before my eyes as grossly substantial and necessary for my survival and livelihood, but the
underlying currency is my pattern of self-awareness. In every exchange that required me to
distance my power, I partook of the resulting sense of self. But when I gradually centralize
power within, the intuited larger self “bartered” with the world on new level, eventually reflecting
my inner physiomagnetic power in outward manifestations of sociomagnetic power. Instead of
earth reflecting heaven, our true power in the world is eventually a reflection of our inner power,
no longer distance to centralized institutions.
The claim of the ancients that intuition frees human beings from conditioned existence is
comprehensible when conditioning is perceived in terms of electrophysiological patterns of
limiting awareness that were recorded in response to sensory stimuli. Intuitive methods disrupt
these patterns and reroute them to the more sophisticated cerebral plexus, further developing
intuition and liberating the practitioner from the dominance of historical and cultural influences,
value biases, and other effects of finite conditioning that pervade society like radiation. Finally,
impulses of social activism arise with the awareness that it is possible to encourage others in
society to embrace methods for expanding the sense of self—an understanding of self in society
that can unfold only with a focus on one’s spiritual power no longer distanced to centralized
religion.
A New Myth to Spark Social Reform
Wherever we go, whatever we do,
self is the sole subject we study and learn.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
Just as a stream of myths seeded social change throughout human history, so too can a new
myth invigorate social reform in every generation. To succeed, attempts to formulate and
introduce a new myth require an understanding of how social reform occurs and how
mythologies operate. Many myths of the past persist, shaping overly simplistic ways of thinking
in today’s exceedingly complex world. In replacing them, care must be taken to avoid proposing
lofty solutions that would be equally impossible to implement.
The pragmatic applications of the theory of self suggest it might play several roles in the delivery
of a new myth. For one, the theory of self asserts that physiological patterns of the majority of
people in any group dominate its general landscape. In totalitarian states, where dictators or
extremist political parties impose their agendas through feigned patriotism, nationalistic
sentiments, and warnings of social chaos, the masses’ societal sense of self is generally riddled
with patterns of fear, bigotry, or greed. Due to their sheer abundance, these patterns rule, at
times overpowering the determination of the few people actively resisting the fascistic agendas.
For social reform to take place, individuals with strong creative magnetism would need to
gradually shift the magnetism of the majority toward patterns of fearlessness, inclusiveness, and
sacrifice for humanity—patterns that ignite decentralization of political, economic, and religious
power. Since progress depends on the combined magnetism of the masses, all types of social
change are obliged to take a bottom-up approach.
The theory of self further proposes that when pattern shifts reach a critical mass, social reform is
inevitable. This means social reform ultimately reflects changed patterns of thinking,
interpreting, and responding to circumstances, along with a more expansive societal sense of
self. For example, where a poorly educated majority is consistently oppressed and the resulting
physiological patterns of deprivation and desperation reach a critical mass, they unleash violent
reformations in the societal sense of self, which may come to expression in political executions,
looting, and the destruction of cultural antiquities, as occurred during revolutions in France,
Russia, and China during the last few centuries and as occurring today in the Islamic State. If
instead reform is to come about through nonviolent means, the critical mass would have to
mount gradually within the majority, mimicking the expansive magnetism of creative individuals
who, rather than reacting blindly to the oppression, respond to it by embodying expansive
ethical ideals such as forgiveness, patience, and equanimity.
Sociospiritual reformers employing the theory of self might first assess the opposing forces of
expansion and contraction on individuals, paying particular attention to religion’s mythic forces
that directly affect the majority. In the last book he completed in his lifetime, Inner Reaches of
Outer Space, religious scholar Joseph Campbell writes, “One of the first concerns of the elders,
prophets, and established priesthoods of tribal or institutionally oriented mythological systems
has always been to limit and define the permitted field of expression of [the] expansive faculty of
the heart, holding it to a fixed focus within the field exclusively of the ethnic monad, while
deliberately directing outward every impulse to violence.”22 Reflecting the expansiveness of the
substance of self, the natural tendency of the hearts of all creatures is to broaden. But, as
Campbell points out, instead of encouraging followers to expand the sense of identity beyond
ethnic confines, the spokespeople of organized religions often warn against it.
Avowing that the old myths advocating exclusivity be replaced by a new vision of the cosmos
reflecting the expansive tendency of the heart, Campbell inquires: “The old gods are dead or
dying and people everywhere are searching, asking: What is the new mythology to be, the
mythology of this unified earth as of one harmonious being?”23 In the course of considering
such a vision, Campbell devotes significant discussion to pranayama’s scientific approach and
cross-cultural practice. He theorizes that human spirituality universally revolves around an inner
battle against the narrow self, won through retiring the energy of the body, thoughts, and senses
into the spine and up to the brain, and that outer wars result when the narrow self rules,
inhibiting expansion of the heart.
Interpretations of religious myths underscore this idea. For example, progressive Muslim
scholars claim that jihad represents an internal battle against the little self, yet others explain
jihad as warfare against nonbelievers. A Sufi mystic battling the small ego will cease to identify
with divisive teachings because they cause contraction inwardly. Likewise, a spiritual
investigator would reject the unquestioned authority of the Qur’an and other scriptural writings,
recognizing that only intuition, not printed books, can reveal the expansive nature of the infinite
substance of self. Campbell echoes the theory of self in his sentiment that humanitarian and
therefore universal interpretations of religious myths, along with an understanding of
pranayama, would play an important role in the new mythology encouraging global social
reform. Unfortunately, he does not say how pranayama might be introduced to the masses.
Before attempting to formulate a myth capable of inspiring social reform, it is important to
comprehend how myths function. They are not accounts of past events but rather notions of
self, the world, and reality. As such, myths ironically end up functioning as metaphors for
humanity’s primal urges toward eternal awareness, knowledge, and happiness. Myths are
complex, but many people today give them reductionist interpretations, perhaps because they
are too contracted to perceive how even rival myths reveal cross-cultural similarities among
human beings.
Religious scholars use the term “supertrue” to denote the universal merit of certain myths.
Calling a myth supertrue, however, can divert attention away from the super untruths and violent
attitudes it embodies. For instance, the Jesus myth’s portrayal of Christ is upheld as a
supertruth because it serves as a model of humanity’s universal quest for eternal life. Yet
concealed beneath this branding is the myth’s divisive insistence that failure to employ the
image of Jesus as a focal point of devotion will consign nonbelievers to an eternal hell. When
this exclusive aspect of the myth remains hidden, so too does the accompanying narrowness of
the societal sense of self that invests in the myth in order to acquire a secure identity in a largely
precarious world.
Rival myths, when allowed to coexist, easily retain the metaphoric power of their divine images.
That is, if two people adopt contradictory histories of Jesus both images can still serve as focal
points of concentration. Competing historical details fail to dilute the power of a mythic image
because they are immaterial to it. Saint Francis and others had no need even to know the
details of Jesus’s life in order to worship their ideal of God in the form of Jesus. Neither historical
details nor lack of them necessarily diminishes the mythic stature of figures like Christ. Myths
thus function not only as metaphors for humanity’s innermost aspirations but as mirrors
reflecting the idea of self. For example, Mary Magdalene was at times portrayed as an upright
woman close to Jesus; at other times she was depicted as a whore, a mythic model of impurity
made pure by the grace of Jesus. Today she is interpreted as an upright woman whose image
was tainted by misogynistic church leaders. It was not Mary, if she ever existed, who changed
but rather people’s tendency to venerate or revile the shifting mythic image—that is, their ways
of thinking about themselves.
Another myth nearly transparent in its reflective capacity is that of the Buddha and his Four
Noble Truths. The first truth states that human existence is one of suffering; a spiritual
investigator working within the theory of self might interpret this suffering as a direct result of the
narrow self with its shallow pleasures and short-lived joys that limit human awareness to
sensory impressions of the body. The second truth, that suffering is caused by desires, might be
explained as follows: since eating and bathing require desires, the only way out of all desires
would be to kill ourselves, which itself requires a desire that would then lead to suffering. Hence,
the Buddha must be referring to the desires of the narrow, illusory self. The third truth asserts
that there is a way out of suffering; the spiritual investigator might decipher this to mean that
since desires are the cause of suffering, distinguishing between narrow desires and those of an
expansive sense of self will resolve the second truth’s contradiction of desiring to be free of
desire. The fourth truth, the Buddha’s Eight-Fold Path, might then be interpreted as signifying
the spiritual desire to uproot narrowing desires and identities and expand the sense of self.
However we decipher the myth of the Buddha and his Four Noble Truths, our interpretation
depends on the idea of self we are entertaining at the time. Even our attraction or aversion to it
hinges on how we think of ourselves.
The fact that the three major monotheistic faiths— Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—worship
the same God scripturally yet interpret God so differently suggests that mythic images of God
likewise reflect diverse ideas of self. This would explain why despite the belief in a common
God, a worshipper narrowly associated with one faith is unable to identify with someone of
another faith. For instance, use of the mythic image of Abraham to unite Muslims and Jews has
failed because the two groups cannot agree on the details of Abraham’s life; and the conflicting
details, authored by different ideas of self, parallel the very animosity expressed in the groups’
current life situations. Jews say that Muslims distorted their original stories of Abraham, not
realizing that their Abraham myth arose out of an ancient narrow sense of identity influenced by
prior myths and maintained today through repitition. Any of religion’s mythic images, whether of
Abraham, the Buddha, Mary Magdalene, Jesus, or God, can only be interpreted to suit the self
of the interpreters, who simultaneously project their ideas of self onto it and everything else.
Mythmaking as a form of projection is a pervasive activity: human beings, motivated by their
ideas of self, continually convert artifacts of the past into facts used to establish historicity. And
while some facts may be universally agreed upon, the line between converting and subverting
artifacts remains forever fuzzy. Ironically, theologians who engage in such conversions pay little
attention to the inevitability that many artifacts they fashion into myths are themselves myths
generated by earlier theologians.
Certainly history, defined as a chronicle of actual events, is a misnomer. Interestingly, the
concept of recording events as they transpired was not fully considered until the fourteenth
century, when the famous Arab historical philosopher Ibn Khaldun wrote Kitab al-Ibar. Before
that, events were routinely transfigured by the storyteller’s sense of self. Today, even assiduous
historians admit that historical documentation is a kind of fiction since no written rendering can
possibly encompass every perspective on every detail of every event.
This process of conversion, or mythologizing, occurs not only while reading the Bible or
analyzing an ancient relic, but with each memory we recall. And it is these mythic images of
ourselves that form our worldview and our beliefs. These, in turn, shape our recollection of
events that transpired in the past, short-circuiting any awareness of our expansive identity and
the ever-shifting nature of the narrow sense of self. The seemingly stable sense of self presiding
over memories actually emerges from the narrow sense of self that is by nature capable of
remembering only itself.
It follows that images of God thought to benefit one group of people over another are simply
projected images of the self, and nothing more authoritative. When some individuals claim to
have conversations with God, meaning everyone’s God as opposed to merely their personal
image, they are referring to a mythic God built from the artifacts informing an experience of self.
In effect, they have been talking to themselves—an occupation that may be harmless, or even
instructional if their intent is to focus the mind. But if their minds tell them they are the next
prophet or war leader, they will invariably prophesy or wage war against a reflection of their
identity and desire to defend it, inundating the minds of their followers with the same mythic
ideas.
If everything we understand to be true, including God, is a mythological creation of the sense of
self, then today’s new myth to hasten social reform would have to be the forerunner of them all:
the individuated sense of self. This mother of all myths and images of God, rooted in the theory
of self, can be understood as our own self-image based on each individual’s personal “bible” of
artifacts of memories and sensory data that, assembled and shaped through repeated
interpretation, provide us with an apparently stable sense of identity. Paradoxically, the more we
engage with this myth, the more deconstructive we become, eventually breaking free from
narrow identities in the discovery that the individuated sense of self we have been intuiting is
stable only within the finite reality we have constructed whereas the cosmos, composed of the
infinite substance of self, offers only an illimitable self stable in an eternally expansive reality. As
our intuitive capacity itself increases, our sense of self gradually transcends the seeming
divisions on which the cosmos is based. This new myth for our times thus responds to the
historical necessity for shared rights and resources in an age of unprecedented globalization.
Historically, cultures were unaware of the individuated sense of self informing their projections
and consequently used myths to express local truths as supertruths in an effort to sanctify their
past and divinize their society. Rejecting the essential unity of the human race and failing to turn
the searchlight of awareness upon itself, these mythmakers did not consider that the cosmos,
plainly viewed, was sufficient to reveal the indivisibility of the world. Or perhaps the infinite
substance of the cosmos was inaccessible to them. Today’s cosmic supertruth, in keeping with
the new myth, is that God is everywhere and everything, playing the role of innumerable selves
in this divided space-time reality to which the senses are privy. Stated differently, ours is a world
where countless individuated selves, human and nonhuman, of the one infinite substance
perceive and project in accordance solely with their sense of self. Here, the narrow idea of self
is the only source of ignorance; the expansive idea, the only wellspring of self-knowledge.
From this perspective, it follows that no one truly worships Christ or any other image of God.
Rather, we all worship the same infinite self some call God, in the form of our own selves.
Though this infinite self cannot be proved to exist to the mind, the finite intellect can propose
that a substance of self constitutes the basis of existence—a proposition that may be repeatedly
tested. In doing so, one finds that while a sense of self escapes the five senses, individuals
unfailingly realize various degrees of self-knowledge by directing inward the sensory avenues to
knowledge. It also becomes apparent that everyone intuitively knows a fragment of the infinite
substance of self and finally nothing more, since awareness is entirely self-awareness, an
eternal form of knowledge that seeks to increase by building upon itself.
Education is therefore self-education, with humanity as the primary instructional source. And
supertrue applies only to myths that are universal and unifying. Individuals who agree on these
principles will no longer be swayed by organized religions’ efforts to sanctify divisive myths
lacking a foundation in reason, science, and social justice.
If Campbell and the ancients are right and pranayama leads to self-education, its new unifying
myth is still difficult to realize since myths by their nature are not understood universally but are
predominantly created and interpreted to unify one group in opposition to others. Curiously, the
Christian European colonists, while considering themselves the chosen people in relation to
Native Americans, did not generally identify with Jews, the originators of that self-divinizing
myth. Because of the projection involved in myth-making, the endemic challenge in introducing
humanity to the new myth is to offer meaning about the cosmos without appealing to the instinct
to believe. It may need to be woven into more mainstream mythic cloth, yet it is precisely when
theories become precepts to clothe the masses that divisive materials and deceptive
ceremonials may be sewn in. In the end, we are left with a choice of either watering down the
new myth, as has been done with modern spiritual myths recently converted from
self-knowledge quests to self-help allegories, offering little advantage to humanity, or uplifting
humanity to the degree that the science of intuition becomes popular so that the new myth may
take hold amongst the masses.
Uplifting humanity to increase receptivity to the unifying myth of the individuated sense of self
requires teaching people about intuition’s compatibility with critical thinking. Nearly every human
being is born with the potential to think critically, but too often this faculty remains dormant,
despite a multitude of bright ideas passing through the mind. These have as much to do with
thinking as jotting down words on paper has to do with writing. Surely the greatest deterrent to
thinking is societal conditioning. Historically, thought was feared in religious circles because it
provoked an undermining of authority and questioning of traditions. In modern forms of Eastern
spiritual movements, it was erroneously believed to stop individuals from being “in the moment.”
Equally misleading, we are taught to regard intuition and thought as mutually exclusive faculties.
The anti-intellectual trends spawned by organized religions centuries ago are now mainstream.
Ethnic and nationalistic fearmongers claim that proficiency with words is designed only to fool
and that the purported ability of philosophers to identify with humanity through introspection is
mere sophistry. Corporatism also stunts intellectual growth, encouraging people to think
primarily about the benefits of making money rather than more universal concepts. And public
education, too exam-driven to support the development of thinking skills, renders society
beholden to thoughtlessness at the highest levels of policymaking.
Faced with the compromised state of humanity’s intellectual capacity, historians like Arnold
Toynbee would counter that a thinking majority has never occurred in human history and
therefore the best we can hope for is a majority that imitates the thinking of the creative minority
and in so doing overrides patterns imposed by agendas breeding fear, bigotry, or greed. He
might be right, but he did not know about the Internet and other space-annihilating resources to
come, or about the earth-shaking crises humanity faces today, all of which call upon intellectual
inquiry, making use of this faculty more imperative now than perhaps ever before.
In addition to promoting intellectual competence, another means of uplifting humanity to
increase receptivity to the science of intuition and its unifying myth is education in the expansive
properties of the heart. The theory of self emphasizes, as does Campbell, that every human
being is endowed with an expansive heart—a premise that can be confirmed by watching
children, who are as yet unspoiled by anti-intellectualism, materialism, and divisive myths. Most
infants and toddlers who have been given an abundance of love and warm physical contact will
open their hearts to people and animals they have never before met. And when we invest in an
education for our children that instills critical thinking skills in tandem with a fully functioning
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