Taking as their (meta)physical starting point a dual-aspect monism, which posits a unitary psychophysical reality that appears to us in distinct subjective and objective dimensions, Miskovic and Lynn undertake a remarkable dual-aspect examination of the mind/brain across the vast spectrum of conscious experience, combining the outside-in approach of contemporary neuroscience with the phenomenological, inside-out cartographies of the mind developed by some of the world’s great contemplative and mystical traditions. Exploring a litany of conscious states and influences—waking, dreaming, sensory deprivation, psychedelics, meditation, and Minimal Phenomenal Experience (MPEs)—the authors plumb the depths of neurophenomenology in both of its modalities, towards that mysterious point where subject and object, mind and brain, converge: the First-Order reality which one can only know—according to Vedanta, Buddhism, Christian mysticism, Sufism, and other contemplative movements—by becoming.
Miskovic and Lynn dispel two misunderstandings about the nature of the brain and its relationship to the so-called external world typical of what they call “naïve realism,” the prevailing “common sense” view: first, that the exterior world impresses itself upon the brain like a seal on wax, with the brain receiving and responding to the world more-or-less as it is “out there”; and relatedly, that the brain is in more direct contact with the reality “out there” when we are awake and presumably interacting with an objective environment outside of ourselves than it is when we are dreaming or fantasizing. In fact, most neural activity is spontaneous or intrinsic; the overwhelming majority of what the brain is doing at any given moment is part of a multitiered conversation with itself rather than a direct response to external stimuli. The projection areas of the cortex involved in the immediate reception of sense data are like small islands in the midst of vast association areas, wherein multiple modes of sensory data are integrated and a more elaborate model of a self in a world (the two are co-originate) is developed. 95 to 98 percent of white matter fibers, the brain’s synaptic wiring, connect the cortex to itself rather than to the outside world.
Instead of operating through a simple input-output mechanism, as would a machine, the human cortex, being more evolutionarily recent and internally oriented, offset from the immediacy of sense impressions and free from sensorimotor demands, functions more like what the authors call a “vast Imaginarium,” conjuring up by its own lights an array of forms that we experience subjectively as thoughts, memories, fantasies, counterfactuals, and the very psychic components we habitually take to be constitutive of an autobiographical self, a discrete individual personality which unites past, present, and future. Neurologically, this interior array of conscious contents corresponds to the Default Mode Network (DMN), so-named because its activity is most salient during the majority of our waking (and sleeping) hours when the mind is at rest and consciousness is inwardly withdrawn. What’s more, this Imaginarium is not only responsible for our inner worlds; it also accounts for virtually all of what we experience “out there” in what we take to be external reality.
Our brains did not evolve to give us access to reality as it is, the Kantian noumenon, but rather to simulate a model of reality conducive to our survival and reproductive success. The content of everything we perceive—all the shapes, colors, textures, tastes, sounds, and smells—are not primarily impressions from the outside in, but projections from the inside out: the world as we know it is constructed by the brain and given the illusion of exteriority; a phenomenon called projicience, which remains little understood. The brain is a “self-evidencing system,” referring to an exterior reality by rearranging its interior components. It is an index of symbols which mediate our entire experience of reality. The basic constituents or building blocks of this simulation—a catalogue which the authors refer to as our “neuro-mental dictionary”—are the product of an evolutionary history stretching back 500 million years to the Cambrian explosion, a period of rapid diversification in which the phyla of nearly all the animals that have ever lived first appeared, and which saw an increase in the complexity of neural organization that likely corresponded to the earliest rudiments of conscious experience; and beyond that, to the primordial emergence of interiority with the appearance of cell membranes some 3.7 billion years ago. We are the inheritors of a “500-million-year-old virtual reality simulator.”
The contents of this neuro-mental dictionary form the common substrate of both waking and dreaming consciousness. The brain uses the same elements to build the dreamworlds we enter while asleep, the “common world” we inhabit while awake—the κοινος κοσμος of Heraclitus—and the private imaginings we entertain at all times. The only difference between waking and dreaming perception is that in the former state the predictive models conjured by higher-order systems like the aforementioned Default Mode Network are refined by sense data, while in the latter they are given freer reign.*
While the proposition that we are virtual selves inhabiting a virtual world simulated by the brain/mind can potentially open the door to solipsism and nihilism, Miskovic and Lynn point out that the ancient contemplative traditions complement the insight provided by the objective standpoint of neuroscience and supply what is lacking in it. Many traditional cultures have long held that the taxonomies of being and consciousness are one and the same; that the world and self of our naïve perception is, if not wholly illusory, something relative and conditional, arising from what Dzogchen Buddhism describes as the Base of manifestation which transcends all distinction, and thus all language and discursion; that the edifice of thoughts, emotions, memories, desires, and fears to which we habitually cling, and which typically form our conception of our own identity, can become a prison that cuts us off from First-Order reality in its simplicity, presence, and ever-newness.
It is curious that the same awareness of the ephemerality of the perceptual world that induces in many modern people a pervasive sense of futility and unreality has more often fostered in contemplatives a deep sense of peace and universal compassion. I suppose this is because contemplative practice entails ascending from apparent separativity and unreality to an absolute reality from which all things emerge and in which all things are united. Rather than stopping with the objective mode of perception which sees only insurmountable distinction and disconnection, both from one another and from reality, the contemplative goes one level deeper down the rabbit hole and intuits the ultimate coincidence between the distinctive property of the object and the unitive property of the subject; a deeper subjectivity which, unlike the conventional, autobiographical model of the self, does not exclude the objective dimension from itself and thereby reintroduce duality.
Mystics know that there is a reality “beyond the skull,” to which we can be united and in which we are already united with each other; hence the conjoinment in the Mahayana between the bodhisattva’s personal liberation and that of all beings, and the biblical insight that love of God and neighbor are inseparable. But this knowledge cannot be of a cognitive kind; language and concepts presuppose a distinction between subject and object. Even the gnosis of the ancient communities retrospectively labeled as “gnostic” connotes knowledge as something akin to “acquaintanceship” rather than knowledge of a fact. The apogee of contemplative practice is mystical union: a knowing-through-identity. Whatever one’s metaphysical beliefs or lack thereof, I think our culture would do well to recover an appreciation for mysticism and the mystery to which it bears witness today as it has for millennia.
* We still incorporate some sensory input into our dreams, for instance when we dream of a monster growling at us and wake up to the sound of a dog barking.