June / July 2006

REVIEWS

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ECSTASY: In and About Altered States
BY PAUL SCHIMMEL WITH GLORIA SUTTON
The MIT Press, 2005, 252 pp.,
$26.37, ISBN 0-914357-91-3.

Reviewed by Mike Carroll

This full-color, oversized book is a companion piece to an exhibit of the same name held at the Museum of Contemporary Arts (MOCA) in Los Angeles in late 2005 through early 2006. Ecstasy serves as both a description of the exhibit, and a discussion of art, ecstasy, and the relationship between the two through recent history.

Within it are a series of new essays exploring these topics, comments on the artists and their works created for the exhibit, pictures of the exhibit and related pieces, along with a literary supplement containing an essay, a poem on cocaine, a fictional story, and personal accounts of drug use. All told, 11 authors contribute to the 12 pieces in the book, and the works of 30 artists are displayed in the exhibit.

The book starts out promisingly, with an excellent introductory essay by MOCA’s Chief Curator Paul Schimmel. Conceived and developed by him, the exhibit is meant to review the ancient tradition of depicting ecstatic states in art as reasserted by artists in recent years. He describes the experience of creating art as an altered state itself, and how the goal of the exhibit was not merely to include works depicting such states. On its own, that assertion casts quite a large net, qualifying any and all art to be included in the exhibit. Schimmel goes a step further though, clarifying that the wide range of media included in the exhibit falls into two categories:

1. Representations of altered states and visions experienced by the artists;

2. Installments that involve the viewer and are intended to simulate or induce altered states.

Particularly in the latter case, pieces implementing multisensory stimulation alter perception just enough to turn reality on its nose. Schimmel feels that altering reality through art creates a type of transcendence in which communication occurs between artist and viewer. This hallmark of the ecstasy subculture, a communication of mutual understandings, allows for the possibility of rising above feelings of alienation and confusion.

I found Schimmel’s historical exploration of the relationship between art and altered states to be quite revelatory. Although he claims this relationship began in ancient Greece with the cult of Dionysus (a metaphor for artists who explore altered states), he focuses on the last two hundred or so years.

It could be argued that this relationship long predates the Greeks, as evidenced by early cave drawings and religious iconography, which in some cases has continued into the modern day. But I suppose Schimmel’s focus is on art that at some point made its way into a gallery. That point aside, Schimmel’s historical discussion details how the evolution of consciousness and culture was reflected in the art of the time. Beginning with Romanticism (laudanum, opium, hash, altering the rational mind), through the mid-nineteenth century avant-garde era (absinthe, transcending rationality), on to the Surrealists (Freud, dreams, exploring the unconscious, mescaline), the New York School abstractionists (Jung, the collective unconscious, peyote), the 1960s (Leary, LSD, rebellion, etc.), and up to the present (MDMA, unity, utopia).

I particularly appreciated Schimmel’s comments on the drug ecstasy (MDMA), its subculture, and societal implications. He shows he’s done his homework as he classifies ecstasy as an empathogen (empathygenerating) rather than psychedelic (mind-manifesting) drug. He even touches briefly on its therapeutic potential, and on research with it. Schimmel asserts that the feeling of empathy and connectedness brought on creates a “utopian impulse” in the otherwise flat, alienated landscape of the normal waking state of consciousness.

This impulse is reflected in the art in the exhibit, as the artists attempt to communicate to the viewer that reality is not quite as it seems, and that there is something greater, some connection between us.

Unfortunately, the book stumbles after this introduction, as descriptions of the pieces in the exhibit, along with the new essays, fail to convey the feeling of ecstasy found in art today. The essays by multiple authors often cover the same ground in their pursuit of a definition of ecstasy and related topics, leading to debatable and contradictory assertions. Art historians or artists may find them to be of value, but from my perspective as a Psy. D. graduate student interested in altered states, they are of little use.

The actual exhibit, on the other hand, was wonderful. Steve Martin is often attributed with saying “Talking about music is like dancing about architecture,” and possibly a similar problem occurred throughout the book by those attempting to describe the art. I fully appreciate the irony as I now attempt to do the same.

My reaction to the actual exhibit was one of pure joy. Many of the pieces in the exhibit are playful, fun, and engaging. Although there are wonderful pictures of the exhibit contained in the book, they fail to convey the interactive experience, as well as both the grandeur and detail of the pieces. A strobe light flashing on falling water droplets, which appeared as colored crystals frozen in space, creates a feeling of awe in Your strange certainty still kept by Olafur Eliasson. The self-explanatory entitled Upside-down mushroom room by Carsten Holler may sound clichéd, but produces a giddy reaction upon entering it, evoking memories of Alice in Wonderland. Fred Tomaselli’s mosaics are sure to stir up a déjà vu experience for the initiated. At first glance, the psychedelic cornucopia appears painted, but upon closer inspection reveals itself to be three-dimensional, containing pills, cutout pictures, paint, and other objects suspended in a glossy resin set against a black backdrop. Paul Noble’s gigantic, intricate, fluid drawings also pull the viewer into a bizarre world where weirdness meditates in every corner. The LED lights suspended in rows in Erwin Redl’s Matrix II distort size and depth, and create a floating sensation in the viewer, as their eyes continuously adjust to the changing patterns. There are also several video pieces in the exhibit, of which I found Chiho Aoshima’s City Glow most enticing, in which an alternate world gradually reveals itself across five adjacent video screens. Altered states can have a profound effect on an individual, as they realize that the impossible is possible, reality is not quite as it seems, there is order in chaos, and the whole world is contained within a grain of sand. Many of the pieces in this exhibit have the same effect.

“Ecstasy—and not merely the drug—never was intended to be intellectualized” (p. 237). This sentence appears in the final essay, Confessions of a middle-aged ecstasy eater, by Anonymous, and I must confess my reaction upon reading this simple statement was mildly ecstatic, if that’s possible. The reason being that much of what was written on the previous 236 pages was nothing but intellectualizations, and tedious ones at that. I’ll concede that all the essays were well-researched, exploratory, and informative, but most were a chore to get through. (And this comes from someone who uses his free time to browse Jung’s Collected Works.) Where was the joy, transcendence, and sublimity? Where was the ecstasy?

Confessions, on the other hand, is a delight to read. I found it to be profoundly moving and somewhat reminiscent of the recent drugwar movie Traffic, considering the social, political, therapeutic, moral, interpersonal, and, most important, personal perspectives involved in ecstasy use. Even better, the author nailed the feeling on the head. Like all great art, this essay, much like Traffic and many pieces in the exhibit, asks more potent questions than it gives answers to. Of the many questions, one stood out for me: Is ecstasy use a response to an alienated flatland, or a reflection of a Peter Pan world?

This concluding essay and the introduction by Schimmel serve as wonderful bookends around a largely uneven work. Interesting bits of information are contained throughout, but they largely fail to convey the true nature of the relationship between art and ecstasy, as well as the wonder of the exhibit. Some may enjoy the book more than others, but for me, it will be the coffee table book I put out when my hip friends are coming over, and put away when my mom’s in town. As they say in the art world, one man’s treasure is another man’s trash.

MICHAEL CARROLL is a Psy.D. candidate with an emphasis in Integrative Psychology at the California School of Professional Psychology at Alliant University’s San Diego campus. He is currently in dissertation hell, where he will be studying personal long-term change attributed to psychedelic drug use. carroll620@msn.com.

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THE PSYCHOLOGICAL IMPACT OF WAR TRAUMA ON CIVILIANS:
An International Perspective
EDITED BY STANLEY KRIPPNER AND
TERESA M. MCINTYRE
Praeger, 2003, 344 pp., $70.95,
ISBN 027597202X. Reviewed by Jeremiah Holt

The last 65 years of warfare represent a radical change in the way human beings propagate violent conflict. One would assume that as civilizations matured and as the technological devices of modernity allowed, warfare would become more surgical, more precise, and ultimately less destructive. We might also assume that civilizations possessing weaponry with computer guidance systems accurate enough to fly tactical missiles through the window of a house would have no need for tactics like “carpet bombing.” Unfortunately, the maturation of humanity and the great strides

of technology have not had this effect. In fact, recent events have reflected quite the opposite. The nature of modern conflict has evolved in the direction of “total war.” The reality of the most recent chapter of the history of armed conflict on this planet is dumbfounding.

In their introduction, Krippner and McIntyre wrote, “In recent years it has been estimated at least 90% of people killed in ethnic political and religious wars are civilian noncombatants.” Recent history is home to warfare’s greatest human disasters. The Nazi Holocaust, the Rwanda genocide, ethnic conflicts from the “Holy Land” to Northern Ireland, religious terrorism in the United States and Iraq, and statesanctioned terrorist reprisals in various parts of the world make the topic of this book, the psychological impact of war trauma on civilians, a current and deeply relevant scholarly inquiry.

In the wake of some of the world’s most horrific human disasters, a flood of support has followed the outbreak of peace. For example, contracts are awarded to begin rebuilding the physical infrastructures of a society. Electrical power plants and water delivery systems are reconstructed, hospitals and homes are rebuilt. However, precious little attention is ever paid to the masses of civilians whose realities have been fractured and traumatized, and whose bodies have been broken and raped. The refugees may someday come home, the children may return to school, life may return to some semblance of “normality,” but rarely are the mental injuries sustained by “collateral damage” addressed.

Go to www.gatla.org

This volume is a contribution to the developing literature on the impact of war and extreme stress on civilian populations. Harrowing stories of survival are all faithfully retold within the context of colonization, racism, culture, and the occupation in which they took place. The question as to how to give appropriate clinical attention to these civilians is addressed in four parts. The case studies and assessment section casts a wide net over the opportunities “for healing at both individual and communal levels.” The section addresses not only the negative impacts of war on individuals, such as depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress, but it also investigates the legacy of warfare on a community level.

Chapter 7 tells the tragic story of a young man who has immigrated to the State of Alabama from Cambodia after living through the horrors of life under the Khmer Rouge and Pol Pot. After witnessing executions, being beaten, abducted, starved, and finally escaping, the youth, who is named “Rabbit,” emigrated. Unfortunately, simply moving away from the country that was home to Rabbit’s wartorn childhood was not enough to heal the injuries that warfare had inflicted upon him. Rabbit was placed in school at a grade-level appropriate to his age. There, he was made fun of by his teachers and peers. In this trying new environment, Rabbit was able to learn some skills, but was eventually deemed “educationally retarded,” meaning that he had a low aptitude for educational instruction, U.S. style. Perhaps his teachers did not take the time to learn about Rabbit’s history or his recent past. In Alabama, with his family struggling to get by; foraging for berries and fruit, hunting small game, and even digging through garbage cans and dumpsters to obtain food, Rabbit soon dropped out of school and joined a gang. After a two-month crime spree, he was arrested and later found guilty for the murder of an entire family—parents and children.

Needless to say, I found this particular case study to be emotionally exhausting to read. However, its inclusion in the book illustrates that the sequelae of warfare affects every member of the global community. While individuals are left scarred by trauma; they do not exist in a vacuum. While the cost of warfare is highest on an individual level; the price is paid on a larger scale. The section on intervention and reconstruction is dedicated to the idea that individual healing and community healing are not necessarily separate entities. The nine chapters contained within this section detail several creative and scientific community-based projects that are both interdisciplinary and multifaceted. Cognitive-behavioral, psychiatric, and developmental approaches are the foci for three chapters on individual intervention. Chapter 13 addresses children who are the often forgotten survivors of war. As repositories of our greatest hope, they are treated to innovative social healing techniques that emphasize play and child-adult social interaction.

The final two sections of the book are focused on visions of prevention and integrative summaries. While continuing to tell the stories of survivors within the ethno-political, religious, and sexist contexts that they took place in, the remaining nine chapters are dedicated to intercultural and inter-religious conflict resolution. These two sections also develop and depict strategies to empower marginalized groups. Special attention is paid to women struggling for equality within religious and political structures that exist largely to propagate the cycle of feminine subjugation through structural and institutionally acceptable means, such as discrimination and rape. My favorite chapter of the book is “Peacebuilding by Women in Lebanon.” It analyzes the agencies that women have created in that country to help them leverage power for the purposes of establishing peace and equality within the religiously stratified constructs of the state.

My criticism of this work centers on “issues” of access. The first and most obvious issue is the cost of this book. Many people are not willing or able to spend $70.95 on a book of any kind; hence the pricetag of the book limits the audience significantly. The outcome is that members of the mental healthcare community and academic scholars (not students) are the main demographics who are likely to read this fine work.

My other major criticism is that in an attempt to make the subject matter accessible to a wider range of people, this book is forced to walk the line between intellectual accessibility and clinical credibility, but strictly within the field of psychology. I feel at times, as a reader with only a little background in psychology, that there are discussions of a number of concepts and precepts with which I am not completely familiar. I suspect that I do not recognize some of the terminology as having a deeper meaning. Conversely, the book is clearly written with greater public access in mind, and I am afraid that it may not be sufficiently clinical to please most academic psychologists.

These criticisms notwithstanding, the work is extraordinary. I find myself extremely grateful for the research that has been conducted in this field which is so neglected, yet so sorely in need of attention.

JEREMIAH HOLT is an undergraduate student at Fairhaven College at Western Washington University, majoring in International Relations, concentrating on the Palestinian/Israeli Conflict.

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EMBODIED SPIRITUALITY IN A SACRED WORLD
BY MICHAEL WASHBURN
SUNY Press, 2003, 256 pp., $21.95,
ISBN 0791458482.

Reviewed by Daryl Paulson

This is the third book in a series in which Washburn presents his concept of human development in a transpersonal perspective. There are essentially two major transpersonal theorists, Ken Wilber and Michael Washburn. Washburn’s view, sometimes called the spiral perspective, holds that when an infant is born it is essentially without an ego (pre-egoic), but it does have an unconscious center, what Washburn calls the dynamic ground. The protoego, as development proceeds, emerges from the unconscious into a conscious being; this is also the Jungian view of development.

The ego, at the pre-egoic stage, what Washburn terms a “bodyego,” is easily swayed to respecting cultural taboos against playing with one’s feces, or defecating and urinating wherever and whenever the urge strikes, for example. As the child ages, particularly throughout the socialization process of learning cultural and family values, meaning, and goals, the ego ultimately represses its conscious connection with the unconscious as it becomes a mental egoic self. The vast majority of individuals become egoic-level centered, learning reading, writing, and arithmetic, tasks needed to live productively in the culture. Yet, this process also engenders an extremely negative outcome, according to Washburn: one is cut off from his/her deeper true nature.

Sadly, most humans go through their lives at the mental egoic level, never authentically reconnecting with their ground unconscious. Of those who do reconnect, it is often because of an existential crisis. At some point in life—perhaps the death of a loved one, facing one’s own mortality, revelation during psychotherapy, or some such—these individuals turn off egoic control of their being, if only for a short period, and allow promptings from the unconscious to break into their conscious awareness. When this happens, often the first materials to emerge into consciousness are unresolved, emotionally charged psychological issues that have been repressed. These issues appear both threatening and unfamiliar and, therefore, unwanted. It seems as though one has opened the gates of hell. But this is not really so. The anxiety is part of the process of regaining one’s authentic center. At some point, the unresolved material is resolved, and the ego roots itself into its superior Self, the dynamic unconscious—the deep psyche.

This book consists of eight chapters, a preface, notes, a glossary, references, and an index. The glossary, a new addition from previous books by Washburn, is a useful aid to a specific understanding of terms as Washburn uses them.

Chapter 1 (“The Spiral Path: History and Criticism of the Idea”) presents a basic discussion of Washburn’s human developmental spiral model. Like Wilber, he employs three general, but distinct developmental stages, viz., pre-personal, personal, and transpersonal, but his development model differs from that of Wilber. For Washburn, at the pre-personal (pre-egoic) level—neonatal to about five years old—the ego has not completely emerged from the unconscious and is essentially a body-ego, moving toward becoming a mental ego. The personal (egoic) level is attained when the ego is, more or less, in charge of one’s life. One has a strong self-image and can represent oneself. This process begins at about five years of age and may continue for the duration of one’s life. Yet there is a higher, more inclusive level that some individuals achieve, the transpersonal (transegoic) level. Here, one’s self-concept transcends the ego identity to an ego-Self image.

Washburn discusses the spiral stage process in great detail, drawing on the works of Freud, Jung, and Wilber, for example. He defines clearly the developmental course of this spiral perspective, in that the ego splits from the unconscious in the pre-egoic stage to form the mental ego system that, in turn, represses the unconscious, only to return to the unconscious at a more developed level to form the transpersonal stage. Washburn, to support his spiral view, brings in biblical narrative, as well as narratives found in both Hinduism and Buddhism. He also fully discusses Ken Wilber’s criticisms of his spiral view and, I believe, fairly. Washburn does not get trapped in polemics, particularly concerning Wilber’s model, but simply concludes his discussion with the observation that neither Wilber’s model nor his own are in conflict unless one insists that only one view can be correct.

In Chapter 2, The Spiral Path: A Stage View, Washburn deepens his spiral model discussions, taking the reader on a journey over the prepersonal, personal, and transpersonal landscapes in terms of the six related dimensions of development: the dynamic ground, the energy system of the dynamic ground, the ego system, the other as perceived by self, the body as experienced by self, and the world as perceived by self. Although this is a dense chapter, particularly for those with no prior knowledge of Washburn’s works, it is material essential to understanding his theory. The six related dimensions of development are then explored individually, one in each of the next six chapters.

In Chapter 3, The Dynamic Ground, Washburn discusses the ground’s place relative to the ego at each of the three major developmental stages, as well as the substages within them. In doing this, Washburn draws from depth psychology, mythology, various spiritual traditions, and transpersonal theory.

In Chapter 4, Energy, Washburn presents a detailed discussion of the power—energy—the ground wields at each stage and substage. This work is not just a rehash of his previous discussions but is an in-depth discussion. The beauty of it is one can readily identify in one’s own life what Washburn is describing.

The Ego, Chapter 5, describes the main subject of the book—one’s subjective self-sense. Throughout the book, the ego is given the center stage to which everything else relates. Hence, the pre-egoic stage is viewed as developmentally less than ego, and the trans-egoic stage is “ego plus.” Throughout one’s life, the ego is the conscious center of one’s being and, therefore, it was a wise move to establish it centrally for the reader’s ease of comprehension. Washburn does not, however, claim it is superior to the deep psychic ground. It is not. Chapter 6, The Other, describes the ways in which a person experiences interpersonal relationships from the pre-personal through the transpersonal stages. This is a chapter extremely insightful about interpersonal relationships grounded in depth psychology, mythology, and transpersonal theory. For example, as early development occurs, the child learns about the good self/bad self during the socialization process, and also begins to perceive the Ground in this way.

Chapter 7, The Body, presents physical development over Washburn’s complete spiral stage model. Washburn again draws from a wide selection of literature, including mythology, depth psychology, and kundalini energy, termed here as libido. This is an important chapter in that the body is sometimes left out of psychospiritual development. Finally, in a fitting conclusion to the chapter, Washburn discusses the body as the “Temple of the Spirit.”

In the final chapter, Chapter 8, The World, Washburn views the world not as a lump of matter, but as a life-world. It is a world constructed in part by the human mind, as well as colored by one’s projections. Washburn discusses general worldviews in terms of the various spiral stages of life. In early stages, Washburn suggests the world appears to be a garden of delight, but in later stages, becomes foreign, alien, and threatening, finally splitting into an enchanted world and a haunted world. As the person experiences the world, all too many adults are stuck in the world of “work.” But Washburn describes another worldview open to us when we re-engage the dynamic ground and enter the world of transpersonal spirit. In conclusion, this is a must-read book for humanistic, existential, depth, and transpersonal psychology students. It is grounded in the most current research and incredibly well written and critically thought out.

DARYL S. PAULSON, Ph.D., is a scholar-at-large in transpersonal and integral studies. He has taught courses in transpersonal psychology, psychosynthesis, and integral psychology. He was a member of Wilber’s Integral Institute, where he served on the core Integral Business Group. He is the author of six books, and a decorated U.S. Marine veteran who served as a Vietnamese language interpreter.

EXCERPTS
Excerpts from Studying Consciousness in
the Postmodern Age by Stanley Krippner
and Michael Winkler, Chapter 25 of:

THE TRUTH ABOUT THE TRUTH: De-Confusing and Re-Constructing the Postmodern World
EDITED BY WALTER TRUETT ANDERSON
Jeremy P. Tarcher/Penguin, 1995,
244 pp., $15.95, ISBN 0874778018.

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Excerpt by Stanley Krippner and
Michael Winkler

Western science holds that what is available to perception “out there” is an orderly and systematic universe, potentially the same for everyone; thus, logical thought, rational problem-solving, and scientific investigation will ultimately secure universal agreement about its nature. The postmodern investigator realizes that human phenomena are altered when they are studied, especially if research participants are given feedback about the investigation and their role in it. Postmodern scientists understand that science is not value-free but both produces and reflects implicit or explicit values, especially when its findings become the basis for applied techonology (e.g., atomic bombs, space satellites, electronic media). If modern science has a publicly stated value, it is its quest for “certainty,” a goal that postmodernists regard as futile because of their conviction that knowledge tends to be local rather than universal.

According to postmodernists, the most important human activities can barely be measured, much less predicted and controlled. Rather, the postmodernist scientist strives to identify, describe, and understand these activities as deeply and as thoroughly as possible. “Truth” is a matter of perspective, and perspectives are a byproduct of social interchange or “discourse.” One’s language about the world operates as the lens that construes that world into something not simply “out there.” It is an interactive process. The “observer” and the “observed” are in constant dialogue. Modernity tries to hold a mirror to nature, not realizing that language rests midway between nature and discourse. Postmodernity, to the contrary, asks the scientist to join this cultural discourse, hoping that it will yield new insights and novel interpretations. Consciousness studies are an integral part of this discourse because it frequently involves stepping out of one’s milieu, culture, worldview, and thought processes in order to reflect upon them.

From a postmodern perspective, not only is the term “consciousness” socially constructed, but “conscious experience” is constructed differently in various times and places. People in each culture construct experience in terms of the categories provided by their own linguistic system, coming to terms with a “reality” that has been filtered through their language. Each culture has a specialized terminology regarding those aspects of consciousness important for its functioning and survival. Many writers have pointed out that Western culture describes inner experience primarily in psychological terms while traditional Eastern cultures have equally intricate vocabularies for describing altered states of consciousness and spiritual experiences. Furthermore, Western psychology equates “reality” with the world as perceived in the ordinary waking state, denying credibility to “realities” perceived in other types of awareness. Eastern perspectives, on the other hand, dismiss the physical world as an illusion and see “reality” as something that cannot be grasped in ordinary waking awareness.

Commenting on the Mexican Huichol tribe, Ptolemy Tompkins in his 1990 HarperCollins book This Tree Grows out of Hell: Mesoamerica and the Search for the Natural Body, remarks: “By our standards, all of Huichol life is a a kind of well-organized hallucination, for the cosmos they believe and live in bears very little resemblance to the one that Western civilization wakes up to every morning.” Tompkins also points out that Freud’s image of the conscious ego as the external boundary of an invisible matrix of volatile psychic “energies” that feeds and informs it, resembles the shamanic model. But, for the shaman, what Westerners would call “unconscious energies” were not blind but keenly intelligent, originating in the earth itself rather than in the neurons of the brain. Modern Western models of consciousness ignore the concept of the shaman’s dreaming body, a body that is capable of moving into realms existing beneath the earth and in the sky.]

In retrospect, students of consciousness in different eras and locations have used different terms and have focused on different aspects of the “consciousness project,” but have posed similar questions: What is meant by “mind”? What techniques can be used to regulate, direct, and utilize consciousness? What are the different states, forms, and levels of consciousness? From the perspective of some postmodernists, these questions are self-referential and not worthy of serious discussion. From other postmodernist perspectives, there is no need to look for single answers to these questions, but a need to appreciate how these issues have been dealt with over the years and how various communities have used the resulting insights and technologies, e.g., meditation, dreamworking, visionary journeys. Indeed, this overview on the varieties of consciousness construction suggests that postmodernist proposals may stimulate valuable discourses on consciousness and theory, research and practice.

MEANING VERSUS TRUTH What would a postmodernist approach to the mind/body problem look like? Perhaps one direction it would take is exemplified by the work of the anthropologist Charles Laughlin, summarized in Scientific Explanation and the Life-World: A Biogenetic Structural Theory of Meaning and Causation (IONS, 1992), who proposes that the principle operating in the consciousness of most people moves toward an effort after meaning rather than an effort after truth. For Laughlin, the brain constantly imposes order on its experiences to enable people to live purposeful lives and pursue meaningful experiences. Ascertaining the truth of a belief is less important than the realization that the belief makes sense in relation to one’s overall worldview. Laughlin’s work focuses on the premise that consciousness and neurophysiology are two views of the same reality. This two-hands-clapping approach suggests that for every event in consciousness there is a corresponding and causally interrelated process in the organism’s neurophysiology (i.e., the other hand). The two events jointly construct the life-world in each moment of consciousness. The resulting conscious network is a continuously changing field of intentional neural entrainments that may include any particular network one moment and disentrain in the next.

To Laughlin, the evidence is overwhelming that networks comprising the cognized environment have their developmental origins in structures that are present before, at, or just after birth, the organization of which is largely determined genetically. The brain actively constructs a world of meaningful experience for itself, and its structure is indelibly but flexibly engraved upon every moment of consciousness. Laughlin contends that acceptance of this position would encourage scientists to be less rigid in their claims, to observe anomalies that they have missed, and to acknowledge that their vaunted theories become truth only if they are socially favored and culturally approved.

ALTERNATE AND MULTIPLE REALITIES Postmodernists have also presented many reasons why theoreticians of consciousness cannot glibly use such terms as “truth,” “reality,” and “self ” without being challenged with such questions as “whose truth?” “what reality?” “which self ?” in “what time?” and in “what place?” Postmodernists can bring increased attention to the way philosophers and theoreticians of consciousness use language. Many terms will be deconstructed so completely that they will be found to be virtually useless in reasoned discourse; other terms will remain, but their usage will be marked by increased modesty and clarity.

Charles Tart has called for the development of “state-specific sciences” that are based on the perceptions, logics, and communications obtained when investigators are in altered states (States of Consciousness, Dutton, 1975). To some degree, forms of state-specific inquiries already exist in the form of various shamanic procedures, yogic practices, and meditative disciplines that foster the premise that “specific states” of consciousness will access alternate “realities.” Tart’s proposal is one of the most ambitious of the envisioned additions to research methodology, and it may demonstrate that the postmodern concept of “other realities” is a viable one. Moreover, this multiplicity of “states” and “realities” and the activities that would occur in them undermines modernism’s promise of universal laws of behavior. The conjecture that there are multiple “realities” is mirrored by the emergence of a multiplicity of “human science” research methods, each with its champions, e.g., phenomenology, hermeneutics, participant/observation, psychohistory, systems inquiry.

Modern psychology typically ignores what postmodernists refer to as “the other,” including women and minority groups, members of other cultures and the natural environment, and what Rhea White refers to as “exceptional human experiences” in the article Feminist Science, Postmodern Views, and Exceptional Human Experience in Exceptional Human Experience 9 (1991).

Again, modesty is required when researchers depend upon language to convey the experience of a life-changing vision, a dream that came true, an interpersonal adventure, an encounter with nature, a personal loss, a terminal illness, or any other exceptional human experience that is worth studying, albeit with tools that are not completely adequate.

The long-term effects of posmodern approaches to consciousness may move Western psychology from a perspective that recognizes the value of only a single “normal” state of consciousness to one that values multiple states; from one that sees human development as having a ceiling to one that views such limitations as culturally determined; from the dismissal of exceptional human experiences as pathological or illusory to the appreciation of their potential in illuminating neglected human capacities; from the de-valuing of nonWestern psychologies as “primitive” or “quaint” to the honoring of their richness and complexity; from ridiculing experiences of union with the Earth and the cosmos to an awareness that this sensibility may well be critical for the survival of the planet and its inhabitants. Postmodernity is, itself, a story. And when other stories about consciousness emerge, let us hope that the postmodernists will listen to them, encourage their voices to be heard, and advocate that their tales be told

STANLEY KRIPPNER,Ph.D., is Professor of Psychology at Saybrook Graduate School and Research Institute, and former President of AHP.

Cover Stories:

First Cover Story:

REFLECTIONS ON THE CONCEPT OF
Altered States of Consciousness
—Ralph Metzner

2nd Cover Story

ALTERED STATES- a poem
by Don Eulert

3rd Cover Story

Transpersonal Healing with Hallucinogens
— Roger Marsden and David Lukoff