Lesson From Infinity, Part 2

In a recent post, “Lesson From Infinity,” I pondered the extent of our knowledge and tightly held certainties juxtaposed against the immensity of the universe.  

Stars outnumber the grains of sand on all the world’s beaches. What can we truly know about reality and the meaning of life from the vantage point of a tiny spec floating in a sea of infinity? What can we be certain of, given the provisional nature of knowledge as each new generation dispels the certainties it inherits?

In that essay, I suggested a potential certainty: The universal pull to union. Packets of energy are pulled together into atoms, which are pulled together into molecules, which make everything we see. On the largest scale, stars pull planets into solar systems;  stars are pulled into galaxies;  galaxies are pulled into superclusters. 

The pull to union appears to be a universal certainty.  We experience this pull as love and feel isolated in its absence. 

Love (unity), I suggested, is the meaning of existence.

But, I sidestepped an important topic in that essay: What about God? 

A few years ago, I had a lovely breakfast discussion with a good friend, a Catholic Deacon, who asked if I believed in God. People asking God questions usually have something specific in mind. Such questions are often attempts to ascertain whether individuals are members of the same tribe. 

For me, this is a nuanced question. Organized religion is not my jam. Yet, there is an undeniable power in mystical experiences that fall outside the realm of knowledge. My attempt to answer his question spawned an interesting conversation. 

During the discussion, I learned that my friend believed in an omnipresent creator of Heaven and Earth, a personal God who hears our prayers. He was certain of the existence of an afterlife. 

My understanding differed. I intuit that life is more than molecules. I believe that a life devoid of mystical elements is incomplete. Nevertheless, I recoil from making objective statements about God. Certainties fall into the domain of independent, externally verified observations. Spiritual experience lies outside the confines of such certainties, falling into the category of relationship rather than knowledge. 

Naming “God” and creating rubrics concerning existence distance me from the essence of mystical union. I don’t have an answer to the question, ‘Do I believe in God?’ More specifically, I don’t actually understand the question because it implies that one has a definition for God, which I do not. 

My experience falls outside that realm of a simple answer to questions about God. Over the next few paragraphs, I’ll attempt to explain what I mean by that. It starts with a profound experience I had twenty years ago during a seated meditation.

Meditation is a process of letting go, first of thoughts, and then of ego-centered consciousness. (See my series on Silent Fitness). On this particular morning, I awoke as usual before dawn and spent thirty minutes or so reading wisdom literature. I then began my meditation. Some practices are easier than others, and on this particular morning, thoughts quickly dissipated; I soon found myself consumed by a presence absent of thought. 

For reasons I can’t explain, the meditation didn’t stop there, but instead went far deeper. Awareness of sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell fell away. The context of an independent Self dissipated. It felt like I was floating in a sea of nothingness. 

It was quite strange and a bit unsettling. I accepted that presence and continued to let go of individualistic clinging, allowing it to lead me where it would. 

I’ve never attempted to explain this experience, primarily because words are completely ineffective. What I can say is that consciousness is fueled by distinctions, “this vs that,” if you will. For instance, something is either hot or cold, light or dark, soft or hard, and so on. But the awareness I had fallen into that morning was devoid of distinctions. I have read mystics describe this as non-dual consciousness; I don’t have a better explanation. 

The experience was extraordinarily peaceful and enticing. After a while, I began to intuit (I can’t say think because my awareness was absent of thought) that I had fallen into the groundless foundational state of being we all share; a state of consciousness where all separation vanishes. There was no “I,” and no “We,” what remained was what I’ve read mystics describe as “Not two, One.”

It was so beautifully peaceful that I didn’t hear the bell on my meditation timer, which signals the end of the practice. I continued to sit in formless awareness for an indeterminate length of time. 

Eventually, I intuited that I had fallen into a state from which I might not be able to escape. Fear overcame me, and with that, I suddenly found myself back in an ordinary consciousness. 

I looked at my watch and I was late for work. As an executive, every minute of my day was scheduled, but even though I was late, I did not hurry. I slowly regained my senses, took a long shower, got dressed, and drove to work.

Once in the office, I instructed my administrative assistant to cancel the rest of my morning meetings and not to interrupt me. I went into my office, closed the door, and attempted to process what happened to me that morning. 

Here is a summary of the notes I took: 

-First, I had not fallen asleep; in fact, I remained hyper-aware throughout the experience. 

-Second, the experience fundamentally changed me in ways I could not articulate. 

-Third, I was overwhelmed by the visceral experience that unity is the ground state for all being.

In the years that have passed since that morning, I’ve found that the experience indeed changed me. I no longer fear death. I feel a kinship with existence that I had never felt before. I feel certain that all living creatures share a common ground, an “isness” for lack of a better description. I look at things differently.

The experience has been deeply relevant to my life. Words cannot do it justice. I’ve never felt the need to define or understand it. The experience was complete as it was. It left me with the intuition that life is more than molecules. 

Attempts to categorize spiritual experiences within an ideological framework distance me from the essence of what I experienced that morning. Some might interpret my experience in a religious context. I have no objection to that. Whatever its source, the experience left me with an understanding that our fundamental state is union, and that something pulls us towards union. Whether that is energy, gravity, God, or all three, I do not know. 

Humans’ universal need to know, name, and control spawns violence that is the antithesis of Spirituality. Why name what is unknowable? Why clutter the beauty of mystical union with unverifiable ontological explanations? 

Life is filled with mysteries, among them are: “the way our brains shape impressions of reality; the ways in which we come to know anything at all; [and] our yearning to wrest meaning from fundamental truth as we try to discern the nature of the universe.” (Maria Popova)

The essence of Spirituality, rather than knowledge or belief, is relationship. People encounter such relationships in various ways. A relevant example is love. I love my wife; that love is beyond knowledge or belief. It is impossible to verify; Neither can our love be reduced to a molecular formula. Life is more than molecules.

I didn’t go into all this with my friend during our discussion; he was uncomfortable with my vague expressions of Spirituality. I attempted to explain that internal and external domains are different ways of interacting with the world and that there is no need to conflate the two. 

I probably should’ve stopped there. But I continued, stating that belief may powerfully guide one’s life, but insisting that personal beliefs are certainties that define the lives of others falls into the realm of politics rather than Spirit. 

On that point, we unsurprisingly disagreed.  

But then, something unexpected happened. Out of respect for one another, we decided to table our differences and pursue principles upon which we could agree. Surprisingly, we quickly found common ground. 

Our solidarity centered on a single bible verse, 1 John 4:16:

“We have come to know and to believe in the love God has for us.

God is love, and whoever remains in love remains in God and God in him.”

We agreed that love is our deepest experience, even though the statement defies objective verification. 

We agreed that love is union. 

When I posited that the pull to union is a universal and verifiable certainty, my friend countered with  “God is love.” 

Rather than conflating the certainties of Spiritual revelation and external reality, we bridged love, union, and God. Suddenly, we stood on common ground. 

Even though my buddy and I had differing Spiritual contexts, our breakfast ended with respect for one another and a common understanding. I wish that were possible on a broader scale in our divided world.

I do not know where spiritual or mystical encounters come from. However, I am content with the lessons from infinity that have been brought to me through these relational experiences.

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