THOUGHT EXPERIMENTS

Photo by Dennis Ottink on Unsplash

A while ago I wrote about the therapeutic value of dismissing free will for a bit and dipping into a world without right or wrong, good or bad, or better and worse. Not so long as to get in trouble, mind you, but enough to feel a little lighter when you return to managing all the bits and pieces of your life.

I mentioned a couple of standard thought experiments that you’ve already encountered that allow such a visit: a walk in the woods, or contemplating heaven.

Scientific thought experiments have been around since Galileo tested whether two balls of different weight would hit the ground at the same time. That early exploration of what Newton later found to be gravity was a thought experiment first, but it required a quick material experiment right after. Einstein turned thought experiments inside out, using imaginary possibilities that would be impossible to test – as goalposts to work toward, to search for, or to measure.

The teacher who brought me most of the way to freedom is a spiritual master named Hameed Ali, who writes under the pen name A.H. Almaas. He’s very good at thought experiments, which makes sense since he intended to be a physicist, even starting a Ph.D. at Berkeley before diverting into the psychospiritual realms he has explored for fifty years now.

Psychospiritual sounds weird. Ali thinks and writes about the juncture of psychology and spirituality. How much do psychological issues drive a person’s spiritual path? Did you find God when you bottomed out? Are you looking for freedom as an escape route from a cruel household? Those sort of questions. Along the way, Ali has probably done more than any one person in history, William James included, to catalog the varieties of spiritual experience. He immerses himself in them, from varieties of Buddhism and Hinduism to Sufism and Christianity and Shamanism and philosophical systems like phenomenology, Platonism, Kantian and quanta theories, and on and on. At some point he figures out what kind of deterministic universe they are describing, and uses his imagination to enter it.

I’m trying to bring his myriad thought experiments to a more general audience. Usually they’re contained in his Ridhwan School, a network of small groups who test out and learn from his mindgames, often in structured meetings that invoke thought experiments in a curriculum that is designed to take a student from ordinary dissatisfaction to the possibility of fairly consistent equanimity. I use the same thought experiments with my clients who are not Ridhwan students and who find them useful in reducing anxiety and increasing a sense of freedom and ease in the world. Which isn’t all that much different from what the Ridhwan School did for me.

I’ll start with a series of thought experiments that I sometimes engage on walks in the woods.

Once my stride is relaxed and regular, I say to myself with each step, “Non-abiding.” It sounds in my inner ear like “Non-abiding, non-abiding, non-abiding, non-abiding.” I do four and then another four and another four and another four until what “non-abiding” means seems to have sunk in. What is it to be non-abiding? I’m mentally footloose, not sticking to a thought, but encouraging a scattered, disorganized interest in what’s around me, not landing anywhere.

Once the willly-nilly vibe of the non-abiding approach has settled in, I switch to a new word, repeated with each step the same way. This time it’s “Non-identifying, non-identifying, non-identifying, non-identifying.” Now I’m not even allowing myself to name the objects or concepts my mind is momentarily picking out of the field. A tree is instead a brown thing, or a tall bit of brown. My sore knee is a hinge at best.

Once the non-identifying approach has settled in, I switch to a new word. This time it’s “Non-preferring.” I’m removing judgment, which often is the last wall between me and direct contact with the world. I don’t care whether I’m cold or hot, whether my left knee is sore, whether the trail is slippery. (Without seeming to be conscious of these things, I’ll still adjust appropriately, by the way.) “Non-preferring, non-preferring, non-preferring, non-preferring.” I don’t care whether the sky is blue, grey, or purple. My concerns for things being a certain way can disappear for the time being.

Once I’m no longer preferring one state or thing over another, I switch to “Non-doing.” Now I move my body into autopilot, and let go of caring whether my legs are moving or my thoughts tripping out or the trail narrowing or my arms swinging. “Non-doing, non-doing, non-doing, non-doing.” I abandon control of anything, and let the body that is mine proceed without mental influence, and my mind likewise ramble without mental influence.

Non-abiding for four beats, over and over.

Non-identifying for four beats, over and over.

Non-preferring for four beats, over and over.

Non-doing for four beats, over and over.

I know, I know. It’s kind of complicated. But it’s my favorite entry into freedom.