Consciousness Beyond Life: The Science of the Near-Death Experience (29 page)
Read Consciousness Beyond Life: The Science of the Near-Death Experience Online
Authors: Pim van Lommel
fMRI scan of a three-year-old girl, following removal of the left part of her brain (right on picture).
fMRI scan of a three-year-old girl, following removal of the left part of her brain (right on picture). Reprinted from
The Lancet,
Vol 359, Issue 9305, Johannes Borgstein and Caroline Grootendorst, “Half a Brain,” 2002, with permission from Elsevier.
The only possible explanation for this remarkable adaptability is that the new connections forged by plasticity allowed all brain function to be assumed by the remaining right half of the brain. The girl can do as much with only half a brain as other people do with both halves. With practice and the will to get better, she was able to completely reprogram her brain because with only half a brain she had regained the same capacities as people with a normal functioning brain.
The Placebo Effect and Psychotherapy
Several scientific studies have shown that the mind can influence or determine brain function to a considerable degree. In a study of cognitive behavioral therapy and placebo treatment for depression, fMRI studies and PET scans found a permanent change in activity distribution in certain regions of the brain.
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The brain scans of depressed patients receiving placebo treatment showed neurological improvements in certain parts of the brain that were identical to those seen in depressed patients receiving cognitive therapy or antidepressants. The mere thought of receiving proper treatment triggered a clear objective change in brain function among the depressed patients in the placebo group. The placebo effect has been studied not only in patients suffering from depression but also in patients with Parkinson’s disease, during the administration of pain stimuli, and during the measurement of changes in immune response.
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In all of these studies, the changed expectations triggered by the placebo effect produced demonstrably different response patterns in both body and brain. Placebo treatment and positive pain manipulation had a favorable impact on some brain centers thanks to the release of endorphinlike substances, and the fMRI showed increased activity in the prefrontal cortex thanks to the raised expectations and changed attention processes. In Parkinson’s patients who received placebo treatment, certain brain centers released more dopamine, which significantly reduced muscular stiffness.
In a recent article neuroscientist Mario Beauregard provides a comprehensive overview of everything we know from fMRI research and PET scans conducted during emotional self-regulation (the repression of emotions), psychotherapy, and placebo treatment. He concludes that trust and positive expectations can influence neurophysiological and neurochemical activity in areas of the brain that play a role in perception, movement, pain, and various emotional processes. This means that mental processes (thoughts, feelings, convictions, and volition) can have a significant influence on various levels of brain function. He calls this the psychoneural translation hypothesis. He concludes that when somebody’s expectations are manipulated intentionally (through stimulation or self-regulation) or unintentionally (through placebo), this not only results in a positive impact on their (subjective) sense of well-being and in an (objective) reduction of symptoms but also brings about an actual biological change in the brain. His recent book,
The Spiritual Brain,
contains an extensive review of the many studies that have shown that the mind can indeed change brain function. The inevitable conclusion of all these well-designed studies seems to be that the mind is capable of changing the anatomy and function of the brain.
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Cognitive Therapy
Cognitive behavioral therapy can have the same effect as a placebo. Psychiatrist Jeffrey Schwartz carried out extensive neurological research in patients with obsessive-compulsive disorder, and with the help of PET scans he found abnormalities in some brain circuits. Intensive cognitive behavioral therapy, which taught these patients to harness the positive power of the mind to change abnormal compulsive thoughts, resulted in subjective and objective improvement of clinical symptoms, while a repeat brain scan showed clear neurological improvements. A new practical application is mindfulness-based cognitive therapy (MBCT) for patients with depression, stress, fear, pain, and physical ailments such as psoriasis, whereby a combination of cognitive therapy and meditation with mindfulness produces noticeable improvements and fMRI registers clear changes, especially in the prefrontal cortex. These cognitive therapeutic changes are a result of neuroplasticity. MBCT also boosted these patients’ immune function after an influenza vaccination.
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Meditation
Meditation can produce similar changes in the brain. This is known as “spiritual neuroscience.” A study showed that the quantitative EEG (or qEEG) of meditating volunteers displayed more gamma waves than normal while the EEG of meditating Buddhist monks, who have spent tens of thousands of hours engaged in meditation, displayed a much higher gamma activity (25–42 Hz), especially in the forehead and sides of the head, which did not disappear after the monks had stopped meditating.
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Other researchers have found a shift toward theta waves (4–7 Hz) in the EEG during deep meditation. The results of these studies indicate both an acute change during meditation and a permanent change in brain activity as a result of neuroplasticity cultivated by many years of meditation. Some fMRI research comparing meditating monks and a control group also found clear differences in many areas of the brain, but especially in the frontal, temporal, and parietal regions (forehead, temporal bone, and parietal lobes). The centers that appear to be correlated with empathy and compassion showed a particular increase in activity.
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These studies too show evidence of an acute change for the duration of meditation coupled with permanent functional change in certain areas of the brain. Long-term meditation appears to be the only explanation. We must therefore conclude that thanks to neuroplasticity, positive thinking, and an inward focus during meditation, even adults can bring about a permanent change in brain function.
Volition
Neurophysiologist and Nobel Prize laureate Roger Sperry, who has done a great deal of research among “split-brain” patients, also reached the surprising conclusion that the mind directly determines neural activities.
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This conclusion is supported by neuropsychologist Benjamin Libet, known for his theory of “readiness potential” (RP), an unconscious “ready” signal in the brain preceding a conscious decision to act (“free will”) or not to act (“free won’t”) by 350 milliseconds. He concluded that the conscious mental field can consolidate subjective experiences but also has the potential to directly influence neural activities. There has also been research into voluntary self-regulation of emotions among men viewing sexually arousing film excerpts and among women and children watching very sad film excerpts. With the help of fMRI techniques, the researchers demonstrated this correlation between special aspects of consciousness and brain function because certain centers were activated for emotions, and the conscious and voluntary regulation of emotions specifically involved increased activity in the frontal lobes (such as the prefrontal cortex). Conscious and voluntary self-regulation of emotions has a very real effect on the activity of the various brain centers involved.
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In summary, the human mind is capable of changing the anatomical structure and associated function of the brain. The mind can change the brain. There is unmistakable interaction between the mind and the brain and not just in the sense of cause and effect. As such, it would be incorrect to claim that consciousness can only be a product of brain function. How could a product be able to change its own producer?
Our Brain Is Not a Computer
The brain is the messenger to consciousness.
—J
OHN
C. E
CCLES
Some scientists like to compare the brain to a complex computer. A few of them, such as philosopher Daniel Dennett and psychologist Susan Blackmore, even posit that consciousness is no more than an illusion caused by activities in this “computer.”
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This theory throws a whole new light on concepts such as volition and responsibility for one’s actions. Computerlike processes in the neurons of our brain are supposed to be responsible for our thoughts and actions whereas our consciousness, being an illusion, plays no role. But the question that these scientists really ought to be answering is this: how could an illusion cause demonstrable changes in brain structure and function, as consciousness has clearly been proven to do?
Other scientists are of the opinion that in the (distant?) future computers will be able to produce consciousness. But the brain–computer comparison does not hold because for theoretical reasons it seems highly unlikely that a computer could ever adapt and change its own hardware and software to new demands and circumstances, something that the brain is capable of doing thanks to neuroplasticity. Mathematician and physicist Roger Penrose claims that a computer’s algorithms are incapable of simulating mathematical reasoning and can therefore never produce consciousness. A machine, no matter how cleverly constructed by human intellect, is not in a position to answer philosophical questions about the meaning of life. On the basis of quantum-mechanical theories, Penrose put forward a hypothesis about the mind–brain relationship that posits that our consciousness cannot be localized in the brain because for purely theoretical reasons the brain is unable to produce human consciousness. According to him, the brain can facilitate but not cause the experience of subjective reality. The well-known neuroscientists and Nobel Prize winners Charles S. Sherrington and John C. Eccles and the neurosurgeon Wilder Penfield were also of the opinion that the brain is more like a complicated organism that registers and transmits consciousness than one that produces it. In his recent book neuroscientist Beauregard demonstrates that a materialist approach to the mind–brain relationship is no longer tenable in neuroscience. On the strength of his own and other people’s research, he shows that religious, mystical, spiritual, and near-death experiences cannot be the product of the brain. He too is convinced that the brain merely facilitates the experience of consciousness. As mentioned earlier in this chapter, Noë reaches an identical conclusion in his recent book. He brands the assumption in neuroscience that consciousness arises in the brain and is a by-product of neural activity a prejudice and unfounded hypothesis. In his view the brain, in conjunction with the body and the world, has a facilitating function: it enables the experience of consciousness.
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What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind.
—T
HOMAS
H
EWITT
K
EY
This chapter outlined what we do and above all what we do not (or not yet) know about brain function in relation to thoughts and emotions. In many respects this relationship remains a huge mystery. The brain is an extremely complex and mysterious organ, weighing about three pounds and consuming nearly 20 percent of our body’s energy. Our brain consists of one hundred billion neurons, which are all interconnected via thousands of synapses per neuron, thus forming an extraordinarily complex network. Awareness of oneself and one’s surroundings and having thoughts and feelings do not depend on a single active site in the brain but instead require a functioning multicentered network. The same applies to mindfulness during meditation, which activates other centers in the brain than are activated in everyday waking consciousness.
It appears increasingly unlikely that consciousness is simply a product of the brain, not just because measured activities in the brain tell us nothing about the content of thoughts and feelings, but also because the mind is capable of changing the anatomy and function of the brain (neuroplasticity, placebo effect) and because there is evidence that consciousness can be experienced independently of brain function (an NDE).
The speaker has no value whatsoever, nor what he says. What has value is how you understand yourself in listening to what he says. He is like a mirror, in which you see yourself reflected. Your consciousness, your daily activity, your unconscious demands, pursuits and fears are exposed. When you so listen, then you begin to discover for yourself not the ideas, the conclusions, the assertions of the speaker, but rather you see for yourself what is true and what is false.
—K
RISHNAMURTI
As an interlude between the many theoretical reflections on the cause, content, and aftermath of an NDE, I present here Monique Hennequin’s account of her two near-death experiences. I have met her many times and was so impressed by her account that I have asked her to write down her comprehensive NDE to include in this book. She was thirty-one when she had her second cesarean section. She gave birth to a healthy baby boy, and everything seemed to be going well until several hours later she suffered abdominal cramps, which worsened in spite of pain medication. Her clinical condition deteriorated fast, another abdominal operation followed, her temperature soared, and she went into shock with extremely low blood pressure and developed multiorgan failure. The latter involves kidney dysfunction, plummeting potassium levels in the blood, renal failure, and potentially fatal cardiac arrhythmia, and it usually requires artificial respiration. The cause of Monique’s life-threatening condition was later found to be an undiagnosed constriction and perforation of the intestines, a complication arising from the cesarean section, which had caused the contents of the intestines to leak into her abdominal cavity and wreak havoc there.
After a few days in an extremely critical condition, during which the doctors informed her family that she was unlikely to pull through, she suffered a cardiac arrest. At that moment she had an NDE, which she describes fully below. She was successfully resuscitated but remained in a critical condition and somehow became aware of her “hopeless” situation. She was desperate to return to the loving environment that she had just visited. In her desperation she managed to bite her breathing tube in half, thus precipitating an apnea. She was resuscitated a second time, and after the old, severed one had been removed with some difficulty, a new breathing tube was inserted into her trachea. At that point Monique had another NDE.
She begins her story at the moment of her cardiac arrest, which initiated the first NDE.
After a final, desperate attempt at moving my body, I gave up. My heart was beating like mad, and even my rapid breathing gave me no air; I felt as though I was suffocating.
This was the time and place; how on earth could my life end here in the intensive care unit? What was to happen to my children, my job, and the assignments that wouldn’t be finished, my house? There was so much left unsaid and undone. My God, they didn’t even know where my funeral insurance policy was! And the fridge! I had this vision of people coming in after the funeral and the whole rigmarole were over, to clear up, clean the house, open the fridge…the stench! (The night before I went into the hospital I had cooked cauliflower, and there were some leftovers in the fridge.)
This was my last conscious thought before I “went.” The astonishment at being able to exist and perceive outside my body was something I had already experienced during the operation a few days earlier.
The last thing I heard was a long beep from the monitor and an alarm that apparently sounds when you flatline. Suddenly I was in the room next door and saw two nurses rush over to my room and my body. It seemed odd to me that this adjacent room had a monitor and alarm even though it was unoccupied. I felt a smile on the lips of the body I no longer ensouled or inhabited. At the same time I felt the nurses’ panic, and I felt deeply sorry for them. I couldn’t help it; I appeared to be taken away. And I took my smile with me. Picking up speed, I saw every single room in the hospital, including patients and staff, as well as the past, present, and future of everything that whizzed past me. I knew it! I had often thought to myself: What if life is like a dream, and just as you can wake from a dream you can wake from life? At that point I didn’t know yet what lay ahead of me and that I was to see that life is a cycle, just like sleep is a cycle in life. What’s more: that this in turn is a cycle in a dimension that would be well beyond my comprehension.
Everything went black, and somehow I was relieved because I felt no pain or fear whatsoever. I felt safer than ever, and I had a sense of nostalgia. A childlike innocence and naïveté came over me, as if I was going to the movies with Daddy, and at the same time I felt more mature than everything I was leaving behind (including my own life). I didn’t feel alone, despite not seeing anything or anyone. Gradually a sense of sight developed around me, like a sphere that I myself was a part of. I seemed to have ended up in the omniverse, as another image formed below me; in fact, it formed around and through me. I continued to feel protected, by somebody rather than something. It became lighter, and I saw myself enveloped as it were by a situation from my past. I immediately recognized the time and place: underwater at the age of fourteen! I was shocked because I suddenly realized: I’ve been here before! Exactly there in 1974, when I nearly drowned, I had also seen myself! At the time I thought that I saw myself reflected in the water’s surface (from below). What I didn’t realize at the time—but did during this experience—was that at the age of fourteen I had seen myself as a six-year-old girl.
It was clear to me now that back then I had also briefly woken up from life. At the time I had regained consciousness on the edge of the pool, lying in a pool of vomit, with a lifeguard on my back. It was very embarrassing, and I repressed the beautiful colors, the peace and quiet, and the excerpts from my youth. Afterward I would occasionally tell people that I had seen myself underwater; I couldn’t understand it myself let alone explain it to others. As usual I thought: the less I say, the easier it will be to fit in with the rest, so I never mentioned it again.
But now, in this situation, I understood that there was no reason whatsoever for my shame, and at the same time I sensed the fear, worry, love, and relief of the lifeguard and some of the bystanders. I also felt the shame and reticence I developed afterward. At that moment I’d felt a connection with “the truth,” with my origins, and had trouble recovering this feeling in society. From then on I knew that there was something that I didn’t know but was desperate to know. Now I was literally dying to know. The strong sense of separation from my source—which I’d had since the incident—was something I would come to understand even better during this experience.
The situation made sense to me now, and I proceeded to other situations that had raised question marks in my life. The how and why of my actions became clear to me because I saw, sensed, and knew how people had felt during (and frequently also after) contact with me. I viewed several episodes from my life. I recognized and felt everything as though I had gone back in time and completely in the actual moment.
What had I done with my life? My God, I was my own judge and executioner at the same time. When I realized that I had done something wrong, I wanted to go back to make amends. A bit like rushing out the door and realizing you’ve forgotten your bag. No problem, you fetch it, but then back in the street, damn, you’ve forgotten your purse. You think you’re all set, get to the store, and sure enough, you’ve forgotten your credit card!
I hadn’t really done anything wrong, but I felt the pain, the misgivings, the anger, the powerlessness, and the sadness of all the people who felt upset by my words and actions. Actually, it wasn’t really something I did to others but [rather I did it] to myself. These people were also reflections of my own pain, misgivings, anger, and powerlessness. I hadn’t taken full responsibility for my thoughts, words, and actions and had thus deprived myself of the chance to grow and become more aware. I also saw that sometimes I spontaneously overreacted to some people (usually to my own great annoyance) and that they actually needed it as well. And there I was, feeling unnecessarily guilty over my supposed overreaction, not realizing that people’s thoughts and emotions had triggered my unintentional responses and that it was a mirror for them as well. Everything could have been so different by open and sincere communication.
I lingered at those incidents where I had trouble recognizing my responsibility until I was ready to accept it. To everybody I had ever hurt, intentionally or unintentionally, I wanted to explain why and express my sincerest apologies. Nobody condemned me, and at all times I felt this warm support. How could this support love me? Could it not see how naïve I had been in life? And that I had been motivated by ambition, selfishness, fear—and, yes—even by joy or euphoria?
Fortunately, I also saw and felt all the wonderful, happy, rewarding, and joyful moments that my thoughts, words, and actions had given others (and thereby myself). Everything was shown simultaneously—my entire life! Some things even made me laugh. I didn’t spare a thought for my surroundings and was completely engrossed in my life.
I was the one taking stock, and I didn’t come off too badly. I had personally come to terms with everything now; my guilt (or rather my lack of awareness) had become clear through the pain and the acceptance of responsibility. However, I did feel that I owed some people an explanation. If only I could reach them. Why had I said so little in life? Fear. But that fear was completely gone now. Never again would I be afraid of my thoughts and feelings. Never again would I be afraid of being a failure in other people’s eyes or of being undermined. I was and always will be my own judge. From now on, I would always be responsible for my own thoughts, words and actions. Everything faded, and suddenly, with terrible pain, I was back inside my body. What had happened? For a moment I had some control over my fingers, and I tried to send an SOS in Morse code. I wanted to stay in my body, if only for a chance to say that I was sorry about certain things. Never again did I want to do and say anything other than what I really thought and felt. If I were given another chance, things would be different. Honesty! It would begin with being open and true to myself.
It was [to] no avail; even if anyone had picked up my signals, they couldn’t have stopped or understood what I was going through. Apparently I hadn’t understood enough myself. It felt as if I had been taken by the scruff of the neck and been confronted with the facts. The concept of the individual, the need for cooperation, growth, awakening, purpose, the cause and effect of thoughts, words, and actions in human interaction were all clear to me now. But did I really want to continue down this difficult path? Did I really think the world was a worthwhile place to be in? Why couldn’t I keep myself alive? Questions, lots of questions, were going through my mind. And once again I felt myself leaving my body. As quickly as I had returned, I was gone again.
I appeared to be ascending through a spectrum of light, and I recognized colors not by sight but by sense. The colors became lighter, warmer, and brighter and then intermingled, as if to form one big umbilical cord. A soft tornado of all colors—more than I had ever known—came together and blended without any losing their individual identity. The tip of the tornado appeared to be pointed at the earth’s atmosphere. I went along and ended up in its “eye.” Did that mean that I was heavier than the light? Lighter? Every intensity and color of light appeared to have its own mass and movement. Was I part of this? Did it pass through me, or did I pass through the light? Everything felt diffuse, and I had the impression that I was soaring to the center of this column. I sensed and knew instinctively that this force had the shape of an hourglass and that it would expand at some point, become even bigger than the place I had come from. For a moment it was tight, and I thought about the inside of an umbilical cord, about the placenta connecting mother and child; I felt dizzy, and I seemed to be experiencing birth at different levels and in different dimensions. Ascending, descending, entering or exiting places—I could no longer tell the difference, nor did it matter.
Everything around me went black, a warm black, and I realized that pure, warm, soft black is also light, a kind of energy, palpable even without a body. I wondered if it was palpable because it wasn’t me who had control over myself or a body, but something else that was a great deal bigger, stronger, and more wise than I could ever be.
I rose up, like being in an airplane without side panels (so I could feel the atmosphere around me). Strangely enough, I could neither see nor hear, and yet I perceived everything. I was a part of it, and at the same time I felt enveloped by a protective shell. I rose higher and higher, further away from life and closer to what feels like real existence.
I sensed a hierarchy of the regions or atmospheres I literally and figuratively went through. Every “layer” had its own atmosphere with distinct boundaries and restrictions. “Aha,” it flashed through me, “atmosphere,” and I understood that every “level” I moved through contained parts of both myself and others. Did this mean that I could have arrived at different levels of awareness during my life review and that I might have ended up at other layers? “Atmos,” “individual,” “I am,” “am I still?” flashed through me. It didn’t matter, but I was glad that I didn’t have to “get off” just yet. I was hoping to arrive at the essence, the purest form of consciousness. No more inadvertent mistakes or misadventures. Gradually, the notion of “enlightenment” began to take shape in me. I had never thought about spirituality, and to my embarrassment I had been known to make fun of it. But from a young age I’d always had many sincere questions, such as, If there is a God, why are there so many diseases and disasters? Why do we make war? Is nature God or God nature? Are we nature? One of my most fervent wishes as a child was that my father’s high blood pressure could be cured or that my mother had never contracted polio. Of course, when my worldview broadened a little, I wished for peace on earth and prosperity for all. But my most urgent question and source of anguish was always, Why do so many innocent children suffer? It never struck me that I didn’t place adults among the innocent. Now I would understand my unconscious views and get answers to my heartfelt questions. In fact, I would receive more answers than I had questions, and the answers would trigger yet more questions.
As I approached my “level,” I became lighter and happier and felt almost elated about what lay ahead. I seemed to be making a soft landing, and the envelope around me dissolved. The black light cleared like a fog and turned a color so delicate I still don’t know how to describe it. Palpable and all-pervasive; even the finest filter couldn’t capture this luminosity. I was amazed that I could see and feel this.
