direct their energy back into the spine for the pursuit of self-knowledge.
Silence practiced in combination with solitude has additional ascetic benefits: freedom from the
influence of company that may inhibit the will to question patterns of belief, uproot habits, and
advance intuitively. Solitude is best approached moderately at the start, by remaining in a quiet
place for a few hours one day a week. Over time, solitude may be observed for a few hours
every morning or evening. During more extended periods of solitude, special precautions should
be taken to avert violent catharses. With the removal of comfortable references, prolonged
solitude practiced without proficiency in concentration techniques can cause fading patterns to
overload the psyche before finally resolving into currents of energy to be directed toward the
spine.
Sexual continence, the third aspect of balanced living, has historically been practiced by
ascetics to attain freedom from sensory limitations. This practice simply requires short periods of
abstaining from sexual orgasm for men and bearing fewer children for women. In the Dark
Ages, this practice devolved into unhealthy extremes of celibacy. Social scientists have found
that puritanical attitudes toward sex, imposed by either organized religion or society, often lead
directly to violence, misogyny, and psychological difficulties, as well as reactive preoccupations
with pornography and fanatical forms of sexual misconduct.
Candidates for moderate sexual continence are therefore people with a balanced attitude
toward sex, their partners, and family planning. Infants and adolescents who are given plenty of
love and physical affection to support their emotional growth are more likely than their deprived
counterparts to develop healthy, normal sexual appetites later in life. Similarly, in households
lacking prohibitions against premarital sex and the glorification of progeny, youths are less likely
to associate sex with violent emotions, suppressed desires, and religious decrees.
Despite beliefs to the contrary, if you have a healthy attitude toward lovemaking, periods of
continence can improve your sex life, instill greater respect for your partner, support the family
unit in an era of dwindling resources, and conserve energy for inward focusing. You can begin
to practice continence for one week a month, perhaps during the menstrual cycle. Over time,
you might observe sixteen or more weeks of celibacy a year. Men will consider ejaculating less
frequently when progeny are not desired and women will conserve energy by having fewer
children.
The important point to keep in mind while developing commonsense asceticism is that the
necessities of life are just that—necessities. Making too much or too little of them fosters
imbalances. As the theory of self suggests, enormous amounts of energy are available when
needs are regulated by never completely satisfying them yet also not ignoring them. Regarding
sex, for instance, energy conserved through continence can be easily wasted in sexual
frustrations resulting from excessive abstinence. Regulations in practices involving food,
speech, and sex alike guarantee the slow removal of poor living habits and promote a balanced
life that encourages spiritual investigation.
Asceticism came natural to me despite the fact that it was not introduced in a scientific manner
pertaining to the technology of intuition. Instead of the emphasis being on energy conservation,
asceticism was taught to me as a health or lifestyle choice. The alternative to it was the
“householder” life, the very archaic distinction disregarding the way in which its practice
dovetailed with intuition. Effectively, enormous amounts of nervous energy are available to us
when we practice ascetic methods. While pursuits other than intuition, such as artistic, athletic,
and service-oriented ones, can effectively utilize the energy freed by asceticism, nothing entirely
sublimates all available nervous energy like the practice of intuition.
I began asceticism with periods of fasting, its coernerstone technique. Though I hardly gave
food much thought in my life, suddenly I found tremendous urges and hunger after a little
fasting. I did not expect deep-seeded habits to erupt so vengefully in response to a day without
food. Eventually, I became habituated to eating less without a thought given to fasting. I
experienced the same defensive response in relation to silence, solitude, and continence. And
again, as habits shifted, asceticism in relation to speaking, company, and sex became
increasingly easy. While I did note some health benefits to ascetic practices, the distinction
between practicing intuition with and without asceticism was evidence enough that asceticism is
squarely defined as energy conservation.
Truth seekers subscribing to the theory of self in lieu of projecting the power of their awareness
and attention outward toward a centralized religion, will find that the multitude of energy patterns
triggered internally by thoughts, beliefs, feelings, and actions can instead be centralized along
the spine for greater access to intuitive knowledge. Then the body becomes the house of God,
and the cerebrospinal axis the altar. Seekers embracing this theory of self may also discover
that despite an inherent longing for personal immortality, any hope for its emergence is
unreasonable: the body dies and returns to the elements, and no belief in resurrection, heaven,
or Judgment Day can possibly reconstitute it. At the same time, since division of awareness
within the infinite substance of self is a causal idea ontologically prior to the evolution of the
body, the eventual dissolution of a plant, animal, or human being does not affect the sense of
self individuated prior, which could still be intuited by another body. In effect, we may all be
intuiting ever-expanding selves that were previously intuited by the nervous systems of other
bodies. Meanwhile personal immortality, which by definition exceeds the reach of time-bound
individuated selves, is secured not through hope but through the transpersonal substance of self
that remains forever free of division. Satisfaction in the here and now comes from intuitively
knowing this eternal substance rather than merely piecing together the mortal self gleaned from
sensory data. All peace, calmness, and contentment lie within and can be felt by enlivening the
spine and brain’s innate intuitive faculty.
Beyond the realm of causal ideas, there has never been an individuated self, nor could there
ever be anything but the infinite and indivisible substance of self. The cosmos, like an iceberg of
prana with a visible tip of atomic matter floating in a sea of causal ideas, in which the sea and
the iceberg are made of the same infinite substance of awareness, can only know itself as one
indivisible being despite its multifarious appearances to our senses. Consequently, from the
vantage point of the theory of self, the doctrine of individuated selves, while useful as a model,
is nonviable, leaving us with the challenge of imagining a reality far wider and wiser than any
that holds out the promise of personal immortality.
Going Straight to God through Energy Control
At some point, the body and mind together become fundamentally aware and convinced that the
energy by which the body is pervaded is the same as that which illuminates the world and
maintains alive all beings.
—Joseph Campbell
In ancient ascetic traditions, intuition was a highly guarded science whose techniques were not
so much invented in any one locale as continuously rediscovered and communicated from age
to age and place to place. The techniques involved accessing the path to the brain via the spine
by controlling the body’s energies. By the time the Bhagavad Gita was written, in about the fifth
century BCE, Indian techniques of intuition were already ancient. Today, the science of intuition
is called pranayama, loosely meaning energy (prana) expansion (ayama) in the service of
liberating nervous energy from habituated sense-bound routines, the name fittingly given to it by
the Indian yogis who devised and codified its techniques.
India, home to the oldest continuing civilization on earth, was a mecca for seekers of knowledge
in the ancient world. India’s Vedic Aryans systematized many intuitive and material sciences
after exhaustively investigating the human mind through the lenses of ontology, physiology, and
psychology, as can be seen in Sanskrit’s wealth of technical nomenclature. So extensive is this
body of knowledge that it dwarfs every other mystical system known to humanity, and
pranayama was the Indian yogis’ priceless pearl, their intuitive technology par excellence.
In developing pranayama, ancient yogis studied the relationship between patterns of nervous
energy and awareness, eventually utilizing the breath to direct nervous energy toward the spine
and realize intuitive self-knowledge. Systematic regulation of the breath, they found, ultimately
allows humans to intuit a more expansive self. In fact, the terms for breath, wind, spirit, and soul
are the same in many languages, reflecting their intimate connection.
From a broader perspective, pranayama becomes a scientific approach to life and truth seeking.
Based on universal principles of electromagnetism rather than on local beliefs or mythic ideals,
its practice requires no particular affiliation, tithing, or intercession. It considers the human body
the only temple of God, or spiritual laboratory, and the substance of awareness the only source
of absolute self-knowledge. Unlike religions, pranayama has no founder or recognized authority
to validate its power; nor does it promote divisiveness, exclusivity, or factional political and
economic interests. As with other material sciences, only sincere experimentation can provide or
refute evidence of its efficacy.
Pranayama empowers spiritual investigators by offering techniques that enhance receptivity to
intuitive knowledge. Genuine yogis, aware of its experimental nature, give guidance in these
techniques free of charge. They feel it is unethical to claim their theory can be verified only
through practice and then charge for teaching it. Such ethical considerations, combined with the
felt need to lessen material indulgences and responsibilities in the service of conserving energy,
probably gave rise during the Dark Ages to the Indian paragon of the wandering ascetic.
The goal of pranayama is liberation of the intuited sense of self from its bondage to sensory
conditioning. This objective emerges directly from the theory of self’s assertion that human
beings lack the sensory apparatus to register the cosmos as infinite substance. Certainly the
sense organs, no matter how strengthened or purified they are, can record only finite gross
forms and overt forces, all of which are then interpreted by the mind. As a result, the idea of self
derived from interactions with the phenomenal world is tailored to fit the parameters of incoming
sensory data and the mind’s conditioned interpretations of them.
Sense perceptions are further limiting because they suggest that the world of matter moving in
time is absolutely real, prompting understandings that narrow the likelihood of intuiting an
expansive identity. The senses portray a world consisting of categories of phenomena, such as
forests and oceans, friends and strangers, stars and planets, pleasure and pain, hours and
years. The constant play between the individuated self and the senses, as mediated by the
mind, stirs up endless installments of human drama, yielding an ever-flickering sense of self.
However, while the world may appear real to the senses, the theory of self purports that time is
an illusion and space is the misperception of the mind seeking to make sense of staggered
phenomena; nothing out there is solid other than the infinite substance of self registered by the
narrow bandwidth of the human senses as a finite cosmos fragmented into bits of space-time.
For the intuitive scientist, eternity emerges the moment the senses are withdrawn and the
mind-made illusions of space, time, causality, and individuation are eliminated. Along with
eternity of substance comes the awareness of an ever-expanding sense of self.
A third difficulty of a worldview composed exclusively of sensory data is that it can lead to
obsessions with survival instincts, material acquisitiveness, short-term gains, momentary
pleasures, and exploitation of people and natural resources. On the other hand, self-knowledge
gleaned through periodic disassociation from sensory input reveals that awareness is nonfinite
and omnipresent regardless of the finite, circumscribed reality portrayed by the senses. Further,
this superconscious self-knowledge, as opposed to conscious material knowledge obtained
from the senses, provides access to a broader perspective on the meaning of existence, which
heightens spiritual sensitivities. Present world conditions, punctuated by war, extreme
inequities, and sectarianism, indicate an urgent need to integrate into human ambitions a larger
understanding of life born of superconscious self-knowledge.
Differences between sensory perceptions and superconscious self-knowledge can be illustrated
by the following analogy. Suppose you move to a small mountain town and while driving around
you spot the local church. Stepping inside, you acquaint yourself with members of the
congregation. A few weeks later, you meet several couples who are indifferent to churches,
living in the town only seasonally to enjoy its weather and views. Months later, you encounter
people who are rebelling against the church’s overzealous proselytizing campaigns that are
disrupting the peace of the town. Guided by your sensory perceptions, you begin identifying with
the group that most closely mirrors your beliefs and past sensory conditioning.
Now imagine you have moved to the same town as someone intuiting superconscious
self-knowledge. While exploring, you notice a building adorned with traditional religious
emblems and become acquainted with people who congregate in it, a seemingly select group
bound together by a shared physiomagnetism manifesting in their appreciation of the symbols
and beliefs they represent. A few weeks later, you meet several couples who are indifferent to
such gatherings, turning instead to nature for its ability to release patterns of stress and offer a
form of rejuvenation unconditionally available to everyone. Months later, you encounter
townspeople whose ideas of self battle attempts to divide their fellow citizens into those who do
or do not find psychological nourishment and physiological comfort in the religious triggers. Your
superconscious knowledge allows you to identify with everyone in town since they are all a part
of your expansive self. At the same time, you note that whereas the churchgoers have equated
the eternal self with their finite religious sense of self, the rebels, professing expansiveness,
mistake the churchgoers for their narrow religious sense of self. Meanwhile, the nature lovers
have confused the eternal self with rejuvenation through nature. In all instances, including your
personal situation, you acknowledge the same self seeking its origin in eternal
substance—demonstrating a certain degree of superconscious self-knowledge.
Pranayama seeks to liberate the narrowly intuited sense of self by converting thoughts, feelings,
and actions into inner focal points of concentration leading to superconscious self-knowledge.
Every form of meditation, worship, prayer, and breath regulation that directs nervous energy to a
cerebrospinal plexus comes under the rubric of pranayama. Even sitting in prayer with palms
pressed together at the chest is pranayama since it harnesses nervous energy, applies the
antenna of the hands to improve the receptivity of the heart, develops magnetism in the spine’s
dorsal plexus behind the heart, and shifts the awareness from finite sensory perceptions to
intuitive understandings of the infinite substance of self.
Even so, pranayama’s efficacy varies from one technique to the next. Prayer is generally an
extremely weak form of pranayama since sensory and memory preoccupations tend to thwart
concentration, inhibiting the retirement of nervous energy into the spine to expand the sense of
self. Meditation utilizing repetitive statements, such as mantras or unanswerable questions, can
be somewhat stronger. Deep thinking, inward philosophical observation, and introspection on
the parameters of the self usually offer more vigorous assistance in rising above body
awareness. Concentration exercises like watching the breath are routinely taught to beginners,
while techniques utilizing an outer object of concentration develop into more advanced methods
of inward listening at a cerebrospinal plexus. Methods combining localized tension,
concentration on the plexuses, breath regulation, and moderate breath retention are
considerably more powerful. The most potent techniques are applied once the breath has been
stilled, the senses switched off, and the awareness effortlessly centered in the cerebrospinal
axis.
Pranayama’s most important application is the enlivening of the brain’s intuitive faculties so
practitioners can identify with the infinite substance of self. Though the enormous intuitive
faculty of the brain is largely unused, the investment of more and more nervous energy utilizes
it, much as nervous energy directed toward muscles will flex and build them. Pranayama
exercises the brain specifically through regulation of the nervous energy responsible for
thoughts, emotions and desires, motor responses, sensory awareness, breathing, heartbeat and
pulse—empowering practitioners to switch the senses on and off at will. With nervous energy
routed into the spine and brain, the sense of self dependent on identification with the body
becomes dislodged and cerebral intuitive awareness awakens.
Human beings unwittingly practice forms of pranayama while yawning, laughing, and sleeping.
Yawning temporarily floods the body with energy. When the mouth opens wide, the throat
expands, allowing more air to enter the lungs, and the muscles at the top of the neck
surrounding the medulla oblongata tense as the yawner momentarily holds the breath before
exhaling. Similarly, pranayama techniques involve the intake of air with expansion of the throat,
maintenance of localized tension at the medulla oblongata, and retention of breath. The major
difference between yawning and these formal techniques is their extreme invigoration of the
spine and brain resulting from the regulation of far greater amounts of nervous energy. While
yawning protects against drowsiness, pranayama techniques combat the sleep of spiritual
ignorance.
Laughter’s parallels with pranayama are equally striking. During laughter, the body instinctively
begins to exhale in a choppy fashion, akin to pranayama techniques that employ multiple
exhalations to expel bodily waste in the form of carbon dioxide, resulting in increased vitality and
longevity. Smiles that accompany laughter produce tension in the scalp, ears, and skull,
directing energy toward the brain and inducing a feeling of joy and well-being. Likewise,
pranayama practices utilize tension to direct vast amounts of nervous energy to the brain,
activating its near-limitless intuitive potential and bestowing the eternal peace and joy of the
substance of self.
Sleep shares still other characteristics with pranayama. While sleep relaxes the senses by
submerging body awareness in subconsciousness, pranayama ensures a rest for the senses by
dissolving body awareness in superconsciousness. In the first instance, nervous energy is
directed to the lower spine, where the individual is subconsciously reminded of the expansive
self free from diurnal duties and physical cravings; in the second, nervous energy is centered in
the upper spine and brain, providing direct superconscious reminder of the infinite self. During
sleep the body also produces less carbon waste to be eliminated through inhalation of
oxygen-rich air. Likewise, pranayama reduces carbon waste through immobility, then floods the
body with the nervous energy released from sensory absorptions, electrifying the system and
stilling the breath as carbon waste is further eliminated.
Even animals routinely practice varieties of pranayama. Felines curl and extend their tongues to
keep cool in summer, similar to a pranayama technique in which practitioners develop a cooling
breath by inhaling through the “tube” cre- ated by a curled tongue. And whereas the eyes of
sleepers droop downward, those of deceased creatures look upward, like the pranayama
upward-gazing techniques used to induce states of stillness conducive to the reception of
superconscious self-knowledge. Also, many animals hibernate by lowering their breathing and
heart rates for extended periods of time without suffering brain damage or dying. Bears, for
instance, simultaneously direct the movement of nervous energy in their bodies, much like
pranayama techniques that accompany breath regulation designed to overcome sensory
flooding. When pranayama practitioners achieve a comparable state of suspended animation,
the breathing stills and superconscious awareness is maintained. Just as people do not worry
about dying during sleep though they are breathing less, neither do practitioners of pranayama
concern themselves with dying when the breath and heart are calmed.
A central principle distinguishing pranayama from the innate practices of humans and animals is
deliberate cerebrospinal magnetization. Currents of nervous energy passing through the spine
and brain produce physiomagnetism. Techniques that increase oxygen saturation in the blood
to nearly 100 percent convert excess oxygen into a powerful nerve current capable of
regenerating and magnetizing the cerebrospinal plexuses. Beginning practitioners direct this
current toward the spine through concentration, breath regulation, breath retention, postures
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