e., telepathy), alternatively, some psy-
chologists and psychiatrists have considered automatic writing as a patho-
logic disturbance indicating evidence of an untoward splitting or
dissociation of the personality. Breton also held some reservations about
its employment; his own immoderate use of it had led to some disturbing
hallucinatory experiences, and at times he detected the intrusion of con-
scious elements that defeated the purpose of the experiment.
Following Freud, the surrealists made a regular practice of recording
dreams for interpretation, but these too were suspect and susceptible to
the failings of memory. René Crevel proposed hypnosis as a solution; he
had been taught techniques of inducing an ASC or “hypnotic sleep” by a
spiritualist medium, a certain Madam D., and had been impressed by the
results. Although rejecting the principles of spiritualism outright and
denying the possibility of communication with the dead, the surrealists
were nevertheless fascinated by the mental phenomena involved. They
determined to hold a séance. The proper conditions were created: dark-
ness and silence in the room with a chain of hands across the table. Breton
and two friends watched as Crevel entered a hypnotic state and began a
declamatory diction, with sighs and the sing-song stressing of words and
slurring of others. On awakening, Crevel reportedly had no recollection
290 Altering Consciousness
of what he had said, and the experiment was repeated without him. This
time Robert Desnos, who had previously believed himself to be imper-
vious to hypnosis,4 let his head drop onto his arms and began scratching
the table compulsively. On “awakening” of his own volition, he was
unaware of his behavior; however, the scratching was interpreted as indi-
cating the desire to write. At the next session, in similar circumstances,
Desnos was provided with pencil and paper and, without moving his
head, began to write; interrogated by the others, he answered with cryptic
phrases and drawings (Breton, 2005a).
So began an extraordinary outbreak of altered states among the surre-
alists, an epoque des sommeils. Hypnosis, dreams, and automatisms seemed
different paths converging on the ancient realm of visionaries and savages,
poets and prophets, but events soon began to take a disquieting turn.
Desnos could no longer be easily recalled from the fantastic otherworld.
He sank at will into weird ASC, purported to be in telepathic communica-
tion with artist Marcel Duchamp in New York, and, in a fit of apparent
somnambulism, chased a colleague with a knife intending to kill him. In
a similar condition, Crevel was found leading 10 men and women into
an attempt at collective suicide by hanging.5 The domain of the marvellous
had become a state of possession and the experiment was called to a halt.
However, lessons had been learned from these years of exploration, and in
Manifesto of Surrealism (1924/2005b), Breton posited the existence of a
surréalité in which the contradictory states of dream and reality would
one day be resolved and proclaimed an approach to literature that defied
logic and satisfied the basic human yearning for the marvellous (Browder,
1967). The Manifesto also contained a certain number of practical recipes,
entitled Secrets of the Magic Surrealist Art, such as the following instruc-
tions for composition (Breton, 1924/2005a, p. 731):
After you have settled yourself in a place as favorable as possible to the con-
centration of your mind upon itself, have writing materials brought to you.
Put yourself in as passive, or receptive, a state of mind as you can. Forget
about your genius, your talents, and the talents of everyone else. Keep
reminding yourself that literature is one of the saddest roads that leads to
everything. Write quickly, without any preconceived subject, fast enough
so that you will not remember what you’re writing and be tempted to reread
4
Breton records that Desnos had frustrated two public hypnotists (Messrs Donato and
Bénévol) several days previously.
5
An echo of the grisly events of Crevel’s fourteenth year, when his father hanged himself
during a dinner party and the guests and the child were called in to look at the body.
Colored Inklings 291
what you have written. The first sentence will come spontaneously, so com-
pelling is the truth that with every passing second there is a sentence
unknown to our consciousness which is only crying out to be heard. It is
somewhat of a problem to form an opinion about the next sentence; it
doubtless partakes both of our conscious activity and of the other, if one
agrees that the fact of having written the first entails a minimum of percep-
tion. This should be of no importance to you, however; to a large extent, this
is what is most interesting and intriguing about the Surrealist game. The fact
still remains that punctuation no doubt resists the absolute continuity of the
flow with which we are concerned, although it may seem as necessary as the
arrangement of knots in a vibrating cord. Go on as long as you like. Put your
trust in the inexhaustible nature of the murmur . . .
The French surrealists were not alone in their experiments with hypnosis,
dreams, and automatic writing. In previous decades, Irish writers in the
circle surrounding the visionary poet George William Russell (AE) had
learned from him meditative techniques to access ASC and used these to
assist with their writing, although in their case it was with distinctly more
supernaturalistic overtones. Writers as diverse as W. B. Yeats, the duo
Somerville and Ross, and James Cousins were variously involved in mysti-
cism, spiritualism, Theosophy, and ceremonial magic; automatic writing
mediums Hester Dowden, Eileen Garrett, and Geraldine Cummins were
also features of the Anglo-Irish literary scene (Cousins, 2008). James
Joyce, with his disdain for the mystical overtones of the Celtic Twilight
(which he punningly referred to as the “cultic toilette”), was a notable
exception, but nevertheless his stream-of-consciousness style of writing
owes something to this milieu. Geraldine Cummins, who had enjoyed
some success as a playwright before achieving fame as one of the most pro-
digious automatic writing mediums, described the experience of such
apparently spirit-directed communications in terms that might have
sounded familiar to the French surrealists and yet harks back to the
concept of ancient poets listening for their muse:
To produce the writing, she would sit at a table, cover her eyes with her
left hand and concentrate on “stillness.” She would then fall into what
was described as a light trance or dream state. Her hand would then begin
to write. Usually, her “spirit control” (a rather imperious entity called
Astor) would make some introductory remarks and announce that
another entity was waiting to speak. Because of her ASC, and also because
of the speed at which the writing was produced, an assistant would sit
beside her and remove each sheet of paper as it was filled and quickly lift
her hand to the top of the new page, where the writing would continue
without break or punctuation. It is claimed that in one sitting, Cummins
wrote 2,000 words in 75 minutes, whereas her normal compositions were
laboriously put together, perhaps 800 words in 7 or 8 hours.
Although Cummins laid some claim to her own modest abilities as a
hypnotist, she noted the more remarkable hypnotic aptitude of her Dublin
contemporary, W. B. Yeats (Cummins, 1951). Moving on from his youth-
ful fin de siècle experimentation with hashish and mescaline and despite
early misgivings with regard to hypnosis, Yeats had become somewhat of
an expert in altered states and their practical applications for the poet in
achieving inspiration. The influence of hypnotic techniques in Yeats’s
writing is particularly apparent, with the use of subtle rhythm and repeti-
tion deliberately employed as a hypnotist might use the recurring flash of a
bright object or a soothing pass of the hands to subordinate sense to the
narcotic repetition of sound (Hoare, 1937, p. 98). In more recent decades,
an analysis of the poetic techniques productive of the “trance-inductive
effect” was conducted by Snyder and Shor (1983). These were found to
be: freedom from abruptness, marked regularity of soothing rhythm,
refrain and frequent repetition, ornamented harmonious rhythm to fix
attention, vagueness of imagery, and fatiguing obscurities. In his poetic
work, Yeats might be said to be master of all of these, yet not everyone
was completely convinced of his hypnotic powers. When Max Beerbohm
met the poet, he reported the pleasure was somewhat mixed, remarking,
“I always felt rather uncomfortable, as though I had submitted myself to
a mesmerist who somehow didn’t mesmerise me” (cited in Epstein, 2007).
In Per Amica Silentia Lunae (1918/1959, pp. 343–346), Yeats also
makes reference to his adaptation of druidic rites, and in an article entitled
Irish Witch Doctors (1900/1993, p. 266), he revealed his knowledge of the
Irish bardic practice of imbas forosnai (great science that enlightens), a rite
that involved both incantation and sensory deprivation. Kept rather more
private, at least during Yeats’s lifetime, was his collaboration with his
mediumistic wife George, first through automatic writing and then
through a succession of hypnotic “sleeps” during which messages were
Colored Inklings 293
Whereas, in the beginning, Yeats (and presumably herself) did think the
messages spirit-sent, and therefore proof of communions between the living
and dead, he saw them later as a dramatized “apprehension of the truth.” If
not from the dead, from whom, from what, this “truth”? From their own
higher selves. (Moore, 1954, pp. 277–278)
6
James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake (1939/2000) provides a literary exception as it both begins
and ends in the middle of the same fragmented sentence with the famous invocation of the
river Liffey: “riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us
by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.” The river, con-
sciousness and the narrative are circular and cyclical, potentially ever-repeating.
294 Altering Consciousness
darkened room, utterly absorbed in his brilliant work. Jorge Luis Borges
took this metaphor of the literary double to its furthest, yet most personal,
point when in a piece called Borges and I he went so far as to split
himself—Borges—in two.
The other one, the one called Borges, is the one things happen to. I walk
through the streets of Buenos Aires and stop for a moment, perhaps
mechanically now, to look at the arch of an entrance hall and the grillwork
on the gate; I know of Borges from the mail and see his name on a list
of professors or in a biographical dictionary. I like hourglasses, maps,
18th-century typography, the taste of coffee and the prose of Stevenson;
he shares these preferences, but in a vain way that turns them into the
attributes of an actor. It would be an exaggeration to say that ours is a hos-
tile relationship; I live, let myself go on living, so that Borges may contrive
his literature, and this literature justifies me. It is no effort for me to confess
that he has achieved some valid pages, but those pages cannot save me, per-
haps because what is good belongs to no one, not even to him, but rather to
the language and to tradition. Besides, I am destined to perish, definitively,
and only some instant of myself can survive in him. Little by little, I am giv-
ing over everything to him, though I am quite aware of his perverse custom
of falsifying and magnifying things . . . I shall remain in Borges, not in
myself . . . I do not know which one of us has written this page. (Borges,
1964, pp. 246–247)
It has been argued that writing serves to further the cause of skepticism
and critical thinking because spells and incantation are dependent, at least
in part, upon the unitary identity of the speaker and spoken for—a unity
writing disrupts (Goody, 1977). Max Weber memorably remarked upon
“the progressive disenchantment of the world,” but a powerful counter-
current to the forces of rationality is also evident (Landy & Saler, 2009),
and the sense of wonder engendered by religion and myth in earlier times
has not disappeared. In their explorations of multiplicity and fractured
identity, it seems that Yeats, Merrill, and Borges created strategies for
enacting a literary re-enchantment.
Conclusions
The sheer variety of consciousness-altering techniques employed by
such a diversity of authors across the ages may lead one to the tempting
conclusion that the method of achieving an altered state is less important
than the fact that such a state can be accessed and yet there is a paradox.
In achieving the ASC that lift writers beyond their habitual state; apart
Colored Inklings 295
from the perils of addiction, there is also the risk of loss of control and the
will to write. The production of literature requires the clear direction of
will and pure perseverance in producing text, and so in many ways the
creation of literature is not so much an art as sheer craft. Producing
something beautiful is not easy. A line may take hours, and yet unless it
seems effortless, then all the labor comes to nothing (Yeats, 1903/2000,
pp. 64–65).
Yet moving beyond the requirements of artifice and endeavor, good
writing demands something more from the artist. Literature is redeemed
from triviality by the fact that it does not just describe the world around us,
quotidian realities or the catalogues of information that might be found
in encyclopedias, but because it engages with all the conditions to which
the human spirit can come. All good writers express the state of their
souls, even (and perhaps especially) if that soul is in a state of damnation
(Chesterton, 1911/2008). Literature is an interim report from the con-
sciousness of artists (Rushdie, 1991) and from their forays into altered
states, writers have sent back dispatches from the furthest edges of con-
scious experience, but the work does not end there. Literature can itself
induce ASC. The psychic dissolution of space that occurs when we read,
the experience of being neither here nor there, the liminal state between
the inside of a book and the outside world “simultaneously inside and out-
side, dissolving both by mixing them together” (de Certeau, 1995, p. 159)
can be extended to the point where through artistic form of language, frail
humanity, subject to death, becomes capable of accessing, experiencing,
and being something of an entirely different nature, something not subject
to death (Grossman, 2009). A description that seems perilously close to
St. Augustine’s description of God.7
Writing in the first century BCE, the Roman lyric poet Horace closed
his third book of odes with the poem conventionally entitled The Poet’s
Immortal Fame. In it he makes the claim that “I shall not altogether die,
but a mighty part of me shall escape the death-goddess. On and on shall
I grow, ever fresh with the glory of after time.” This implicit likening of lit-
erary achievement to spiritual transcendence and immortality is one of the
most extravagant claims that Western culture has made for such an
achievement (Braden & Taylor, 2000, p. 96). But more than two millennia
later, rather than mere boast, the claim seems almost modest.
7
“O most high and most near, most secret, yet most present . . . wholly everywhere, and
nowhere in space” (Confessions, Book VI).
296 Altering Consciousness
Acknowledgments
I would like to express my thanks to the Perrott-Warrick Fund, admin-
istered by Trinity College, Cambridge, for their financial support and to
the late Professor David Fontana for his wise and inspirational guidance
and his luminous integrity. This work is dedicated to his memory.
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Colored Inklings 297
Altered Consciousness
in Performance:
West and East
Phillip B. Zarrilli
What Is Performance?
Derived from the Middle English verb parformen, performen, perfor-
mance is the act or process of enactment, of bringing something to com-
pletion. In the field of contemporary performance studies (Schechner,
2006), performance refers to a broad spectrum of human activities includ-
ing discrete genres where an act or process is brought to completion—rit-
ual/shamanic performances—aesthetic performances across a range of
activities including contemporary mind-altering, participatory “secular”
festivals such as the Burning Man Festival (Bowditch, 2010; Di Benedetto,
2010); [see St John, this volume]; performances in everyday life (Goffman,
1959); embodied practices such as sports, martial arts, yoga, and other con-
temporary forms of body work; the use of drama techniques in applied/
therapeutic contexts (Woods, 2009); forms of imaginative play (Huizinga,
1970; Winnicott, 1971); and contemporary mediated performances, among
others. In this essay, I focus on discrete types of live performance (ritual/
shamanic and aesthetic performances) and embodied practices used to train
performers today.
Ritual/shamanic and aesthetic performances are usually framed or set
off from daily life in some way as a “time out of time.” They possess a
structure and performance score shaped by performance conventions. A
performance score consists of all the specific tasks/actions that constitute
the visual, auditory, enacted, tactile elements made available in the perfor-
mance by the performer(s) for the audience/participants. (In improvisa-
tory performance, the score may be a set of “rules” that delimit and
shape what it is possible for the performer to do.) When enacting a score,
the performer embodies and deploys an optimal mode of embodied con-
sciousness, a state that may be described as an extraordinary discrete ASC.
Well-established genres of ritual/shamanic and aesthetic performance
often have processes of initiation, training, or apprenticeship through
which the performer is initiated, achieves virtuosic performance skills,
and attains the ability to actualize the extraordinary ASC necessary for a
“successful” performance. Although there are underlying biological com-
monalities to the states of awareness/consciousness discussed here, the
nature of altered consciousness in performance is also shaped by cultural,
contextual, aesthetic, and religio-philosophical factors. Depending on the cul-
tural and historical context, the performer’s optimal mode of embodied con-
sciousness may or may not be self-consciously articulated or reflected upon.
Given the highly reflexive nature of aesthetic theatres and the desire of
actors to create virtuosic performances, not surprisingly actors and critics
across a broad spectrum of historical periods and genres have reflected
Altered Consciousness in Performance 303
on the nature and training of the actor or on the aesthetic principles that
inform artistry and audience reception (see Cole & Chinoy, 1970, on
Western acting; Hare, 2008, on Japanese noh; Ghosh, 1967, and Zarrilli,
2000, on the Natyasastra in India).
where “if anything, it is the spirits themselves who perform;” the spirits
speaking through a medium have “more of the character of a telephone
conversation” than the trappings of an aesthetic performance (1998,
p. 203).
Schieffelin provides the following description of the effects of the rela-
tionship between dancers and spectators in the Gisalo ceremony of the
Kaluli of Papua New Guinea:
In Gisalo, the dancers sing nostalgic songs about the lands and rivers of their
audience’s community. Members of the audience are moved so deeply they
burst into tears, and then, becoming enraged, they leap up and burn the
dancers on the shoulder blades with the resin torches used to light the perfor-
mance. Indeed, this remarkable response could be interpreted as virtually
necessary to the performance, since if the audience is not moved and the ten-
sion between the performers and audiences does not rise to the pitch of vio-
lence, the ceremony falls apart and is abandoned in the middle of the night
[ . . . ] [A]fter a successful performance, the dancers pay compensation to
those whom they made weep [ . . . ] It is real grief and rage that are evoked
[ . . . ] The performers are held accountable for the painful emotions they
evoke—and the retaliation upon them (and the compensation they must
pay) return that account—as well as those emotions being an indication of
the beauty and effectiveness of the performance. The dancers and song com-
posers [ . . . ] are extremely pleased if they have managed to provoke numbers
of the spectators to tears, despite the consequences to themselves. (1998,
p. 203; 1976, pp. 21–25)
Although the origins of all theatre are not in ritual or shamanic perfor-
mances, in a few instances it may be argued with a certain degree of his-
torical certainty that there is a direct relationship between early forms of
ritual/shamanic practice and the development of a specific genre of aes-
thetic theatre that emerged, in part, from these earlier practices. The clear-
est example is Japanese noh theatre, discussed below.
on diet and behavior. These practices are understood to act on both the
physical (sthula sarira) and subtle body (suksma sarira) most often identi-
fied with Kundalini-Tantric yoga.
As early as the Rig Veda (1200 BCE), ascetic practices (tapas) are men-
tioned. The earliest use of the specific term yoga is in the Katha Upanisad,
where the term means “the steady control of the senses, which, along with
the cessation of mental activity, leads to the supreme state” (Flood, 1996,
p. 95). Yoga’s psychophysical/spiritual practices have therefore never been
“confined to any particular sectarian affiliation or social form” (Flood,
1996, p. 94). As a consequence, both yoga philosophy and practices are
ubiquitous throughout Southern Asia (Feuerstein, 1980; Varenne, 1976;
White, 1996), and inform all modes of embodied practice including
Indian wrestling/martial arts and moving-meditation practices such as
the Tibetan trul khor (“magic circle”), as well as the visual, plastic, and per-
forming arts.
From the earliest stages of its development, yoga developed as a practi-
cal pathway toward the transformation of consciousness (and self) and
spiritual release (moksa) through renunciation by withdrawal from the
world and the cycles of rebirth. Some yogic pathways provide a systematic
attempt to control both the wayward body and the potentially overwhelm-
ing senses/emotions that can create disequilibrium in daily life. Rigorous
practice therefore can lead to a sense of detachment (vairagya) through
which the yogin withdraws completely from daily life and its activities
and is understood to achieve a state of kalalita where s/he transcends time.
However, yoga philosophy and its practices have also informed and
been adapted by non-renunciants, those who keep both feet firmly in the
spatio-temporal world. Traditionally, this included India’s martial artists
in the service of rulers and a wide variety of performing artists who lived
and acted in/upon the world. Performers were expected to bring pleasure
and aesthetic joy both to the diverse gods of the Hindu pantheon and to
those they were serving and entertaining.
In contrast to the yoga practitioner-as-renunciant who withdraws from
everyday life, for practitioners of psychophysical disciplines such as mar-
tial and performing artists, psychophysical techniques quiet the ego and
the emotions so that the practitioner’s bodymind is transformed into an
alternative, nonordinary consciousness better able to act within his or
her respective sociocultural domain. Within the martial arts tradition of
India’s Dhanur Veda (“the science of archery”), the yogic paradigm is a
leitmotif in the earliest extant text (Agni Purana) dating from the 8th cen-
tury (Pant, 1978, pp. 3–5). Circumscribed by rituals, the martial practi-
tioner’s training progresses from preliminary body postures through
310 Altering Consciousness
it did not displace Shinto; rather, Buddhas and kami were and are often
worshipped side by side. In addition, contact with China also brought
the influence of Daoism and Confucianism.
The centrality of supernatural beings and ghosts and the traces of sha-
manic practices in the early development of noh theatre is seen in mugen
noh—phantasmal or dream dramas (Ortolani, 1984, 1995). It was under
the leadership of Kan’ami (1333–1384) and his son Zeami Motokiyo
(1363–1443) that noh evolved into a unique form of Japanese theatre
and drama. In phantasmal noh, the shite (doer/central performer) often
appears as a “restless” female spirit who remembers a past event through a
dream or unsettling memory, encounters the waki (sideman/secondary per-
former, usually a wandering Buddhist priest) who reveals what is troubling
her, and is pacified or transformed in some way. Inspired by a chapter in
The Tale of Genji, Lady Aoi (c. 15th century as revised by Zeami) enacts the
story of the mortally ill and pregnant wife of Prince Genji, Princess Aoi, rep-
resented on stage by an elaborate folded robe in the middle of the polished
wooden floor. She has been possessed by the angry, restless spirit of Lady
Rokujo, Genji’s former mistress, whose living spirit leaves her body when
she sleeps. A female shaman performs a ritual to call forth the spirit possess-
ing Lady Aoi. At the far end of the bridgeway (hashigakari), the curtain is
lifted by stage attendants, and from the green room emerges the spirit of
Lady Rokujo, performed by a male actor in an exquisitely carved female
mask. Lady Rokujo eventually reveals her true identity:
Since the female shaman only has sufficient power to call forth but not
exorcise this invading spirit, a male Buddhist mountain priest (yamabushi)
is summoned to perform the exorcism. At the conclusion of the play, her
restless spirit is pacified.
Although phantasmal noh dramatically enacts such transformation
scenes, the actor-dancer’s state of consciousness in performance has been
shaped by Zeami’s concerns with the development of the performer’s
312 Altering Consciousness
early in his career provided “a necessary structure for the performer’s inner
search” where theatre became “a means rather than an end” (Wolford,
1998, p. 85). Since 1986, Grotowski focused on “art as vehicle,” carried out
as a practical research program at the Workcenter of Jerzy Grotowski and
Thomas Richards in Pontedera, Italy. Grotowski described the work as
focused on “’actions related to very ancient songs which traditionally served
ritual purposes, and so can have a direct impact on—so to say—the head,
the heart and the body of the doers’” (Wolford, 1988, p. 87). Grotowski also
described the work as “a type of yoga, noting that while, in one sense, Art as
vehicle is very much concerned with elements of performance craft, the
interior goal of the work is analogous to that which is sought in meditative
disciplines” (p. 88). This work is autotelic, focusing on the experience of
the doers. It becomes “a tool by means of which the human being can under-
take a work on her/himself” (Wolford, 1998, p. 88).
The “memory” of the mnemodrama does not seep through the protective
filters of consciousness: it has its own hallucinating nakedness, like meat
skinned off its epidermis. It draws not just from the individual past, but
also from an antenatal or ancestral past. Its behaviors have little in common
with “remembering” or having memories. (Fersen, 1980, p. 74)
Figure 14.1 TOLD BY THE WIND. Structure 5: Male and Female Figures
move point/counterpoint within the earth square.
(Photo courtesy of Ace McCarron.)
it draws on phantasmal Japanese noh dramas, Oto Shogo’s theatre of qui-
etude, and the minimal work of Samuel Beckett. It is a fragmentary perfor-
mance piece consisting of 10 structures, described by critics as “hypnotic,”
a “meditation,” “dreamlike.” Throughout the performance, a Female and a
Male Figure are onstage but never make direct visual contact. There is no
dialogue per se, but Male Figure delivers fragments of suggestive text during
4 of the structures. Female Figure occasionally mouths words that either
remain unsaid or are barely whispered and remain inaudible. Male Figure’s
intermittent spoken text is delivered during approximately 11 minutes of
the total running time. Except for the barely audible “white noise” in the
background throughout the performance, there are lengthy periods in
which no overt and little inadvertent sound is made by the actors.
In the first structure, the two actors are discovered onstage: Female
Figure is seated in the center stage-left chair, and Male Figure is seated
in the upstage-right chair at a writing desk looking out the window frame
in front of him, suspended in air. Their backs are to each other. Between
them is a square of earth on a diagonal surrounded by evergreen branches.
In silence, for approximately 3 minutes the two figures only make subtle,
322 Altering Consciousness
When Jo Shapland and I step into the playing space and are seated to begin
Structure 1, our initial performance task is to open and engage our periph-
eral awareness to the possible presence of an “other” in the environment.
From my perspective inside the performance, the act of “opening” my
peripheral awareness means using indirect visual focus, my eyes do not
attempt to focus specifically on anything/anyone/anywhere. Because my
visual focus is secondary and indirect, my energy and awareness open to
and attend to the spatial environment surrounding me. The “other” to
whom I am opening my awareness is not a specific individual, but rather a
possibility or a question. This “other” is constituted by a series of embodied
questions, such as
“Is someone/something there?”
“Is ‘she’ present?”
“Is ‘she’ there?” “Where?”
“There . . . there . . . or there?”
I do not literally ask myself these questions in my mind, nor is this
“other” or this “she” given a specific name, identity, or history. Rather,
I psychophysically engage my embodied consciousness in subtly respond-
ing to the impulse of a “question” or “possible presence” if/when/as each
question/possibility emerges in the moment of performance. It is important
that this embodied process of questioning/probing remains indeterminate.
My focus/attention should not “land” or resolve itself. It is a constant pro-
cess of active searching/questioning.
Half way through Structure 1, this initial probing becomes more specific
as both Shapland and I attune our auditory awareness to our possible
“other.” We actively engage psychophysically in what may be described as
“attentive listening,” opening our ears to the sonority of the immediate envi-
ronment. The psychophysical task here is to “let go” and abandon oneself
completely to this state of deep, profound “listening” where all that exists
is a question. Nancy asks, “What secret is at stake when one truly listens”
and thereby encounters “sonority rather than the message?” (2007, p. 5).
We are listening, but what is “there” remains a “secret”—unknown to each
of us. There is no “message.” No “thing” and no “one” emerges as an answer
to the psychophysical “questions” posed. Our embodied consciousness/
awareness is always “on the edge of meaning;” however “meaning” and
understanding never emerge. As Nancy explains: To be listening is always
to be on the edge of meaning, or in an edgy meaning of extremity, and as
if the sound were precisely nothing else than this edge [ . . . ] (2007, p. 7).
The kind of “listening” I describe here is not a passive act of the “ears”
hearing, but an act of absorption so full that one’s embodied consciousness
Altered Consciousness in Performance 323
References
Austin, J. H. (1998). Zen and the brain: Toward an understanding of meditation and
consciousness. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Besmer, F. E. (1983). Horses, musicians, & gods: The Hausa cult of possession-trance.
Zaria, Nigeria: Ahmado Bello University Press.
Blackmore, S. (2003). Consciousness: An introduction. Milton Park, Abingdon, UK.:
Hodder Education.
Blair, R. (2008). The actor, image, and action: Acting and cognitive neuroscience.
London: Routledge.
Block, N. (1995). On a confusion about a function of consciousness. Behavioral
and Brain Sciences, 18, 227–287.
Block, N. (1997). On a confusion about a function of consciousness. In N. Block,
O. Flanagan, & G. Guzeldere (Eds.), The nature of consciousness (pp. 375–415).
Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Bowditch, R. (2010). On the edge of utopia: Performance and ritual at Burning Man.
Calcutta: Seagull Press.
Byckling, L. (2005, November 11–13). Unpublished printed notes in lecture
handout, “Theatre of the Future? Michael Chekhov and 21st Century Perfor-
mance,” delivered at a conference convened at Dartington Hall, UK.
Cardeña, E. (1986). The magical flight: Shamanism and theatre. In R. I. Heinze
(Ed.), Proceedings of the Third International Conference on the Study of Shamanism
and Alternate Modes of Healing (pp. 291–304). San Rafael, CA: St. Sabina
Center.
Cardeña, E. (2009). Beyond Plato? Toward a science of alterations of conscious-
ness. In C. A. Roe, W. Kramer, & L. Coly (Eds.), Utrecht II: Charting the future
of parapsychology (pp. 305–322). New York: Parapsychology Foundation.
Cardeña, E., & Cousins, W. E. (2010). From artifice to actuality: Ritual, shaman-
ism, hypnosis and healing. In J. Weinhold & G. Samuel (Eds.), The varieties of
ritual experience. Section in A. Michaels et al. (Eds.), Ritual dynamics and the sci-
ence of ritual, Volume II: Body, performance, agency and experience (pp. 315–329).
Wiesbaden, Germany: Harrassowitz.
324 Altering Consciousness
Altered Consciousness
and Modern Art
Mark Levy
It could be argued that we have not gone further than Plato’s classification
of the manias . . . Socrates states that when individuals are not in their
usual senses, (which we could interpret as being in an ASC [altered state
of consciousness]), they may have important and useful insights into
reality. (Cardeña, 2009, p. 313)
and by modern artists as a lighter, less charged term than possession with
its implications of spirit mediumship. Inspiration, along with possession,
however, is mostly involuntary and artists, including Salieri in Amadeus,
have agonized when it does not occur. In this chapter, I will discuss only
a few of the artists and works of art that involve altered consciousness
other than possession where the artist experiences being “taken over” by
another entity. There are a small but significant number of visual artists
from the early 19th century to the present, the period that defines Modern
Art and Postmodern Art for most art historians, who have not waited for
inspiration but have consciously cultivated ASC to achieve “important
and useful insights into reality” (Cardeña, 2009, p. 313). These artists
have used dreaming, psychedelics, drumming, ritual, and meditation to
induce ASC. Their styles or formal languages are mostly avant-garde,
reflecting the experimental art of their respective periods, and
typically do not imitate the styles of traditional religious or tribal art.
There is also artwork influenced by entopic and similar phenomena or
produced through hypnotic techniques. In regard to the former, under
certain conditions when light meets the eye, it can render objects within
the eye visible, producing floaters, blue fields, bowtie or hour glass pat-
terns, images of retinal blood vessels, and the like. In an ASC, individuals
may be more susceptible to these phenomena than under normal condi-
tions, but entopic phenomena have not been of interest to most profes-
sional artists and have not had a direct or even indirect impact on the
avant-garde stylistic imagery of modern art. Nor have hypnotic states been
a matter of concern for most professional artists, although they have
received serious attention by Ana Eva Iribas and others (Iribas-Rudı́n,
2009).
In general, I would like to make a distinction in this article between
two forms of the cultivation of ASC: shamanic states of consciousness
(SSC) and meditative states of consciousness. It is a broad and fluid dis-
tinction and sometimes it overlaps, as in the cases of Vincent van Gogh
and Alex Grey. For the most part, the SSC that I will be talking about here
is the shamanic journey or “soul flight” that is induced by drumming, psy-
chedelic substances, or dreaming. The shaman experiences that his or her
soul leaves the body and goes to the upper and lower world of nonordi-
nary reality and then returns with information for the spiritual and thera-
peutic benefit of the community [see Winkelman, this volume].
Roger Walsh in the Spirit of Shamanism (1990) has proposed that SSC
are usually accompanied by rapid heartbeat, mental excitation, reduced
awareness of one’s surroundings, and positive or negative emotions. On
the other hand, the calming of the mind and emotions and acute
Altered Consciousness and Modern Art 329
Figure 15.1 The Starry Night, 1889, Vincent van Gogh, Museum of Modern
Art, New York, oil on canvas, 73.7–92.1 cm. (Drawing of The Starry Night by Malka
Helfman for this article)
And even the sober Martin Heidegger, in his essay The Origin of the
Work of Art, said that van Gogh’s painting of peasant shoes “is the disclo-
sure of what the equipment, the pair of peasant shoes, is in truth. This
entity emerges into the unconcealedness of its being” (Heidegger, 1964,
pp. 665–666). For Huxley and Heidegger, van Gogh had somehow gotten
beyond the normal realm of mediated perception that hides the essence of
things. For me, van Gogh was able to embody what the Chinese would call
the chi or the energy body of a thing.
The chi body is a felt quality of aliveness that cannot be apprehended
through normal perception. It is hard to describe verbally, although many
viewers experience it in the presence of a van Gogh painting and even a
reproduction. The chi body becomes more exaggerated and hence readily
noticeable and describable in van Gogh’s later work such as Starry Night,
1889 (Figure 15.1), in which he depicts this landscape as a wavy field of
incandescent and interconnected energy or light lines in varying intensities
and configurations. To see the world as a universal matrix of interconnected
vibrating lines is shamanic seeing that goes beyond normal sensory appre-
hension to reveal another level of reality. Of course, there are other levels
of meaning in Starry Night, including a representation of the village of
St. Remy or Nuenen, and symbols, such as the combined image of the sun
and moon, which have engendered much scholarly interpretation.
In the painting Squid and Turtle Dreaming (1972) (Figure 15.2) by the
Australian aboriginal artist and shaman Liwukang Burkutlatjpi (born
1927), we observe cross-hatchings representing a similar net of interwo-
ven energy lines that may be invisible except in an ASC. This is the primor-
dial matrix of the Dreamings, the original creators who wove the fabric of
existence at the beginning of the Dreamtime, which signifies both this pri-
mordial time of creation and nonordinary reality. Like Starry Night, Squid
and Turtle Dreaming is replete with many levels of meaning, but the most sig-
nificant aspect of these two paintings is the energy transmitted from the
painted lines. An aboriginal friend of mine, on seeing a reproduction of Squid
and Turtle Dreaming, remarked, “when I feel these lines my gut is happy.”
The light lines in the Aboriginal painting are also the product of pro-
longed looking. It is an aspect of the “strong eye” technique that was first
mentioned by the anthropologist A. P. Elkin in his pioneering work on
aboriginal shamanism, Aboriginal Men of High Degree (1945). Although
Elkin only relates “the strong eye” to the aboriginal shaman’s ability to
see spirits, several different aboriginal informants who did not wish to be
quoted have elaborated it to me. The “strong eye” practice entails standing
in a particular pose while trying to maintain nonfocused attention on a
landscape over an extended period of time. Nonfocused attention causes
332 Altering Consciousness
Figure 15.2 Squid and Turtle Dreaming, 1972, Liwukang Burkutlatjpi, ochre on
bark, 92 × 52cm, South Australian Museum (Drawing of Squid and Turtle Dream-
ing by Malka Helfman for this article)
Figure 15.3 Theologue, 1986, Alex Grey, acrylic on linen, 152.4 × 457.2 cm.
(Drawing of Theologue by Malka Helfman for this article)
chakras along the central spinal channel. On a still more profound level of
meditation, however, these lines further dissolve into a continuous field of
formless vibrating energy.
Alex Grey (born 1953) has attempted to depict the energy lines of the
penultimate stages of Kundalini meditation in Theologue (1986) (Figure
15.3), which he describes as:
In Theologue, Grey shows a yogi in the full lotus posture with the hands in
dhyana mudra, the position of complete meditative absorption. A grid of
energy lines issues from his glowing subtle body system of chakras and
nadis connections between the chakras. Superimposed on the lines are
flames symbolizing the fire of the Kundalini shakti (energy), and in the
far distance are semitransparent mountains that appear to both simultane-
ously emerge and dissolve from the grid. As Grey explains, “I was seeing
both the perceptual grid of my mind on which space and time are woven,
and the universal mind which was both the source and the weaving loom.
At this moment, faintly, Himalayan mountains appeared” (Grey, 1990, pp.
94–95). He confided to me that this “deep meditation” that enabled him to
see the light lines was an LSD trip but that subsequently he was able to
eventually reach a similar level of experience through Tibetan meditation
techniques.
334 Altering Consciousness
This ambition was shared with other Surrealist painters of the dream, such
as Remedios Varo, Leonora Carrington, René Magritte, and Max Ernst. For
these Surrealists, dreams were as real as or more real than ordinary reality.
Indeed, there is a hyperlucidity and intensity in Dalı́’s style that, in conjunc-
tion with the content, transports the viewer to a timeless realm of nonordi-
nary reality. The numinosity of Dalı́’s painted realm in The Persistence of
Memory recalls shamanic places of power that I have experienced in sha-
manic journeys and dreams and to my mind accounts for the continuous
ongoing attention given to this painting since its creation.
Remedios Varo’s painting is also replete with numinous places from
nonordinary reality but has a broader range of shamanic themes than
Dalı́’s, including dismemberments in nonordinary reality and other initia-
tory references, dreams within dreams, visitations from animal and other
spirits allies, journeys to the upper and lower world, shape shifting, and
so forth [the covers for both volumes include reproductions of Varo’s
works]. Like Dalı́’s, Varo’s style is very precise; her father was an engineer
who made meticulous drawings of hydraulic systems and she trained at
the San Fernando Academy of Fine Arts in Madrid, which offered a rigor-
ous academic curriculum emphasizing drawing and composition. She was
not merely interested in recording the dream, however, unlike the other
“academic” Surrealists painters, including Dalı́, who also trained at the
San Fernando Academy.
In The Encounter (1962) (Figure 15.5), Varo shows a woman meeting
an owl figure—a probable shamanic power ally. Simultaneously, two
other possible allies, a human face and a bird, appear in her belly
and leg regions. Fariba Bogzaran, an expert on art and dreaming, argues,
“Whether she painted these images before or after having this dream
remains a mystery. If she was not painting her dreams, could it be
that she was dreaming her paintings?” (Bogzaran, 2008, p. 173). Perhaps
Varo’s artwork is the product of waking dream, a kind of shamanic
journey in an ASC akin to what C. G. Jung called the active imagination?
It is known that Varo worked actively with night dreams, so it is likely
that she had “big dreams” with shamanic content. Bogzaran notes
that she was part of a dream group that included her friends, the painter
Leonora Carrington and Eva Sulzer, who shared each other’s night
336 Altering Consciousness
Figure 15.5 The Encounter, 1962, Remedios Varo, Private Collection, vinyl
paint on cardboard, 64 × 44 cm (Drawing of The Encounter by Malka Helfman
for this article)
dreams. Varo’s The Fern Cat (1957) makes reference to one of Sulzer’s
dreams. With Leonora Carrington, Varo even concocted various exotic
dishes in her kitchen to ward off bad dreams!
Performance art, which I shall define as live multimedia art by artists
who are mostly oriented toward the visual arts, emerged as a genre begin-
ning in the early 20th century among the Dadaists and the Futurists and
has been greatly expanded by contemporary artists. Although much of per-
formance art is purely secular, a significant number of artists have in effect
created sacred ritual dramas that compare to traditional performance
Altered Consciousness and Modern Art 337
art genres. Indeed, in genres such as the Wayang Kulit (the shadow puppet
play) in Indonesia, the Noh performance in Japan, the masquerades in
Africa, and so forth, performers use percussion, repetitive gestures, chant-
ing, and the like to move themselves and their audiences from ordinary to
nonordinary states of reality. In the Wayang, for example, the audience
and the performers may enter into an ASC and experience being trans-
ported to the magical spirit realm of the puppets for healing and insights
into the future. As I discuss in “Wayang Kulit: Indonesia’s Shadow Puppet
Plays as a Model for Performance” (1989), this puppet play functions as a
sacred ritual.
Figure 15.6 How to Explain Pictures to a Dead Hare, November 26, 1965, Joseph
Beuys, photograph of the performance at the Galerie Alfred Schmela, Dusseldorf
338 Altering Consciousness
During the Second World War, as tail gunner for a Stuka plane, Joseph
Beuys (1921–1986), was shot down in the Crimea and rescued by a group
of Tartar nomads, who wrapped him in fat and felt to preserve his body
heat. These actions saved his life. Later, Beuys recognized that his near-
death experience was a shamanic initiation and his role was to be an
artist/shaman.
By the mere fact of donning it [the hat], or manipulating the objects that
deputize for it, the shaman transcends profane space and prepares to
enter into contact with the spirit world. Usually this preparation is almost
a concrete introduction into that world: for the costume is donned
after many preliminaries and just on the eve of shamanic trance. (Eliade,
1964, p. 147)
For the most part, Beuys’ performances involved the use of repetitive ges-
tures and/or sounds over a lengthy time period, presumably putting both
him and his audience in an ASC. In How to Explain Pictures to a Dead Hare
(Figure15.6), at the Galerie Alfred Schmela (in Düsseldorf, on Novem-
ber 26, 1965), Beuys rhythmically tapped the iron sole attached to his
shoe on the hard stone floor as he walked around the gallery gesticulating
in front of his pictures. This tapping may have induced a sonic ASC since
his explanations to the hare, lasting some 3 hours, were mute. Beuys
explained that How to Explain Pictures to a Dead Hare was
a complex tableau about the problem of language, and about the problems
of thought, of human consciousness and the consciousness of animals. This
is placed in an extreme position because this is not just an animal but also a
dead animal. Even this dead animal has a special power to reproduce . . .
even a dead animal preserves more powers of intuition that some human
beings with their stubborn rationality. (Tisdall, 1979, pp. 103, 105)
Shamans often converse in ASC with their power animals and the animals
respond using body language or sounds or taking the shamans to places of
power in nonordinary reality. In the shamanic worldview, animals have
340 Altering Consciousness
Figure 15.7 I like America and America Likes Me, May 1974, Joseph Beuys, pho-
tograph of the perfomance at the Rene Block Gallery in New York
wisdom and can convey this wisdom by nonverbal means if asked in the
proper ritual way.
In another performance, I Like America and America Likes Me (Figure
15.7), May 1974, at the Rene Block Gallery in New York, Beuys communi-
cated for 7 days with a live coyote that had just been taken from the wilder-
ness. Beuys said about this work,
I believe I made contact with the psychological trauma point of the United
States’ energy constellation; the whole American trauma with the Indian,
the Red man . . . You could say that a reckoning has to be made with the
coyote, and only then can the trauma be lifted. (Adriani et al., 1979, p. 28)
Beuys knew that for the American Indian, especially the Pueblo Indians, the
coyote is one of the most powerful animals—a trickster that symbolizes
their own marginal status in American society. Beuys also believed that the
tendency of White Americans to reduce native cultures to marginality
extended beyond the boundaries of the United States to other cultures and
that the Vietnam war was a direct result of this attitude. To emphasize the
Altered Consciousness and Modern Art 341
Figure 15.8 Clouds of Tea, December 2009, Sha Sha Higby, at Live Oak Theatre,
Berkeley (Photograph of costume, permission and image courtesy of the artist)
342 Altering Consciousness
the performers are almost naked [see Zarrilli, this volume]. From 1977 to
1982, she was in Indonesia studying various forms of Javanese puppetry.
In the first stage of Higby’s artistic process, she takes between 6 months to
a year to create a costume made of a wide variety of materials including shells,
carved wood, sticks, twigs, feathers, rhinestones, paper, silk, gold leaf,
ceramic pieces, fiber, leather, water buffalo hides, glass spine as a supporting
mechanism, and so forth. The masks alone involve the application of 50 coats
of lacquer consisting of powdered eggshells and glue. These techniques are
largely the result of her apprenticeship with a master Japanese mask maker
for Noh in Kyoto. Although the masks are highly refined, the equally well-
crafted costumes are much more earthy and organic. Mask and costume,
however, mesh together into a funky latticework of abstract shapes that can
include puppets as Higby moves. As she is almost completely absorbed by
the mask and the costume—a kind of wearable environment, in the words of
one critic—“she is transformed into a primordial being or soul from the lower
world, manipulating puppets as if they were humans” (Zimmer, 1986, p. 6).
Her performances also involve gradually entering and/or shedding the
costume—a ritual metaphor for birth, death, and metamorphosis that occurs
in both the ordinary realm and the nonordinary realm in an ASC (Figure
15.8). This is produced by extremely slow movements and the repetitive
effects of the music written and performed by her husband, Albert Goldman.
A fairly recent performance of Higby’s, Folded Under a Stone Sleeping, accom-
panied by her husband’s music, can be seen on YouTube at http://
www.youtube.com/watch?v=oF66U4EGfy0. Notwithstanding the slow
unfolding of Higby’s work, the viewer is greeted by succession of other-
worldly images that seem to be in a constant state of metamorphosis like
those in a shamanic journey.
however, there are very few references to Malevich’s meditation practice in his
own voluminous writings. One clue in his writing is his desire to “purify his
senses” and “transform himself into a zero” (Malevich, 1969, p. 119).
Malevich was the founder of the early 20th-century art movement
known as Suprematism, which means the supremacy of pure sensations
over both perceptions and feelings. Malevich described The Black Square
(1915), a monochromatic black square on a white ground, as follows:
“the square- sensation, the white field, the Void beyond sensation”
(Herbert, 1964, p. 96). In this pioneering work of metaphysical abstrac-
tion, there are just the sensations embodied in the minimal color, texture,
and geometrical elements, of the rough matte texture of the black square
superimposed on the more refined surface of the white background. For
344 Altering Consciousness
Malevich, The Black Square was the new icon of the time that he hoped would
replace the traditional Russian icon in the upper corner of a room. Malevich
was well aware that “there are no traditional [Russian] icons in which the
Saint is a zero” (Douglas, 1975, p. 128). The Black Square is the embodiment
of the absolute, the formless Void that Malevich probably apprehended in a
state of samadhi (see Shear, this volume). “If anyone has comprehended
the absolute he has encountered Nothing,” wrote Malevich (1969, p. 224).
In Suprematist Composition, White on White (1918) (Figure 15.9), a white
square tilted on a diagonal ground, Malevich goes even further in approximat-
ing the experience of the void in samadhi. The sensation of black on white is
much stronger than the sensation of white on white, where sensation is more
rarefied.
To be sure, the opportunity for Malevich to obtain knowledge of
Eastern philosophy and meditation practices in Russia during the early
20th century was limited. Agnes Martin (1912–2004) had much more of
Eastern philosophy available to her in translation during the second half
of the 20th century. In a letter to the British art historian Daniel Clarke,
Martin wrote,
Figure 15.10 The Rose, 1964, Agnes Martin, oil, red and black pencil, sizing on
canvas, Art Gallery of Ontario, 180.34 × 180.34 cm (Drawing of The Rose by
Malka Helfman for this article)
the mind,” said Martin in a film interview (Lance, 2003). For many years,
she lived alone on a mesa near Cuba, New Mexico, where she built her
own adobe buildings and lived without electricity, running water, or a
telephone. The nearest house was 6 miles away. “I became as wise as a
Chinese hermit,” she said (in Simon, 1996, p. 89). “To discover conscious
mind in a world where intellect is held valuable requires solitude, quite a
lot of solitude” (Martin, 1992, p. 117).
Martin’s goal was to find an abstract vehicle to convey the essence of
pure mind in painting. The subject of painting therefore is not in the
objective world: “Not nature but the dissolution of nature” (Martin,
1992, p. 117). She wrote that her artistic paradigm was “two late Tang
346 Altering Consciousness
dishes, one with a flower image, one empty—the empty form goes all the
way to heaven” (Martin, 1992, p. 35).
Beginning in Martin’s painting in the early 1960s, the empty form that
goes all the way to heaven was a grid of thin imperfectly straight horizontal
and vertical lines on a flat monochromatic surface (Figure 15.10). In the
major part of Martin’s oeuvre, the tiny rectangles created by the intersect-
ing lines are in Martin’s words “non hieratic and non-relational . . . holding
every part of the surface in perfect equilibrium” (in Haskell, 1992, p. 142).
Also, as Martin maintained, “in art as in reality, the plurality of varied and
similar forms annihilates the existence as forms as entities. Similar forms
do not show contrast but are in equivalent opposition. Therefore they
annihilate themselves more completely in their plurality” (Michelson,
1967, p. 46). Moreover, the little rectangles also counterbalance the
square formats of the paintings, in effect erasing the overall grid.
“My formats,” Martin pointed out, “are square but the grids never are abso-
lutely square, they are rectangles a little bit off the square, making a sort of
contradiction, a dissonance, though I didn’t set out to do it that way. When
I cover the surface with rectangles, it lightens the weight of the square,
destroys its power.” (in Alloway, 1973, p. 62)
Figure 15.11 (Drawing of the Shri Yantra by Malka Helfman for this article)
as the deserts of New Mexico. These fields open and expand the mind of
the viewer in preparation for the experience of the Void. While this kind
of expansion does not happen in the Shri Yantra diagram, it occurs in Chi-
nese landscape painting and Zen gardens, where an attempt is made to
create the illusion of infinite space. Also, unlike the Shri Yantra diagram,
the space anterior to the grids in Martin’s works is not empty but is care-
fully painted, giving her work a presence not found in the Shri Yantra.
Of course, the Shri Yantra is primarily a diagram to assist the meditative
process and is only secondarily a work of art.
Critics have compared Martin’s pale fields to a Taoist womb matrix,
but for me Martin’s spatial fields are an approximation of the etheric or
chi body of Taoism that connects to the uncovered block, the ultimate
Void matrix of Taoism, but is not this matrix. In Taoism, the energy or
348 Altering Consciousness
Figure 15.12 Untitled, disk, Robert Irwin, 1968, Acrylic Lacquer on Plastic,
San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, 134.62 × 132.62 × 60.96 cm (Drawing
of Untitled by Malka Helfman for this article)
The experience of the subtle body realm as it moves into the Void body, at
the very edge of the senses, is an exquisite visual spectacle in continual
metamorphosis, and the forms, which are indistinguishable from the qual-
ities of the paint and paint application, mirror the experience of this realm.
Brunson has developed a highly refined paint formula including a mix of
oil paint, alkyd medium, and refined beeswax on canvas stretched over
panels to create the deliquescent saturations of the surface that are the dis-
tinguishing elements of her work. Brunson rightly argues that “the [paint-
ing] process demands a level of consciousness and presence that reflects
the engagement that meditation practice similarly demands” (Brunson,
2010). Brunson’s paintings are the product of the overlap between medita-
tion and shamanic seeing as an underlying web of energy is revealed. In
the Veils, this display of energy is not manifest in actual lines but evanes-
cent, amorphous skeins of paint that seem to pulse in and out of the sur-
face of the painting. In meditation, the Kundalini adept becomes aware
of the spanda or vibration of the subtle body and links this vibration to
the spanda of primordial Void. An allusion to this linkage is an element
of the Veils, although this series, like Brunson’s other bodies of work, also
functions as an open-ended metaphor that allows for multiple associa-
tions. In the Lattices, such as Braid (Figure 15.14), lines are more notice-
able as microcosmic cellular forms coalesce into tubes reminiscent of the
internal channels of energy, particularly the central and side channels that
go up the spine and become noticeable to the Kundalini adept as she
wakes up the subtle body through pranayama.
352 Altering Consciousness
Figure 15.14 Braid, Jamie Brunson, oil and alkyd on paper, Andrea Schwartz
Gallery, 57.15 × 57 × 22.5 cm (Permission and image courtesy of the artist)
Conclusions
The tendency of visual works in the period from the nineteenth to the
twenty-first century has been to celebrate the idea of art for art’s sake, cul-
minating in the notion of postmodernist play. Artworks from this period
have also reflected popular culture, political ideologies, and the angst-
ridden zeitgeist of the modern and postmodern eras. The artists in this
chapter, however, are exceptional mainly because they offer a respite from
the materialist fixation on ordinary reality that characterizes much of this
period of art history. There are many more artists who are involved in
shamanic practice and meditation than I have been able to mention here.
Hopefully we are now at the beginning of a groundswell of meaningful
spiritual paradigms that will characterize twenty-first-century art.
Altered Consciousness and Modern Art 353
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CHAPTER 16
Introduction
In this chapter, I will summarize the literature on how music and altered
states of consciousness (ASC) are connected. Essential aspects include
induction and expression of emotions and rhythmic body movements to
music and how an altered experience of music is connected to states of
altered temporality. Winkelman (2000) stressed the human capacity for
experiencing ASC as a fundamental biological function. Studies on brain
functions of altered music experience and temporality (Fachner, 2006b,
2009; Shanon, 2001) convey the natural bases of these phenomena, which
have been utilized in shamanistic practice for ages. As Rouget suggested:
Table 16.1 Differentiation of ecstasy and trance according to Rouget, 1985, 11.
Ecstasy Trance
Immobility Movement
Silence Noise
Solitude In company
No crisis Crisis
Sensory deprivation Sensory overstimulation
Recollection Amnesia
Hallucination No hallucination
Time Is the Key 357
2004; Fachner, 1998, 2007; Hanser, 2009), the core of which are a variety
of techniques such as drumming, dance, and music to alter consciousness.
The question of how music induces ASC remains unsolved in discussions
of the effect of music in music therapy and psychology (Ruud, 2001). The
effects of music in settings with a goal-directed therapeutic intervention
are based on models of modern music therapy (there are at least five major
models) and accordingly are a reflection of practice-related issues
(Aldridge, 1996). Whether the music itself has certain healing properties
or whether the therapeutic relationship in music is effective is an ongoing
discussion in music therapy research reflecting paradigmatic discourse of
biomedical and social science approaches in medicine: Is it the medicine
or the person that administers it that provides help (Fachner, 2007)? In
our topic here, we may also ask if it is the music itself that has certain
properties that per se induce ASC and healing or if music just accompanies
rituals that intend to induce ASC [see Mishara & Schwartz, Volume 2].
not only the sound, but the therapist via the sound who affects the client,
and the client re-influences the therapist with his responses” (Strobel,
1988, p. 121).
parallel to differing parts of the music that were of high subjective valence
for the listeners. This occurrence was not locked to specific parts of the
music; there was no straight connection of strong emotions to musical boun-
daries like returning chorus, a sudden change of musical registers, and so
forth. This study illustrates how music functions as “a catalyst of strong emo-
tions that may lead to trancing” (Penman & Becker, 2009, p. 64).
Physiological reactions (chills) are connected to reward circuits in the
brain. They intensify the personal experience and mediate the meaning
of the musical events, which are time-locked in their occurrence with spe-
cific moments inherent in the preferred or beloved music but are not nec-
essarily locked to specific musical elements such as certain keys,
harmonies, tempos, or loudness.
The Role of Music in Evolution and Information Transfer and Social Bonding
Matussek (2001) proposes that the cultural matrix and the physiologi-
cal effects of music complement each other functionally to produce a state
of amnesia and a willingness to assimilate new information. Freeman
(2000) proposes that music and dance were related to the cultural evolu-
tion of human behavior and forms of social bonding. He saw connections
in the cultural transmission of knowledge during ASC caused by chemical
and behavioral forms of induction. Alterations of consciousness produced
in this manner served to break through habits and beliefs about reality and
increase alertness for new and more complex information. In times of pri-
marily oral information transfer, memorization techniques were required
to stimulate all senses for storing and processing that information. Musical
abilities in particular seemed to be important for an effective transfer of
knowledge.
Human musical expressive abilities evolved as a prelinguistic commu-
nication medium (Cross & Woodruff, 2009) and a framework prior to
language that was utilized for communicating context-sensitive and com-
plex emotional codings in an ongoing symbolic frame of reference in
group interactions. Winkelman (2002, p. 78) stressed psychoemotional
group bonding processes engaged by chanting, an affective vocalization
and rhythmic medium that played a central role in human cognitive evolu-
tion through engaging biological competences that create empathy, group
solidarity, and cohesion. Vocalizations communicate affective states and
may mark territorial claims. Chanting provides a communication medium
prior to speech, extending forms of affective vocalizations shared with
other primates as well. The difference in musical expression in humans
and animals involves referential symbolism and classification of musical
Time Is the Key 363
It is a known fact from hypnosis research that there are personalities that
are more hypnotizable and susceptible to hypnosis than others. Therefore,
psychometric tools such as the Harvard Group Scale of Hypnotic Susceptibil-
ity (Shor & Orne, 1963) have been developed to preselect such individuals
and to measure the depth of hypnosis reached (Meszaros et al., 2002). How-
ever, it seems that different personality traits and physiological constitutions
may also have their root in genetic differences [see Cardeña & Alvarado, this
volume; Granqvist, Reijman, & Cardeña, Volume 2].
The genetic bases concerning dance were reported by Bachner-
Melman and collaborators (2005), who found that professional dancers
364 Altering Consciousness
(as compared to athletes and a control group) had greater facility for sero-
tonin transport and vasopressin response (serotonin is a neurotransmitter
that regulates blood pressure in the vessels [see Nichols & Chemel, Vol-
ume 2], and the arginine vasopressin receptor 1a regulates vasoconstric-
tion/expansion due to specific amino acid activity). The different
interplay of serotonin transporters and vasopressin receptors may enhance
dancers’ “social communication skills, courtship, and spiritual facets”
(p. 394) as dancers compared to athletes and control group had higher
scores on the Tellegen Absorption Scale and the Reward Dependence Factor
of Cloninger’s Tridimensional Personality Questionnaire. Serotonin activity
in particular is linked to ASC, and
2
Globus et al. (1978) and Iannone et al. (2006) have shown that loudness scaling is state
dependent and can be pharmacologically altered.
Time Is the Key 369
Conclusion
Music and ASC are connected in various ways. One of the most
determining influences seems to be the context, the personal set and
370 Altering Consciousness
of ASC and altered temporality and might help to understand ASC pro-
cesses in vivo.
Cognitive processing of music changes its modes of awareness on
musical elements during ASC. Rhythm, pitch, loudness, and timbre and
their sound staging in the perceptive field of a person seem to culminate
in a certain sound which, corresponding to the cultural cognitive matrix,
induces ASC (Fachner, 2006a). Rouget (1985) proposed that music fea-
tures such as repetition, long duration, monotony, volume, and density
do not provide clear causal explanations for ASC induction, but the con-
nection of time and space perception alteration resulting from music is
important (Christensen, 1996). Therefore, rhythm remains the target of
discussion for music-related ASC induction.
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About the Editors
Robert Turner worked on MRI with Peter Mansfield at the University of Not-
tingham, 1984–1988. Between 1988 and 1993, at the NIH he developed the
neuroscience techniques of diffusion weighted MRI and BOLD functional
MRI. In 1994 he moved to London as cofounder of the Functional Imaging
Laboratory. In 2006 he joined the Max Planck Institute for Human Cognitive
and Brain Sciences, Leipzig, as Director of Neurophysics.
Charles T. Tart, Ph.D., is generally credited with reviving the study of con-
sciousness with his 1969 classic Altered States of Consciousness. Author of
more than 200 articles in the professional journals, his 1975 classic Trans-
personal Psychologies helped establish that field. His latest, The End
of Materialism, explores the scientific foundations of paranormal aspects
of consciousness to show it is reasonable to be both scientifically and
spiritually oriented.
About the Contributors 383
(“f” indicates a figure; “n” indicates a note; Alcoholic beverages, Neolithic period,
“t” indicates a table) 50–51
Alert state, hypnosis, 95, 96
“Abandon techniques,” acting, 317 Allison, R., 37
Aboriginal Men of High Degree Alpert, Richard, 206
(Elkin), 331 Alpha brain waves, meditation, 33
Absorption, 5, 10 Altamira caves, 46
Access consciousness, performance, 319 Alterations of Consciousness (Barušs), 114
Acting, double consciousness, 303 Altered pattern of phenomenal properties,
Actors: Asian training modes, 318; 2, 128
cognitive neuroscience, 304; modern Altered State Theory of Hypnosis (Kallio
training, 313–18; noh performance and Revonsuo), 3
ideal, 312; phenomenal/access Altered States (movie), 6, 15
consciousness, 319 Altered states of consciousness (ASC):
Adaptive function, ego, 264 Ancient Greece practices, 55–65;
Advaita Vedanta: ASC experience, 141, Ancient Middle East practices, 52–55;
142; ASC states, 146, 147, 149; animal magnetism, 90–93; biological
mystical dimension, 255, 260 basis, 196; classifying, 5–7;
Aesthetic performance: described, 302–3, consciousness/self, 238–244;
307; research, 303; and ritual contemporary actor training, 313–18;
performance, 305–6, 307 culturally induced, 181–86;
Affective mysticism, 77 cyberculture/virtual reality, 208–9;
Affective transcendence, 77 diabolic spirit possession, 76, 79–80;
Afro-Caribbean religions, state of divine spirit possession, 75, 76–78;
consciousness, 90 early counterculture, 203–8; Eastern
Age of Enlightenment, reactive religious approaches, 139–57; Eastern
movements, 89–90 performance traditions, 310–12;
Agency, SMT, 240, 241 Enlightenment religious movements,
Aggregate vs. general function, 10 89–90; epistemological issues, 230–33;
Al-Andaluz period, rational/empirical evolutionary origins, 163–64, 164–16;
philosophy, 89 hypnotic somnambulism, 93–97, 102;
Alcohol use, literary authors, 287 and individual differences, 9–11; and
386 Index
induction procedures, 7–8; integration, Ancient Greece, practices, 55–65, 62f, 63f
30; mediumship, 97–103; modern art, Ancient Middle East, practices, 52–55
327–54; and music, 356–71; in Anger, ego-psychological model, 271
performance, 301–2; mystical Animal magnetism, 90–91; literary trope,
experience, 244–48; new millennium 287–88
research, 126–29; 1960s research, Animal spirits, shamanism, 160
114–16, 204; 1970s research, 116–21; Animals: perspectival worldview, 184,
1980s research, 121–24; 1990s 186; shamanic power, 339–40
research, 124–26; perception, 233–38; Animism, defined, 184
performance research, 303–4; Anomalies: AC physical science 27; in
phenomenal/access consciousness, science, 26
319–20; physical science anomalies, “Anomalous experiences,” 3, 12
27; pre-Christian European shamanism, Anthroposophy, expansion of
74–76; prehistoric practices, consciousness, 107
46–51; principal functions, 188; Antistructural episodes, cultural change,
proto-historic practices, 51–52; 188, 196
recent publications, 113–14; religious Apter, Michael, “reversal theory,” 192
experiences (REs), 189–91; religious Apuleius, on Isis initiation, 65, 66
literature, 280–82; religious mysticism, APZ-OAV Questionnaire, 122–23, 127
255–72; ritual/aesthetic performances, Arbman, Ernst: consciousness, 271;
305–7; Roman Empire practices, mystical death, 271–72; religious
65–67; scientific status, 24–25; visions, 258
shamanism, 159–63, 165–77, 190; Arévalo, Guillermo, 220
social change, 192–97; study of, 11–13; Aristotle: on initiation rites, 60, 62; on
techno-rave/DiY consciousness, 203, prophetic dreams, 245
210–12; temporary alterations, Aronofsky, Darren, 15
186–89; terminology, 2–5, 114–15; Arousal, 1970s research, 120
trance/psytrance, 212–20; transition Art: meditative induction, 329; shamanic
states, 9; 20th-century survey, 102–7; state induction, 329
universal manifestation, 23, Artaud, Antonin: actor training, 314, 315,
24; written works/literature, 278–79, 318; narcotic use, 285
282–94 Asian tradition, altering consciousness
Altered States of Consciousness (Tart), 115 techniques, 308
Altered States of Consciousness Induction Auditory drive, ritual trances,
Device (ASCID), 119 357–58
Altering phenomenology, 128 Auditory hallucinations: 1980s research,
Alvarado, Carlos, 14 124; SMT, 241
Amadeus, 327, 328 Aurobindo, Sri, 204 n.1
American Psychological Association Automatic writing: Breton’s use, 289; and
(APA), ASC publications, 114 mediumship, 98–99; William James,
American Society for Psychical Research, 103–4
J. B. Rhine, 106 Automaticity, Tart, 107
American transcendentalism, expansion Ayahuasca shamanism, 214, 215, 282
of consciousness, 106 Ayin (“nothingness”), 258
Amnesia: dissociation in, 36;
hypnotic induction, 95 Baal-Shem Tov, emergence of, 90
Amundsen, Reidar, vision Bacchus (Dionysus Bacchus), 61
of Jesus, 266–68 Barušs, Imants, 114
Index 387
Baudelaire, Charles, 257; narcotic use, dimension, 255, 260, 263; meditation
284–85 mystical states, 121
Beerbohm, Max, 292 Buñuel, Louis, 334
Being, Vedanta tradition, 140 Burkutlatjpi, Liwukang, 331
Beischel, Julie, 14 Burning Man Festival, 205, 209, 302
Berger, Hans, ACS research, 106 Butoh training, actors, 318
Bergson, Henri: “life-force,” 204–5; Butsugen, ASC state, 149
“reducing valve,” 205 Byron, Lord George Gordon, 257;
Berlioz, Hector, 15 narcotic use, 283
Bertrand, Alexandre, 95
Beuys, Joseph, shamanic techniques, 329, Cabinet of Doctor Caligari, The (film), 15
337f, 338, 339–41, 340f Caciola, Nancy, 76
Bey, Hakim, 210–11 Calendrical rites, rituals, 187, 188
Bhagavad-Gita, pure consciousness, 155 Calonarang, ritual drama, 364
Bible, spirit possessions in, 79 “Cambridge Anthropologists,” 307
Biological cycles, and ASC, 10–11 Camisard prophets, emergence of, 90
Black Square, The (Malevich), 343–44 Cardeña, Etzel, 164, 315; hypnosis
Blake, William, 285 n.3; perception, 106 research, 127; on manias, 327
Block, Ned, 319 Cargo cult, social change, 192–93
Body, SMT, 239–41, 242 Carrington, Leonora, surrealist painter,
Book of Revelations, 281 335–36
Boom Festival, counterculture, 203, Carroll, Lewis, 278, 278 n.1, 282
215–16, 219–20 Castaneda, Carlos, 214, 286–87
Borges, Jorge Luis, 14; literary Caves and subterranean passages, 47
double, 294 Chakrasambhara Mandala, 349, 350f
Borges and I (Borges), 294 Changing Light at Sandover (Merrill), 293
Bourdieu, Pierre, Kabuli gender Chanting, shamanism, 169
relations, 185 Charas (hash), 213
Bourguignon, Erika, institutionalized Charcot, Jean-Martin, influence of, 288;
ASC, 190 work of, 101
Braid (Brunson), 35, 352f Charisma, defined, 194
Brain: and dancing, 364; information Charismatic exorcists, 82–83
processing, 367; literacy skills, 277; Charismatic leaders, social change, 192,
musical stimulation, 360–61, 362, 194–95
364–65; mystical roots, 256; shamanic, Chastenet, A. M. J., Marquis de
175; time perception, 368 Puységur, 93
“Breath stops,” 141 “Chat cycle,” 187
Breton, André, 288–89, 290–91 Chavet caves, 46
Breuer, Joseph, 105 Chekhov, Michael, 314
Bridal mysticism, 269, 270 Chi body, visual arts, 331, 347, 348
Bright light, initiation rites, 60, 65 Childhood, as “transitional space,” 188
Browning, Robert, 288 Chinchem, 192
Brunson, Jamie, meditative induction, Chlysti, emergence of, 90
329, 350–51 Christianity: and definitions of ASC, 5;
Bucke, Richard Maurice, 204; mystical mystical dimension, 255, 260
experience, 262 Clark, Fraser, 212
Buddhism: East-Asian ASC experience, Claros, mantic preparations, 56, 57
139; in Japan, 310–11; mystical Clerical exorcists, 83
388 Index
260; and knowledge, 244–48; One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (Kesey),
personality model, 264; religious 206
dimension, 258–59; ritual dimension, Opium: Mediterranean protohistoric
258, 260; scientific studies, 261–64 cultures, 52; poppy domestication, 50
Mysticism: defined, 255, 257; 1980s Origin of the Work of Art, The (Heidegger),
research, 121; psychology of religion, 331
255–56; religious case studies, 266–72; Ornstein, R., 11
types of experience, 256–57. See also Ott, Jonathon, 207
Religious mysticism Otto, Rudolf: mystical types, 256;
Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis numinous character, 189
(Katz), 120–21 Out-of-body experience (OBEs), 33;
biological basis, 173–75; ecstasy, 53;
Naı̈ve realism, philosophy of new millennium research, 128; 1960s
perception, 233 research, 115–16; Old Testament, 54,
Nangyar, Usha, 310 55; as “protoconcept,” 248; Timarchus,
Narcotics, in literary sources, 58; selfhood, 240; shamanism, 159,
282–87 172–73
“Nature mysticism,” 256–56 Ownership, SMT, 240, 241
Near-death experiences (NDE), 1970s Ozturk, E., 36
research, 118–19
Neotrance, 215 Paradigm shifts, 26
Neurobiology, metric timekeeping, 366 Paradigms, features of, 25
“Neurognostic process,” 196 Parapsychology, J. B. Rhine, 106
Neuromancer (Gibson), 208 Parasympathetic dominance, shamanism,
Neurophenomenological approach, 7, 29, 169–70
38; shamanism, 176–77 Pascal, Blaise, on imaginary life, 280
Neuroscience: and ACS research, 106; Patara, mantic preparations, 56
new millennium research, 128 Peak Experiences Scale (PES), 123
Neurotransmitters: shamanism, 165–66; Pekala, Ronald, 122
time perception, 368 Per Amica Silentia Lunae (Yeats), 292
Newberg, A., 34 Perception: See Sensory perception
Nibbana (extinction), 263 Perennial Philosophy (Huxley), 244
Nirvana yoga, 308 Perennialism: mystical experience, 261,
“Noetic” states, 189 262; philosophy of, 261, 244
Noh theater, performance art, 311–12, Performance: defined, 302; Eastern
337; Sha Sha Higby, 341–42 models, 310–12; phenomenal/access
Noirhomme, Quentin, 7 consciousness, 319; western/
Noland, Christopher, 16 nonwestern practices, 303
Nonbeing, Buddhist tradition, 140 Performance art: defined, 336; genres,
Numinous character, awe/wonder, 189 336–37
Núñez, Nicolás, 15; actor training, 314, Performance event, theater, 303–4
317–18 Performance score, 302;
phenomenological account, 320–21
O’Neill, Eugene, 287 Permanent changes, in consciousness, 9
O’Reilly, Kaite, performance score, 320 Persistence of Memory (Dali), 334f, 334–35
Odyssey (Homer), 60, 282–283 Personal significance, and ASC, 29, 30
Old Testament prophets, shamanistic Personality, ego-psychological model, 265
type, 53–54 “Perspectivism,” animism, 184
396 Index
Phaedrus (Plato), 55, 59, 61, 63, 64, 245, Prefrontal cortex (PFC), dysregulation,
327 32–33
Phantasms of the Living (Gurney, Myers, & Prehistoric art and practices, 46–51, 47f,
Podmore), 102 49f, 50f
Phantom limbs, 239 Preparadigmatic period, science/ideology
Phenomenal consciousness, performance, change, 28
319 Principles of Psychology (James),
Phenomenology of Consciousness 103–4, 278
Inventory (PCI), 122 Private Life, The (James), 293
Philosophia perennis, 204 Problem of Pure Consciousness, The
Philosophy: consciousness/self, 238–44; (Forman), 261–62
epistemological concerns, 230–33; Propensity, to ASC, 10
mysticism/knowledge, 244–48; sensory Prophecy: Afro-Caribbean religions, 90;
perception, 233–38 ancient Greece, 56; ancient Israel, 53
Philosophy of Composition, The (Poe), 279 Prosopopesis, defined, 105
Physical stress, shamanism, 171 Protohistoric practices, 51–52
Piper, Leonora, medium, 100–1, 105 Pseudo-Dionysian transcendence, 77
Pituitary cyclase-activating polypeptide Psi phenomenon, 20th-century research,
precursor (PACAP), 165 106
Placebo effect, shamanism, 164 Psychedelic Experience (Leary et al.), 206
Plath, Sylvia, 14 Psychedelic festivals, value of, 216–19
Plato, 2, 5, 11, 55; deep knowledge, 245; Psychedelic-induced experiences,
expansion of consciousness, 106; on shamanism, 165–66
initiatory madness, 59; on poetic “Psychedelic trance,” contemporary
inspiration, 63; on poetry, 279, 327 counterculture, 203
Plotinus, on out-of-body experience, Psychedelics: early counterculture, 205–8;
66–67 mechanisms, 32; 1960s legacy, 205–6;
Plutarch, mystery rites, 58, 59, 60–61 1970s research, 118; psytrance,
Poe, Edgar Allan, 279; multiple identities, 214–15; veritable pharmacopeia, 211
293; psychic displacement, 288 Psychiatric diagnosis, and
Poet’s Immortal Fame, The (Horace), 295 hypnosis, 97 n.2
Poetic inspiration, divine madness, 63 Psychic displacements, Romantic era, 288
Poetry, Language and Thought (Heidegger), Psychoactive substances: expansion of
279 consciousness, 106; prehistoric period,
Polanski, Roman, 15 49–51
Polyphasic void cultures, ASC, 24 Psychoanalysis, 6
“Polyphasic,” 181 Psychogenic amnesia, 97 n.2
Popper, Karl, 27 Psychoid experiences, 1970s research,
Possession: animal magnetism, 91; and 120
dissociation, 37 Psychological self, and sociological self,
Possession trance: movement, 357–57, 36–37
364; 1970s research, 119; REs, 190–91 “Psychological” signs, demonic
Postconstructivism, mystical possession, 80, 85
experience, 261 Psychology of Consciousness, The (Farthing),
Posttraumatic stress disorder, 7 113
Potlatch system, gift exchange, 183 Psychology of religion, approaches of,
Pre-Christian European shamanism, 255–56
74–76 Psychophysical training, acting, 313
Index 397
Acknowledgments vii
Preface ix
Kenneth S. Pope
Introduction xiii
Etzel Cardeña
We want to acknowledge first the forebears of these books, the men and
women who across many thousands of years have descended into dark
caves, led community rituals, and explored consciousness-altering plants
in order to encounter anew the world and their selves. We recognize our
pioneers in Plato in the West, Pantanjali in the East, and other exemplars
of first-rate intellects who laid the groundwork for integrating the insights
of alterations of consciousness into our views of reality. Among the found-
ers of modern psychology and anthropology there were notables such as
William James and Andrew Lang who articulated and incorporated altera-
tions of consciousness into their theories of human mind and behavior.
Even during the decades-long exile of consciousness by behaviorism,
some brave souls dared to engage in research on altered states, among
them Stanley Krippner, Arnold Ludwig, Robert Ornstein, and Jerome
Singer in psychology, E. E. Evans-Wentz, Erika Bourguignon, Michael
Harner, Joseph Long, and Charles Laughlin in anthropology, and Albert
Hofmann in pharmacology. Among those who helped to point out the
importance of studying alterations of consciousness as a basic element of
human experience, the leading figure in establishing them as a legitimate
area of scientific inquiry was Charles T. Tart, an erstwhile engineering
student turned psychologist.
Our two volumes are dedicated to these and the many other pioneers
of inquiry into consciousness who provided the foundations for the per-
spectives developed here. We thank Debbie Carvalko, the senior acquisi-
tions editor who made Altering Consciousness possible, and our many
contributors, without whom these volumes would not have seen the light
of day. We especially would like to thank Julie Beischel, Cheryl Fracasso,
viii Acknowledgments
David E. Nichols, and Moshe Sluhovsky, who came to the rescue when it
looked as if we might not be able to include some important topics.
We are also very fortunate to have been the recipients of the generosity
of Anna Alexandra Gruen, who gave us permission to use the extraordi-
nary images of Remedios Varo in our covers, and of Judith Gómez del
Campo, who made it happen.
Dedications
Michael dedicates these volumes to the next generation of investigators
who will take the foundations of a multidisciplinary science of altered con-
sciousness described here and produce a more comprehensive
paradigm for understanding these inherent aspects and potentials
of human nature.
One conclusion was forced upon my mind at that time, and my impression
of its truth has ever since remained unshaken. It is that our normal waking
consciousness, rational consciousness as we call it, is but one special type of
consciousness, whilst all about it, parted from it by the filmiest of screens,
there lie potential forms of consciousness entirely different. We may go
through life without suspecting their existence; but apply the requisite
stimulus, and at a touch they are there in all their completeness, definite
types of mentality which probably somewhere have their field of applica-
tion and adaptation. No account of the universe in its totality can be final
which leaves these other forms of consciousness quite disregarded. How
x Preface
This lack of formulas and maps has often served as a Do Not Enter sign for
conventional scientific investigation. During one period, human con-
sciousness itself seemed to almost cease to exist as a research topic for
U.S. psychologists. As Roger Brown (1958) wrote: “In 1913 John Watson
mercifully closed the bloodshot inner eye of American psychology. With
great relief the profession trained its exteroceptors on the laboratory
animal” (p. 93).
Yet another problem in understanding altered states of consciousness
has been the struggle to answer the question: Altered from what? What
is “normal waking consciousness”? What may be normal for some may
be altered (from “normal”) for others. What has appeared in the popular
arts and other media as exotic “altered states” of consciousness may re-
present normative traits or enduring states for many.
The search for an objective, neutral definition and description of an
inherently subjective phenomenon is made even more daunting because
each attempt represents a specific point of view. In “Through the Looking
Glass: No Wonderland Yet! (The Reciprocal Relationship Between Meth-
odology and Models of Reality),” Rhoda Unger (1983) wrote, “Description
is always from someone’s point of view and hence is always evaluative.”
A third source of complexity and misunderstandings can be found in an
altered state of Unger’s statement quoted above: Description is always from
a cultural context and hence is always evaluative, drawing on that culture’s
evaluative assumptions and approaches. We tend to be aware of cultural con-
texts, influences, assumptions, and approaches when we read descriptions
from cultures not our own. We are far more apt to overlook cultural factors
when they spring from our own culture. In theory we all know that our
culture can profoundly influence how we view, understand, and describe a
phenomenon. But in practice, all of us trip up at least some of the time.
A remarkable book, The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down: A Hmong
Child, Her American Doctors, and the Collision of Two Cultures (Fadiman,
1997), illustrates the potential costs of overlooking the influences of cul-
ture and context on everyone involved. The book describes the efforts of
a California hospital staff and a Laotian refugee family to help a Hmong
child whose American doctors had diagnosed her with epilepsy. Everyone
involved had the best of intentions and worked hard to help the girl, but a
Preface xi
As powerful an influence as the culture of the Hmong patient and her fam-
ily is on this case, the culture of biomedicine is equally powerful. If you
can’t see that your own culture has its own set of interests, emotions,
and biases, how can you expect to deal successfully with someone else’s
culture? (p. 261)
A fourth factor that may have led some to turn away from this area is anxi-
ety or fear evoked by the stereotype of perceived danger linked to various
methods of altering consciousness. Some of the substances—such as 3,4-
Methylenedioxymethamphetamine (also known as MDMA or ecstasy)—
used to alter consciousness can have significantly negative consequences
under some conditions and have been criminalized in some jurisdictions.
It is worth noting, however, that a randomized, controlled pilot study,
reported during the writing of this preface, “demonstrates that MDMA-
assisted psychotherapy with close follow-up monitoring and support can
be used with acceptable and short-lived side effects in a carefully screened
group of subjects with chronic, treatment-resistant PTSD” (Mithoefer,
Wagner, Mithoefer, Ilsa, & Doblin, 2010).
The area may also frighten some as dangerous to a scientific or aca-
demic career. For them, the career trajectory of Harvard psychologists
Timothy Leary and Richard Alpert is not a fascinating journey of explora-
tion and discovery but a cautionary tale. Academic pioneers in exploring
various hallucinogens first hand, Leary and Alpert traveled to Cuernavaca
to take psilocybin and were among the members of the Harvard Psilocybin
Project. Leary said that a few hours of using psilocybin taught him more
about his brain and its potential than he had learned in a decade and a half
of studying psychology and conducting traditional psychological research
(Ram Das: Fierce Grace, 2003). Harvard fired both Leary and Alpert, who
later became Ram Dass, in 1963.
Finally, consciousness-altering substances may seem dangerous for
their perceived potential to control human behavior. Aldous Huxley
explored this theme in Brave New World (2006a; see also 2006b). The
novel presents a government that uses the hallucinogen soma to control
the citizens. The novel’s presentation of a consciousness-altering sub-
stance as dangerous gains force in light of Huxley’s own courageous explo-
ration of consciousness-altering substances to open “the doors of
perception” (see, e.g., Huxley, 2009).
xii Preface
These are only a few possible reasons that scientists, clinicians, and
scholars have avoided, discounted, neglected, or misunderstood this area.
My impulse to be more comprehensive in listing and exploring these bar-
riers to understanding is immediately doused by my belief that no one
ever bought a book to read the preface.
References
Brown, R. (1958). Words and things. Glencoe, IL: Free Press.
Fadiman, A. (1997). The spirit catches you and you fall down: A Hmong child, her American
doctors, and the collision of two cultures. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
Huxley, A. (2006a). Brave new world. New York: Harper Perennial Modern
Classics. (Originally published 1932).
Huxley, A. (2006b). Brave new world revisited. New York: Harper Perennial
Modern Classics. (Originally published 1958).
Huxley, A. (2009). Doors of perception. Heaven and hell. New York: Harper Perennial
Modern Classics. (Originally published 1954).
James, W. (2008). Varieties of religious experience: A study in human nature. Rockville,
MD: ARC Manor. (Originally published 1902).
Mithoefer, M. C., Wagner, M. T., Mithoefer, A. T., Ilsa, J., & Doblin, R. (2010). The
safety and efficacy of ±3,4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine-assisted psycho-
therapy in subjects with chronic, treatment-resistant posttraumatic stress
disorder: The first randomized controlled pilot study. Journal of Psychopharma-
cology. Retrieved August 15, 2010, from http://jop.sagepub.com/content/early/
2010/07/14/0269881110378371.full.pdf+html.
Ram Dass: Fierce grace. (2003). DVD directed by Mickey Lemle; produced by
Bobby Squires, Buddy Squires, Mickey Lemle, Jessica Brackman, & Linda K.
Moroney. New York: Zeitgeist Films.
Unger, R. K. (1983). Through the looking glass: No wonderland yet! (The recip-
rocal relationship between methodology and models of reality). Psychology of
Women Quarterly, 8(1), 9–32.
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published 1919).
1
Introduction
Etzel Cardeña
In the preface to this volume, Ken Pope, not only a foremost ethicist in
psychology but also a pioneer in the study of consciousness (e.g., Pope
& Singer, 1978) and a very compassionate person, offers his perspective
on various reasons why the study of such a central phenomenon as altered
states of consciousness (ASC) has been almost completely ignored by psy-
chology and related disciplines.
Setting some of the foundations for the biological processes underlying
ASC, Andrzej Kokoszka and Benjamin Wallace discuss the various bio-
logical rhythms that may affect consciousness, including a possible con-
tinuation of the sleep and dream cycle throughout the day. Also
foundational is David Presti’s chapter on neurochemistry and altered con-
sciousness in which, after giving their proper due to neurochemical
impulses, he calls for an expansion of what he calls the “standard model”
(following the terminology in physics) to understand the relationship
between consciousness and biological processes.
After these general introductions, Fred Previc focuses on the dopami-
nergic network of the nervous system and how it gives rise to experiences
of distant space and time that may underlie shamanic and other alterations
of consciousness characterized by a sense of being in a different plane of
reality. Mario Beauregard concentrates on transcendent experiences and
proposes a sophisticated model of their connection to brain sites and func-
tions. Calling for a neurophenomenological approach to the study of ASC
(see also Cardeña, 2009), he suggests that transcendence can be associated
with different mechanisms (e.g., hyper- or hypoactivation of the prefrontal
cortex) and networks of brain functions rather than just specific areas (e.g.,
the temporal lobe) or mechanisms (e.g., hypofrontality).
The next four chapters deal with powerful psychoactive drugs in some
way or other. Erudite and comprehensive overviews of biopharmacologi-
cal and psychological aspects of the ubiquitous psychedelic agent DMT
and of the culture-transforming substance LSD are authored by Zevic
1
The standard abbreviation in this volume for “altered states of consciousness” both in
singular and plural is ASC. Also note that to help cross-reference relevant chapters in the
two-volume set there are editorial square brackets [ ] throughout the volume.
xiv Introduction
References
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retroactive influences on cognition and affect. Journal of Personality and Social
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PART I
Biological Perspectives
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CHAPTER 1
Biological Rhythms That Can Influence States and Altered States of Consciousness
Infradian Rhythms
Infradian rhythms include many slow rhythms with periods of approx-
imately 1 month (e.g., menstrual cycles) or longer (e.g., seasonal depres-
sion or seasonal affective disorder—SAD). The impact of seasons of the
year on some people’s state of mind is obvious. For example, the beginning
of winter is associated with a diminished mood for engaging in activity and
a general decrease in energy. Spring is associated with increased energy
and an improved mood for engaging in all types of activities. In addition,
spring appears to be associated with increased sexual desire that affects
the reproductive cycle of many animals, synchronized by changes in the
amount of daylight (Prendergast, 2005).
Unfortunately, this issue has received little attention with respect to
impact of increased daylight on sexual activity and birth rate in humans.
However, it has been reported that the highest sperm count among men
is found in the spring, and the lowest is found in the summer (Gyllenborg
et al., 1999). Also, seasonal differences in the frequency of suicide attempts
have been found among men. Spring and summer were found to be the
times of highest frequency for those between the ages of 15 to 34, and for
those over 65. And Valtonen, Suominen, and coworkers (2006) reported
Sleep, Dreams, and Other Biological Cycles as Altered States of Consciousness 5
that suicide attempts for those suffering from mood disorders peaked
during autumn and were lowest during the winter. However, it is worth
mentioning that these studies were conducted in Finland, where the day/
night cycles differ from other parts of the world. It would be interesting
to see if these results could be replicated in other countries.
Circadian Rhythms
The sleep/wake cycle falls into this category. The result of this exten-
sively researched cycle indicates that it is approximately 24 hours in length
and it is influenced by two separate processes. The first is an endogenous,
biological clock that drives this cycle. The second is sleep propensity as
determined by one’s history of sleep and wakefulness periods and the
duration of previous sleep episodes. These two interactive processes
determine sleep at night and wakefulness during daytime hours (Pandi-
Peruamal et al., 2009).
Changes in the secretion of some hormones (e.g., cortisol as secreted
by the adrenal gland and related to reactions to stress, shift work, and long
journeys that disturb rhythms responsible for adaptation to the environ-
ment and normal functioning such as jet lag; see Rosmond, Dallman, &
Bjorntorp, 1998) are also influenced by circadian rhythms. Similarly,
some neurotransmitters are influenced by circadian rhythms (e.g., melato-
nin as secreted by the pineal gland; Benlouci et al., 2005, considered the
zeitgeber for regulating time of different functions including sleep and
wakefulness).
Ultradian Rhythms
The REM (rapid eye movements)/NREM (non-REM) cycle is the most
documented ultradian rhythm, lasting approximately 90 minutes (Hobson,
2001). Sleep usually ensues with a loss of awareness of the environment.
However, an individual may preserve reflective consciousness and experi-
ence visual imagery, described as the first stage of NREM sleep (Hobson,
2001). During this period, level of activation decreases and that, in turn,
alters the state of consciousness, which leads to the next NREM stage. In
Stage 2 NREM, thalamocortical transmission of external and internal signals
are blocked, and larger brain waves and quick bursts of activity are present.
In Stage 3 NREM, brain waves are slow and quite large. At this point, it is
difficult to awaken the sleeper. It usually takes several minutes and the
sleeper experiences confusion and disorientation with a strong tendency to
fall sleep again. Finally, in Stage 4 NREM (where it is also difficult to awaken
6 Altering Consciousness
Figure 1.1 Human brain wave activity during wakefulness and sleep.
the sleeper), the brain waves are quite large and produce a slow, jagged EEG
pattern (see Figure 1.1) [see Noirhomme & Laureys, this volume].
Following the completion of the four NREM stages (in order), there is a
staircase-like return to Stage 3, then Stage 2, and Stage 1. This then sets
the scenario for the appearance of the first REM stage. It is characterized
by an increase in brain wave activity, approximating that which occurs
during wakefulness. This is accompanied by horizontal eye movements
under the eyelids (Dement & Kleitman, 1957) and vivid dreams. During
the night, REM stages have a tendency to become longer and more intense.
Many sleepers report having the impression that they are awake. Further,
there are reports of hallucinoid dreaming after awakening in this stage
(Lavie, 1992). The sleeper’s thought processes may seem logical, but only
in a dream situation, without insight as to his or her true state of mind or
consciousness.
More recently, the sleep/wake cycles and REM/NREM cycles have been
explained in terms of the AIM model of consciousness (Hobson, 2007).
Sleep, Dreams, and Other Biological Cycles as Altered States of Consciousness 7
Theoretical Explanation
The previously described rhythms are naturally occurring and associ-
ated with normal psychobiological functioning. However, their impact on
states of consciousness is more complex, especially if they can cause or be
associated with ASC. The assessment of the impact of biological rhythms
on states of consciousness depends on the accepted definition of conscious-
ness and its altered states (Wallace, Kokoszka, & Turosky, 1993). Unfortu-
nately, there is no commonly accepted definition of consciousness. For
pragmatic reasons, we will limit our definition to deal only with biological
rhythms from a meta-theoretical point of view. In doing so, we wish to con-
sider the following issues and questions: (a) When are rhythmic changes
experienced and/or recognized as altered states of consciousness? (b) What
is the nature of biologically produced states of consciousness versus those
induced by other means? (c) Which theoretical concepts have the strongest
support for explaining variability in states of consciousness?
Figure 1.2 Recording from the left frontal lobe during stages of wakefulness and sleep.
(Winkelman, 2010): (1) waking consciousness, (2) deep sleep, (3) REM
(rapid eye movement) sleep (dreaming), and (4) a spiritual, transpersonal,
or transcendental consciousness, referred to as integrative consciousness.
However, if one accepts the view that consciousness is the processing
of information at various levels of awareness (Wallace & Fisher, 2003),
then ASC are characterized by mental processes that are higher or lower
than normal. The organization of these mental processes was previously
discussed, and they have been elaborated upon by Kokoszka (2007).
They have also been mapped by Clark (1993) in a general tool to plot
mental states. However, his complex model is anchored on a number of
competing theoretical models rather than on descriptive categories.
Although one might argue that the model proposed by Kokoszka (2007)
suffers from some of the same problems, a multidimensional scaling to
classify alterations in consciousness may be fruitful (see Cardeña, 2009).
And regardless of the potential weakness of the model approach, it is clear
that changes in consciousness from variations in biological rhythms are
not usually related to changes in the organization of mental processes.
2009). The most common of these are various sleep disturbances such as:
jet lag (which affects individuals traveling across a number of time zones);
shift work variation (where individuals switch between day work hours
and night work hours, or vice versa); the delayed sleep phase syndrome
(DSPS), which affects the normal time of sleep onset and offset and a peak
period of alertness occurs during the middle of the night; the advanced
sleep phase syndrome (ASPS), which results in difficulty in staying awake
in the evening and staying asleep in the morning; and the non–24-hour
sleep–wake syndrome, which causes sleep to occur later and later each
day, resulting in a continuously moving peak alertness time.
Conclusions
Variations in states and altered states of consciousness resulting from
biological rhythms are well documented, and such variations are considered
to be normal. We discussed a number of different types of rhythms includ-
ing those labeled infradian, ultradian, and circadian. Their role in behavior
and behavioral disorders requires considerably more investigation.
Research on them in wakefulness is difficult, but it is incumbent on science
to study their complexity and the produced interactions that occur between
internal rhythms, external environmental cues, personality characteristics,
and general life events. By continuing to study biological rhythms, science
may eventually be able to answer many questions about various sleep disor-
ders, mood disorders, and states and altered states of consciousness.
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20 Altering Consciousness
James thus appreciated that chemical substances can have powerful effects
on the body and on the mind (such substances are called drugs). For
example, in his discussion of time perception in The Principles of Psychol-
ogy, James speaks to the remarkable effects of Cannabis:
Even to this day, these effects have not been sufficiently studied to glean
what insights into the nature of our perception of time might be provided.
Neurochemistry and Altered Consciousness 23
Twenty years later, when James delivered the Gifford Lectures in Natural
Philosophy and Religion at the University of Edinburgh, the insights gained
from his experiences with nitrous oxide remained of great import. His com-
ments on this remain one of the most eloquent passages ever written about
altered consciousness:
One conclusion was forced upon my mind at that time, and my impression
of its truth has ever since remained unshaken. It is that our normal waking
consciousness, rational consciousness as we call it, is but one special type of
consciousness, while all about it, parted from it by the filmiest of screens,
there lie potential forms of consciousness entirely different. We may go
through life without suspecting their existence; but apply the requisite
stimulus, and at a touch they are there in all their completeness, definite
types of mentality which probably somewhere have their application and
adaptation. No account of the universe in its totality can be final which
24 Altering Consciousness
William James very clearly appreciated that to better understand the mind
and its relation to the body, any and all phenomena of relevance to these
questions ought to be investigated. How could one hope to understand
the nature of mind and how could one hope to adequately address the
mind–body problem without taking very seriously the investigation of
such profound altered states of consciousness (ASC)? And the powerful
effects of certain drugs on mental processes also suggest there is something
profoundly chemical about the brain and the brain–mind connection.
component proteins. These component proteins then move within the cell
and interact with other specific “effector” proteins, altering the activity of
proteins with which they interact. Several detailed scenarios have been
described for GPCRs, including the ability of specific activated G-
proteins to do one of the following things: interact with adenylate cyclase
enzyme and stimulate or inhibit the synthesis of intracellular cAMP (cyclic
28 Altering Consciousness
cells, however, send their axons throughout large parts of the cerebral
cortex and other parts of the brain and these neurotransmitters thus have
an impact on billions of neurons. At many locations, these transmitters
likely operate via so-called volume conduction, wherein the reuptake of
the transmitter does not occur in the very local region of release, allowing
the transmitter to diffuse more widely and have effects on many different
target cells (Descarries & Mechawar, 2000).
Several dozen additional molecules are presently known to function as
neurotransmitters in the human brain. Among them are acetylcholine, gly-
cine, adenosine, adenosine triphosphate, nitric oxide, endocannabinoids
such as anandamide and 2-arachidonylglycerol (2AG), more than a dozen
different opioid peptides or endorphins, substance P, oxytocin, vasopressin,
and other neuropeptides. Dimethyltryptamine (DMT), tryptamine, octop-
amine and other so-called trace amines may also function as neurotransmit-
ters in the human brain (Jacob & Presti, 2005; Premont, Gainetdinov,
& Caron, 2001).
The dominant receptors for glutamate and GABA are of the ionotropic
type, allowing glutamate and GABA to have rapid excitatory and inhibitory
effects on neuronal activity. Acetylcholine (acting at the nicotinic acetylcho-
line receptor), serotonin (acting at the 5HT3 receptor), ATP acting at purine
2X receptors, and glycine are the other neurotransmitters presently known
to have ionotropic receptors. In addition to their ionotropic effects, gluta-
mate, GABA, and ATP also act at GPCRs. Muscarinic acetylcholine receptors
and all the serotonin receptors other than 5HT3 are GPCRs. All other known
neurotransmitter receptors—dopamine, norepinephrine, histamine, adeno-
sine, opioid, cannabinoid, and so forth—are GPCRs. Thus, the effects of
many neurotransmitters, as well as drugs that act via these neurotransmitter
receptors, can have rapid effects on neuronal excitability, as well as longer-
term modulatory effects on excitability, metabolism, gene transcription,
and synaptic connectivity.
from west-central Africa, containing ibogaine; and peyote, San Pedro, and
other cacti from the Americas, containing mescaline (Schultes, Hofmann,
& Rätsch, 2001)
One of the most famous psychedelic chemicals is LSD, lysergic acid
diethylamide, first made by Albert Hofmann (1906–2008) in 1938 as
one of a series of chemical derivatives of ergotamine isolated from ergot
fungus. He remade it again in 1943 and at that time discovered its potent
psychoactive effects. Hofmann quickly appreciated that he had discovered
something very profound (Hofmann, 2005). In the 1940s people were not
thinking of the brain as a neurochemical system. That a tiny amount of
chemical could have such a stunning impact on consciousness was a piv-
otal event in the early development of biological psychiatry and of molecu-
lar neuroscience. The effects of LSD on consciousness, the identification of
signaling actions of serotonin, and the similarity of molecular structure
between serotonin and a portion of the LSD molecule led to the first spec-
ulations on relating brain chemistry and mental illness (Nichols & Nichols,
2008; Woolley & Shaw, 1954).
The primary neurochemical action of LSD and other classical psyche-
delics like psilocin, DMT, and mescaline is believed to be as an agonist
at 5HT2A receptors (Nichols, 2004; Vollenweider et al., 1998). These
GPCR serotonin receptors are widely distributed throughout the brain
and large numbers are found on the dendrites of cortical pyramidal cells.
Many appear to be located extrasynaptically, consistent with the idea that
some of the effects of serotonin on cortical activity are mediated by volume
conduction (Nichols & Nichols, 2008). Other serotonin receptor sub-
types, especially 5HT2C and 5HT1A, may also play significant roles in the
actions of psychedelics. Dopamine receptors and trace amine receptors,
as well as other neurotransmitter receptors, are also likely to be involved
in the effects of psychedelic substances on the brain.
Although the consciousness-altering effects of various classical psyche-
delics (LSD, psilocin, DMT, mescaline, etc.) have a great deal in common,
there are also many subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle differences. Even-
tually it may be possible to connect the subjective signatures of different
psychedelic drugs to their differing neurochemical effects in the brain.
For example, serotonin and other agonists at the 5HT2A receptor activate
two different intracellular signaling pathways: phospholipase C (produc-
ing IP3 and DAG as intracellular messengers) and phospholipase A2 (pro-
ducing AA as an intracellular messenger). The relative activation of these
two pathways varies widely among different agonists at the 5HT2A recep-
tor (for example: serotonin, LSD, psilocin, 5-methoxy-DMT, etc.; Nichols,
2004). The implications of this are presently unknown, and it may well be
Neurochemistry and Altered Consciousness 35
our actions, emotions, thoughts, and perceptions. Yet the ultimate link con-
necting mental experience with physical properties of the brain remains a
deep mystery, in many ways as much so now as centuries ago.
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CHAPTER 3
Introduction
An altered state of consciousness (ASC) generally refers to any condition that
differs from the normal waking state. Deviations can range from the mild
(e.g., after ingestion of a stimulant or depressant or analgesic) to the extreme
(as in coma). Altered states can be induced either during the normal sleep–
wake cycle, by accident or trauma (as in hypoxia and fever), in psychotic
states associated with disorders such as temporal-lobe epilepsy and schizo-
phrenia, and by a large variety of drugs (Previc, 2006) [see also chapters
by Cardeña, Kokoszka & Wallace, Presti, and Noirhomme & Laureys, this
volume]. The most intriguing and arguably widely studied ASC are those
that involve distortions of reality, hereafter referred to as altered states of
consciousness with distorted reality (ASCDRs). These include a wide range
of states involving different experiences and means of induction, from
sensory hallucinations and dreamlike experiences to meditative and mysti-
cal states and even dissociative states in which out-of-body sensations and
spirit possessions may occur. Even within each of these categories, there is
considerable variability; for example, mystical experiences may range from
heightened awareness and a mild noetic feeling to a profound loss of one’s
sense of time and personal space (see Wulff, 2000).
All mammals presumably experience some form of altered conscious-
ness, based on a slowing of the EEG from the typical waking beta state,
and many are presumed to experience ASCDRs after ingesting hallucino-
genic drugs, as judged by grasping attempts at nonexistent objects in space.
However, humans alone intentionally enter ASCDRs, whether by physical
and behavioral activities (e.g., meditation, exhaustive dancing, sensory
44 Altering Consciousness
hallucinations and even psychosis (Corlett et al., 2009), and it has been
speculated that prolonged periods of time spent in darkened caves may have
helped inspire some shamanic prehistoric rock art (Lewis-Williams &
Dowson, 1988; Whitley, 2008).
Another widely used route to the shamanic ecstatic experience is the use
of hallucinogens. Over one hundred such drugs are known to be used by
shamans, typically from plant or fungus extracts. Because of their use in reli-
gious rituals, these have been variously termed “food of the gods,” “plants of
the gods,” or entheogens (see Perry, 2002, for a review). The hallucinogens
used by shamans across the world affect a large number of neurotransmitter
systems, principally cholinergic and serotonergic ones. Psilocybin, obtained
from mushrooms and currently used in North American and some Oceanic
shamanic rituals, is known to mimic the action of LSD on serotonin recep-
tors, as does mescaline from the peyote cactus (also used by Mexican and
North American shamans; see Perry, 2002). Extracts from sacred vine spe-
cies used by North and South American natives such as Virola, Turbina,
and the “soul vine” Banisteriopsis, the source of the powerful hallucinogen
ayahuasca, are also believed to have mostly serotonergic effects (Perry,
2002; Previc, 2006) [see also Mishor, McKenna, & Callaway, this volume].
Anticholinergic drugs used in rituals mostly act at the muscarinic choliner-
gic synapse, although some also act on nicotinic receptors. Scopolamine
(from the Datura plants used by Navajo shamans in the southwestern
United States) and atropine (widely used around the world both in
hunter-gatherer cultures as well as in ancient and even medieval civiliza-
tions) are two of the most powerful muscarinic drugs with hallucinogenic
properties. Ibogaine, an antiglutamatergic and partial opiate agonist derived
from the root bark of the Iboga plant, is used by West African shamans in
initiation and other religious rituals. Salvinorin A, derived from the sage
plant Saliva divinorum and used by shamans in Mexico, is a kappa-opioid
agonist that has a high affinity for the dopamine D2 receptor (Seeman
et al., 2009). The Amaritia muscaria mushroom, found in the shade of birch
and other trees in northern arboreal forests and used by Siberian shamans,
has as its main psychoactive ingredient muscimol, which acts like other
benzodiazepines at GABA receptor sites (Perry, 2002) and is one of the
various drugs hypothesized to be the “soma” of the ancient Vedic texts.
Marijuana, derived from the cannabis sativa plant, was believed to have been
used extensively by shamans in China and central Asia (Perry, 2002). Inter-
estingly, no plant species that mainly and directly stimulates dopamine is
known to be used by modern shamans for its hallucinogenic properties,
although ancient Egyptian and Mayan priests are believed to have made use
of the water lily (nymphaea; Emboden, 1989), which contains apomorphine.
52 Altering Consciousness
This is a world beyond ours, a world that is far away, nearby and invisible.
And this is where God lives, where the dead live, the spirits and saints, a
world where everything has happened and everything is known. The world
talks. It has a language of its own. I report what it says. The sacred mush-
room takes me by the hand and brings me to the world where everything
is known. (Marı́a Sabina, in Perry, 2002)
mystical effects that left a profound mark on the participants, even leading
some to describe those effects as the most profound experience of their
lives (Griffiths et al., 2006). However, even in the controlled and support-
ive environment of the latter study, 31% of participants experienced nega-
tive side effects such as fear and anxiety after ingesting the hallucinogen
(Griffiths et al., 2006). That individuals would engage in prolonged activ-
ities or in many cases suffer psychological and physical stress or danger to
achieve the ecstatic experience and the supernatural knowledge suppos-
edly gained is consistent with the capability of other dopaminergic extrap-
ersonal endeavors (e.g., fighting in the name of abstract concepts, working
for years in solitude to achieve scientific breakthroughs, etc.) to override
peripersonal and bodily needs (Previc, 2009).
Conclusion
Most or all altered states of reality involve a triumph of extrapersonal
over peripersonal activity and are accompanied by elevated dopamine in
the ventral corticiolimbic regions of the brain, especially in the left hemi-
sphere. The ecstatic experience, created either by behavioral practices or
hallucinogenic drugs and manifested in soul flights, out-of-body journeys,
and other phenomena, is a cardinal feature of shamanism. Shamanistic
practices and drugs designed to invoke the ecstatic experience increase
dopaminergic and parasympathetic activity and would be largely lacking
in purpose without an expanded appreciation and consciousness of dis-
tant space and time provided by dopaminergic systems in the brain.
Hence, the evolution of the dopaminergic mind, providing the capability
of abstract, symbolic, and distant concepts and believed to have reached
its modern status no more than 80 kya, appears to have been the major
impetus for the rise of shamanic consciousness.
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Dopamine, Altered Consciousness, and Distant Space 61
Transcendent Experiences
and Brain Mechanisms
Mario Beauregard
Introduction
The past decade has witnessed an increasing interest in understanding the
brain mechanisms mediating transcendent experiences (TEs). These experi-
ences extend or lie beyond the limits of ordinary experience. Mystical expe-
riences represent one particularly interesting type of TEs. Characterized by
altered or expanded consciousness, mystical experiences relate to a funda-
mental dimension of human existence and are frequently reported across
all cultures and religious/spiritual traditions (Hardy, 1975; Hay, 1990).
For James (1902), the main characteristics of a mystical experience are: (1)
ineffability: the quality of eluding any adequate account in words; (2) noetic
quality: it is experienced as a state of deep knowledge or insight unknown to
the discursive intellect; (3) transiency: this experience cannot be sustained
for long; (4) passivity: the feeling that, after the experience sets in, one is
no longer in control and is perhaps even in the grasp of a superior power
or presence. According to Stace (1960), mystical experiences involve the
apprehension of an ultimate nonsensuous unity in all things, a oneness or
a One into which neither the senses nor the reason can penetrate. Stace dis-
tinguishes between extrovertive and introvertive mystical experiences: In
extrovertive experience, nature, art, music, or mundane objects facilitate
mystical consciousness and are transfigured by awareness of the One; in
introvertive experience, the One is found at the bottom of the human self.
Stace further proposes that the main aspects of mystical experiences are:
(1) the disappearance of all the mental objects of ordinary consciousness
and the emergence of a unitary or pure consciousness; (2) a sense of objec-
tivity or reality; (3) feelings of peace, bliss, and joy; (4) the feeling of having
64 Altering Consciousness
Role of the Temporal Lobe and the Limbic System in Transcendent Experiences
Temporal Lobe Epilepsy
Clinical observations suggest an association between temporal-lobe
epilepsy (TLE) and TEs during (ictal), after (postictal), and in between
(interictal) seizures (Devinsky & Lai, 2008). Howden (1872–1873) first
observed a man who had a religious conversion after a generalized seizure
in which he experienced being transported to “Heaven.” Afterward,
Mabille (1899) described a patient who, following a seizure, reported that
God had given him a mission to bring law to the world. A few years later,
Spratling (1904) reported a religious aura or a premonitory period of
hours or several days associated with religiosity in 52 of 1,325 patients
with epilepsy (4%). Boven (1919) described the case of a 14-year-old
boy who, after a seizure, recounted having seen God and the angels.
More recently, Dewhurst and Beard (1970) reported six patients with
TLE who underwent sudden and often lasting religious conversions in the
postictal period. Some of these patients had prior or active psychiatric
disorders. There was an obvious temporal relationship between conversion
and first seizure or increased seizure frequency in 5 patients. Studies have
shown that between 0.4 percent and 3.1 percent of TLE patients had ictal
TEs, while postictal TEs occurred in 2.2 percent of patients with TLE. Ictal
Transcendent Experiences and Brain Mechanisms 65
TEs occur most often in patients with right TLE, whereas there is a
predominance of postictal and interictal TEs in TLE patients with bilateral
seizure foci. Of note, many of the epilepsy-related religious conversion
experiences occur postictally (Devinsky & Lai, 2008).
From an experiential perspective, ictal religious experiences during
seizures can be accompanied by intense emotions of God’s presence, the
sense of being connected to the infinite (Alajouanine, 1963), hallucina-
tions of God’s voice (Hansen & Brodtkorb, 2003), visual hallucination of
a religious figure (Karagulla & Robertson, 1955), or repetition of a reli-
gious phrase (Ozkara et al., 2004). It has been suggested that some of
the greatest religious figures in history (e.g., Saint Paul, Muhammad, Joan
of Arc, Joseph Smith) probably suffered form TLE (Saver & Rabin, 1997).
Naito and Matsui (1988) described an elderly woman whose seizures
were characterized by joyful visions of God. Interictal electroencephalog-
raphy (EEG) revealed spike discharges in the left anterior and middle tem-
poral areas during sleep. Morgan (1990) reported the case of a patient
whose seizures were associated with feelings of ineffable contentment
and fulfillment, visualizing a bright light recognized as the source of
knowledge, and sometimes visualizing a bearded young man resembling
Jesus Christ. A computed axial tomography (CAT) scan displayed a right
anterior temporal astrocytoma. Following anterior temporal lobectomy,
the ecstatic seizures vanished. Along the same lines, Picard and Craig
(2009) described the case of a 64-year-old right-handed woman who has
had epileptic seizures with an ecstatic aura. During her ecstatic epileptic
seizures, she reported experiencing immense joy above physical sensa-
tions as well as unimaginable harmony with life, the world and the “All.”
Cerebral MRI showed a meningioma in the left temporal pole region. An
interictal EEG revealed left anterior temporofrontal epileptiform activity.
Ogata and Miyakawa (1998) examined 234 Japanese epileptic patients
for ictus-related religious experiences. Three (1.3%) patients were found
to have had such experiences. All 3 cases had TLE with postictal psychosis
and interictal experiences with hyperreligiosity. Patients who had ictus-
related or interictal religious experiences did not believe only in Buddhism
(a traditional religion in Japan) but rather in a combination of Buddhism
and Shintoism, new Christian sects, contemporary Japanese religions,
and/or other folk beliefs. Interestingly, the content of their religious expe-
riences was related to their religious beliefs. This finding emphasizes the
importance of considering psychological factors (such as beliefs) in addi-
tion to neurobiological aspects when the relationship between epilepsy
and religion/spirituality is discussed.
66 Altering Consciousness
romantic love (Bartels & Zeki, 2000), and maternal love (Bartels & Zeki,
2004). Concerning the brainstem, there is some empirical support for the
view that certain brainstem nuclei map the organism’s internal state during
emotion (Damasio, 1999). Given this, it is conceivable that the activation in
the left brainstem was linked to the somatovisceral changes associated with
the feelings of joy and unconditional love. As for the insula, this cerebral
structure is richly interconnected with regions involved in autonomic regu-
lation (Cechetto, 1994). It contains a topographical representation of inputs
from visceral, olfactory, gustatory, visual, auditory, and somatosensory
areas and is thought to integrate representations of external sensory experi-
ence and internal somatic state (Augustine, 1996). The insula has been
found to be activated in several studies of emotional processing and appears
to support a representation of somatic and visceral responses accessible to
consciousness (Critchley, Wien, Rotshtein, Ohman, & Dolan, 2004; Dama-
sio, 1999). It is plausible that the left insular activation noted in our study
was related to the representation of the somatovisceral reactions associated
with the feelings of joy and unconditional love.
In addition, we suggested that the left medial prefrontal cortical activa-
tion was linked with conscious awareness of those feelings. Indeed, the
results of functional neuroimaging studies indicate that the medial pre-
frontal cortex is involved in the metacognitive representation of one’s
own emotional state (Lane & Nadel, 2000). This prefrontal area receives
sensory information from the body and the external environment via the
orbitofrontal cortex and is heavily interconnected with limbic structures
such as the amygdala, ventral striatum, hypothalamus, midbrain periaque-
ductal gray region, and brainstem nuclei (Barbas, 1993; Carmichael &
Price, 1995). In other respects, brain imaging findings (Lane, Fink, Chau,
& Dolan, 1997; Lane, Reiman, et al., 1998) support the view that the acti-
vation of the left dorsal anterior cingulate cortex reflected that aspect of
emotional awareness associated with the interoceptive detection of emo-
tional signals during the mystical condition. This cortical region projects
strongly to the visceral regulation areas in the hypothalamus and midbrain
periaqueductal gray (Ongur, Ferry, & Price, 2003). Regarding the medial
orbitofrontal cortex, there is mounting evidence that this prefrontal corti-
cal region codes for subjective pleasantness (Kringelbach, O’Doherty,
Rolls, & Andrews, 2003). The medial orbitofrontal cortex has been found
to be activated with regard to the pleasantness of the taste or smell of
stimuli (de Araujo, Rolls, Kringelbach, McGlone, & Phillips, 2003; Rolls,
Kringelbach, & de Araujo, 2003) or music (Blood & Zatorre, 2001).
It has reciprocal connections with the cingulate and insular cortices
74 Altering Consciousness
If it burst, it would kill her. But attempting to drain and repair it might kill
her too. Her doctor offered no chance of survival using conventional
procedures. Reynolds heard about neurosurgeon Robert Spetzler at the
Barrow Neurological Institute in Phoenix, Arizona. He was a specialist
and pioneer in a rare and dangerous technique called hypothermic cardiac
arrest, or Operation Standstill. He would take her body down to a temper-
ature so low that she was clinically dead, but then bring her back to a nor-
mal temperature before irreversible damage set in. At a low temperature,
the swollen vessels that burst at the high temperatures needed to sustain
human life become soft. Then they can be operated upon with less risk.
Furthermore, the cooled brain can survive longer without oxygen, though
it obviously cannot function in that state. So for all practical purposes,
Reynolds would actually be clinically dead during the surgery. But if she
didn’t agree to it, she would soon be dead anyway with no hope of return.
So she consented.
As the surgery began, her heart and breathing ceased, the blood was
completely drained from her head and her EEG brain waves flattened into
total silence (indicating no cerebral activity—during a cardiac arrest, the
brain’s electrical activity disappears after about 10 seconds, cf. Clute &
Levy, 1990). Her brain stem became unresponsive (her eyes had been
taped shut and her ears had been blocked by molded ear speakers), and
her temperature fell to 15 °C. When all of Reynolds’s vital signs were
stopped, the surgeon began to cut through her skull with a surgical saw.
She reported later that at that point, she felt herself “pop” outside her body
and hover above the operating table. From her out-of-body position, she
could see the doctors working on her lifeless body. She described, with
considerable accuracy for a person who knew nothing of surgical practice,
the Midas Rex bone saw used to open skulls. Reynolds also heard and
reported later what was happening during the operation and what the
nurses in the operating room had said. At a certain point, she became con-
scious of floating out of the operating room and traveling down a tunnel
with a light. Deceased relatives and friends were waiting at the end of this
tunnel, including her long-dead grandmother. She entered the presence of
a brilliant, wonderfully warm and loving Light and sensed that her soul
was part of God and that everything in existence was created from the
Light (the breathing of God) (Sabom, 1998).
The anecdotal case of Pam Reynolds strongly challenges the physicalist
doctrine in regard to the mind–brain problem. This case suggests that
mental processes and events can be experienced at the moment that the
brain seemingly no longer functions (as evidenced by a flat EEG) during
a period of clinical death. This case also suggests that TEs can occur when
Transcendent Experiences and Brain Mechanisms 77
the brain is not functioning, that is, these experiences are not necessarily
delusions created by a defective brain. In other words, it would be pos-
sible for humans to experience a transcendent reality during an altered
state of consciousness in which perception, cognition, identity, and emo-
tion function independently from the brain. This raises the possibility that
when a TE happens while the brain is fully functional, the neural corre-
lates of this experience indicate that the brain is de facto connecting with
a transcendent level of reality. Solid scientific research is required to tackle
this fascinating issue. It should be noted that since Pam Reynolds did not
die, there were likely residual brain processes not detectable by EEG that
persisted during the clinical death period at sufficient levels so as to permit
return to normal brain functioning after the standstill operation. Yet it is
difficult to see how the brain could generate higher mental functions in
the absence of cortical and brainstem activity. Scientific research is clearly
needed to investigate the possibility that a functioning brain may not be
essential to higher mental functions and TEs. It is noteworthy that NDEs
are reported by approximately 15 percent of cardiac arrest survivors
(Greyson, 2003; Parnia, Waller, Yeates, & Fenwick, 2001; van Lommel,
van Wees, Meyers, & Elfferich, 2001).
More than a century ago, William James (1898) proposed that the
brain may serve a permissive/transmissive/expressive function rather than
a productive one in terms of the mental events and experiences it allows
(just as a prism—which is not the source of the light—changes incoming
white light to form the colored spectrum). Following James, Henri Berg-
son (1914) and Aldous Huxley (1954) speculated that the brain acts as a
filter or reducing valve by blocking out much of and allowing registration
and expression of only a narrow band of perceivable reality. Bergson and
Huxley believed that over the course of evolution, the brain has been
trained to eliminate most of those perceptions that do not directly aid
our everyday survival. This outlook implies that the brain normally limits
the human capacity to have a TE. A significant alteration of the electrical
and chemical activity of the brain would be necessary for the occurrence
of a TE (Beauregard & O’Leary, 2007).
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Transcendent Experiences and Brain Mechanisms 83
Introduction
N,N-dimethyltryptamine (DMT) is a potent psychedelic agent found in
many plants and animals and is remarkably similar in its molecular struc-
ture to the neurotransmitter serotonin (5-hydroxytryptamine or 5-HT).
DMT has been utilized extensively in South America as a psychoactive
sacrament in the form of smoking mixtures, snuffs, pastes, clysters, and
orally active brews for at least hundreds of years and possibly longer. This
drug is a key component of an advanced indigenous technology that has
only recently been noticed by modern science. Its consumption has not
been merely a curiosity but rather a vital part of many medico-religious
practices over a long period of time and across a wide geographic range.
More recently, following scientific experimentation with the pure chemical
in the late 1950s, DMT entered the awareness of modern experimental
medicine and the popular culture.
As a tryptamine derivative, DMT is thought to derive its psychoactivity
primarily via the serotonergic neurotransmitter system. Unlike other sero-
tonergic agents such as psilocybin, mescaline, and LSD, however, DMT
occurs widely throughout the natural world. It is found in the barks,
leaves, and flowers of numerous plant species and is synthesized in the
bodies of mammals. DMT and two of its analogues, 5-hydroxy-DMT
(bufotenine) and 5-methoxy-DMT (5-MeO-DMT), are currently the only
psychedelics known to be produced endogenously within the human
body, although their roles in the healthy human remain unclear. DMT
may be a neurotransmitter in its own right and might be responsible for
inducing dream visions during normal rapid eye movement (REM) sleep
[see Kokoszka & Wallace, this volume].
Upon being smoked, snuffed, injected, or ingested (the later route in
combination with other compounds that render it orally active), exogenous
86 Altering Consciousness
Date Entry
ca. 20,000– Arrival of the first humans in the Americas. This date is
15,000 BCE highly uncertain; the chronology of human migration into
the continent has been subject to increasing controversy in
recent years.
ca. 5500 BCE Oldest ceramics in South America found at the Taperinha
shell midden/Pedra Pintada cave complex near Monte
Alegre, Brazil.
ca. 3200 BCE Ground peyote material found in the Shumla Caves near
the Rio Grande, Texas.
ca. 2080 BCE Two puma-bone smoking pipes, together with Anadenanthera
colubrina seed remnants, found at Inca Cueva in northwestern
Argentina.
ca. 1450 BCE Four stone smoking pipes and crushed Anadenanthera
seeds found at Huachichocana, a rock shelter near Inca
Cueva in Argentina.
ca. 1200 BCE Whale-bone snuff trays and bird-bone tube unearthed at
Huaca Prieta on the central Peruvian coast, constituting the
earliest evidence for snuffing in all of South America (the
active ingredients being snuffed here, however, remain
unclear).
ca. 100–800 CE Moche civilization utensils depicting elaborately dressed
lords drinking potions from large vessels unearthed in
northern Peru. The utensils were also decorated with
Anadenanthera leaves, suggesting the existence of an
early “proto-Ayahuasca” brew in which the methylated
tryptamines in Anadenanthera species were rendered
orally active with -carbolines.
ca. 500–1000 Gas chromatography/mass spectrometric hair analyses from
human mummies from the Tiwanaku civilization in the
Azapa Valley of northern Chile reveal the presence of
harmine, indicating that Banisteriopsis caapi may have been
consumed (although not necessarily as part of an
Ayahuasca brew) at least as early as this time.
(Continued)
Table 5.1 (Continued)
Date Entry
88
Table 5.1 (Continued)
Date Entry
89
90 Altering Consciousness
Table 5.1 (Continued)
Date Entry
snuff used by the natives of the Orinoco River basin in Colombia and
Venezuela. Considering these and other pieces of evidence, it may be con-
cluded that DMT-containing plants have been insufflated by humans in
the New World for a very long time.
The earliest European references to the New World use of orally
ingested beverages that most probably contained DMT are found in the
writings of Jesuits traveling in the Amazon basin and its surrounding
regions. These Jesuit accounts are typically disparaging and even fearful;
one from 1737, for example, describes “an intoxicating potion ingested
for divinatory and other purposes and called ayahuasca, which deprives
one of his senses and, at times, of his life” (Rudgley, 1998, p. 26). The
term Ayahuasca refers to what is known today to be a powerful DMT-
containing beverage and also identifies a key plant in this decoction,
the Malpighiaceaous woody liana Banisteriopsis caapi (Spruce ex Griseb.)
Morton (Figure 5.1).
DMT and Human Consciousness 91
Scientific Investigations
The story of the modern scientific discovery of DMT begins with various
19th-century explorers and botanists conducting fieldwork in the Amazon
region. In 1851, an English botanist, Richard Spruce, encountered a similar
version of the Ayahuasca brew. In this case it was prepared by the Tukano
peoples of the Rio Uapes in Brazil and was known to them as ca’api. Spruce
proceeded to collect flowering specimens from the plant, which was later
named Banisteriopsis caapi (Schultes, 1982). Modern chemists would show
much later that this vine was not the DMT-containing component but rather
provided another alkaloid necessary to make DMT orally active. The first
published phenomenological reports of the Ayahuasca experience belong
to the Ecuadorian geographer Manuel Villavicencio, who in 1858 gave an
account of visions of “great cities,” “lofty towers,” and “beasts of prey” that
he experienced after consuming the drink (Villavicencio, 1858).
In 1931, the Canadian chemist Richard Manske was investigating
chemicals occurring in the poisonous North American strawberry shrub.
92 Altering Consciousness
Endogenous DMT
Interwoven with the history of the modern discovery of DMT, and
unique to it and its analogues, is the story of its detection in the human
body. In the early 1960s, scientists demonstrated the presence of bufoten-
ine and 5-MeO-DMT in human urine. In a short communication to the
journal Nature, Franzen and Gross (1965) reported the presence of DMT
and bufotenine, amongst other tryptamines, in human urine and blood.
By 1972, the enzymes required to convert tryptamine to DMT had been
positively identified in the human brain (Saavedra & Axelrod, 1972).
These studies revealed that a powerful psychedelic, which had been used
by humans for millennia for the modification of consciousness, was also
naturally present in the healthy human body.
be told, an epiphany beyond our wildest dreams. Here is the realm of that
which is stranger than we can suppose.
consists of two methyl groups (CH3) attached to the aliphatic nitrogen (N)
of a tryptamine backbone. Tryptamine itself is built around an indole ring,
a structure consisting of a six-carbon benzene ring fused to a five-carbon,
nitrogen-containing pyrrole ring (Table 5.2). DMT varies only slightly in
its structure from the neurotransmitter serotonin, which lacks the two
extra methyl groups and has an additional hydroxyl group at position 5
on the indole ring. DMT is also very similar in its molecular structure
to three other psychedelic tryptamines; bufotenine, 5-MeO-DMT, and
psilocin (4-hydroxy-DMT). Bufotenine and 5-MeO-DMT contain an addi-
tional hydroxy and methoxy group, respectively, at position 5 on the
indole ring. By contrast, psilocin, an orally active psychedelic agent pro-
duced by many species of Psilocybe, or “magic” mushrooms, and also in
closely related genera, contains a hydroxy group on position 4 of the
indole ring (Table 5.2).
Table 5.2 Important Psychoactive Tryptamines. Chemical structures and typical threshold dosages for DMT, bufotenine, 5-MeO-
DMT and psilocin. These psychoactive dimethyl-tryptamines closely resemble the neurotransmitter serotonin in their molecular
structures and bind primarily to serotonergic (5-HT) receptors to exert their effects. All except psilocin occur naturally in the bodies
of mammals, including humans; psilocin (along with psilocybin, its more stable precursor) is found mainly in the fungal kingdom and
is the only dimethyl-tryptamine conclusively shown to be orally active.
Serotonin
(5-hydroxytryptamine)
(Continued)
Table 5.2 (Continued)
Bufotenine ? 4–8 40 4?
(5-hydroxy-DMT)
98
Occurrence in Nature
The widespread occurrence of DMT in nature, in contrast to many
other plant-based psychedelics, is remarkable. It is present on all conti-
nents except (as far as is known) Antarctica and is found in both the plant
and animal kingdoms. To date its presence has not been reported in fungi
or in prokaryotic organisms. An extensive discussion of plant families,
genera, and species that contain DMT may be found in Shulgin and Shulgin
(1997). Examples include reed canary grass (Phalaris arundinacea L.), the
bamboo-like giant cane (Arundo donax Georgi), numerous species of the
genus Acacia, several species of the genus Virola, Psychotria viridis Ruı́z &
Pavón (Figure 5.3; a plant belonging to the coffee family and the leaves of
which are typically used as a source of DMT for Ayahuasca), and Diplopterys
cabrerana (Cuatrec.) B. Gates (a Malpighiaceaous liana used as another
DMT-containing plant additive in the northwest Amazon). DMT and several
of its analogues have also been identified as endogenous neurochemicals
produced by rabbits, mice, rats, and humans. Indeed, DMT and the bio-
chemical machinery required for its synthesis have been detected in all mam-
mals investigated for its presence to date.
The DMT analogues bufotenine, 5-MeO-DMT, and psilocin are found,
along with DMT itself, in many of the aforementioned species and are also
produced in a number of other interesting plants and animals. The “magic”
mushrooms found in the genus Psilocybe, for example, almost all contain
both psilocin and psilocybin (once in the body, the latter is rapidly metabo-
lized to yield the former). Bufotenine, and in some cases 5-MeO-DMT, is
found in many species of toads (the word “bufotenine” itself is derived from
the genus name Bufo, or the “true toads”).
Figure 5.3 Psychotria viridis leaves, a typical source of DMT for the Ayahuasca
brew. The vine growing amongst the psychotria leaves is the Banisteriopsis caapi
liana (PHOTO LOCATION: Núcleo Samaúma near São Paulo, Brazil. CREDIT:
J.C. Callaway)
Oral Consumption of DMT: The Harmala Alkaloids and Monoamine Oxidase Inhibition
Orally ingested DMT presents a special case, as DMT on its own is not
orally active. This is because the drug is rapidly metabolized by the enzyme
monoamine oxidase (MAO), which breaks down endogenous monoamines
(the neurotransmitters serotonin, dopamine, adrenaline, and noradrena-
line). MAO in general exists as two isozymes: MAO-A and MAO-B. It is
102 Altering Consciousness
Hypertensive Crisis
A common misconception regarding the use of harmala alkaloids is that
foods containing tyramine (such as red wine, broad beans, hard cheeses,
and other fermented products) are contraindicated, as their consumption
together with MAOIs may lead to a hypertensive crisis. An excess of tyra-
mine in the body may indeed lead to this condition; however, tyramine is
degraded primarily by MAO-B, while the harmala alkaloids inhibit pri-
marily the A-isoform of this enzyme (MAO-A). Following the consumption
of Ayahuasca, the peak plasma concentration of harmine in blood may typ-
ically reach 0.5 µmol/L (Callaway et al., 1996). Yet a recent study indicated
that the concentration required for harmine to inhibit half the activity of
MAO-B (its IC50) may be on the order of 20 µmol/L (Samoylenko et al.,
2010); this is about 40 times greater than the typical plasma level. There-
fore, there is no in vitro or other empirical evidence to support the current
cultural myth that consumption of Ayahuasca in conjunction with
tyramine-rich foods can, in and of itself, lead to a hypertensive crisis.
Function
DMT may be classified as a neurotransmitter in its own right, consider-
ing that it is a normal constituent of mammalian brains and according to
criteria such as its potential synthesis by neurons, storage in vesicles and
removal by specific metabolic processes. Some of the earliest speculations
regarding the role of DMT in the human body did not concern normal,
healthy functions but rather pathology in the form of psychoses. Osmond
and Smythies (1952) proposed a “transmethylation hypothesis,” sug-
gesting that endogenous “schizotoxins” may be responsible for the so-
called positive symptoms seen in schizophrenia and other forms of psy-
chosis. At the time, psychedelics were commonly referred to as “psychoto-
mimetics” or “psychotogens”—compounds that either mimicked or
created psychoses respectively. The subsequent discovery of DMT as an
endogenous psychedelic agent aroused strong speculation about its poten-
tial role as a “schizotoxin”; however, despite early reports that claimed
differences in the presence and metabolism of DMT in schizophrenics
compared to controls, further studies proved contradictory, and in some
cases the differences between patient and control groups were statistically
insignificant (Callaway, 1996).
In the healthy human, DMT may be involved in the production of the
dream visions that are experienced during rapid-eye-movement sleep
(REMS; Callaway, 1988). The periodic nature of REMS suggests that dream-
ing may be the result of a metabolic cycle involving serotonin, melatonin,
and other endogenous tryptophan products that include pinoline (an
endogenous SSRI and a weak MAOI) and DMT. As the eyes are closed and
the amount of light falling onto the retina is reduced, sleep-inducing
DMT and Human Consciousness 107
. . . I placed the tube’s bowl in my right nostril. The shaman held the other
end between his lips and blew, starting off slowly and finishing with a
mighty blast. The force of the blast threw me backward from my squatting
position. Immediately a warm sensation flooded me—my nostril, my sinus,
my head, my limbs were all aflame. . . . [following another administration of
the snuff moments later into the other nostril] The force seemed to propel
the drug from the shaman’s tube directly into my bloodstream and then
into my very soul.
Ayahuasca shaman is to enter the spirit realm and bring useful knowledge
back to the ordinary world, where it is subsequently applied. Knowledge
is typically expressed through song (which constitutes an integral part of
most Ayahuasca ceremonies), narrative, artistic expression with geometric
designs, fragrances, and other means.
Ayahuasca is considered by vegetalistas (those who use these plants for
such purposes) to be especially important for the diagnosis and treatment
of illness. On a physical level, the beverage typically induces strong vomit-
ing, tremors, and occasionally diarrhea, and accordingly has been called
by the Spanish name la purga: the purge. This effect is thought to clear
the body of toxins and other undesirable substances and, far from being
considered an unfortunate side effect, is often an important part of the
healing process. The role of Ayahuasca in healing, however, is considered
to go far deeper than its purely physical actions. Use of the brew is
intrinsically linked to an indigenous worldview that considers illness to
be the result of processes occurring within an ordinarily unseen “spirit”
world. In this sense, illness may result from someone firing a magical dart
at the victim or through the loss of one’s soul for various reasons. In such
cases, the effects of Ayahuasca reveal these underlying realities. The psy-
chedelic state induced by the brew supposedly allows the practitioner to
manipulate causal factors and influence outcomes in this spirit realm,
thereby effecting change in the ordinary physical world of the patient
and/or the community (McKenna, Luna, & Towers, 1995).
Daime and a Protestant version in the UDV. Umbanda and other African
elements have been incorporated to form the Barquinha practice of this
ancient technology.
Beginning in the 1960s, DMT began to make its way into mainstream
modern awareness. Some sources initially referred to it as the “business-
man’s trip” because of its relatively short-lived and thus convenient effects
compared to other psychedelics (enabling one, in theory, to take a DMT
journey during a lunch break at work). In the 1980s, through public talks
and written publications, Terence and Dennis McKenna played an instru-
mental role in raising awareness of DMT, Ayahuasca, and other psychoac-
tive tryptamines in modern Western cultures.
Both in the past and today, although not as popular as LSD or
psilocybin-containing mushrooms, nor as readily available or as conven-
ient to use, DMT continues to constitute an important technology for the
modification of human consciousness. The most common method of
administration is by smoking the crystalline form of the drug as the free-
base through an enclosed glass pipe. Recently, reports have emerged of a
smoking preparation called changa, which consists of DMT mixed together
with a MAOI-containing plant and various other herbs, and is therefore
akin to a smoked form of Ayahuasca. This contemporary observation pro-
vides further evidence that such technology continues to evolve now that
it has “escaped” from South America and been transmitted to other cul-
tures [see St John, Volume 1].
The last couple of decades have witnessed an increased interest in
Ayahuasca from the modern world, particularly in its use as a tool for per-
sonal healing and insight. This interest has given rise to the phenomenon
of “Ayahuasca tourism” and, more generally, “drug tourism,” the practice
of Westerners visiting South American countries, especially Peru, Colom-
bia, and Brazil, to participate in both urban and rural psychoactive cer-
emonies that are run by Mestizos (persons of mixed Amerindian and
European ancestry). The modern encounters with DMT in an urban set-
ting, along with the use of Ayahuasca in either a traditional or syncretic
context, have also inspired distinct genres of visual art (such as the works
of Alex Grey) and music [see Levy, Volume 1].
Ayahuasca has recently been utilized in a fusion of traditional and
modern contexts to treat a number of physical, psychological, and psycho-
somatic illnesses. One such application has been the treatment of alcohol
and other drug addictions. The success in the use of the brew, itself shown
to be nonaddictive, in this context supports the idea that psychedelics, as
visionary tools for self-exploration and healing, are an underexplored area
for both scientists and therapists alike. One example of Ayahuasca usage
114 Altering Consciousness
Conclusion
Jonathan Ott (1994) was one of the first modern researchers to appreci-
ate and emphasize the fact that DMT, obtained from a wide variety of plant
species, has been utilized by culturally diverse and apparently unconnected
groups of people, spread over a wide time span and large geographical
areas, for the modification of human consciousness. This utilization consti-
tuted a central feature of those indigenous cultures and cosmologies and
apparently dates back thousands of years. In the modern world, in the space
of a few short decades, the drug has taken its place as a powerful and
DMT and Human Consciousness 115
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CHAPTER 6
Introduction
The current paradigm of neuroscience considers the entire spectrum of
human consciousness to be the result of complex events within the nervous
system. It stands to reason that if research can help us to understand the
neurochemical processes associated with memory and perception, it also
should shed light on the underlying causes and physiological nature of a
wide variety of altered states of consciousness (ASC). Of particular interest
would be understanding the nature of mystical states, one of the most pro-
found ASC, which can be produced by hallucinogens like LSD (LSD-25:
d-lysergic acid diethylamide). As far as we know, mystical states of con-
sciousness depend on processes of neuronal translation that are similar, if
not identical, to those responsible for converting stimuli from our everyday
environment into conscious perception [see Beauregard, this volume; Geels,
and Shear, Volume 1].
Psychedelic/Hallucinogenic Agents
Let’s first define the materials we intend to discuss. These substances
are generally known by the catchall name hallucinogens, but they also have
been referred to as psychedelic, psychotomimetic, and more recently entheo-
genic, generally taken to mean “mind manifesting,” “mimicking psychosis,”
and “generating the god within,” respectively. We shall use these terms
122 Altering Consciousness
interchangeably. The definition of these substances that best sets the stage
for the ensuing discussion appeared in perhaps the most authoritative
overall reference book on pharmacology, known popularly as “Goodman
and Gilman.” There one reads
the feature that distinguishes psychedelic agents from other classes of drugs
is their capacity reliably to induce or compel states of altered perception,
thought, and feeling that are not (or cannot be) experienced otherwise
except in dreams or at times of religious exaltation. (Jaffe, 1985, pp. 563–
564)
We have spent some time attempting to convey the idea that it is pos-
sible for psychedelics to alter one’s perception of reality, and that during
the experience we may not perceive it is anything other than completely
real. A visionary or transcendental state must be perceived as completely
real for it to be considered authentic. It is important to accept this premise
because if a transcendent or religious experience did not have the quality
of seeming completely real, it would be perceived as illusion or hallucina-
tion and would have no lasting impact.
Transcendental or visionary states have the quality of being ineffable;
there is no language that can adequately convey the richness of the experi-
ence. Similarly, psychedelics can produce a powerful and profound sense
that something ominous or momentous is about to occur or is occurring,
producing awe and amazement. These descriptors are the same as those
we might find attached to a visionary experience and resemble Rudolph
Otto’s “numinous” (Otto, 1958). We propose that a feeling of portentous-
ness is a product of frontal cortical activity. It is only in humans where
reflection and introspection can occur, and conscious decisions made to
carry out specific behaviors. The rationale for making complex decisions
will be based on subjective comparisons of the predicted outcomes of dif-
ferent choices and a ranking of the acceptability of those outcomes in the
context of one’s value systems. Some choices will have more profound
implications than others, and it is only through our understanding of
those consequences that we make such decisions.
Therefore, if we assume that the ability to place experiential events into
Freedman’s continuum, ranging from the banal to the profound, results
from comparisons derived through cortical functions, it would seem logi-
cal that attaching to an experience a sense of “portentousness” (a descrip-
tor that must lie at the extreme end of the ranking system) must derive
from processes that involve the frontal cortex.
With this brief background on how psychedelics modify perceptions
and feelings, the question begs to be asked: But how do they do that?
We shall now proceed to a discussion of how such experiences might be
produced by the interaction between psychedelic molecules and certain
brain systems.
Early experiments found that LSD potently suppressed the firing of cells in
the dorsal raphe nucleus (Aghajanian, Foote, & Sheard, 1968, 1970;
Aghajanian, Haigler, & Bloom, 1972). Other tryptamine hallucinogens
also inhibit dorsal raphe cell firing (Aghajanian et al., 1970; Aghajanian &
Haigler, 1975; deMontigny & Aghajanian, 1977). Thus, Aghajanian and
Haigler (1975) hypothesized that this suppressant effect on raphe cells
might be the basis for hallucinogen action. This idea was attractive
because raphe cells send serotonergic projections throughout the fore-
brain and are the source of serotonin afferents in the prefrontal cortex
(Moore, Halaris, & Jones, 1978).
These ideas had relevance to an early study reported by Torda (1968).
She recorded EEGs and obtained dream records from two volunteers
during 11 consecutive nights. During control nights, participants received
10-minute intravenous saline infusions, which started 30 minutes after
the onset of their third REM episode. On alternate nights, they received
intravenous infusion of 5 mcg per minute of LSD. Volunteers were awak-
ened during their fourth and fifth REM episodes and asked to report what
was on their minds. In all cases, they reported that they were dreaming.
On control nights, the average latency to the fourth REM period and
dreaming was about 90 minutes, but with LSD infusion, the latency to this
REM episode was shortened to 10 to 19 minutes.
Problems soon developed with the raphe cell suppression hypothesis,
however, largely because phenethylamine hallucinogens such as mesca-
line lacked this effect (Aghajanian, Foote, & Sheard, 1970; Haigler &
Aghajanian, 1973). Furthermore, the nonhallucinogenic ergoline lisuride
also potently suppressed raphe cell firing (Rogawski & Aghajanian,
1979). This hypothesis was, therefore, not tenable. Although suppression
of raphe cell firing may not be the primary mechanism of action for hallu-
cinogens, it is probably an important component. Raphe cells release sero-
tonin into the cortex, and any change in firing rate would alter cortical
serotonergic tone. The main effect of physiologically released serotonin
in the prefrontal cortex is to inhibit pyramidal cells (Puig, Artigas, &
Celada, 2005). Thus, a reduction in the rate of raphe cell firing would lead
to increased excitability of cortical pyramidal cells.
Today there seems to be a fairly clear consensus that the key site for hal-
lucinogen action is a particular type of serotonin receptor known as the
5-HT2A subtype (reviewed in Nichols, 1997; Aghajanian & Marek, 1999a;
Nichols, 2004). This conclusion was largely developed by correlation of
rat behavioral responses to hallucinogens with their affinities and efficacies
at the 5-HT2 receptor (Glennon, Titeler, & McKenney, 1984; Glennon,
Young, & Rosecrans, 1983; Titeler, Lyon, & Glennon, 1988). More
132 Altering Consciousness
compelling evidence for this conclusion has been provided by two clinical
studies that demonstrated that the hallucinogenic effects of psilocybin could
be blocked by preadministration of 5-HT2A-selective antagonists (Carter
et al., & Vollenweider, 2005; Vollenweider, Vollenweider-Scherpenhuyzen,
Babler, Vogel, & Hell, 1998).
An explanation for low-dose visual effects produced by psychedelics
may lie in the high expression of 5-HT2A receptors in primate primary vis-
ual cortex (V1; Watakabe et al., 2009). Effects of 5-HT2A agonists on V1
neurons would lead to corruption of visual processing.
Most recent attention on the action of hallucinogens has focused on the
frontal cortex. Numerous anatomical localization studies demonstrated
that 5-HT2A receptors are expressed most highly in cortical regions of
mammals (e.g., McKenna & Saavedra, 1987; Pazos, Cortes, & Palacios,
1985; Pazos, Probst, & Palacios, 1987). In the rat prefrontal cortex, these
receptors were primarily localized to pyramidal and local circuit interneu-
rons (Miner, Backstrom, Sanders-Bush, & Sesack, 2003). Interestingly,
5-HT2A receptors also were expressed on the surface of dendritic neuronal
outgrowths in regions that did not form direct synaptic junctions, sug-
gesting that serotonin may exert at least some of its actions through vol-
ume transmission mechanisms. Based on their results as well as previous
data, Miner and coworkers (2003) proposed that cortical 5-HT innerva-
tion is largely nonjunctional and that the entire cortical volume may be
within reach of this neurotransmitter. Thus, some of the physiological
actions of 5-HT in the cortex may be constantly exerted, with more or less
efficacy, at the various 5-HT receptors expressed in the region, providing
widespread, global, and/or sustained influence in the neocortex.
In vivo PET imaging of 5-HT2A receptors has shown highest density in
the anterior cingulate, followed by the parietal, orbitofrontal, temporal,
occipital, and frontal cortices (van Dyck et al. 2000). Of these areas, the
anterior cingulate appears to be a key site, at least in rats. Microinjections
of LSD into the anterior cingulate of rats trained to discriminate the effects
of LSD from saline led to complete substitution for the LSD cue (Gresch,
Barrett, Sanders-Bush, & Smith, 2007). Systemic administration of a
5-HT2A receptor antagonist completely blocked this discrimination.
Hallucinogens also enhance the release of the excitatory neurotransmit-
ter glutamate in the cortex. Some controversy still centers, however, on the
details of the mechanism whereby hallucinogens increase cortical gluta-
mate. It was initially believed that the glutamate was released from thalamic
afferents to the cortex. Lambe and Aghajanian (2001) proposed an indirect
role for 5-HT2A receptor-modulated glutamate release that involved the
release of a retrograde messenger. Such a substance could be produced as
LSD and the Serotonin System’s Effects on Human Consciousness 133
hallucinogens such as LSD and psilocin also have high affinity for 5-HT1A
receptors and suppress raphe cell firing through direct activation of soma-
todendritic 5-HT1A receptors in the raphe. Hallucinogenic phenethyl-
amines such as mescaline or DOI lack activity at 5-HT1A receptors and
thus have no effect when infused directly into the raphe (Penington,
1996). When given systemically, however, they also suppress raphe cell
firing and decrease extracellular 5-HT in the frontal cortex (Wright, Gar-
ratt, & Marsden, 1990). Inhibition of raphe cell firing by phenethylamine
hallucinogens may be mediated by stimulation of 5-HT2A receptors that
activate inhibitory GABAergic interneurons in the raphe, thus indirectly
inhibiting raphe cell firing (Liu, Jolas, & Aghajanian, 2000).
LC neurons display slow irregular firing during quiet wakefulness but
change to sustained activation if the organism becomes stressed or excited.
LC firing also decreases markedly during slow-wave sleep and virtually
ceases during REM sleep (e.g., Page & Valentino, 1994). In response to
novel or behaviorally relevant stimuli, however, LC neurons display tran-
sient activation and burst firing (Aston-Jones & Bloom, 1981; Grant,
Aston-Jones, & Redmond, 1988; Sara & Segal, 1991; Vankov, Herve-
Minvielle, & Sara, 1995). Administration of LSD, mescaline, or phenethyl-
amine hallucinogens to anesthetized rats decreased spontaneous activity
of LC cells but enhanced activation of LC neurons evoked by sensory
stimuli (Aghajanian, 1980; Rasmussen & Aghajanian, 1986). Chiang and
Aston-Jones (1993) have proposed that systemic administration of 5-HT2A
agonists suppresses LC firing indirectly, by tonic activation of an inhibitory
GABAergic input to the LC, and proposed that the facilitating effect on
sensory inputs was mediated through glutamate receptors in the LC. Thus,
hallucinogens enhance stimuli-driven activity of LC cells, which in turn
causes release of NE onto a1 receptors expressed on cortical cells.
Sometimes described as a “novelty detector,” the LC has been viewed as
enhancing the signal-to-noise ratio in modulating postsynaptic activity
throughout the brain. The suppression of basal activity concomitantly with
enhanced responding to external sensory stimuli would amplify this effect
(see Marek & Aghajanian, 1998, and references therein). Thus, effects of
hallucinogens on LC neurons might suggest that sensory events ordinarily
not considered unusual could be perceived as having increased novelty.
Indeed, it is well known that under the influence of hallucinogens, ordinary
objects can seem new or novel, as if being seen for the first time.
5-HT2A and a1-adrenergic receptors have a similar regional and laminar
distribution in the cortex, with heaviest expression in layer Va (Marek &
Aghajanian, 1999), and activation of either 5-HT2A or a1-adrenergic recep-
tors modulates cortical pyramidal cells and interneurons in a parallel fashion
136 Altering Consciousness
(Marek & Aghajanian, 1994, 1996, 1999), leading to increased cortical cell
excitability.
Dopaminergic projections from the VTA to the prefrontal cortex also
may be involved in controlling membrane potential states that define assem-
blies of excitable pyramidal neurons in the cortex (Lewis & O’Donnell,
2000). Stimulation of the VTA with trains of stimuli resembling burst firing
evoked a long-lasting transition of pyramidal cells to the up state, an
effect that was blocked by a D1 dopamine receptor antagonist (Lewis &
O’Donnell, 2000). The VTA receives 5-HT afferents from the raphe and,
important to this discussion, VTA dendrites express 5-HT2A immunoreac-
tivity and tyrosine hydroxylase colocalization (Doherty & Pickel, 2000).
Nocjar, Roth, and Pehek (2002) also found that 5-HT2A receptors were
colocalized, in part, to tyrosine hydroxylase-containing cells throughout
all subnuclei of the VTA. Thus, hallucinogens also have stimulating effects
on dopaminergic cells in the VTA, leading to alterations in extracellular
dopamine in cortical fields.
Thus, psychedelic drugs have a multifaceted pharmacology, acting
directly on 5-HT2A receptors in cortical pyramidal cells to excite them
while at the same time acting on cells in the DRN, the LC, and the VTA,
all of which send monoamine projections to the cortex that ultimately lead
to increased excitability of cortical cells. 5-HT 2A receptors also can
positively modulate glutamatergic transmission in the prefrontal cortex
(Aghajanian & Marek, 1997; Beique et al., 2007; Ceglia et al., 2004;
Scruggs, Patel, Bubser, & Deutch, 2000).
Cortical cell function is also modulated by interneurons, where GABA-
mediated inhibition determines the spread of cortical activation by sculpt-
ing precise activity patterns (Llinás et al., 2005). As is the case with
pyramidal cells, GABA interneurons consist of at least two populations,
one of which expresses 5-HT2A receptors and the other, 5-HT1A receptors.
When the DRN is stimulated, however, the majority of responses elicited
in GABAergic fast-spiking interneurons (FSi) are inhibitions. Manipula-
tions of FSi activity modulate the amplitude of gamma waves (Cardin
et al., 2009), allowing the serotonergic system to finely tune the amplitude
of gamma oscillations during cognitive tasks.
How does this information all fit together in a model of hallucinogen
effects on cortical function? Although the functional circuitry of the cortex
is not yet well understood, results by Sanchez-Vives and McCormick
(2000) from experiments using ferret prefrontal cortical slices have sug-
gested that the basic operation of cortical networks is the generation of
self-maintained depolarized states that are tightly regulated through inter-
action with local GABAergic neurons and intrinsic membrane
LSD and the Serotonin System’s Effects on Human Consciousness 137
Conclusions
Although we may not yet be able to define the underlying functional
basis for consciousness, we can say that psychedelics perturb key brain
structures that inform us about our world, tell us when to pay attention,
and interpret what is real. Psychedelics activate very ancient brain systems
that project to all of the forebrain structures that are involved in memory
and feeling; they sensitize systems that tell us when something is novel.
The mind is truly one of the last great frontiers of science. It is a genu-
ine tragedy that hallucinogens cannot be more easily used in research to
help elucidate the neurochemical basis of consciousness. Coupled with
measures of subjective states, cognitive tests, and new brain scanning
technologies, hallucinogens could be extremely powerful tools to help us
understand who we are and how that identity is tied to the functions of
our brains. As a modern society, we must be open to the possibilities
140 Altering Consciousness
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146 Altering Consciousness
The earliest evidence of peyote use comes from two archaeological sites, one
in the Lower Pecos region of southwest Texas and the other a rock shelter
near Coahuila, Mexico. The rock shelter specimens have a radiocarbon date
to 6,000 B.C.E.1 Further evidence of possible peyote use in the Lower Pecos
River Region is suggested by stylized themes found on rock art that have
been interpreted as representing visionary peyote experiences these indige-
nous people felt compelled to reproduce (Boyd & Dering, 1996).
There is a strong link between desert dwelling hunter-gatherers, their
knowledge and use of peyote, and the migrations of people and trade
in peyote that reached beyond the Chihuahuan desert (Sahagún,
1950–1969). At the time Spaniards arrived in Mexico, the ritual use of
peyote had spread to a wide range of indigenous peoples, including agri-
culturalists in Central Mexico such as Aztecs, Tarascans, and Tlaxcalans
(Stewart, 1987, p. 17). Peyote was seen by the Spanish clergy as a diaboli-
cal plant, evoking hallucinations that came from the blasphemous world
of the devil himself. Priests prepared a catechism to be used when con-
ducting confessions with Indians: “Hast thou eaten the flesh of man? Hast
thou eaten the peyote? Do you suck the blood of others? Do you adorn
with flowers places where idols are kept?” (Taylor, 1944, pp. 176–177).
Efforts to eradicate peyote use were integral to the Catholic Church’s cam-
paign to destroy indigenous religion and forever change the worldview of
these peoples, a task they never entirely accomplished. Peyote use sur-
vived and continues to provide to some indigenous groups an intrinsic
connection between native religious tenets and phenomenological experi-
ences induced by this mescaline-containing plant. The Native American
Church with its chapters and its affiliates, the most prominent being the
Native American Church of Oklahoma, the Native American Church of
North America, and the Native American Church of Navajoland, boasts
1
Furst (1989) provides a radiocarbon date of 5,000 B.C. for a string of dried peyotes found in
a rock shelter in the Chihuahua desert of west Texas. Further dating of ancient peyote come
from two archaeological specimens in the collection of the Witte Museum in San Antonio,
Texas, of the dried tops of peyote presumably found in Shumla Cave No. 5 along the Rio
Grande in Texas. These specimens have been dated through thin-layer chromatography
and gas chromatography–mass spectrometry to 5,700 years ago (El-Seedi et al., 2005).
Peyote specimens from Shumla Caves and Shelter CM-79 near Cuatro Ciénegas in Coahuila,
Mexico, have been radiocarbon dated to 5,195 years BP and 835 BP, respectively, Interest-
ingly, peyote specimens from the Shumala Caves have been discovered to be composed of
a mixture of peyote with other plant material and appear to have been intentionally made
as peyote effigies (Terry et al., 2006). Martin Terry, Department of Biology at Sul Ross Uni-
versity, is carrying out a populations genetics study on peyote growing from south and west
Texas into northern Mexico (personal communication, June 26, 2010).
Peyote and Meaning 149
I felt I saw the fire turn into tissue paper . . . the form of the fire disap-
peared and I saw only tissue paper in the glowing form of flowers like
the ones we make when we are going to sacrifice a calf. There were many
colors of this flowerlike tissue paper. Then in the very center of the fire I
saw in the distance a person; afterwards the mara’akame (shaman) told
me it was Tatewari Grandfather Fire. I saw the entrance to the temple,
even though we were in Wirikuta, and I entered the temple. I saw vines
that hang from the rafters in the temple roof to make the four directions.
From there, in the very center I saw Haramara (the goddess of the Pacific
Ocean) in motion, then I saw Chapala (a large lake south of Guadalajara
where the goddess Rapauwieyeme lives) in motion. (Schaefer, 1996a,
pp. 156, 158)
Auditory sensations such as sounds of the wind, music, and song, along
with voices, are amplified and are perceived differently. These are the sen-
sations experienced by a shaman renowned for his musical abilities as a
violin player,
For about the first hour I don’t feel anything. Then my voice will start to feel
strange and I won’t understand very well what people are speaking. Then I
will have a very strong urge to play music, so I will play my violin. I will lis-
ten to music coming out of the air, pure air. Then I’ll be feeling that the air
is coming down, like a cloud that is being lowered onto the earth. Soon I’ll
be able to hear anything very close and clear, but I’ll hear things differently
than they normally sound. (Valadez, 1986, p. 21)
Olfactory and gustatory senses are also affected by peyote inebriation, as are
experiences that enhance the sense of touch to one’s skin. Personal accounts
from Huichols and Native American Church members of their experiences
while in ceremony include the stimulation of memories that arise from the
smell of burning copal in the case of the Huichol, and cedar, in Native
American Church meetings. The olfactory system includes neuromodulators
2
See Thurston (1997) for an outstanding review of the literature on hallucinogenic
imagery.
152 Altering Consciousness
My mother said that when I was born that my grandfather put up a tipi and
prayed for me, my tracks on this mother earth. Now, my life as an adult, I
go into the tipi. [During the meeting] somebody would do something, throw
cedar on the fire, and it would trigger off a memory, like my (past) relatives
are there, their presence is there and I can see my relatives that have died.
You pray . . . that you will get something from it (the peyote) that you will
gain more knowledge, see things, not get nauseous or vomit . . . and then
when you smoke the makutse (Nicotiana rustica) you will not feel so empeyo-
tado. Even if you eat lots of peyote, you will not feel it that much . . . it
makes one feel it very gently, that’s how the people do it . . . .Because if
you eat peyote you feel differently, sometimes (the peyote) is gentle, some-
times it is very heavy . . . and then you hear things from far away, people
talking from far over there. But with the makutse no, it lessens the feeling
of being drunk with the peyote . . . so that you come down, that’s why they
smoke . . . you get the urge to smoke when you eat peyote.
You know when you go into prayer, it is like chaos. I did not know what I
really was going to pray about. The main thing that kept coming to me was
the peyote. I ate peyote all night, so I was peyote-affected. So I started talk-
ing about the fire, and the fireplace that it is the process of life and it led up
to the peyote . . . .And the prayer just came out and it linked. You know, it
related to the whole altar there . . . and then I prayed for the people.
their mountain homelands on the journey to the peyote desert. They must
confess their sexual transgressions to the entire group as the leading shaman
ties knots in a cord made from plant fibers for every name a pilgrim men-
tions. Standing in front of the fire, the shaman passes this knotted cord over
each individual’s body and then throws it into the fire. A ritual name is given
to each pilgrim, marking his or her entrance into another reality, a change
from mundane to sacred time. Together the pilgrims are unified for the
entire journey and for subsequent peyote ceremonies until the season
changes and the agricultural cycle begins.
Physical and psychological preparations ready Huichols for their
peyote experiences. Everyone fasts throughout the pilgrimage, eating only
small amounts of food and drinking little water only late in the day or
early evening. Most pilgrimages take place anywhere from December to
March, one of the coldest and windiest times of the year in the desert.
These environmental factors also contribute to changes in the neurochem-
istry in the brain that influence sensory perceptions. The desert is a dry,
dusty landscape with thorny shrubs, agaves, and cacti; one must walk
with great caution to avoid serious injury in this environment. Firewood
is scarce and the nights can be bitterly cold. The day can be extremely
bright from the sun or bitingly windy from sandstorms. The alteration of
consciousness through fasting and exposure to the desert elements pre-
pares the pilgrims physically and psychologically for a transformative
experience. The leading shamans help guide the pilgrims on their journey.
As previously noted, tobacco is used judiciously to regulate the peyote
experience. Sometimes other plants are ingested along with the peyote.
Upon the direction of a shaman, some eat slices of a barrel cactus they call
maxa kwaxi along with peyote. It is eaten so that one does not become too
“empeyotado.” Slices of Ariocarpus retusus are sometimes consumed with
peyote, as are the grated pieces of the yellow root of the plant uxa, (Mahonia
trifoliolata) used for face painting (Bauml, Voss, & Collings, 1990).4
4
This species of barrel cactus belongs to either the genus Ferocactus or Echinocactus and is
commonly referred to as visnaga (James A. Bauml, personal communication, September 12,
1994). To date, no botanical identification or chemical analysis has been reported for this
particular species. However, Alexander Shulgin (personal communication, December 29,
1995) informed me that in the appendix of his cactus species tabulation he notes that other
varieties of cactus including Echinocactus caespitosus, Echinocactus horizontalis, Echinocactus
polycephalus, and Echinocactus texensis show positive tests for isoquinoline and phenethyl-
amine alkaloids. Several Huichols have discussed with Bauml and me these desert-
dwelling plants and their personal experiences when ingesting them with peyote. More
research is needed to fully understand the depth of plant knowledge Huichols have regard-
ing the environment in Wirikuta and the effects that are achieved by using admixture
plants with peyote.
156 Altering Consciousness
(The uxa) this you feel with the peyote. You feel more, but it is different, it is
not like smoking makutse . . . it does not lower the strength like with maku-
tse . . . when you combine (uxa and peyote) it is as if they elevate you, they
raise you up zzzzzooooommmm. That’s how I felt. I saw the whole world
very small, very round. I was moving as if I were the sun, that’s the way I
saw everything. I saw the gods, where they come from and where they
reside, I saw everything. That’s what happened to me when I ate uxa (with
peyote).
I made some votive arrows for Kauyumarie, the deer god, to leave where
there is peyote in Wirikuta. They were for Kauyumarie because he knows
everything, he knows everything about the world . . . When I arrived to
Wirikuta I left one of the arrows . . . the other peyoteros [pilgrims] took
out a large gourd bowl and filled it with peyote. They told me that since this
was my first trip to Wirikuta I had to eat all of the peyote in the bowl.
I wanted to know about god, how the world began, and how the sun first
appeared, how the fire, the maize, the earth, and the god of rain first
appeared . . . I continued eating [peyote]. Then I finished.
One of the votive gourd bowls [on the ground] was decorated inside
with beads in the figure of a deer. In two or three hours, I looked at the
votive bowl and the deer inside the bowl was really large. How can that
be? I continued eating more [peyote], and as I was looking into the votive
bowl the deer grew in size and jumped out of the bowl. It was standing
on the ground and moved in front of us.
Then I found a large peyote, I was looking at it and there was a little deer
on top of the peyote where the white tufts of the plant are. It was a tiny little
deer—how can that be? I’m seeing deer everywhere, why? I remembered
hearing from my grandfather . . . say that this is the way that you always
begin to learn. And with the peyote it is the same.
Well, the peyote was really, really large . . . the deer passed very close by
me. I was in the middle of the peyote where the white tufts are. I [must
have] flown up there, I was seated in the middle of the peyote and I flew
higher up, to the mountaintop of Cerro Quemado [an inactive volcano
above Wirikuta where offerings are left]. I was standing up there and
I was looking at the whole world—the ocean looked really small. I not only
saw the ocean but all the animals that live in the ocean, whales, snakes,
mermaids . . . everything. [The deer told me] . . . you should be calm . . .
then I was back down below in Wirikuta.
158 Altering Consciousness
I saw a . . . deer where the peyote was. The deer acted like it was drunk. . . .
Then white foam started to come from its mouth, the kind of foam that
comes from grinding peyote. It was coming out of its mouth . . . but the deer
was talking to me. I didn’t hear her very well until she saw me and we
looked each other right in the eye.
5
It is crucial to understand that the animal experiments did not precisely replicate the
dose/response of peyote consumption, nor its effects on a human mother and her fetus.
Peyote contains many more alkaloids besides mescaline. Additionally, human beings ingest
peyote, they do not inject it. Differentiating factors also exist between research animals and
human beings, the dosage of mescaline administered, and the stage of fetal development.
In only one laboratory experiment congenital malformations of the fetus were found; this
was with hamsters that were injected with a large dose on the eighth day of pregnancy
(Greber, 1967)
160 Altering Consciousness
much, and that 50% of newborn’s sleep time is REM sleep, is because REM
provides the stimulation necessary for central nervous system develop-
ment in young infants. Some believe that REM sleep provides stimulation
that the infant does not get from the environment because it spends little
time in an alert state (Berk, 2006, p. 130; DiPietro, Hoddgson, Costigan,
& Hilton, 1996; de Weerd & van den Bossche, 2003). The earlier the
stimulation, the better the child’s central nervous system will develop,
including cognitive abilities, reflex abilities, musical abilities, and so
forth.6 Thus, peyote consumed by the mother may have a stimulating
effect on the baby.
Some Huichol women allege that the fetus can definitely feel the effects
of peyote; after a quiet period, fetuses can become very active and move in
the womb. Some women say that the baby is “dancing inside.” As for com-
munication between mother and fetus, one female shaman who specializes
in fertility and childbirth explained,
The baby naturally is much purer than others, the gods are helping it, like
the fire and the deer, like the shaman who blesses the fire and blesses the
sun . . . for this reason when the mother eats peyote she knows everything
that is happening and the baby knows, too.
The baby feels the same as the mother . . . when a woman is pregnant even the
baby inside receives messages from the deer, messages from the peyote . . . the
baby always feels the same as a person . . . the baby cannot talk, it communi-
cates without words, only with its iyari (heart memory, a kind of soul).
One man, speaking for his wife said, “When a pregnant woman eats
peyote, she and her baby get ‘drunk’ with the peyote. My wife said that
when this happened to her, the baby got real quiet.” He clarified that the
two do communicate, not with words but through their thoughts, tele-
pathically.
My wife said that when this happened to her that she and the baby went up
to the sky, to Niwetuka (the goddess who cares for the souls). The baby is
6
Personal communications (October, 6, 1996) with Gary Montgomery, Ph.D., professor of
psychology who has focused his research on child development at the University of Texas-
Pan American.
Peyote and Meaning 161
still inside the mother’s womb, but its iyari goes to Niwetuka. The mother’s
iyari goes there, too.
Afterward, he said, when the effects of the peyote had worn off, the iyari of
the fetus returns to its place in the womb and that of the mother returns to
her body.
Another female shaman told of her sister’s peyote experience in the
eighth month of her pregnancy.
At first it hurts. Then the baby inside is real quiet. Then it moves around a
lot. The baby is empeyotado also but does not know how to communicate
well. My sister said that when she was pregnant and empeyotada that
although the baby was inside of her she saw it right in front of her eyes.
She didn’t talk with the baby. She communicated with the gods to see that
everything was all right, that the baby was formed well and there was noth-
ing wrong with it.
The children of female shamans may receive more peyote than children of
women who are not. Shamans tend to consume more peyote than others.
One shaman shared her peyote experience in Wirikuta when she was
2 months pregnant with her son.
(In Wirikuta) I thought we would eat a lot of peyote, to see what we could
encounter to learn more about our customs. So I ate eight large peyote, and
the peyote was strong, I got dizzy and then empeyotada. I never thought that
I was pregnant. Kauyumarie (the deer messenger) appeared like a person,
and told me how I was feeling . . . He was talking to me from his heart . . .
I think that Kauyumarie was talking to (my son in my womb). I didn’t think
the baby would be a boy. Afterwards the shamans said that he was given to
me in Wirikuta by the gods, with our goddess Uili Uvi, the mother of
peyote, so that our customs will not be lost . . . That is why he was born,
why they gave him to me in Wirikuta, with me eating peyote, that’s why
he is peyote. I think he is peyote. He likes to eat peyote a lot . . . that’s
how (some) are born.
Conclusion
Western science has much to learn from cultures such as the Huichols,
who, over the centuries, have acquired an intimate knowledge of peyote
and its effects. They have developed and fine-tuned an elaborate world-
view that provides members with tools, rituals, set, and setting to explore
and advance their understanding of consciousness and human existence.
The introduction of peyote to babies while in the womb or as children
may create distinct pathways in their cognitive development. Exposure
to peyote and its psychoactive principles when young enables Huichols
to perceive the world through a variety of lenses. Through their peyote
customs, Huichols gain a strong sense of cultural identity that lasts
throughout their lifetimes, an identity that is well informed about con-
sciousness and modified states of experiencing internally and externally
the many dimensions of the universe that surrounds them.
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CHAPTER 8
are taking, but for some the risks do not deter the addictive impulses. For
example, the recognized horrors of the addictive experience are ignored
by the user in the repeated search for the noted pleasurable effects associ-
ated with the high of a cocaine rush. To the outsider, the drug-intoxicated
users do not always seem to be in pleasurable states. People who try drugs
often first get dizzy or sick, some even vomit. Users have to learn to like their
intoxicated states of consciousness (Becker, 1963). Some writers1 have
described the addict’s dramatic indifference toward everything but his or
her favorite drug and refer to the paradox of addiction: Intoxication is not
an euphoric or pleasurable state anymore (Diekhoff, 1982; Plant 1999).
Consequently, some cultivate highly polytoxicomanic daily consumption
patterns of stimulants to work and depressants to relax, a typical feature of
modern societies. Consumption of drugs and their effects on consciousness
are at the core of one of the most serious problems of modern societies, that
of addictions.
1
Several artists (see Volume 1) have described their experiences with drugs and addiction.
William Burroughs, Aleister Crowley, Thomas de Quincey, Eric Clapton, and Keith
Richards, to name just a few, have used drugs for inspiration and were known for their
excessive consumption (Diekhoff, 1982; Fachner, 2006; Plant, 1999; Shapiro, 2003).
170 Altering Consciousness
in the reward system, as does cannabis use (Mechoulam, Hanus, & Martin,
1994). Other substances like cocaine, amphetamines, and MDMA also
lead primarily to increased release of dopamine in the reward system.
Following dopaminergic release, endorphins are also released in the reward
system.
Psychoactive substances, as well as physical stimuli or behavioral pat-
terns perceived as pleasurable, have reinforcing properties that can be
ascribed to the neuronal reward system. The complex systems of neuro-
transmitters interacting with the nervous system to arouse euphoria are
not yet satisfactorily understood. The reward system theory postulates that
reaching pleasurable or euphoric states is the major goal of drug users and
addicts; further, that emotional assessment of occurrences leads to the
preference for states that are perceived as pleasant by the nervous system.
Psychoactive drugs as well as specific behavioral patterns can activate the
rewarding system and are therefore used to close the cycle of motivation-
search-fulfillment (Emrich & Schneider, 2006). Eating chocolate or a
refreshing drink with some sugar, as well as various other activities, can
also activate the reward system (Small, Zatorre, Dagher, Evans, & Jones-
Gotman, 2001).
(top-down) data take place (Emrich & Schneider, 2006). Within this con-
text, there are two possibilities to develop addiction:
a. Drugs with a relative solid internal assessment (like opiates) are to a large
extent independent of situational cues. They have a hermetic or closed,
context-independent, and immediate effect on pain and tension while act-
ing on the primary mesolimbic centers of assessment and induce pleasur-
able states with the accordant reinforcement properties, independent of
contextual or situational cues.
b. Drugs with a contextual bonding and assessment (like cannabis and
hallucinogens) are more situational in their effect. Emotions and percep-
tions mediated by the hippocampal comparator systems modulate the
drug effect much more than drugs with a solid internal assessment
(Emrich & Schneider, 2006, p. 16).
There are differences in the degree and frequency of striving and fulfill-
ing rewarding bodily activations. If the frequency of events becomes very
high, as observed in lab rats that could not resist acting to receive the next
electrical activation of their reward centers, then the body is in danger,
whether it is from an overdose of sugar and cacao, 3 liters of whisky, or
a big dopamine release in getting the next big share from a complex finan-
cial deal. The financial crisis in 2008 suggests that those who were making
big money exhibited the same pattern of loss of control and irresponsibil-
ity as addicted drug users. Neuro-economical research has shown that
expecting to make monetary profit and being able to possess expensive
cultural objects such as expensive sports cars induces a strong activation
in the reward system, namely in the ventral striatum, nucleus accumbens,
and orbitofrontal cortex (Elliott, Newman, Longe, & Deakin, 2003; Erk,
Spitzer, Wunderlich, Galley, & Walter, 2002; Knutson, Westdorp, Kaiser,
& Hommer, 2000), areas that influence decision-making processes by
valencing expected rewards and their intensity. This illustrates a funda-
mental feature of addiction, its relationship to some extrinsic system of
reward and evaluation.
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der Opiatabhängigkeit [Pharamacological aspects of opiate addiction]. In H.
M. Emrich & U. Schneider (Eds.), Facetten der Sucht. Von der Neurobiologie
zur Anthropologie [Facets of addiction. From neurobiology to anthropology],
(pp. 51–63). Frankfurt, Germany: Peter Lang.
Becker, H. S. (1963). Outsiders: Studies in the sociology of deviance. New York: Free
Press.
Berridge, K. C., & Kringelbach, M. L. (2008). Affective neuroscience of pleasure:
Reward in humans and animals. Psychopharmacology, 199, 457–480.
184 Altering Consciousness
One thing [is] missing . . . in the whole of the sexological literature, is a good
set of phenomenological studies. We simply do not have a literature compar-
ing one sexual subjective consciousness with another. We do not have
reports on how male or female sexuality feels to the particular person . . .
I think we are ready now to try to get the feeling, the consciousness, of what
the sexual feeling is like from the inside.
Maslow, 1965, p. 135
Introduction
The topic of human sexuality has held a prominent position throughout his-
tory. A variety of different perspectives has been applied to the understand-
ing of sexual behaviors, including psychobiology (Davidson, 1980; Passie
et al., 2005), phenomenological and existential psychology (Kockelmans,
1987; Koestenbaum, 1974; Valle, 1998), and humanistic and transpersonal
psychologies (Boorstein, 1996, 1997; Frankl, 1966, 1978; Friedman, 1992;
Hart & Tomlinson, 1970; Holbrook, 2008; Kleinplatz, 2001a; Wade, 2004;
Washburn, 1994). In human sexuality research, contributions of content,
method, and approach from humanistic psychology (Farber, Brink, &
Raskin, 1996; Kirschenbaum & Henderson, 1989; Maslow, 1987; May,
1969; Rowan, 1988) as well as experiential orientations (Kleinplatz, 1998,
2001b; Wade, 2004) have enriched our understanding of the human aspect
of sexual activity. Historical surveys of sexual behavior have revealed
the ubiquity of the human preoccupation with sex both substantially
and historically (de Riencort, 1974; Lewinsohn, 1958; Sussman, 1976;
190 Altering Consciousness
Taylor, 1953). To a great extent, the degree to which the different patterns
of sexuality were either accepted or condemned has reflected specific
cultural beliefs that were adhered to within a given time and setting (e.g.,
Bloch, 1933; Jensen, 1976; Sussman, 1976).
There is a great deal of material that supports the cultural relativity of
sexual practices and beliefs in our culture today (e.g., Gould, 1976). A
review of the historical trends and contemporary attitudes held toward
sexuality quickly illustrates the developmental sequences that have led to
the current state of sexual expression, be it behavioral or attitudinal, in
many parts of the world (e.g., Brecher, 1976; Sussman, 1976). Present cul-
tural trends demonstrate many social changes, and there is little question
that these changes have an impact on the ways we view or conceptualize
sexual behavior. New scientific discoveries, changes in the legal statutes
concerning sexual behavior, and humanity’s increased awareness of its
own psychological nature have all contributed to the growing demands
for new modes and perspectives of sexual expression. To this day, there
is considerable ongoing research in human sexuality, most notably in the
areas of physiology (Guyton & Hall, 2000) and biochemistry (Haselton,
2006). Unfortunately, in the process of refining empirical strategies in
biological research, the trend toward further elucidating the psychological
and phenomenological dimensions of sexuality has been largely ignored.
Given this state of affairs, some of us undertook a research study in the
early 1980s to explore this area of study. To put this work in perspective, a
review of writings in this area will be briefly discussed, highlighting both
phenomenological and psychophysiological perspectives. These include
the works of Rudolph Von Urban (1949, 1958), Marghanita Laski
(1961), Andrew Greeley (1977), Charles Tart (1978), Julian Davidson
(1980), Jenny Wade (2004), Torsten Passie and colleagues (2003, 2004,
2005), and Lisbeth Jane Holbrook (2008). A brief overview of sexual
activity as an altered state of consciousness (Davidson, 1980, Tart, 1975)
will be presented, including views from early psychological theories
(Freud, 1905, 1933; Reich, 1980/1933), and a synopsis of sexual practices
found in some Hindu tantric, Buddhist tantric, and Taoist traditions.
experiences couples had with each other through what he called differences
in bioelectrical potentials that were exchanged during sexual union (Von
Urban, 1949). Among the phenomena reported were enhanced visual and
tactile sensations, shifts in emotional states, and intense feelings of ecstasy.
Later, Von Urban outlined specific procedures that people could use during
sexual intercourse to achieve these experiences, a method he referred to as
karezza. In the course of his clinical work, he offered these techniques to
his clients. Von Urban was the first person to record very small numbers
of detailed descriptions of people’s experiences in this area. Unfortunately,
his writings (Von Urban, 1949, 1958) did not attract much attention.
Marghanita Laski’s contribution to this area was to survey individual
descriptions of ecstasy and to isolate those events that triggered these
experiences (Laski, 1961). Among the triggers in her group of participants
(18 women and 8 men), she found that sexual love was the most impor-
tant factor responsible for inducing ecstatic states within a significant per-
centage of her research participants. Ecstasies triggered by sexual love
were characterized by strong feelings of release or renewal, a decrease in
feelings of indifference and of one’s self-identity, and a comparatively
low gain of feelings of knowledge. Unfortunately, her study had a number
of drawbacks: It included only a small number of research participants
and they were not randomly selected for her study; her analyses were
largely descriptive rather than quantitative; and the self-reports given by
her participants lacked specific details or descriptions of the experiences.
Nevertheless, despite these limitations, Laski must be credited with at least
exploring this neglected area of study.
A third set of studies in this area was conducted by Andrew M. Greeley
and William C. McCready involving some 2,300 research participants
(Greeley, 1977). These investigators explored the relationship between
(a) marital condition and satisfaction and (b) three types of mystical expe-
riences: those triggered by lovemaking, childbirth, and a third variety that
was termed a “light experience.” Greeley and McCready found that 6 per-
cent of their sample reported experiencing ecstasy only during lovemak-
ing, while 1 percent of their sample reported visualizing lights while also
experiencing ecstasy during lovemaking. The largest group of people
reported having these lovemaking experiences were married (the majority
of them happily married), although unmarried men more often reported
having ecstatic experiences than unmarried women. Unfortunately, this
study had a number of limitations: The limited number of people report-
ing their ecstatic experience, the lack of detail concerning the nature of
the experiences reported, and methodological issues concerning the valid-
ity and reliability of the respondents’ reports.
192 Altering Consciousness
Wilhelm Reich
Wilhelm Reich expanded on Freud’s concept that the ego is “body-
based” (i.e., based on erogenous zones), and portrayed psychological
defense mechanisms as both internal cognitive processes and external man-
ifestations that he referred to as “body armoring” (Reich, 1980/1933). Reich
described body armoring as “chronic muscle tensions that protect the ego
from being overwhelmed with unacceptable feelings” (cited in Friedman,
2005, p. 1) and considered that through therapeutic touch and other means
a liberation of the natural “orgasmic reflex” could be achieved.
194 Altering Consciousness
all of which tend to disrupt the normal state of consciousness and stop the
internal dialogue that is a condition of its maintenance. Major physiological
changes that operate here include vasomotor and muscular events and,
generally, strong autonomic nervous system activation, which resemble
destabilizing events for many other ASCs. The capacity to “let go” of inhib-
ition and self consciousness is necessary to some extent for orgasm, as it
seems to be for “mystical” (and other) ASCs. (p. 293)
Hindu Tantra
Tantra is a spiritual practice associated with achieving enlightenment
and transcendent states through the use of rituals, art, meditation, visuali-
zation, mantras, breathing techniques, yogic postures, and sexual asanas
(Johari, 1986; Padoux, 1981). According to Johari (1986), both Hindu
and Buddhist Tantra are believed to have originated from India in the
7th century as a rebellion against prevailing Hindu beliefs that limited or
forbid the practice of sex, although its origins and main goals are still
debated among scholars. Both of these traditions emphasize the impor-
tance of female deities (e.g., sakti), engage in the ritualistic use of meat,
wine, and meditation to unify with the chosen deity, and use mantra,
mandalas, and symbolic speech and diagrams. Although spiritual beliefs
for each tradition are slightly different, both have the goal of attaining
enlightenment through the use of these practices.
The ritual in Hindu tantrism that used sexual intimacy as a vehicle for
achieving transcendence was known as maithuna. Maithuna was employed
to hasten the awakening of kundalini. Kundalini referred to the female
energy existing in latent form. The goal was to awaken this energy to unite
with Siva, the Pure Consciousness pervading the universe (Mookerjee,
1991). Through yogic techniques, this energy is raised up along a central
channel or nadi through six centers (cakras) of the body to the crown of
the head, leading to a state of “liberation” and transcendence. A detailed
description of the “esoteric physiology” involved in these practices
appeared in Eliade (1969) and specific features of the maithuna ritual
appeared in Bharati (1965) and Marglin (1980).
Within this practice, there are a number of interrelated goals that may
be achieved. These include raising the kundalini, experiencing liberation,
experiencing the divinity of the act, and so on. Eventually, there is no need
to have sexual intercourse with a physical woman. One can visualize hav-
ing intercourse with a woman, visualize the union of Shiva and Sakti and
the topmost cakra, imagine the kundalini rising and piercing the cakras,
or visualize the union through use of symbolic (geometric) figures.
Tibetan Buddhism
Within Tibetan scholarship, there has been the question of whether or
not taking a consort is a metaphorical, visualized practice or a concrete rit-
ual (see Maliszewski, 1993). To this end, descriptions of the esoteric
physiology appear in Gyatso (1982) and a somewhat disguised description
of the sexual process can be found in Mullin (1981). Within Tibetan
Altering Consciousness Through Sexual Activity 199
Buddhism, nearly one fifth of the practices involve use of a human con-
sort. Voidness and compassion must be experienced before the sexual rit-
ual; otherwise it remains on the level of an ordinary couple practicing
yoga. A monk must first practice visualization of a consort (male and
female together) alone in meditation. Significantly, it is important to note
that the experience emerging from use of a consort is much more
advanced than full realization of the Void (Maliszewski, 1993).
As with Hindu tantra, there is an emphasis placed upon directing energy
into the central channel transversing the spine. Directing of the prana in to
the central channel (avadhuti) depends upon internal and external circum-
stances. When one reaches this level of practice, one is close to the attain-
ment of Buddhahood. The man must refrain from ejaculation. Seminal
fluid is directed up the central channel instead of outward. If the yogi
releases, he needs to begin all over again: retake initiations, purify himself,
and perform all the preliminaries. The state of mind achieved through the
ritual is maintained after the practice, the physical union serving as a
“boost.” The term given to this mind state is the “great union beyond learn-
ing” (mislobpai zung’ jug). According to Tibetan doctrine, the final goal of
Buddhahood cannot be achieved without this practice (Maliszewski, 1993).
have access to their answers” (p. 44). The respondents in the present
inquiry completed their questionnaires anonymously.
Goldberg’s initial modification of the MMPI (Goldberg, 1965) consists
of 210 test items derived from the original MMPI. Its basic purpose is to
establish an index for discriminating neurotic and psychotic MMPI pro-
files. Furthermore, it also serves the purpose of indicating the general level
of maladjustment. The original MMPI (consisting of more than 500 test
items) was far too time consuming to employ in the study, and this was
the central reason for deciding to utilize the Goldberg Index. In addition,
to disguise the connotations associated with clinical evaluations, the
Goldberg variant was termed simply the Self-Rating Behavioral Inventory
(SRBI). This test has been found to be effective in classifying profiles diag-
nostically (see Graham, 1987). Several Goldberg indices were later devel-
oped, discriminating psychiatric from sociopathic and “normal” from
“deviant” (non-normal) profiles (terminology used by Goldberg, 1972).
This investigation used all three indices.
Experimental Design
The design of this study was a survey conducted (a) for the purpose of
eliminating those test items from the questionnaire that people do not expe-
rience or that they have difficulty understanding; (b) to test the reliability and
validity of the PDOSEI, Form I; and (c) to provide preliminary pilot informa-
tion as to the types of sexual experiences reported by a sample of people in
the United States (Maliszewski, Vaughan, Krippner, & Holler, 2008).
The PDOSEI, Form I, and three validity scales were administered in a
counterbalanced order to 98 participants (41 males, 57 females) recruited
from friends, professional colleagues, and personal acquaintances of
the principal researchers. All respondents in the study were told that the
objectives of the study were to determine the types of experiences people
have during sexual intercourse and elucidate personality factors that may
influence or determine the nature of such experiences. Demographic var-
iables included age, marital status, education, and income.
Data Analyses
A number of the items within the scales of the PDOSEI, Form I, are
presented in terms of the frequency with which they were experienced
as well as at different stages or periods during sexual intercourse. Descrip-
tive and inferential statistics were calculated. Pearson r scores were calcu-
lated to determine the degree of interrelatedness among items of the sexual
Altering Consciousness Through Sexual Activity 203
response cycle for the entire sample, as well as by gender. Reliability coef-
ficients were derived by correlating items within the questionnaire with
retest correlations ranging from .12 (p < .05) to .69 (p < .01). The test–
retest reliability coefficients were significant. As for validity, participants’
scores for the Marlowe-Crowne scale (1964) indicated limited impact of
the social desirability factor on test responses. For the Goldberg indices,
mean scores similarly fell at lower levels for neurotic vs. psychotic and
normal vs. deviant, indicating that the participant pool did not consist of
individuals with severe psychiatric problems despite their endorsing
reports of nonordinary states of consciousness.
Results
For all four stages, arousal through postlude, females’ scores were
higher than males’ scores. Females’ mean scores ranged from .14 to .20,
while males’ mean scores varied from .12 to .18. The maximum mean
scores were in the orgasm stage (mean ¼ .19) and the minimum were in
the arousal stage (.13). Correlations among the stages differed for arousal
and the other three stages. Correlation between arousal and other stages
was moderate, with values varying from mean ¼ 0.51 to 0.58. Correlation
of amplification stage with the two following stages (i.e., arousal and
orgasm) was higher (r ¼ .86 and .83, respectively), and so was correlation
of orgasm with postlude (r ¼.83). The correlation pattern of the 41 male
participants was similar. However, there was one noticeable difference
for the 57 females. Correlation between arousal and other stages was con-
siderably lower than for men. Correlations among other stages were simi-
lar to males. This suggests that ecstatic states and transcendent
experiences among women were less strongly related to similar experien-
ces during the preliminary arousal state than they were among males. In
other words, a male’s experience of ecstasy may have been more closely
related to similar feelings during arousal than occurred for females.
Furthermore, results from components and parameters of the sexual
alterations of consciousness showed that the highest level of agreement as
evinced by highest mean values for males was found on items related to the
alteration of consciousness being different from sleep (mean ¼ 0.74), that
while entering this alteration of consciousness respondents were physiologi-
cally aroused (i.e., sexually aroused; mean ¼ 0.70) and that this state is differ-
ent from drowsiness (mean ¼ 0.67). As was the case for males, for females,
the highest level of agreement was found on the item related to the alteration
of consciousness being different from sleep (mean ¼ 0.73). The next highest
scores for females were found on the item stating that while in the waking
204 Altering Consciousness
state, you find that you are physiologically aroused (i.e., sexually aroused;
mean ¼ 0.68), and entering a sexual state of consciousness, you find that
you are physiologically aroused (i.e., sexually aroused; mean ¼ 0.67). Of
the paired differences between males and females, the most significant differ-
ences were found on questions related to ecstatic states or transcendent expe-
riences being triggered by vaginal and anal stimulation.
Additionally, for the question related to entering into an ASC during
sexual intercourse that is experienced as being distinct from the normal
waking state, males had a mean score of 0.40 and females had a score of
0.54. Thus, females had higher levels of agreement than males. When
examining at what point during the sexual response cycle respondents
tended to experience an alteration of consciousness, males and females
reported that this tended to occur during the arousal phase (Maliszewski,
et al. 2008).
Results from the present inquiry showed that both males (70%) and
females (86%) had experienced ecstatic states and transcendent experiences
during sexual intimacy. In the case of the transpersonal component, a high
percentage of both males and females reported experiencing a sense of unity
with their partner while simultaneously maintaining their personal identities.
This pattern was consistent across all ecstatic experience and transcendent
state items for all four phases of the sexual response cycle. Although females
tended to have slightly more frequent levels of arousal, amplification,
orgasm, and postlude than males, these differences were not significant.
When examining the intercorrelations of the phases of the sexual
response cycle for variables related to transpersonal and ecstatic states,
statistically significant findings were revealed across all four phases of
the sexual response cycle, which suggests a positive interrelationship
along the continuum of sexual responses for both males and females. This
interrelationship posits that high levels of sexual response in one phase of
the sexual response cycle predict high levels of response in other phases as
well. For males, arousal was most strongly correlated with amplification,
whereas for females arousal and postlude had the highest correlation.
Males may have utilized arousal and its subsequent amplification to tap
into transcendent experiences more than females, who may have relied
on the coalescence of feelings triggered by arousal then expressed more
deeply during postcoital musings, which may have been used to access
transcendent and ecstatic experiences. The association between arousal
and amplification and the fact that they are sequential in the sexual
response cycle may provide insight into the pattern through which males
experience transcendent and ecstatic experiences. To the extent that
females’ scores appear to associate arousal and postlude with ecstatic states
Altering Consciousness Through Sexual Activity 205
Summary
Most sex researchers acknowledge that sexual experiences and other
factors associated with sexuality are ultimately mental events. However,
206 Altering Consciousness
most empirical studies and literature surveys have largely ignored this
issue. To date, there have been few serious attempts directed to a compre-
hensive exploration of the psychological, cultural, and spiritual dimen-
sions of human sexual experience, ironically in areas that concern
people’s motives for engaging in sexual relations in the first place. We have
provided a cursory overview of surveys, pilot studies, conceptual writings,
and other essays that have provided some preliminary details as to the
nature of consciousness and sexual experience. So long as the phenom-
enological dimensions of human sexuality are ignored or given only minor
credence, humanity’s understanding of sexuality will remain, at best,
incomplete. This chapter has attempted to remedy some of these short-
comings with a summary of current literature and a preliminary empirical
analysis of extensive data collected that analyzes several components of
sexual phenomenological experience.
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CHAPTER 10
Introduction
Human development is highly multifaceted, even at the normative level,
with biological, neurological, perceptual, relational, cognitive, emotional,
and social aspects of development unfolding along somewhat differential
time schedules. Moreover, these various aspects of development are all very
likely to affect the states of consciousness experienced by the individual in
different life periods. At the most general level, development may be
defined as advances in complexity, differentiation, and integration (Carlson,
Yates, & Sroufe, 2009). Relatedly, no conceptualization of human develop-
ment is complete without serious consideration of individual differences.
Naturally, such individual differences in paths of development are also
related to alterations in consciousness (e.g., some states are experienced
by some individuals more than others). Matters are complicated further
by the absence of an agreed-upon taxonomy for states of consciousness, a
term associated with “conceptual vagueness and obfuscation” (Cardeña,
2009, p. 305). This is highly unfortunate, as knowledge about the emer-
gence of different states of consciousness, understood developmentally
as “discontinuous ensembles of self-organizing variables” (Wolff, 1987,
p. 21), may be foundational for a fuller understanding of child and adult
development in general.
This chapter will describe the general organization of the normative state
of consciousness at different stages of development, along with specific
altered states of consciousness (ASC) more prone to occur in the different
phases of life: infancy and toddlerhood, early and middle childhood,
212 Altering Consciousness
adolescence, adulthood, and old age. We will also discuss relevant genetic
and environmental factors on the propensity to enter ASC (e.g., the herit-
ability for dissociation, as well as how the attachment quality between
children and their primary caregivers can influence the risk for dissociation
later in life). This chapter, however, does not cover the different issue of pro-
posed frameworks for how modes of consciousness may manifest different
levels irrespective of age (e.g., Wilber, 1998, p. 43). Wilber has also pro-
posed a developmental scheme in which there is a chronological sequence:
magic (2–5 years), mythic (6–11 years), rational (11 onward), and vision
logic (adulthood, if at all; 1998, p. 109). However, matters are far more
complicated than this scheme. For instance, Gopnik (2009) has reviewed
the literature showing that although infants and children engage in a lot of
counterfactual, fantasy thought from early on they are also engaging in
establishing causal events in their surroundings.
Genetic Predispositions
A review of anomalous experiences and related constructs such as hyp-
notizability and dissociation strongly suggests that some individuals are
more likely than others to experience a variety of alterations of conscious-
ness, irrespective of whether they also manifest psychopathology or not
(Cardeña, Lynn, & Krippner, 2000). Cross-cultural research has sug-
gested that such phenomena as shamanism “runs in families” (cf. Halifax,
1980) and it is likely that this marked, cross-cultural individual difference
has a genetic component. A diathesis for dissociation and hypnotizability
has been proposed (e.g., Butler et al., 1996) and there is evidence for a
genetic contribution to dissociation (Becker-Blease et al., 2004; Jang,
Paris, Zweig-Frank, & Livesley, 1998), hypnotizability (Morgan, 1973),
and absorption (Tellegen et al., 1988). Hypnotizability has also been asso-
ciated with the COMT gene (Lichtenberg, Bachner-Melman, Ebstein, &
Crawford, 2004). Furthermore, hypnotizability has been related to the
construct of mental boundary thinness and the character trait of self-
transcendence (Cardeña & Terhune, 2008). The latter shows a 90%
unique variance when analyzed along other major character/temperament
constructs (Gillespie, Cloninger, Heath, & Martin, 2003). Thus, different
strands of evidence support some type of heritability for the propensity
to alter one’s consciousness, although a number of questions remain
unanswered, including to what extent various related constructs (e.g.,
absorption, dissociation, schizotypy) are manifestations of one or more
latent variables and how they manifest across the lifespan.
Altered Consciousness and Human Development 213
Arousal States of the Neonate, Differentiation, and the Emergence of Basic Emotions
When conceptualizing the states of the neonate, it is common to simply
distinguish between different states of arousal, ranging from regular “deep”
sleep (non-REM or State I) and irregular dream sleep (REM or State II), via
alert inactivity (drowsiness or State III) to quiet alertness (State IV), to wak-
ing activity (bursts of uncoordinated motor activity) and crying (State V;
214 Altering Consciousness
If they are also fortunate enough to be cared for by accepting and sensi-
tive caregivers, they will typically come to learn that distress that cannot be
avoided by shifting attention can nevertheless be managed so that it does
not become overwhelming. This reassurance is initially accomplished by
the caregiver’s comforting behaviors but will get increasingly internalized
with maturation (Cassidy, 1994; Stern, 1985). Partly for these reasons, the
intensity of distress signals is typically attenuated from the newborn’s rela-
tively ungraded high-intensity crying to the growing infant’s and toddler’s
more graded distress responses (i.e., they take more time to build up to full
crying). In other words, the states experienced and their behavioral expres-
sions will increasingly come under the developing individual’s own control.
Children whose self-regulation skills fail to develop favorably during the
first 2 years of life are sometimes thought to possess a “difficult tempera-
ment” (Thomas & Chess, 1977), characterized by, for example, impulsivity
(associated with states of frustration and urgency), negative emotionality
(associated with states of anger and distress), or marked behavioral inhibi-
tion to novelty (i.e., amygdala-based hyperreactivity, associated with states
of fear and weariness; Buss & Plomin, 1984; Kagan, 1984; Rothbart,
2003). Although temperamental dispositions are at least partially malleable
by contextual factors, such as an environment that provides a “goodness of
fit” with the child’s disposition (Thomas & Chess, 1977), they are also mod-
erately heritable (Wachs & Bates, 2001). Furthermore, these dispositions
tend to become increasingly stable and predictive of other aspects of devel-
opment with maturation. For example, temperament inhibition (i.e., a fail-
ure to down-regulate fear responses) during the second year of life has
been found to predict social anxiety in adulthood (Schwartz, Snidman, &
Kagan, 1999). Thus, a failure to develop self-regulation skills is not just
associated with unfavorable high-intensity experiential states but may also
pave the way for later adjustment problems.
for the self to be affected by the states of others naturally lingers throughout
the life cycle (Bargh & Ferguson, 2000). The comparatively “basic” emo-
tional contagion phenomenon may in fact be a developmental precursor
not just of empathy but also of suggestibility in general, including hypnotiz-
ability (cf. Cardeña, Terhune, Lööf, & Buratti, 2009).
Self-awareness unfolds during the first 2 years of life from a presum-
ably mere implicit capacity for self–other distinctions in the case of the
neonate (e.g., he/she rotates more reliably when another person touches
the baby’s cheeks rather than the baby him/herself; Rochat & Hespos,
1997), via the 4- to 6-month-old’s gradual realization that the hands and
other body parts do not only belong to the self but can actually be volition-
ally controlled by the self, to the toddler’s explicit realization that the self
is what is reflected in a mirror (Lewis & Brooks-Gunn, 1979; see also
Gopnik, 2009). In the wake of such increases in self-awareness comes a
capacity for self-control/regulation (as described above) and the experi-
ence of being an intentional agent. Also, unlike the infant, the toddler will
typically start to experience self-conscious states of pride, shame, self-
doubt, and embarrassment, which build upon and are believed to reflect
complex combinations of the “basic” emotions that gradually unraveled
during infancy (Lewis, Sullivan, Stanger, & Weiss, 1989).
However, it should be understood that not only does self-development
affect states of consciousness. Even more importantly, states of consciousness
also affect and indeed partly organize self-development. From a develop-
mental perspective, organization and integration of experiences in general,
including states of consciousness, is what defines the self (Loevinger,
1976). Daniel Stern has vitally contributed to our understanding of the expe-
riential states of the infant and how they are intertwined with the developing
self. His (1985) contention that the experience of self not only requires that
the individual distinguish the self from others but also identify the self with
others highlights the intersubjective nature of much of the young infant’s
experiential states. Indeed, the affective valence of the experiences of “being
with another” (at the beginning, usually the mother) may be a foundation
for the infant’s development of a sense of self and other(s). In favorable con-
ditions, the infant sees him/herself in the caregiver’s gaze of reverie. This is
presumably associated with a pleasant affective tone (i.e., a vitality affect)
on part of the infant. Moreover, consistently responsive caregiving through-
out infancy is likely to enable the recognition of consistency in the self and
affective experience across time and context, whereas aberrant, abusive, or
neglecting caregiving may thwart the developing organization of the self,
which may instead wind up as fragmented (Carlson et al., 2009).
218 Altering Consciousness
and sophisticated. It is thus not too surprising that even young children
report transcendental “near-death experiences” occurring even with their
limited exposure to cultural and religious influences (Greyson, 2000).
Largely because of continued neurological developments in frontal and
cortical areas, early childhood is also typically associated with substantial
gains in sustained attention, effortful control, and executive functioning
(e.g., behavioral inhibition, working memory, planning; Barkley, 1997;
Rothbart, 2003). As a consequence, children of these ages acquire an
increased capacity for remaining focused and concentrated on any task
at hand while excluding competing, task-irrelevant information from
ongoing processing. Thus, the seed for a state of absorption (i.e., “episodes
of ‘total’ attention that fully engage one’s representational . . . resources,”
Tellegen & Atkinson, 1974, p. 268) is sown during the course of the pre-
school years. Not coincidentally, preschool children tend to remain
engaged with one activity for longer bouts of time than earlier in develop-
ment (Kochanska, Murray, & Harlan, 2000), and their playing often con-
sists of prolonged bouts of make-believe play. Children who have failed to
make such a normative gain in sustained attention and executive function-
ing by school age are potential candidates for a diagnosis of attention defi-
cit hyperactivity disorder (Barkley, 1997).
Thus, both metacognitive capacities and episodes of absorption will
typically increase in this life period. However, when all (or most) process-
ing resources are occupied, as in absorbed states, the usual metacognitive
monitoring of one’s perceptions and thoughts is likely counteracted
(Tellegen & Atkinson, 1974). Perhaps for this reason, later in develop-
ment a propensity for absorption is one of the most reliable personality
predictors of suggestibility in general and hypnotizability in particular
(Roche & McConkey, 1990).
Although not immune to methodological criticisms, research suggests
that hypnotic responsiveness can be first measured around 5 years of
age, reaches a peak in the preteen years, and then diminishes slightly
(Olness & Kohen, 1996) but remains fairly stable throughout adulthood
(Piccione, Hilgard, & Zimbardo, 1989). This statement hides some com-
plexities, however, in that some hypnotic suggestions such as posthyp-
notic amnesias may not be even comprehensible to a very young child,
while at the same time younger children may become more absorbed in
their fantasy lives than older children.
Research on the lifespan of dissociation, a related but by no means
identical construct to hypnotizability, shows a similar developmental line.
Dissociation has been posited to be higher in younger children of around
5 to 6 years of age and then to generally decline with age for both
222 Altering Consciousness
In their turn, dopamine and serotonin have been called “the accelerator
and the brakes,” respectively, “in the drive to risky behavior, particularly in
the area of drug use and abuse” (Zuckerman & Kuhlman, 2000). Dopamine
has been associated with novelty seeking and plays an essential role in the
brain’s reward circuitry. The increase in dopamine activity in the prefrontal
cortex during (early) adolescence suggests that rewarding stimuli are expe-
rienced as more rewarding, which might be an explanation of the increase
in sensation seeking during this developmental stage (Steinberg, 2008).
And all this takes place in the context of a relatively immature serotonergic
system; studies suggest that a more mature serotonergic system would have
an inhibitory control function (Zuckerman & Kuhlman, 2000).
We hasten to add here that although the emergence of drug use and
sexual behaviors may be characterized as “risky” in terms of future adapta-
tion and development, we have no desire to express alarmism surround-
ing their occurrence in adolescence. For example, according to data from
the San Francisco Bay area, experimentation with (as opposed to frequent
usage of and complete abstinence from) drugs such as alcohol and mari-
juana may be associated with favorable adolescent development, and sen-
sitive parenting in childhood may be a precursor of drug experimentation
in adolescence (Shedler & Block, 1990). It has also been noticed that most
sensation seeking by adolescents is realized in the company of peers
(Steinberg, 2008). Although relationships with parents typically still tend
to be the principal attachment throughout adolescence, concurrent with
reinitiated and intensified autonomy strivings, adolescents gradually
transfer the components of attachment from parents to peers, most typi-
cally love partners and close friends, with whom they prefer to spend
increasing amounts of time and to whom they start to turn when dis-
tressed (Zeifman & Hazan, 2008). The immense influence that peers have
on the adolescent individual could be related to the influence of gonadal
steroids on the increase of receptors for oxytocin, for this might lead to a
heightened salience of peer relations (Steinberg, 2008), because oxytocin
is associated with social bonding and the memory and recognition of
social stimuli (Winslow & Insel, 2004). Perhaps that is why the drug use
of peers has been commonly acknowledged as a strong predictor of the
adolescent’s own drug use (Bauman & Ennett, 1996).
Adolescence may be associated with emotional turbulence, especially
for those with a history of insecure attachment (Allen, 2008). Not coinci-
dentally perhaps, a century of research indicates that adolescence also rep-
resents an “age of religious awakening” (Argyle & Beit-Hallahmi, 1975),
which may also include ritually induced ASC [see St John, Volume 1]. As
Altered Consciousness and Human Development 225
of human existence, death may lose its sting (Vaillant, 2002). Relatedly,
religious beliefs and spirituality often gain increased importance for the
elderly (Krause, 2006) and may offer additional benefits to the states expe-
rienced such as a sense of the interrelatedness of all things, of life as mean-
ingful, and of security within a transcendent realm. The term
gerotranscendence (Tornstam, 1997) has been coined in the literature to
characterize the states of inner calm and serenity, of peace of mind when
engaging in quiet reflection and reminiscence, which characterizes favor-
able development in the very final stages of life. This term refers to nothing
less than a cosmic and transcendent perspective, directed forward and
outward, beyond the individual’s self, and is consistent with the postulate
that a transcendent stage of development may include but go beyond
rationality rather than being just a regression to a prerational state (see
Wilber, 1998, p. 90) [see also Beauregard, this volume].
At the very end of the day, some people who are about to die (Osis &
Haraldsson, 1977) or who have encountered near-death experiences
(NDEs), which may happen at any age but are more likely as the individ-
ual suffers a serious illness, report that as the brain discharges its final
electrical impulses before “closing shop,” an ASC ensues associated with
a profound sense of promise. This state is marked by, among other phe-
nomena, a sense of peace and painlessness, unconditional love, and an
experience of light at the end of a tunnel. A purely neurophysiological
deficit explanation for NDEs may be inadequate to explain all the available
data (Greyson, 2000), so a fair and comprehensive explanation remains a
challenge for the future. It is, however, paradoxical that for some, the vast
expansion of consciousness present after birth may have some parallel
with their experiences at the moment of dying.
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PART II
Psychological Perspectives
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CHAPTER 11
altered consciousness, we first discuss the nature of the bodily self and
introduce the concept of altered states of bodily consciousness.
The bodily self is a more restricted concept than the notion of embodi-
ment, which can be defined as the idea that cognitive functions such as
perception, language, reasoning, and social interaction are grounded on
bodily processing (Gibbs, 2006). By contrast, the bodily self as a theoreti-
cal concept refers to those aspects of the self that can be associated with
the structure and functions of the individual’s body. Culture, society, per-
sonal memories, and politics can probably be “embodied” to some extent,
but the bodily self only relates to an organism’s more basic properties,
such as how we localize our own body in the environment, perceive its
ongoing posture and movement, detect changes in internal homeostasis,
experience its actions to be self-generated, and identify its parts as self-
belonging (Bermúdez et al., 1995; Legrand, 2006).
The bodily self is historically associated to other concepts such as cor-
poreal awareness, cenesthesia, the body schema, and the body image.
Generally, all these notions refer to how the body is consciously or uncon-
sciously experienced and represented. The brain is constantly receiving
and sending, as well as updating, information from and to the body.
Giving rise to the bodily self thus involves the dynamic integration of vis-
ual, tactile, proprioceptive, vestibular, auditory, olfactive, visceral, and
motor information, as well as higher-order representations such as beliefs,
desires, memories, and knowledge about bodies in general. This integra-
tion is achieved not by a single system in the brain but by a wide array
of subsystems and bodily representations that, when impaired, can lead
to altered states of bodily consciousness.
The very idea of the bodily self is closely tied to clinical neurology. The
concept was born out of the observation of neurological disturbances affect-
ing how some patients perceived their own body. French otologist Pierre
Bonnier (1905) coined the word aschématie in 1905 precisely to refer to
such disorders following severe vestibular impairments. The schema of the
body, according to Bonnier, is a general sense of space, mostly unconscious,
that transcends sensory modalities. This sense allows one to locate one’s
own body in the environment, feel the space it is occupying, know its cur-
rent posture, and localize tactile sensations on its surface. Some neurologi-
cal symptoms, Bonnier realized, seemed to suggest that such a sense
existed and was disturbed in specific occurrences. Other authors indepen-
dently presented similar ideas. British neurologists Henry Head and Gordon
Holmes (1911–1912) notably highlighted the importance of motor mecha-
nisms and the ability of the body schema to automatically and involuntary
Altered States of Bodily Consciousness 239
1
Whereas body schema is somewhat closer to our use of bodily self, the term body image has
often been used to refer to the conscious apraisal of one’s body, involving visual, mnesic,
verbal, emotional, sexual, social, and cultural information pertaining to one’s own body.
Both terms—body schema and body image—were and still are often used interchangeably
(for a recent discussion, see de Vignemont, 2010).
240 Altering Consciousness
and most often the frontal and parietal but also the temporal cortex
(Feinberg et al., 2000). It is also possible to induce illusory movements
by stimulating electrically the right temporo-parietal junction (Blanke,
Ortigue, Landis, & Seeck, 2002), in which case the illusion may have
not only sensorimotor but also visual characteristics such as “seeing” that
one’s own limbs are approaching one’s face.
Such phenomena should be distinguished from supernumerary phan-
tom limbs, a condition defined as the perceptual experience of an addi-
tional body part, felt as an entity sharing properties of a real body part
and occupying a different place in space. Unlike patients with illusory
movements, patients with supernumerary phantom limb distinctly experi-
ence a “third arm.” Some can critically evaluate the feeling as an illusion,
but others will entertain the delusion that they actually own an additional
limb or even experience more numerous duplications of arms or legs and
perceive these multiple limbs as real. In the latter case, the term delusional
reduplication of body parts has been proposed (Weinstein, Kahn, Malitz, &
Rozanski, 1954). Most supernumerary phantom limbs involve a some-
sthetic perception of an immobile limb, localized separately but on the
same side as the paralyzed limb (Antoniello, Kluger, Sahlein, & Heilman,
2009). Movements of such phantoms are usually rare and most often auto-
matic or involuntary. It can also happen that the “extra limb” simply
mimics the movements of the contralateral real limb or follows with some
delay the movements of the ipsilateral real limb (McGonigle et al., 2002).
There are, however, two cases in the literature describing intentional
supernumerary phantoms in which the patients, paralyzed on one side,
nevertheless experienced the movement of a phantom limb whenever
(and only when) they wished to move it (Khateb et al., 2009; Staub et al.,
2006). What is more, one of these patients also claimed to be able to see
the phantom and “use” it to scratch her own face (Khateb et al., 2009),
pointing to multimodal pathomechanisms [mechanisms by which a patho-
logical conditions occurs] and similarities to heautoscopy, exosomesthesia,
and asomatoscopy (see below). Lesions have involved the right basal gan-
glia (Halligan, Marshall, & Wade, 1993), the right subcortical capsulolen-
ticular region (Khateb et al., 2009), the left anterior choroidal artery
territory (Staub et al., 2006), the right frontomesial cortex (McGonigle
et al., 2002), and parietal structures in the case of delusional reduplications
(Weinstein et al., 1954). A few functional neuroimaging studies have been
conducted in such patients, showing activity in the supplemental motor
area during phantom movements mimicking movements of the duplicated
limb (McGonigle et al., 2002), abnormal activity in subcortical thalamo-
cortical loops during intentional movements of the phantom (Staub et al.,
Altered States of Bodily Consciousness 243
2006), and activity in somatosensory and visual areas correlating with the
patient’s claim of being able to feel and see her intentionally moved super-
numerary phantom limb (Khateb et al., 2009). Given the variety of phe-
nomenological profiles, it is unlikely that a single explanation can
account for all cases of supernumerary phantom limb. Purely postural
phantoms probably can be explained as the result of a conflict between
impaired current proprioceptive afferences, caused by thalamo-cortical
disconnections, and a spared internal representation of the body. Kin-
esthetic phantoms may best be conceptualized as the result of preserved
motor efferences and action planning in the context of defective multimo-
dal integration (Khateb et al., 2009). Additional pathomechanisms involv-
ing other modalities and higher cognitive functions could be involved in
cases with delusional beliefs.
The diversity of phantom limb phenomena, whether arising from
amputation or brain damage, points to a complex and highly efficient net-
work of body-related brain functions that smoothly provide a coherent
bodily self in healthy persons.
Hemiasomatognosia, Anosognosia
The term hemiasomatognosia was coined by French neurologist Jean
Lhermitte (1939) to refer to unawareness of a body part or a hemibody.
Frederiks (1963a) tried to clarify some conceptual issues by distinguishing
between conscious and “nonconscious hemiasomatognosia. “Conscious”
hemiasomatognosia refers to patients who perceive their body as incomplete
or amputated while realizing that what they experience is an illusion (see
above, Bodily transformations), whereas “nonconscious” hemiasomatognosia
246 Altering Consciousness
refers to the disappearance of body parts from one’s awareness, the patient
being unable to notice or report this disappearance.
Subforms of nonconscious hemiasomatognosia are currently known as
personal neglect, motor neglect, or anosognosia for hemiplegia. In all
these conditions, there is indifference, forgetfulness, or unawareness for
parts of one’s own body. Personal neglect refers to the classical picture
where a patient forgets to comb, shave, or make up the left side of his or
her face. Motor neglect refers to patients who underuse or fail to use
altogether their left limbs despite having no motor impairment. Con-
versely, patients with anosognosia for hemiplegia behave as if they were
not paralyzed, as they ignore their left hemibody altogether and/or deny
that there is anything wrong with it. Nevertheless, anosognosia for hemi-
plegia is a complex phenomenon, with patients differing widely as to
their explicit and implicit insight of being paralyzed (Cocchini, Beschin,
Fotopoulou, & Della Sala, 2010). For instance, some patients deny their
impairment but nevertheless never act as if they were not paralyzed, while
others might admit being paralyzed but still attempt actions that are
impossible for them.
Recent lesion-mapping analyses comparing patients with right-
hemispheric damage with and without anosognosia have highlighted the
specific involvement of the right posterior insula (Baier & Karnath,
2008; Karnath, Baier, & Nägele, 2005) and an additional network of sen-
sorimotor areas including the somatosensory, primary motor, and premo-
tor cortices, as well as the inferior parietal lobule (Berti et al., 2005).
Anosognosia is a multifaceted syndrome involving defective awareness of
motor control, impaired integration of multimodal information, and dis-
turbances of attentional and cognitive monitoring (Orfei et al., 2007).
Somatoparaphrenia
German neurologist Joseph Gerstmann sought to distinguish between
particular cases of hemiasomatognosia and used the term somatoparaphrenia
for strongly delusional instances (Gerstmann, 1942). Somatoparaphrenia
thus refers to false beliefs concerning a body part or a hemibody, the most
frequent being disownership of one’s hand (whereby patients repeatedly
claim that their own left hands do not belong to them, or more explicitly
that they belong to someone else, the doctor, a nurse, a roommate, or some
undetermined person; review in Vallar & Ronchi, 2009). However, such
delusions can vary considerably, suggesting that the notion covers various
disorders. Some patients will deny the ownership of a limb without attribut-
ing it to someone else explicitly. Others will state spontaneously that their
Altered States of Bodily Consciousness 247
limb belongs to someone specific, even someone altogether absent from the
current environment or already dead. Some patients will elaborate their
claim by stating that their limb has vanished or has been stolen, sometimes
leading to complaints to the hospital staff. The strength of the delusion can
also vary, some patients being able to acknowledge that there is something
bizarre about their belief and others maintaining their claims despite over-
whelming counter-evidence.
Moreover, there are two types of misattribution in somatoparaphrenia:
Parts of one’s own body can be attributed to someone else or, conversely,
parts of someone else’s body can be attributed to oneself (Gertmann,
1942). Patients with somatoparaphrenia can display strong emotional
reactions—for instance, they can fall from their bed after trying to “kick
out” what they think is an alien limb. Similarly, patients presenting with
misoplegia can display hatred of the paralyzed limb that borders on the
delusional but without presenting explicit feelings of disownership
(Loetscher, Regard, & Brugger, 2006).
Some cases of somatoparaphrenia suggest an association with other
disorders of the body schema such as supernumerary phantom limbs,
when a limb is disowned while an “extra” one is present, or the feeling
of a presence, when the disowned limb is perceived as a whole person
lying nearside in the bed.
Most of the reported cases of somatoparaphrenia involve the left side of
the body following a right-sided stroke. Lesions generally involve an
extended fronto-temporo-parietal network, with a predominance of pos-
terior areas, such as the temporo-parietal junction, the posterior insula,
as well as subcortical structures (Vallar & Ronchi, 2009). Involvement of
medial frontal and orbitofrontal areas seems to distinguish delusional
types of disownership from mildest types of limb estrangement (Feinberg
et al., 2010). Interestingly, the posterior insula is the most commonly
involved area in both somatoparaphrenia and anosognosia for hemiplegia
(Baier & Karnath, 2008). Although these two disorders can be separated,
this finding nevertheless suggests that, at both the clinical and anatomical
level, awareness of action and ownership of body parts are tightly linked
(Baier & Karnath, 2008).
self as spatially localized outside of the physical body and experiences see-
ing the latter from an elevated perspective (see below).
Another related illusion, referred to as the feeling of a presence, is char-
acterized by a closely “projected” double that is not visible (Brugger, Regard,
& Landis, 1997). The “presence” of a person can be felt sideways, behind,
or in front of one’s physical body, and may even involve multiple “presen-
ces” (Brugger, Blanke, Regard, Bradford, & Landis, 2006). Such a feeling
of presence has been induced by cortical electrical stimulation of the pos-
terior part of the left superior and middle temporal gyrus (Arzy, Seeck,
Ortigue, Spinelli, & Blanke, 2006). For both heautoscopy and the feeling
of presence, damage to or abnormal activity in parietal and temporal-
limbic structures, and a resulting vestibular dysfunction, have been posited
as plausible pathomechanisms underlying such complex experiences.
Mystical States
Altered states of consciousness associated with mystical states or medi-
tation have been reported to induce alterations of bodily consciousness
from times immemorial. In these states, ”dissolution of the ego” or “pure
consciousness” are often reported, referring to an experienced merging
of the self and bodily self with external space and accompanied by a felt
transcendence from spatial and temporal constraints, a sense of sacredness
and ineffability, and an overall positive mood (Pahnke & Richards, 1990/
1966; Wulff, 2000). Such states can also be close to, or even cause, OBE-
and NDE-like episodes. An involvement of the limbic system, associated
to a sudden release of endorphins (Prince, 1982) or in the form of ecstatic
epileptic seizures of temporal lobe origin (Picard & Craig, 2009), has been
highlighted as a neurobiological correlate of such experiences. A recent
investigation of the impact of brain damage on the personality trait “tran-
scendent self” also suggests the importance of the temporo-parietal junc-
tion (Urgesi, Aglioti, Skrap, & Fabbro, 2010), an area also involved in
other cases of altered bodily awareness of body parts (such as anosognosia
and somatoparaphrenia) as well as illusory full-body perceptions (such as
out-of-body experiences). Physical and environmental factors can also be
involved, as experiences of bodily dissolution and separation of the self
and body have been reported during physical exhaustion of runners
(Morgan, 2002) and in high-altitude mountaineers (Brugger, Regard,
Landis, & Oelz, 1999).
Hypnosis
Hypnosis is perhaps the most compelling area of overlap between neu-
rology and ASC, at least historically [see Cardeña & Alvarado, Volume 1].
Early investigation of “hysteric” patients suggested an influence of hypno-
sis on bodily function and experience. At least in certain persons,
neurological-like symptoms have been relieved or induced by different
methods of hypnosis. Most notably, anaesthesia/analgesia and paralysis
during hypnosis have been the focus of much attention and recently been
revived in neuroscientific research (Cojan et al., 2009). Hypnotic induc-
tion of altered states of bodily consciousness has also been incorporated
as a tool in the cognitive neurosciences of belief formation in healthy par-
ticipants (e.g., Cox & Barnier, 2010). We also note that hypnosis has been
used to induce OBEs (Irwin, 1989). Although the mechanisms underlying
hypnosis are far from understood, these findings point to the importance
of suggestibility and higher-order belief systems, as well as the influence
252 Altering Consciousness
Drugs
Drugs have probably been the most salient artificial inducer of ASC
throughout history, and complex alterations of the bodily self have long
been reported following intoxication by a wide array of substances [see
Presti, this volume]. For instance, Havelock Ellis vividly described the
bodily experiences of a mescal user, who reported feelings of heaviness
in one leg while the rest of the body seemed to dematerialize, the back of
his head splitting in two and releasing flows of vivid colors, wind rushing
through his hair, sensations of lightness and contraction, visual hallucina-
tions of parts of his own body, and the feeling of being inside his own
body and looking through it as through a thin transparent skin (in
Lhermitte, 1939, pp. 167–168). In addition to feelings of “dissolution”
and various forms of transformations, “getting high” often involves the
sensation of levitating and flying, as well as leaving one’s body, as
described by French poet and painter Henri Michaux in his monograph
on the effects of marijuana (Michaux, 1967, pp. 132–135).
Indeed, apart from well-known effects such as distortion of sense of
time, increase in self-confidence, heightened awareness, and complex
mental associations (Hastings, 1990/1969), marijuana is also well known
to influence bodily consciousness. Charles Tart (1971) conducted a sur-
vey of marijuana users that showed a very wide range of bodily self alter-
ations: Users sometimes experience their whole body as bigger or smaller
than usual, the shape of their body as strangely altered, the body felt as
numb, as well as full-blown OBEs.
The “Good Friday” experiment conducted by Pahnke in 1962 (see
follow-up by Doblin, 1991) demonstrated that psilocybin, unlike a placebo,
allowed inducing mystical states along with alterations of bodily conscious-
ness sometimes similar to OBEs and NDEs. More recently, Griffiths and col-
laborators replicated this finding in a better-controlled setting, and
participants likewise reported experiences of unity with their surroundings,
loss of self, somaesthetic hallucinations and sensations similar to OBEs and
NDEs (Griffiths, Richards, McCann, & Jesse, 2006). Reporting on the
effects of LSD, Pahnke and Richards (1990/1966) also described a wide
range of bodily effects, such as “intriguing somatic sensations, feeling as
though [the] body is melting, falling apart, or exploding into minute frag-
ments” (p. 493), “changes in kinesthetic and cutaneous reception” and
“claims of merging with floorboards or feeling unity with the walls of a
Altered States of Bodily Consciousness 253
room” (p. 497). Finally, anesthetics are also known to induce alterations of
bodily consciousness for body parts (including feelings of disownership;
Paqueron et al., 2003), as well as OBEs and NDEs (Corazza & Schifano,
2010).
Experimental Procedures
Experiments in sensory deprivation have been used as a powerful scien-
tific tool for investigating the interactions between bodily awareness and
cognition. In such studies, participants lie in an isolation tank, deprived of
as many sensory signals as possible (Zubek, 1969). The effects of such
experiments have been compared to medical conditions involving sensory
and motor impairments (Jackson, Pollard, & Kansky, 1962) and more
recently to the effects of mind-altering drugs (Mason & Brady, 2009).
Altered states of bodily consciousness have also been reported during such
conditions, with illusory movements, complex tactile hallucinations, feel-
ings of a presence, depersonalization, and OBEs (Heron, 1957).
As is the case with other ASC, it is known that OBEs are favorably
induced when lying down or relaxing (Zingrone, Alvarado, & Cardeña,
2010), an important observation in the light of accounts of the OBE in
terms of vestibular hallucination (Schwabe & Blanke, 2008). Individuals
claiming to be able to deliberately self-induce OBEs have also used a vari-
ety of sensory deprivation and meditation methods (reviewed in Black-
more, 1982). More recently, laboratory investigations have delineated
controlled approaches to induce, or at least mimic, some aspects of OBEs.
Most notably, visuo-tactile conflicts have been exploited to investigate the
OBE (Ehrsson, 2007; Lenggenhager, Tadi, Metzinger, & Blanke, 2007).
These studies have used virtual reality as a method to provide participants
with visual perceptions of their own bodies (via a recording camera feed-
ing a head-mounted display) while experiencing tactile sensations congru-
ent or incongruent with those applied to their visual double. Measures of
self-location and subjective reports about self-identity in such experiments
have revealed the importance of congruent visuo-tactile information for
the bodily self (review in Aspell & Blanke, 2009).
These paradigms have been inspired by experimental approaches to
modify bodily consciousness of body parts. The rubber-hand illusion,
for instance, operates under similar visuo-tactile conflicts, whereby a per-
son looks at a fake hand being stroked by a brush while feeling the same
sensation on her real (and hidden) hand. In such circumstances, it is often
reported that the felt brushes seem to be located onto the fake hand, and
objective measures reveal that participants experience their real hand to
254 Altering Consciousness
be located closer to the fake hand than it really is (Botvinick & Cohen,
1998). Interestingly, feelings of illusory ownership during the rubber-
hand illusion have been found to correlate with objective changes in tem-
perature in the real hand (Moseley et al., 2008), suggesting that similar
processes underlie experimentally-induced illusory ownership in healthy
persons and a number of psychiatric and neurological conditions involv-
ing altered states of bodily consciousness (reviewed in Moseley et al.,
2008). Coupled with clinical investigations, the experimental study of
full-body illusions provides a very promising approach for understanding
the neurocognitive processes underlying the bodily self and altered states
of bodily consciousness.
Conclusion
In this chapter, we have covered a wide array of altered states of bodily
consciousness. Perhaps most striking is the sheer phenomenological vari-
ety of these bodily experiences. Misrepresentations of the physical body
can involve selected body parts, half of the body, or the entire body and
self. Whereas some of them are critically perceived as illusory by the expe-
rient, even sought after in some cases, others can be outright delusional.
Their content can involve varied phenomena such as mislocalizations,
illusory movements, presence of nonexistent body parts, disappearance
of body parts, size and shape transformations, denial of ownership, incor-
poration of external objects, merging of boundaries, complete disembodi-
ment, and denial of impairment.
At this stage, an encompassing theoretical framework to explain and
reliably induce such states is not available. It is indeed difficult to assess
to what extent these complex misrepresentations, which can occur after
neurological damage or in psychiatric conditions but also spontaneously
and under experimental circumstances, are comparable. Nevertheless,
the distinction between altered states of bodily consciousness involving
body parts and the whole body (Dieguez et al., 2007) and the segregation
of the bodily self into three core constituents (namely, the first person-
perspective, self-location, and self-identification) suggest preliminary
frameworks (Blanke & Metzinger, 2009). Notably, a network in the right
hemisphere involving the temporo-parietal junction, the posterior insula,
and the basal ganglia, as well as premotor and primary sensory structures,
has been identified to be crucially involved in the integration of body parts
and representations of the whole body, as well as the calibration of an ego-
centric spatial frame of reference allowing one to coherently locate one’s
Altered States of Bodily Consciousness 255
body with respect to gravity and the surrounding environment. Future work
should allow scientists to fine-grain these observations and disentangle the
systems underlying specific alterations of the bodily self. A worthwhile
question, for instance, would be whether body parts and whole-body
alterations can be mapped unto an anatomo-functional continuum or
whether they arise from different processes altogether.
Most importantly, any insights have been and will be the result of
investigations carried out from a wide range of perspectives, including
analytical philosophy, phenomenology, clinical neuropsychology, experi-
mental psychology, and the cognitive neurosciences. New therapeutic
methods and creative experimental paradigms, incorporating pharmaco-
logical improvements, brain–computer interfaces, as well as robotic and
virtual reality technology, will also emerge in the near future. Merged with
the insights offered by approaches and traditions often considered as out-
side the reach of science, such as hypnosis, shamanism, mysticism, reli-
gious rituals, and the use of mind-altering drugs, the study of altered
states of bodily consciousness holds the potential to offer important scien-
tific insights about the brain processes involved in creating our everyday
experience of the self. Conversely, careful theoretical and conceptual work
on the bodily self can guide our understanding and the development of
experimental approaches to ASC at large.
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CHAPTER 12
terminate with impaired awareness and are called complex partial seiz-
ures. Otherwise, if they terminate without impaired consciousness, they
are called simple partial seizures. Loss of responsiveness and awareness
in complex partial seizures usually persists for up to several minutes,
and epileptic patients may show oral and manual automatisms (e.g., pick-
ing, fumbling, and cycling). They are followed by amnesia for the episode.
Simple partial seizures stay in the temporal lobe while complex partial
seizures show marked bilateral deactivation in frontal and parietal associ-
ation cortex. By contrast, simple partial seizures (where patients remain
conscious) are not accompanied by these widespread changes. Complex
partial seizures can propagate to the rest of the brain to produce a second-
arily generalized tonic-clonic seizure (Englot & Blumenfeld, 2009) [see
Cardeña, this volume, for some specific changes in the content of con-
sciousness during seizures].
Brain Death
Brain death is death determined by brain or neurological criteria. Death
is defined as the permanent cessation of the critical functions of the organ-
ism as a whole (i.e., neuroendocrine and homeostatic regulation, circula-
tion, respiration, and consciousness). Most countries, including the
United States, require death of the whole brain including the brain stem,
but some (e.g., UK and India) rely on the death of the brain stem only,
stating that the brain stem is at once the through-station for nearly all hemi-
spheric input and output, the center generating arousal (an essential condi-
tion for conscious awareness), and the center of breathing. Clinical
Altering Consciousness and Neuropathology 271
diagnostic criteria of brain death, however, are widely accepted and are
based on the loss of all brain stem reflexes and the demonstration of contin-
uing termination of respiration (by carefully performing an apnea test) in an
irreversibly comatose patient. There should be an evident cause of coma and
confounding factors such as hypothermia and drug intoxication should be
excluded. Confirmatory tests include a “flat” electroencephalogram and
absence of arterial circulation to the brain shown by arteriography or
echo-Doppler techniques. Brain death is most often caused by a massive
brain lesion (e.g., trauma, intracranial hemorrhage, anoxia) that increases
intracranial pressure, causing the intracranial circulation to cease and dam-
aging the brain stem because of herniation. Functional imaging studies have
shown an “empty skull” sign (i.e., only the skin surrounding the skull shows
preserved metabolic activity on functional brain scans) confirming the
absence of all neural activity (Laureys, 2005b). The frontoparietal network
linked to consciousness in sleep and anesthesia studies was deactivated in
brain death when studied with functional magnetic resonance imaging
(Boly et al., 2009).
Coma
Coma is characterized by the absence of arousal and thus also of con-
sciousness. It is a state of unarousable unresponsiveness in which the
patient lies with the eyes closed and has no awareness of self and sur-
roundings. The patient lacks the spontaneous periods of wakefulness
and eye-opening induced by stimulation that can be observed in the veg-
etative state. To be clearly distinguished from syncope, concussion, or
other states of transient unconsciousness, coma must persist for at least 1
hour. In general, comatose patients who survive begin to awaken and re-
cover gradually within 2 to 4 weeks. Coma can result from bilateral wide-
spread hemispheric cortical or white matter damage or from more focal
brainstem lesions, affecting the subcortical reticular arousing systems.
The prognosis depends on the etiology, the patient’s general medical con-
dition, age, clinical signs, and results from complementary examinations.
Traumatic etiology is known to have a better outcome than non-
traumatic, especially anoxic cases. In the latter case, as for cardiac arrest
survivors, after 3 days of observation a bad outcome is heralded by the
absence of papillary or corneal reflexes, stereotyped or absent motor
response to noxious stimulation, absent cortical responses of somatosensory-
evoked potentials, and biochemical markers, such as high levels of serum
neuron-specific enolase.
272 Altering Consciousness
motor areas] and “imagine walking around your house” [activating para-
hippocampal brain regions]). Four out of 23 clinically “vegetative” patients
showed fMRI signs of command following and hence of consciousness. In
addition to showing proof of consciousness, fMRI can now be used to com-
municate with some (very exceptional) patients. Indeed, one clinically non-
communicative patient studied in the Liège University Hospital was shown
to correctly answer five out of six simple questions regarding the names of
his family members (Monti et al., 2010). Evidently, these data should be
seen as clarifications of the condition rather than as a practical means to
truly assure long-term communication.
and lateral and medial frontal cortices) pathways have identified states of
altered consciousness.
Consciousness can be viewed as the emergent property of the collective
behavior of widespread thalamo-cortical frontoparietal network connec-
tivity. The above-presented studies on physiological (e.g., sleep), pharma-
cological (e.g., general anesthesia), and pathological alterations of
consciousness (e.g., coma and related conditions) provide evidence in
favor of this hypothesis [cf. Beauregard, this volume]. Once conscious sen-
sory content is established, it is distributed widely to a decentralized
‘‘audience’’ of expert networks, or executive interpreters (Baars, 1988,
2005). Consequently, conscious perception involves widespread fronto-
parietal brain sources, and unconscious sensory processing leads to much
more limited and disconnected brain activation. Synchronized specialized
brain regions are thought to share their information into a common work-
space, which is a complex network of cortico-cortical and thalamo-cortical
functional connections. Other cerebral systems would permit those
synchronized neural networks to put their own elements of the mental
content forward, in the front of the scene of consciousness. Mental content
would, therefore, be the result of converging information from lower-
order functional neural assemblies toward higher-order assemblies, a
hypothesis currently being tested in neural modeling studies (Seth,
Dienes, Cleeremans, Overgaard, & Pessoa, 2008).
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278 Altering Consciousness
1
This chapter has benefitted from the astute reading of Martina Belz, Ken S. Pope, and
Sophie Reijman
280 Altering Consciousness
The other side of the equation, namely ASC producing notable emo-
tional experience, has produced considerably more research. Hobson
(1994) found that, in order, the three most common emotions present in
dreams were anxiety or fear, joy-elation, and anger, with more than half
of all dreams presenting strong emotions and a bit more than two-thirds
of all dreams having an unpleasant emotional tone.
In contrast with this preponderance of negative emotions, the great
majority of reports from near-death experiences (NDEs) include a sense of
unconditional love, bliss, and joy, although some NDEs can produce dis-
tress (Greyson, 2000). Similarly, the majority of mystical experiences,
which refer to a sense of transcendence and connectedness, are described
as blissful or subsuming some type of equanimity that has a very positive
emotional valence, a “peace that passeth understanding,” although not every
mystical experience is interpreted positively (Wulff, 2000). In a similar vein,
a temporary lack of discursive reasoning and even of a recognizable content
of consciousness is considered highly desirable in many meditative prac-
tices (cf. Forman, 1999: see also Shear, Volume 1, and Beauregard, this vol-
ume), but an emotional state without any clear content may be distressing.
In a self-account of schizophrenia, Hyllyer (1926, in Landis, 1964, p. 321)
described an experience in which she “came as close . . . as I ever have to a
state of emotion unaccompanied by thought, I simply felt . . . a feeling of
being lost . . . lost in mind and body and soul . . . there was a sickening,
acute moment, then a welding. The emotion became me.”
Positive mystical experiences have been reported as well after the inges-
tion of psychedelic drugs, although of course toxic levels of a substance,
psychological disturbance, or negative set or setting can produce bad occur-
rences or “trips” [see the various chapters on psychoactive drugs, this vol-
ume]. With a group of individuals selected for psychological balance,
Griffiths, Richards, McCann, and Jesse (2006) found that ingesting psilocy-
bin produced what the majority of volunteers rated as one of the five most
meaningful experiences in their lives, from which we can infer that they
had a deep emotional experience. In this well-designed study, the results
could not be explained by a placebo effect and were corroborated by people
close to the experients.
With respect to procedures that may evoke an ASC and are associated
with emotional changes, hypnotic “virtuosos” (i.e., the around 2–3% of
the population that is most responsive to hypnotic suggestions) reported
spontaneous mystical-type experience of connectedness with everything,
love, euphoria, serenity, “being at home,” and so on when they experi-
enced being in a “very deep state” (Cardeña, 2005). This is not likely to
have been the effect of the simple induction of counting from 1 to 30 in
282 Altering Consciousness
Diagnostic Taxonomies
Various models to organize the vast region of human dysfunction and
suffering known as psychopathology have been offered. These models may
be considered as different, potentially valid and not mutually exclusive
perspectives on a very complex domain, with none being able to encom-
pass all valid views on pathology. For this chapter on altered conscious-
ness, explanatory models that emphasize hypothesized psychological or
neurological processes, such as psychodynamic, neurobiological, or
behavioral processes, are not as relevant as those that describe immediate
conscious experience (cf. Sims, 1995). A phenomenological, descriptive
approach to psychopathology favors descriptions of experience as it is
lived by an agent and was developed by the psychiatrist and philosopher
Karl Jaspers (1883–1969) in his General Psychopathology (1913/1963). In
it, he privileged the form of symptoms (e.g., the way that individuals hold
a delusional belief, such as it being central to their notion of reality and
being impermeable to any discussion) rather than their content (e.g.,
believing that there is some kind of improbable conspiracy against the
group that the person belongs to), an approach that is congenial with
looking at states of consciousness according to their systemic properties
rather than their content (cf. Tart, 1975). R. D. Laing (1927–1989) is
Table 13.1 Presence of ASC in Pathological and Nonpathological Contexts
No- or Changes
narrow in body No Id Strong
CONDITIONS* Cs. Delirium image Depers. Fusion agency changes emotions Halluc. Trans.
PATHOLOGICAL
Dissociative dx. xx x x xx x xx x ?
PTSD x x x xx ?
Sleep paralysis xx x x ?
Panic attack x xx xx
Borderline p. d. ? x x x ? xx x
Schizotypal p. d. x x x ?
Somatoform dx x xx x xx
Psychosis x x x x x x x xx ?
Mood dx x x x x xx x ?
NONPATHOLOGICAL
Spirit possession/ x xx x ? xx xx x x xx
Ritual ASC x ? x ? x x x xx xx xx
Meditation ? x ? x ? x ? x
Mystical/visionary x xx xx xx xx xx
Hypnosis x x x x ? x ?
Trauma reaction x ? ? x ? ? x ?
Erotism x x xx ? ? xx ?
(Continued)
Table 13.1 (Continued)
• Key to abbreviations Cs. = consciousness, depers. = depersonalization, Id = identity, Halluc. = hallucinations, Transc. = tran-
scendent experiences, dx = diagnosis, p.d.= personality disorder. X= present, xx= characteristic, ? = present some times
• * Refers only to psychiatric, not neurological, conditions.
• / Including also the related phenomena of channeling and “trance mediumship.”
• The pathological disorders included are:
° A. Dissociative disorders (disruptions in the integrated functions of memory, identity, or perception, such as dissociative
amnesia and fugue, depersonalization, and dissociative identity disorder).
° B. Posttraumatic conditions (posttraumatic and acute stress disorders, characterized by re-experiencing, avoidance, hyper-
arousal, and dissociative symptomatology following a severe stressor or trauma).
° C. Sleep paralysis (a parasomnia characterized by inability to perform voluntary movements while psychologically awake,
anxiety, and the sense of a presence during the transitions between being awake and asleep, sometimes followed by an
OBE; see Hufford, 2005).
° Panic attack (intense fear and somatic and cognitive reactions in the absence of a real danger, present as a syndrome or a
symptom in other anxiety disorders).
° Borderline personality (chronic impulsivity and instability of mood, relationship, and self-image).
° Schizotypal personality (chronic cognitive or perceptual distortions, odd behavior, and interpersonal deficits).
° Somatoform (physical symptoms suggesting but not actually explained by a medical condition, such as paralyses or
unusual sensations).
° Psychosis (this label includes various diagnoses such as the various forms of acute or chronic schizophrenia and schizoaf-
fective disorder involving major dysfunction in many psychological processes such as thought and emotions, along with
failures in reality testing).
° Mood (this label includes various forms of major depression and manic or bipolar conditions and recurrent mood shifts or
cyclothymic disorder, which can also sometimes impair reality testing).
° (For more complete descriptions see APA, 2000; Cardeña & Gleaves, 2007).
Altered Consciousness in Emotion and Psychopathology 287
another major author who emphasized that how a particular mental con-
tent is lived by the person may be more revealing than how it may seem to
an external observer (Laing, 1967). In the following sections, I will not
discuss pathology that does not directly and importantly affect the
person’s state of consciousness, such as most personality, learning, or
other disorders.
It is also pertinent to mention here the “dark night of the soul” experi-
ence, which can happen as a transitional stage in a mystic’s life. Roberts
(1933, in Hunt, 2007, p. 214) recounts:
Altered Consciousness in Emotion and Psychopathology 291
Suddenly I was aware that all life around me had come to a complete stand-
still. Everywhere I looked, instead of life, I saw a hideous nothingness
invading and strangling the life out of every object . . . a world being choked
to death by an insidious void . . . a scene of death, dying, and decay.
Hunt proposes that these experiences are similar to those found in the
anhedonia (inability to feel pleasure) in chronic psychosis (or, I would
add, also in major depression). According to him, as part of spiritual
development, they may lead to an enhancement of Being, whereas they
represent a decay of that sense of Being when they are a symptom of a
psychopathological process [see Lukoff, this volume]. Also relevant here is
Forman’s discussion (1999) of episodes of “pure consciousness” in the con-
text of meditative practice where, paradoxically, experiential emptiness in
the context of an organized, purposeful practice to alter consciousness can
lead to an actual enhancement of the sense of being alive [see also Shear,
Volume 1]. Similarly, Mishara and Schwartz [this volume] propose that a
transient dissolution of the self may lead to a greater overall integration.
At the other end, extreme elation or mania, a variation of bipolar disor-
der, transforms the whole state of consciousness to bring about delusions
of power and grandeur (“in a sense I am God. I see the future, plan the
universe”), a heightened sense of reality (“the outer world makes a much
more vivid and intense impression than usual”), a sense of revelation
(“The sense of being intimately in tune with the ultimate stuff of the uni-
verse”), overwhelming emotions and loss of inhibition, and even flight of
ideas and incoherence (“essential to fix my exact position (fly on the pipe)
in the space-time continuum, at any rate by what the sailors call D. R.
(dead reckoning)”) (in Landis, 1964, pp. 285–294).
Another emotion, extreme fear or panic, can bring about periods
of depersonalization and other changes in consciousness such as the
following report: “(A panic attack) surges with an indescribable intensity
of Horror. Home again becomes immeasurable distance, only more
immeasurable. And the distance of three blocks . . . is, I feel, an infinity
of street in the sun . . . I sometimes feel faint” (Leonard, 1939, in Landis,
1964, p. 247).
Alterations in Perception/Hallucinations
Schizophrenia is often portrayed in TV shows and films as involving dra-
matic visual and auditory hallucinations and far-fetched delusions, but one
should speak of different types of schizophrenia or, at least, different types
of symptoms (APA, 2000). Negative symptoms involve a diminution of
292 Altering Consciousness
a. Assess how the client interprets the experience and what may be the meaning
of the experience in his or her life, identifying recent major stressors or life
events;
b. Identify positive and negative preconceptions and educate the client about the
phenomena in general (which requires that the therapist consult the scientific
research on the topic, rather than just sputter out preconceptions, either for or
against these phenomena), pointing out that they may not be very reliable
sources of information; and
c. Normalize the experience when appropriate.
Altered Consciousness in Emotion and Psychopathology 295
Belz (in print) has also discussed recently diagnostic and therapeutic
issues related to distressing ASC and EHE and how they are treated by the
Counseling Department of the Institut für Grenzgebiete der Psychologie
und Psychohygiene a clinic devoted to these problems in Freiburg. This is
an area that deserves much greater attention by both clinicians and
researchers, and one of the major motivations for this chapter has been
not only to look at the various links between ASC and psychopathology
but also to point out how ASC occurring in nonpathological contexts could
be easily mistaken as indicators of dysfunction.
Putnam (2005) made a strong case that clinical psychology and psy-
chiatry must pay far more attention to states of consciousness, both
because they are necessary to understand certain forms of pathology and
because one of the major tasks in therapy is to modify the clients’ con-
sciousness, of which the current reliance on such techniques as mindful-
ness and mentalization are primary examples. ASC are part and parcel of
the human experience, both in pathology and in health, as the various
contributions to these two volumes attest. A clinical science of altered con-
sciousness is fundamental to understanding what may go wrong in a per-
son’s mind but also what may bring about recovery and provide greater
existential joy and meaning.
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Altered Consciousness in Emotion and Psychopathology 299
Visionary Spirituality
and Mental Disorders
David Lukoff
they often view the episode as a part of their spiritual awakening and an
initiation for their spiritual journey. Jungian analyst John Perry (1998)
noted that after a VSE: “What remains . . . is an ideal model and a sense
of direction which one can use to complete the transformation through
his own purposeful methods” (pp. 34–35).
well as traditional cultures, some people have been esteemed for their
visionary experiences and enjoyed privileged status as shamans, prophets,
visionaries, or saints, as was Handsome Lake described above.
Phenomenological Similarities
The similarity between psychotic symptoms and mystical experiences
has received acknowledgment and discussion in the mental health field
(Arieti, 1976; Boisen, 1962; Buckley, 1981; James, 1902/1958). Both
involve escaping the limiting boundaries of the self, which leads to an
immense elation and freedom, as the outlines of the confining selfhood
meltdown [see Mishara & Schwartz, this volume]. The need to transcend
the limiting boundaries of the self has been postulated to be a basic neuro-
biological need of all living things (Newberg, D’Aquili, & Rause 2001).
However, in persons with psychotic disorder, “the sense of embodied self
is transcended before it has been firmly established . . . disintegration and
further fragmentation are the likely results” (Mills, 2001, p. 214).
Campbell (1972) maintained that the psychotic individual, the mystic,
the yogi, and the LSD user are all plunged into the same deep inward sea.
However,
The mystic, endowed with native talents for this sort of thing—and follow-
ing stage by stage—the instruction of a master, enters the waters and finds
he can swim: whereas the schizophrenic, unprepared, unguided, and
ungifted, has fallen or has intentionally plunged, and is drowning. (p. 216)
Mystical Experience
Studies of this phenomenon date back to William James, who saw
mystical experience as being at the core of religion and maintained that
such experiences led to the founding of the world’s religions ( James,
1902/1958). Definitions used in research and clinical publications vary
Visionary Spirituality and Mental Disorders 305
• feelings of unity
• sense of harmonious relationship to the divine
• euphoria
• sense of noesis (access to the hidden spiritual dimension)
• loss of ego functioning
• alterations in time and space perception
• sense of lacking control over the event
Near-death Experience
The near-death experience (NDE) is a subjective event experienced by
persons who come close to death or who confront a potentially fatal situation
and escape uninjured. Since 1975 when Raymond Moody first focused pub-
lic attention on the NDE in his book Life After Life, the NDE has been the
focus of considerable scientific research (Greyson, 1993, 1997; Ring, 1990).
Visionary Spirituality and Mental Disorders 307
Psychic Experiences
Psychic experiences are a hypothetical construct relating to the presumed
transfer of information or energy for which there is arguably objective evi-
dential support (Targ, Schlitz, & Irwin, 2000) [see Luke, this volume]. Thus
most definitions define it negatively, after excluding other reasonable
explanations. Examples include:
Whereas spiritual masters have been warning their disciples for thousands
of years about the dangers of playing with mystical states, the contemporary
spiritual scene is like a candy store where any casual spiritual “tourist” can
sample the “goodies” that promise a variety of mystical highs. (Caplan,
1999, p. 17)
People can and do make use of books and audiovisual material to practice
on their own without the supervision of a knowledgeable teacher. Anxiety,
dissociation, depersonalization, agitation, and muscular tension have been
reported in western meditation practitioners (Walsh & Roche, 1979).
Transient psychotic-like episodes associated with qigong practice are
well-documented as a culture-bound syndrome that is similar to
312 Altering Consciousness
Possession
In possession states, a person enters an altered state of consciousness and
feels taken over by a spirit, power, deity, or other person who assumes con-
trol over his or her mind and body. Generally, the person has no recall of
these experiences in the waking state. The deliberate induction of possession
states has been part of valued religious rituals in many cultures (Behrend &
Luig, 2000), and research has found that people who experience possession
in the midst of a ritual do not have more pathology (actually may be
healthier) than the people at large. In a comparison of Brazilian Spiritistic
mediums and North American dissociative identity disorder, (DID) patients,
Delusions
The DSM-IV (American Psychiatric Association, 1994) notes that
“Ideas that may appear to be delusional in one culture (e.g., sorcery and
witchcraft) may be commonly held in another” (p. 281). Research has con-
firmed the overlap between psychotic and spiritual experiences. Peters,
Joseph, and Garety (1999) assessed the incidence of delusions using a
standard interview and rating criteria among members of new religious
movements (NRMs, such as “Moonies”), nonreligious people, Christians,
and patients hospitalized for psychotic disorders. They found that those
in the NRM group could not be distinguished from the inpatients by their
beliefs but could by their mood, adjustment, and higher level of distress.
Detailed cases show that psychotic symptoms can occur in the context of
spiritual experiences (Lukoff, 1988; Lukoff & Everest, 1985). Greenberg,
Witzum, and Buchbinder (1992) described four young men who explored
Jewish mysticism and became psychotic. Their hallucinations, grandiose
and paranoid delusions, and social withdrawal were indistinguishable
from those of many mystics. They concluded that a diagnosis of psychosis
rests on factors such as duration of the state, ability to control entry into
the state, and deterioration of habits, rather than on the phenomenology
of the state itself. Thus empirical studies comparing individuals who are
316 Altering Consciousness
both religious and deluded call into question diagnostic criteria for delu-
sions that emphasize the content (i.e., bizarreness or falsity) of beliefs to
classify them as pathological (Brett, 2002). Delusions and spiritual experi-
ences cannot be distinguished by form and content but need to be
assessed in the light of the cultural values and beliefs of the individual.
In addition, holding a delusion with absolute conviction is not a sign of
pathology in itself because all beliefs that are personally significant tend to
be held with absolute conviction (Maher, 1988). A feature of normal cog-
nition is a confirmation bias that allows us to be impervious to contradic-
tory evidence and only notice information that confirms our preexisting
beliefs (Alloy & Tabachnik, 1984).
This category can be used when the focus of clinical attention is a religious
or spiritual problem. Examples include distressing experiences that involve
loss or questioning of faith, problems associated with conversion to a
new faith, or questioning of other spiritual values that may not necessarily
be related to an organized church or religious institution. (American
Psychiatric Association, 1994, p. 685; also DSM-IV-Text Revision, 2000,
p. 1393)
The proposal for this new category evolved from the transpersonal psy-
chology literature on spiritual emergency (Lukoff, Lu, & Turner, 1998).
Although this category includes problems that often involve less distress,
such as converting to a new faith and questioning one’s faith, the authors
(Lukoff, 2007; Lukoff & Lu, 2005) have argued in previous publications
that VSEs warrant the DSM-IV diagnosis of Religious or Spiritual Problem
even when there may be psychotic symptoms present, including halluci-
nations and delusions. In this way, Religious or Spiritual Problem is com-
parable to the category Bereavement, for which the DSM-IV notes that
even when a person’s reaction to a death meets the diagnostic criteria for
Major Depressive Episode, the diagnosis of a mental disorder is not given
because the symptoms result from a normal reaction to the death of a
loved one. Similarly, in VSEs, transient hallucinations, delusions, disori-
entation, and interpersonal difficulties occur so frequently that they
should be considered normal and expectable reactions.
Iatrogenic problems may occur if VSEs are misdiagnosed and mis-
treated as psychotic disorders. The clinician’s initial assessment can sig-
nificantly influence whether the experience is integrated and used as a
stimulus for personal growth or repressed as a sign of mental disorder,
thereby intensifying an individual’s sense of isolation and blocking his or
her efforts to understand and assimilate the experience. Instead of unusual
subjective experiences being embraced in our culture as an opportunity
and invitation to enlarge a person’s circle of being, they are routinely psy-
chopathologized and pharmaceutically suppressed. In an interview study,
“the most subjectively frightening aspect of their experience was psychiat-
ric hospitalization itself” ( Jackson, 2001, p. 189). The pathologizing and
stigmatizing medical approach may account for the surprising finding that
the cure rate and level of dysfunction of persons with psychotic disorders
318 Altering Consciousness
and death of feeling that are also part of the inner dynamics of the deletion
of presence extending from the early onset phases of schizophrenia to its
chronic terminus in anhedonia and social withdrawal. (p. 227)
Thus altered states that are at the heart of many intense spiritual experien-
ces need to be carefully evaluated so they aren’t confused or confounded
with psychopathology, which can include acknowledging areas of
overlap.
Treatment of VSEs
Some residential treatment approaches have addressed spiritual dimen-
sions of psychosis. Perry (1974) founded Diabysis, a Jungian-based group
treatment home for people experiencing a first psychotic episode. He
encouraged clients to express and explore the symbolic aspects of their psy-
chotic experiences. Therapy, conducted thrice weekly, consisted of listen-
ing to clients and helping them interpret the powerful and spiritual
symbols within their hallucinations and delusions. Medications were rarely
used. Perry reported that severely psychotic clients became coherent within
2 to 6 days without medication. The outcomes appeared better for those
who had had fewer than three previous psychotic episodes. Diabysis closed
down in 1980 because of budget cutbacks in the mental health system.
A similar program, Soteria House, located in San Jose, California,
provided more empirical support for this model. Soteria House ran from
1971–1983 and roomed six clients, with three to four staff on premises at
one time. The staff was trained to view psychotic experiences as a develop-
mental stage that can lead to growth and often contains a spiritual component
of mystical experiences and beliefs. Medication was typically not prescribed
unless a client showed no improvement after 6 weeks (only 10% of clients
used medication at Soteria), because it was believed to stunt the possible
growth-enhancing process of the psychotic episode (Mosher & Menn, 1979).
Outcomes from Soteria were compared to a traditional program, a com-
munity mental health center inpatient service consisting of daily pharma-
cotherapy, psychotherapy, occupational therapy, and group therapy.
Clients’ length of stay was longer at Soteria than in the comparison pro-
gram (mean of 166 days versus 28 days). But most patients recovered in
6 to 8 weeks without medication (Mosher, Hendrix, & Fort, 2004). A
recent meta-analysis of data from two carefully controlled studies of Soteria
programs found better 2-year outcomes for Soteria patients in the domains
of psychopathology, work, and social functioning compared to similar cli-
ents treated in a psychiatric hospital (Bola & Mosher, 2003). Soteria
320 Altering Consciousness
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CHAPTER 15
require the presence of an ASC and therefore do not address the question of
why many practictioners, both previously and currently, hold the view that
deliberately inducing ASC is healing.
Altered states of consciousness comprise a wealth of diverse, loosely
related experiences. In their recent review, Vaitl and coworkers (2005)
include the following experiences as ASC: states of drowsiness, daydream-
ing, hypnagogic states, sleep and dreaming, near death experiences,
extreme environmental conditions (pressure, temperature), starvation
and diet, sexual activity and orgasm, respiratory maneuvers, sensory dep-
rivation, sensory homogenization and overload, rhythm-induced states
(drumming and dancing), relaxation, meditation, hypnosis, biofeedback,
psychotic disorders, epilepsy, coma and vegetative state, and pharmaco-
logically induced states. Moreover, one could easily argue for the inclusion
of spiritual transcendent experiences, social and sleep deprivation (see
Mishara, 2010a), and dissociative states. That is, ASC comprise a diverse
range of human experiences that have been viewed as both pathological
and healing [see Cardeña, this volume].
Given the scope and heterogeneity of such experiences, they are diffi-
cult to define conceptually (Revonsuo, Kallio, & Sikka, 2005; Rock &
Krippner, 2007) [see Cardeña, Volume 1]. Classic definitions that require
that the individual identify the experience as an ASC are inadequate “. . . for
the simple reason that ASCs may well occur without the subject having any
idea, either at the time of the experience or later” (Revonsuo et al., 2005).
Although we agree with Revonsuo and colleagues’ proposed redefinition
of ASC as “an alteration in the informational or representational relation-
ships between consciousness and the world,” we nevertheless add the fol-
lowing caveat. Definitions of altered states as deviations from normal
baseline consciousness, presumed to more or less “accurately” represent
the world, are problematic when trying to ascertain the healing properties
of ASC that may occur in meditation, hypnosis, shamanistic practices, nar-
rative, and related therapies.
Definitions of ASC as “distortions” of our otherwise relatively “accurate”
grasp of reality are unsatisfactory in that they rule out the possibility that
such states may enable a heightened or expanded awareness of reality or at
least “alternative reality.” Philosophic phenomenology (Mishara & Schwartz,
1995, 1997) offers a means of circumventing this dilemma by proposing a
neutral definition: ASC involve the suspension, disruption, or bracketing
of the “natural attitude,” our usual commonsense ways of constructing real-
ity. In the everyday “natural attitude,” we assume reality is “obviously” given
to us. Recent findings in cognitive science/neuroscience, however, support
the view that our everyday experience of a consensual reality is far from
Altered States of Consciousness as Paradoxically Healing 329
narrative and is an early form of experiencing the embodied self from both
internal and external viewpoints, as doubled. When we speak or gesture,
we hear our own voice and partially see our bodily gestures. That is, we
take an external, doubled perspective on ourselves to communicate with
others (Mishara, 2009, 2010a) [see Cousins, Volume 1]. As we indicate
below, the shamanic symbolism of rebirth reflects the structure of human self
as socially embodied.
The anthropologist Levi-Strauss (1963) describes the shaman’s prac-
tice of placing a tuft of down into his mouth, biting his own tongue and
then spitting out the bloody feather as if it were the pathological “foreign
body” extracted from the patient. To cure the patient, he must somehow
believe his own “performance” to be convincing. Cardeña and Cousins
(2010) observe that the “sleight of hand” or trickery often found in sha-
manic healing is nevertheless “an illusion that becomes real for the self
and the audience.” It is one component of a triad that includes the “acting”
body of the shaman (as if in a theatrical performance) and the importance
of the presence of other people.
One example of such mutual hypnotic-trance induction between the
shaman and audience is found among the nomadic Rabaris in western
India. The shaman (bhopa or bhopi) acts as a means of communication
between the Rabaris and the Mataji or mother goddess. After a period of
listening to intense drumming, the shaman starts to shake, and, as a result,
falls over (sometimes fainting), and is caught by members of the audience,
indicating a possessed state [see Fachner, Sluhovsky, St John, Volume 1].
Another indication of such transformed mental state is when the shaman
starts to unravel (in a distracted manner) his brightly red turban or chiri.
Not only is the shaman the only member of the community permitted to
wear such a red turban, but also removal of the turban is considered to
break the modesty code. It is here tolerated to indicate the exceptionality
of the shaman’s state as it is displayed to the community. The unraveled
chiri may function as a physical link between the everyday, mundane
world and the realm of the goddess that the bhopa thereby accesses, per-
haps in a temporary form of axis mundi. To further facilitate the ASC,
the bhopa may use the chiri as a sort of flail to whip himself and ingest
opium water quaffed from the palm of the hand of an attendant Rabari
(Dr. Eiluned Edwards, Nottingham Trent University, personal communi-
cation). We interpret such practices to indicate the shaman’s use of a mim-
etic, hypnotic state induction in self and audience as a means of
optimizing the brain’s healing powers. That is, the mimetic performative
function is central to the healing mechanisms of the human brain as it
has evolved to become a social brain.
338 Altering Consciousness
The healer attaches the patient’s emotions to the transactional symbols par-
ticularized from the general myth and then manipulates these symbols to
emotionally transform the patient. More specifically, patients’ subjective
states including emotions and bodily sensations become symbolically
“objectivized” and are incorporated into pre-existing cultural patterns.
(Lee, Kirmayer, & Groleau, 2010, p. 59)
self-awareness in motor activity”). In the last case, the finding that “repeti-
tive activity does not have to be attended . . . once the whole organism
becomes attuned to the specific rhythm and then maintains residual unre-
flective awareness” (pp. 47, 52) has direct relevance for ritual shamanic
mimetic healing. We believe that a similar phenomenological investigation
of the experience of ASC of the healer and audience would help elucidate
the cognitive and neural mechanisms of shamanic healing.
In summary, we claim that the healing mechanisms of the shamanic ASC
as mimetically induced hypnotic state involve a collective group experience.
These mechanisms cannot be reduced to any one single factor (e.g., para-
sympathetic relaxation, symbolic meaning, or group processes), but rather,
all these factors contribute in concert to healing. This is so precisely because
the human brain has evolved both in its cognitive architecture and its
underlying neural circuitry to be an “embodied” social brain.
true ancestral voices [in shamanic initiation] would be those which in the
eyes of the community are accurate, for example, in helping find herbs
and lost cattle, or in diagnosing and healing illnesses. The shamanic crisis
is . . . similar to a spiritual emergency, a “mystical experience with psychotic
features,” a “hero’s journey.” (Randal et al., 2008, pp. 338–339)
. . . you lie in bed with eyes open and experience pure darkness and
silence . . . the informativeness of what you just experienced lies in not
how complicated it is to describe but in how many alternatives you have
ruled out . . . whether you think or not of what was ruled out (and you
typically don’t) you actually gained access to a large amount of informa-
tion. This point is so simple that its importance has been overlooked.
(pp. 402–403)
Nir and Tononi (2010) observe: “The most obvious difference between
dreaming and waking consciousness is the profound disconnection of the
dreamer from their current environment” (p. 100). However, this discon-
nection, the aperspectival, the overwhelming of the actual by the inner
(Wyss, 1973) with an attendant confusion between experiential modalities
(e.g., perceiving, remembering, imagining) are also found during acute
drug intoxication, psychosis, hypnotic narrative framing (Mishara,
1995), and—as we argue here—in shamanic healing. The shamanic meta-
phoric “hero’s journey” during initiation (Randal et al., 2008) is a tempo-
rary suspending of current reality to undertake a confrontation with the
inner world. Here there is an overwhelming of the actual by the boundless
Altered States of Consciousness as Paradoxically Healing 343
We only first really notice our own subjectivity when it is threatened to dis-
solve in crisis. . . . The subject is not a firm possession but must be acquired
anew at each moment to “possess” it. . . . The unity of the subject is only
first constituted in its ongoing incessant reestablishing itself in crisis and
its own infirmity. (von Weizsäcker, 1950, p. 173, our translation)
The self simultaneously takes on the roles of the narrator and the narrated
self of the traumatic event. The process of separating these selves, letting
go, and sense of completion is still under way. . . .Straus, a phenomenologi-
cal psychiatrist, wrote that we experience distance not in terms of objective
space but in terms of our own momentary ability for movement. It is for this
reason that we have no distance in the dream because the dream landscape
moves with us and encloses us within its horizon. We are always in the
present in the dream, enveloped within the immanence of our own bodies,
in a private universe. (Mishara, 1995, p. 188)
1
Integrating classical philological scholarship and archaeology, Knight (1936) traces the
history (and prehistory) of the labyrinthine symbol beginning with the spiral shapes carved
into stone before and inside prehistoric burial caves in which the dead were placed in fetal
position to indicate a journey of rebirth after death. Mishara (2010a) describes how the
labyrinth later serves as a symbol of “rebirth” of the human self in Kafka’s writings [see
Ustinova, volume 1].
2
The neurologic opposition of body schema vs. body image (originally proposed by Head,
1920; Head & Holmes, 1911) is not easy to grasp. Consider the following exercise: Ask a
friend to close his eyes and draw the face of a clock on his forehead, the hands of which
say 3 o’clock from your perspective. Ask him what time it is. He may respond either 3 or 9
o’clock depending on whether he reports from your (external) or his (internal) perspective
(see Mahoney & Avener, 1977). What is of interest is the ambiguity of the situation; your
friend may report his bodily experience either from your or his perspective. The two systems,
kinesthetic (9 o’clock from his perspective) and perceptual, are organized in terms of two dif-
ferent reference frames or coordinate systems. The first, body schema, is egocentric, or body
centered, and the second, body image, is computed from an allocentric or object-centered
frame of reference. These two attitudes correspond roughly to “being a body self,” a body
schema, or “I,” and having a body, a body image or social self as “me” (discovering that my
body has an outside perceived by others precisely by empathizing with their perspective).
The duality of both being/having a body-self is required for social roles. “The fact that we
are able to take both an internal-vital (i.e., proprioceptive-vestibular-interoceptive) and exter-
nal (exteroceptive, social-objectifying) relationship to our own bodies is the precondition for
any vulnerability to the disruption of self-experience in neuropsychiatric disorders and
anomalous conscious states” (Mishara, 2010b, p. 621).
Altered States of Consciousness as Paradoxically Healing 345
Conclusions
We have described diverse ways that healing and ASC are associated
and have examined healing and shamanic practices, meditation, mindful-
ness, hypnosis, acute psychosis and its psychomimetic drug models, nar-
ratives, community rituals through the lens of the social brain, and social
neuroscience. One achieves integration in mental and physical healing
paradoxically through first yielding to its loss in a temporary dissolution
of embodied self and the feeling of being in control in the ASC. The phe-
menological psychiatrist, Wyss (1973) connects inner experience, espe-
cially when controlled processing decreases as in ASC, with a boundless
and sometimes dangerous loss of perspectivity in which the possible over-
whelms the actual. The shamanic metaphors of inner journey and rebirth
refer to the paradoxical healing power of the ASC and may help elucidate
the structure of the human self and how the self may play a role in its own
healing in meditation, mindfulness, hypnosis, and narrative.
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CHAPTER 16
Introduction
Even before 1882, when the Society for Psychical Research was created,
formalizing the field, parapsychological research has been intimately asso-
ciated with altered states of consciousness (ASC), such as those associated
with mesmerism and mediumistic trance (Alvarado, 1998), and this rela-
tionship has continued to the present day. Some of the earliest psychical
researchers posited models to account for the importance of ASC in the
production of such extraordinary phenomena. Frederick Myers (1903)
indicated how changes of state induced what he called automatisms, such
as telepathy, whereby material from subliminal consciousness moved to
the supraliminal part, an idea influential on the thinking of many scholars
of consciousness from William James onward (Kelly et al., 2007). Psychi-
cal research paved the way for parapsychology, or the study of anomalous
psychology, which is the scientific investigation of psi and related anoma-
lous phenomena. Psi, as defined by Thalbourne (2009), is a general term
used either as a noun or adjective to identify extrasensory perception
(ESP) and psychokinesis (PK). In this context, ESP is defined as “paranor-
mal cognition; the acquisition of information about an external event,
object, or influence (mental or physical; past, present or future) in some
way other than through any of the known sensory channels” (p. 206). This
includes concepts that are more specifically called clairvoyance, telepathy,
and precognition, though in practice it may be difficult to discern the dif-
ference between them. A basic concern is how to distinguish clairvoyance,
as knowledge about an objective feature of the world, from telepathy, a
representation of that information from someone else’s mind.
PK is defined simply as “paranormal action; the influence of the mind on
a physical system that cannot be entirely accounted for by the mediation of
356 Altering Consciousness
any known physical source” (p. 208). Such physical systems may include
living organisms, and so PK incorporates psi-mediated healing and hexing
as well. Parapsychologists also study other ostensibly paranormal or anoma-
lous phenomena, some of which may have a psi component, and these
include near-death experiences, out-of-body experiences, supposed past-
life recall, apparitions, hauntings, poltergeists (often considered to be a type
of PK), and mediumship (putative communication with the dead). The
region of overlap between anomalous phenomena, including psi, and ASC
falls within the remit of other aligned fields of research too, such as trans-
personal psychology, which tends to focus more on subjective experience
than objective measurement and so is a healthy hermeneutic and normative
complement to parapsychology’s positivist approach to this area of study.
This chapter considers a number of different ASC and their relation-
ship to spontaneous or actively induced anomalous events, such as with
the attempted production of psi under laboratory conditions. Often, the
specific states themselves have not been clearly defined either phenomen-
onologically or physiologically, but rather only the induction procedure is
known, such as with those states possibly arising following meditation,
the ingestion of psychoactive substances, or hypnosis, if they do produce
ASC [see Cardeña, Volume 1]. In some cases, however, the anomalous
experience is the state because the experience is defined by the phenom-
enological characteristics of the experience, such as with sleep paralysis
or near-death experiences, the latter of which, arguably, may occur even
in the absence of life-threatening circumstances (Greyson, 2000). Follow-
ing the trend in the greater part of the extant experimental literature, and
because of the limitations of space, the present chapter focuses on the
induction procedures that have been attempted, (e.g., hypnosis) rather
than spontaneous states (e.g., near-death experiences).
One consideration is that those anomalous experiences occurring under
nonexperimental conditions cannot conclusively be considered to be genu-
inely as they seem. There may be any number of cognitive errors occurring
that cause the individual to misinterpret the event, be they caused by indi-
vidual knowledge, beliefs, misjudgements of probability, misperception,
misremembering, confabulation, or the context of the situation (Pekala &
Cardeña, 2000). Nevertheless, researchers should be wary of simply label-
ling as hallucination those perceptions in altered states that they do not
understand (Shanon, 2003). Further, those experiences occurring under
nonexperimental conditions offer an insight into the conditions under
which, for instance, genuine psi may occur. Studying nonexperimental
experiences also provides a naturalistic context in which to understand
these experiences and the influence that altered states may have on them.
Anomalous Phenomena, Psi, and Altered Consciousness 357
The results of these experiments, which began in the 1950s, varied in their
degree of success, most likely in relation to the methodology involved (for a
review, see Luke, 2008). The most successful experiments tended to utilize
participants experienced with the use of psychedelics and also utilized free-
response testing procedures with open-ended mentation regarding their
internal state rather than forced-choice guessing scenarios that tend to be
repetitive and thus rather boring “under the influence.” In retrospect, it is
easy to see how the more naı̈vely designed projects lost any hope of sensibly
testing for anything, let alone psi, once their inexperienced participants
began succumbing to the mystical rapture of their first trip.
Overall, few conclusions can be drawn concerning the induction of
genuine psi with psychedelics because of the lack of systematically con-
trolled experiments, although, at best, the results suggest a promising line
of enquiry. Furthermore, this approach is useful for understanding the
neurobiological processes that may be at work during anomalous experi-
ences, whether they are genuinely paranormal or not. Indeed, there exist
some well-evidenced and -reasoned conjectures about the role of psyche-
delic tryptamines, beta-carbolines, and NMDA-antagonists in the function
of OBEs, NDEs, and apparent psi experiences (Luke & Friedman, 2010).
Nevertheless, the neurochemical changes need to be mapped to the phe-
nomenology of the experience (the state) and the personality traits of the
individual before any real headway can be made, though this may be pre-
mature given the dearth of research in recent years.
Sleep States
Although psychedelically induced states in humans vary considerably
and have been neglected as an area of study since the late 1960s, the
psychophysiology of sleep states has been more thoroughly explored and
these states are seemingly more predictable in form . Furthermore, the dif-
fering states produced, often relating to the different stages of sleep, are
more clearly identified than with other induction procedures. However,
sleep differs from these other states in that it is natural, regular, and
unavoidable, so it is not strictly induced as with other procedures [see
Kokoszka & Wallace, this volume].
Those stages entering and exiting sleep, hypnagogic and hypnopompic
respectively, are characterized by experiences of increased mental imagery
(in up to 75% of survey respondents; Sherwood, 2002), decreased awareness
of mental content, increased internal absorption, loss of volitional control
over mentation, reduced awareness of the environment, and reduced reality
testing. Both transitional sleep stages are related to anomalous experiences,
Anomalous Phenomena, Psi, and Altered Consciousness 361
specifically ESP, apparitions, mediumship, OBEs, past life visions, and entity
encounters (Sherwood, 2002). Sleep paralysis, a fairly common sleep disor-
der whereby people believe themselves to be awake but unable to move, also
tends to occur during hypnagogia at least once in the life of 40 to 50% of nor-
mal people. In addition to the usual anomalous experiences occurring during
hypnagogia, sleep paralysis has been associated with psychokinetic and near-
death experiences (Sherwood, 2002).
Evaluating the occurrence of psi phenomena, Sherwood (2002) con-
siders that hypnagogia may be both conducive to anomalous experiences
and misinterpreted as involving paranormal processes or agencies. There
have been only a handful of experiments exploring the production of psi
in these states, yet the results were positive and possibly better than dream
states for inducing psi in the laboratory (Sherwood, 2002). Nevertheless,
much further research in this area is required.
Moving into the less ambiguous middle sleep stages, much has been
done to identify their characteristics. Although it was once considered that
dreams almost only occur in rapid eye movement (REM) sleep, it is now
known from naturalistic studies that non-REM sleep also produces dreams
almost as often as during REM, although the dreams tend to be qualita-
tively different (e.g., Stickgold, Pace-Schott, & Hobson, 1994). In a review
of case collections of independently verified psi experiences, 33 to 68%
involved dreams, and in about a further 10% of cases, the percipient was
in a “borderland” awake/sleep state. Considering cases of telepathy,
approximately 25% involved dreams, whereas in precognition cases, in
which a future event is partially or totally foreseen, approximately 60%
involved dreams (Van de Castle, 1977). Females are approximately twice
as likely as males to be the percipient, whereas males are the agent in
approximately 60% of cases. Surveys from Europe, the United States,
Africa, Brazil, Puerto Rico, and India indicate that ostensible psychic
dream experiences are universal phenomena and are typically reported
by 36 to 76% of respondents (Alvarado, 1998; Van de Castle, 1977).
However, the mean percentage of people reporting ESP in dreams
(51.3%) does not differ significantly from those (48.7%) reporting waking
ESP experiences according to one review (Alvarado, 1998), although the
frequency of experience in either state may differ.
Unlike the individual reports of psychedelically induced anomalous
experiences, many of the case study collections reviewed by Van de Castle
(1977) have been filtered so that only those cases that have independent
verification have been included. Nevertheless, corroboration does not neg-
ate the possibility that the dreams are just unlikely chance occurrences.
However, Van de Castle (1977) notes that psychic dreams are frequently
362 Altering Consciousness
unusually vivid and intense, though clearly this does not make them unar-
guably genuine. Fortunately, there have been a host of experimental
approaches to researching psychic dreaming since Weserman’s (1819)
apparently partially successful attempt to induce specific dream images
in people naı̈ve to his attempts. The most concerted program of research
in recent years was instigated by Montague Ullman and collaborators at
the Maimonides Medical Centre in Brooklyn in 1962. The Maimonides
dream laboratory protocol made use of the recently discovered production
of dreams during REM and employed EEG to monitor the percipient’s
sleep stages. Once the percipient was asleep, a target image was selected
using a randomized process in a distant room from the percipient, and a
“sender” would concentrate on psychically transmitting the image to the
percipient in the sound-proof room. Percipients were woken during each
REM sleep period and then, under the free-response design, described
their dreams in as much detail as possible, each of which was recorded.
In the morning, the percipients would typically judge 8 or 12 art prints,
one of which was a duplicate of the target, and they would select the one
that most resembled their dreams of the previous night. Several indepen-
dent judges would also be sent the dream transcripts and images and
would rank them for correspondence. Rank scores were reduced to binary
hits or misses (Van de Castle, 1977).
The Maimonides program produced more than 50 research articles,
condensed for a popular book (Ullman, Kripnner, & Vaughan, 2002),
and the entire research output has been independently reviewed by several
researchers (Radin, 1997; Sherwood & Roe, 2003; Van de Castle, 1977)
with positive conclusions. Overall, the 15 studies returned a combined
hit rate of 63% compared to the chance rate of 50%, which, with more
than 300 trials, was highly significant (r ¼ .33, p ¼ .13 × 10−7; Radin,
1997). Despite some contentions from critics, which were successfully
rebutted, no plausible counterexplanations exist for the results (Roe,
2010; Sherwood & Roe, 2003). However, few exact replications have been
attempted because of a lack among later researchers of the resources that
were available to the Maimonides team. Alternatively, a number of con-
trolled but simplified conceptual replications have been conducted with-
out EEG monitoring by having percipients dream at home. These later
studies also incorporate clairvoyance designs, without a sender, and pre-
cognition designs, where the target is selected after the judging procedure.
In a review of 21 studies since 1977, the combined results of more than 400
trials were positive overall but with a smaller effect size (r ¼ .14) than the
combined Maimonides studies (Sherwood & Roe, 2003). Nevertheless,
there may be some good reasons why the Maimonides series was more
Anomalous Phenomena, Psi, and Altered Consciousness 363
successful than the later studies. Aside from waking up percipients during
REM, participants in the Maimonides experiments had been previously
screened for ability, whereas those in later studies were unselected. The
laboratory environment was also suspected to provide a stronger motiva-
tional factor for success (Roe, 2010). Overall, however, the Maimonides
and post-Maimonides dream ESP research has demonstrated the weak
but consistent ability of individuals to demonstrate psi during dreaming.
Meditation
Reaching back before Mesmer to antiquity, Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras
describe how psychic powers, called Siddhis, are a common side effect of
yoga but a distraction on the path to liberation. Such practices therefore
drew the attention of parapsychologists during the early 1970s (e.g., Honor-
ton, 1974). Somewhat supporting Patanjali’s claims, a random survey found
that the practice of meditation was significantly associated with reports of
OBEs, apparitions, and aura vision (Palmer, 1979). As discussed, surveys
have also produced consistent correlations between the report of anomalous
phenomena generally and kundalini-type experiences, which constitute a
syndrome of anomalous phenomena that may occur through the practice
of yoga or spontaneously (Luke, 2008). Theorizing why psi might be associ-
ated with meditation and other ASC, Honorton (1974) proposed the pro-
cess of relaxation, the passive state of mind, the inward turning of
attention, and an openness to others as “psi-conducive.” Consequently,
some researchers turned their attention toward meditation of all varieties
and conducted controlled psi experiments.
Honorton (1977) reviewed 16 studies testing either ESP or PK pub-
lished during the period between 1970 and 1976 and found 9 of these
to be independently significant, with all studies combined being highly
significant also (p ¼ 6 × 10 −12). Honorton’s findings in support of the
psi-conducive nature of meditation were later confirmed with a review of
six ESP studies conducted between 1978 and 1992, four of which were
significantly positive (Schmeidler, 1994). Reviewing the eight studies pub-
lished between 1971 and 1988 investigating PK—whereby psi is indicated
by significantly improbable deviations in random event generator (REG)
output during test periods—7 of the studies produced positive effects,
typically significantly different than control conditions (Braud, 1990).
This trend of a positive relationship between meditation, sometimes tested
Anomalous Phenomena, Psi, and Altered Consciousness 365
Ganzfeld Induction
Growing out of observations that ASC and perhaps even just relaxation
are conducive to psi, a new methodology was adopted in the early 1970s
to reduce the percipient’s sensory input so that attention could be turned
inward to mental content and imagery. The technique, called ganzfeld
(meaning whole field), involves covering the eyes of the percipients with
half ping-pong balls to diffuse the red light being used. White or pink
noise is played through headphones and the percipients rest in a comfort-
able chair and describe their imagery into a microphone, often after a
period of systematic relaxation. The reduced and homogenized sensory
input was thought to induce “sensory hunger” and be conducive to the
flow of spontaneous creative ideation and imagery (Roe, 2010). Typically,
while the percipient’s mentation was being recorded, a sender in a remote
location would be attempting to psychically transmit a particular image or
film clip to them, and after the session, the mentation would be blind
judged on its similarity to the target and three decoys.
Between 1974 and 2003, there were more than 100 formal ganzfeld
experiments performed at numerous laboratories, and various meta-
analyses of those have been conducted, though few methodologies in para-
psychology have caused as much controversy (Palmer, 2003). The ongoing
debate concerning the outcome of the ganzfeld studies is complex and will
be only very briefly summarized here. The original meta-analysis contro-
versy centered on the methodology being used up until the mid-1980s,
the outcome of which greatly improved the research protocol and resulted
in the development of an artifact-free automated technique termed the
auto-ganzfeld (Hyman & Honorton, 1986). The following auto-ganzfeld
meta-analysis a few years later produced positive and highly significant
results overall (Bem & Honorton, 1994), which satisfied critics at that time
that the statistical effect was genuine, though it was argued by them that
there must be some other, albeit unknown, explanation for the effect.
A new controversy emerged with an updated meta-analysis a few years
later that found no significant psi effect in the auto-ganzfeld (Milton &
Wiseman, 1999). This negative review was heavily criticized by other
researchers (e.g., Bem, Palmer, & Broughton, 2001), particularly for the
inclusion of “process-oriented” studies exploring novel aspects of the
ganzfeld protocol, such as a study with particularly negative results that
Anomalous Phenomena, Psi, and Altered Consciousness 367
explored the use of auditory targets instead of the standard visual ones.
Indeed, some of the studies included in the Milton and Wiseman meta-
analysis were specifically designed to “destroy test” the ganzfeld protocol
and had predicted impoverished results through the negative manipula-
tion of salient variables, and so arguably these should not have been
included in the meta-analysis (Roe, 2010). In response to this, a number
of independent judges were asked to rate the Milton and Wiseman meta-
analysis studies for standardness as ganzfeld studies, revealing a signifi-
cant positive correlation between study standardness and degree of suc-
cess (Bem, Palmer, & Broughton, 2001). Further, when those studies
rated below the mean on standardness were excluded, the meta-analysis
once again became highly significant. In addition, a further 10 studies
have been published during the period between 2000 and 2004 that pro-
vide a combined positive hit rate that is marginally significant (Roe, 2010).
Clearly, although the ganzfeld effect is detectable and arguably replicable,
it is barely large enough to consistently deflect critical accusations of non-
repeatability, and so the debate continues.
The latest addition to this debate sheds some light on the utility of the
ganzfeld procedure in comparison to other ASC induction procedures.
Storm, Tressoldi, and Di Risio (2010) conducted a meta-analysis compar-
ing homogenous free-response ESP studies published between 1992 and
2008, finding that the combined effect of the 29 ganzfeld studies from that
period was indeed significant (Stouffer Z ¼ 5.48, p ¼ 2.13 × 10−8) and
higher than the combined effect of 16 comparable nonganzfeld ASC
induction free-response studies, utilizing either meditation, dream psi,
relaxation or hypnosis (Stouffer Z ¼ 3.35, p ¼ 2.08 × 10−4). However,
the difference between the ganzfeld and other ASC induction procedure
studies was not significant. Nevertheless, compared to the combination
of 14 standard non-ASC free response studies (Stouffer Z ¼ –2.29,
p ¼ .989), the ganzfeld database was significantly more effective in elicit-
ing psi, although the ASC database was not, indicating that the ganzfeld
process at least is more psi conducive than normal waking consciousness.
Further, Storm, Tressoldi, and Di Risio (2010) report a highly significant
meta-analysis statistic for all the108 published ganzfeld studies up to
2008 (Stouffer Z ¼ 8.31, p < 10−16), perhaps affirming the effectiveness
of ganzfeld psi for the time being.
One concern salient to the current chapter is that few of the ganzfeld
studies have investigated the actual state of the percipient following induc-
tion, and it was generally assumed that the procedure generated a state
comparable to the dreamlike hypnagogia (Roe, 2010). However, when
the brain state of the ganzfeld was explored using EEG, it was found that
368 Altering Consciousness
of the experimenter’s own psi on the data. Similarly, comparing the results
of a meta-analysis of ordinary-state free-response ESP studies with the sig-
nificant auto-ganzfeld meta-analysis, the ganzfeld effect size was superior
to that of the non-ASC studies, but both significantly (Storm et al., 2010)
and not significantly so (Milton, 1997; but see Storm et al., 2010). Such
findings may be explainable by the small scale of the results being
compared, but they are still somewhat discouraging for the hypothesis
that ASC, other than the ganzfeld, are more conducive to psi, at least in
the laboratory.
Nevertheless, some researchers remain optimistic about the relation-
ship of ASC to ESP and indicate that such research would benefit hugely
from procedures that assess the degree to which the percipient is actually
in an altered state (Cardeña, 2009; Roe, 2010). In some cases, the degree
of shift in consciousness has correlated with ESP task performance, so this
would seem a valuable variable to monitor, although such an omission is
just one of a number of pitfalls common to ASC research generally. Other
concerns include the conflation of states with induction procedures, ill-
defined terminology, and the overlooking of individual differences and
the mutability of altered states (Cardeña, 2009). Potentially, however,
the study of psi and altered states can bear much fruit in helping us to
better understand the nature of both anomalous phenomena and ASC,
and therefore consciousness itself. Indeed, a good deal of the research on
ASC thus far has addressed ostensible anomalous events and/or has been
conducted by parapsychologists. The implications of this research for con-
sciousness studies per se are potentially enormous, as the findings fre-
quently challenge the materialist assumptions regarding the fundamental
nature of the relationship between brain and mind. It is here, in the
research at the limits of consciousness, that the most profound questions
concerning ontology are being asked.
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374 Altering Consciousness
Pehr Granqvist got his Ph.D. from Uppsala University, 2002, and is an
associate professor in developmental psychology at Stockholm University,
Sweden. His research has applied attachment theory to the psychology of
religion. For example, he has suggested that a propensity for experiencing
absorption mediates a relation between disorganized attachment and
certain spiritual experiences.
Steven Laureys, M.D., Ph.D., heads the Coma Science Group, www
.comascience.org, Department of Neurology and Cyclotron Research
Center of the University and University Hospital of Liège, Belgium. He is
a senior research associate at the Belgian National Fund of Scientific
Research and invited professor at the Belgian Royal Academy of Sciences.
About the Contributors 381
Fred Previc, Ph.D., is a lecturer at Texas A&M – San Antonio and a con-
sultant for Wyle, Inc. For more than 25 years, he performed research with
the Air Force Research Laboratory and various contractors in San Antonio.
His Ph.D. is in experimental psychology and his expertise is primarily in
cognitive neuroscience, human factors, and aviation psychology.
Positive emotions, and brain structures, 358–60; positive and negative impacts,
72–73 36; scientific study, 124–26
Possession, 312–13 Psychic experiences, 308; therapeutic
Postictal period, temporal lobe epileptic recommendations, 294, 309
seizure, 64, 65 Psychoactive drugs, 24; and neuronal
Posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD): reward system, 179
depersonalization, 288; emotional Psychobiological systems, neonate, 214
shifts, 293 Psychointegrative plants, 154
Prana, 199 Psychokinesis (PK), 294, 355–56; and
Precognition: and dreaming, 361; hypnosis, 363
psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy, Psychological Dimensions of Sexual
358 Experience Inventory (PDOSEI),
Prefrontal cortex (PFC): adolescent 199–200, 202; ecstatic states, 201
remodeling, 223; awareness of Psychopathology: ASC presence,
emotions, 73; in meditation, 348 285t–86t; diagnostic taxonomies, 284,
Prenatal experience, 161–62 287; mood alterations, 290–91;
Prepersonal experiences, 318 narrowing of consciousness, 287; sense
“Presence” experience, 249 of self alterations, 288–90;
Previc, Fred, 167 sociocultural context, 283
Priestly, Joseph, 23 Psychopharmacology, 36–37
Prince, R. H., 302 Psychosexual stages of development,
Principles of Psychology, The (James), 22 Freud, 193
Protective mechanisms: cultural practices, Psychotherapy, and addiction treatment,
14; exogenous agents use, 14; 176
information inflow balance, 13–14; Psychotic-like episodes, positive
meditation, 14; natural rhythmicity, outcomes, 301
12–13; physiological, 13 Psychotic/mystical/religious experience,
Psi, defined, 355 302–3; differences between, 314–16,
Psi phenomena, 355–56; in crisis 318; phenomenology, 303–4; spiritual
situations, 280; ganzfeld induction, emergencies, 314
366–68; and hypnosis, 363–64; and Psychotomimetic drugs, 33; experience
meditation, 364–66; psychedelically dimensions, 338
induced, 357–60; and sleep, Psychotria viridis, 100, 101f
360–63; states and traits, 368–69; Putnam, F. W., 295
therapeutic recommendations, Pyramidal cells: cortex, 133; 5-HT2a
294, 309 receptor sites, 134; and
Psilocin (4-hydroxy-DMT), 47, 51, 100; hallucinogens, 138
chemical structure, 100t; U.S. studies,
53 Qi, circulation in daoist yoga, 197
Psilocybe mushrooms, 33, 101 Qigong, 311
Psilocybin, 124, 126; and bodily
consciousness, 252; chemical structure, Rabaris, shamanism, 337, 341
130f; entity encounter experiences, 359 Randal, P, 341
Psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy, ESP Raphe nuclei, 133, 135; and
occurrence, 358 hallucinogens, 138; REM sleep, 130;
Psychedelic experience, facets, 95 tryptamine hallucinogens, 131
Psychedelics, 33, 34, 121–22; addiction Rational consciousness, 11 years +, 212
treatment, 113–14, 153, 176; and ESP, Reactive psychosis, 287
396 Index