The Divine Matrix

by Gregg Braden

  Historically, scientists look to one of two main theories to explain the results of the double-slit experiment. Each has its strengths and possesses certain aspects that make more sense than the other explanation. At the time of this writing, both are still theories, and a third possibility has been proposed more recently. Let’s take a brief look at all three interpretations.

  THE COPENHAGEN

  INTERPRETATION

  In 1927, physicists Niels Bohr and Werner Heisenberg at the Institute for Theoretical Physics in Copenhagen, Denmark, tried to make sense of the quantum weirdness that the new theories were revealing. The result of their work is known as the Copenhagen interpretation. So far, this is the most widely accepted explanation of why quantum particles act as they do.

  According to Bohr and Heisenberg, the universe exists as an infinite number of overlapping possibilities. They’re all there in a kind of quantum soup with no precise location or state of being until something happens to lock one of the possibilities into place.

  That “something” is a person’s awareness—the simple act of observation. As the experiment proves, when we look at something such as an electron moving through a slit in the barrier, the very act of observation is what appears to turn one of the quantum possibilities into reality. At that moment, all we see is the version that we’ve focused on.

  Figure 6. In the Copenhagen interpretation of quantum reality, it’s the focus of our consciousness that determines which of the many possibilities (A, B, C, D, and so on) becomes our reality.

  Pro: This theory has been tremendously successful in explaining the behavior of quantum particles as they’re observed in experiments.

  Con: The main criticism of this theory (if it can be can be considered to be one) is that it suggests that the universe can manifest itself only in the presence of someone or something observing it. Additionally, the Copenhagen interpretation doesn’t take the factor of gravity into consideration.

  THE MANY-WORLDS

  INTERPRETATION

  Following the Copenhagen interpretation, the next most popular explanation for the bizarre behavior of quantum particles is called the many-worlds interpretation of parallel universes. First proposed in 1957 by Princeton University physicist Hugh Everett III, this theory has gained tremendous popularity and support because it seems to address many of the apparent mysteries of the quantum world. Similar to the Copenhagen interpretation, it suggests that at any given moment in time, there are an infinite number of possibilities occurring, and that all of them already exist and are happening simultaneously.

  Figure 7. In the many-worlds interpretation of quantum reality, there are an infinite number of possibilities (A, B, C, D, and so on) that already exist. Each possibility exists in its own universe that the other possibilities can’t see. As with the Copenhagen interpretation, it’s the focus of our consciousness that determines which possibility becomes our reality.

  The difference between this and the Copenhagen interpretation is that according to the many-worlds interpretation, each possibility happens in its own space and can’t be seen by the others. The unique spaces are called alternate universes. Supposedly, we travel along a timeline of a single possibility in one universe and every once in a while make a quantum leap into another possibility in a different universe. From this perspective, someone could be living a life of illness and disease, and through a shift of focus, suddenly find himself “miraculously” healed while the world around him looks much as it did before.

  Everett’s interpretation suggests that we already exist in each of these alternate universes. When we take them all into consideration, we live out each and every dream and fantasy that we could ever imagine. Some proponents of this theory even suggest that when we’re asleep at night, our dreams are the result of relaxing the focus that keeps us here in our reality, allowing us to drift through other worlds of parallel possibilities. Similar to observers in the Copenhagen interpretation, we only see the possibility we focus on. And that’s the key to locking that particular possibility into place as “reality.”

  Pro: This theory seems to explain why we don’t see the many possibilities proposed by the Copenhagen interpretation.

  Con: As with any of the ideas based on quantum theory, the theory can’t account for the force of gravity. Although it may explain some of what we see in the quantum world, until it can account for all of nature’s forces, it’s seen as incomplete.

  In recent years, a third theory has been proposed, one that seems to address the shortcomings of both the Copenhagen and the many-worlds interpretations. Named after its author, Oxford University professor of mathematics Sir Roger Penrose, the Penrose interpretation suggests that the force of gravity that quantum physicists often dismiss is the very thing holding the universe together.

  THE PENROSE INTERPRETATION

  Similar to the proponents of the other interpretations, Penrose does believe that many possibilities or probabilities exist at the quantum level. His theory differs, however, as to what it is that “locks” one particular possibility into our reality.

  Penrose proposes that the quantum possibilities of the other realms are a form of matter. Because all matter creates gravity, each of the possibilities has its own gravitational field. However, it takes energy to maintain this, and the more energy a probability requires, the more unstable it really is. Because it’s impossible to sustain enough energy to keep all of them going forever, eventually they collapse into a single state—the most stable one, which we see as our “reality.”

  Figure 8. In the Penrose interpretation, there are many possibilities (A, B, C, D, and so on) that eventually collapse into a single reality simply because it requires too much energy to sustain them all indefinitely. While all of the possibilities exist at some point in time, the state that needs the lowest amount of energy is the most stable and the one that we experience as our reality.

  Pro: The greatest strength of this theory is that for the first time, it addresses gravity—the one factor that separated Einstein’s ideas and the quantum theories—and makes this force central to the existence of reality.

  Con: Perhaps the greatest drawback to Penrose’s theory (if it can be considered to be one) is that his critics believe that it may not be necessary. Although quantum theory is still only a theory, so far it has been 100 percent successful in predicting the outcome of quantum experiments. So we already have a viable theory for reality. Penrose’s interpretation provides this as well, while also including the factor of gravity, which the other theories have failed to do.

  SO WHICH ONE IS IT?

  Theoretical physicist Michio Kaku, coauthor of the unifying theory of superstrings, may have described the quandary of quantum physics best when he said, “It is often stated that of all the theories proposed in this century, the silliest is quantum theory. Some say that the only thing that quantum theory has going for it, in fact, is that it is unquestionably correct.”9

  Does one of the three prevailing theories explain both the “anomalous” events of the very small subatomic realm and why the world we see works as it does? As good as each interpretation is and as well as it may account for what we notice in the laboratory, the one factor that may be the “missing link” is the role that the Divine Matrix plays in connecting us with the container for all that’s observed.

  While the onlooker seems to be the wild card in the experiments that produce the unexpected results, what if the “anomalies” aren’t anomalies at all? What if the “weirdness” of quantum particles is actually the normal way that matter behaves? Is it possible that everything—from information traveling faster than the speed of light to two things existing in the same place at the same instant in time—is really showing us our potential, rather than our limitations? If so, then we have to ask ourselves: “What’s the one factor that links all these things together and prevents us from experiencing the same freedom that quantum particles seem to?”

  We’re the precise factor that’s missin
g in the existing theories! Specifically, it’s our ability to purposefully create the conditions of consciousness (thoughts, feelings, emotions, and beliefs) that lock one possibility of our choosing into the reality of our lives. And this is what brings science full circle with the world’s ancient spiritual traditions. Both science and mysticism describe a force that connects everything together and gives us the power to influence how matter behaves—and reality itself—simply through the way we perceive the world around us.

  The key is that there’s a big difference in the significance that various spiritual traditions and mainstream science give to the discoveries in the quantum world. For reasons that I described earlier, physicists for the most part believe that the way electrons and photons behave has little to do with how we live our everyday lives. The ancient traditions, on the other hand, suggest that it’s because of the way things work on a subatomic level that we can change our bodies and the world. If this is true, then what happens in the quantum realm has everything to do with our day-to-day lives.

  As my Native American friend Joseph suggested in the canyon, we don’t need machines to create the miraculous effects that we see in quantum particles. Through the power of our forgotten inner technology, we can heal, bilocate, be everywhere at once, remote-view, connect telepathically, choose peace, and do everything in between. It’s all about our power to focus consciousness, which is the great secret of some of our most ancient and cherished traditions.

  REALITY-MAKING 101

  In the teachings of Mahayana Buddhism, it’s believed that reality can exist only where our mind creates a focus. In fact, the wisdom suggests that both the world of pure form and that of the formless result from a mode of consciousness called “subjective imagination.”10 While any experience certainly seems real enough to us, it’s only when we direct our attention while we’re having a feeling about the object of our focus that a possible reality becomes that “real” experience. Except for a slight variation in the language, this ancient tradition sounds a lot like 20th-century quantum theory.

  If all of the dos and don’ts of quantum possibilities are true and emotion is the key to choosing reality, then the question is: “How do we feel as if something has happened when the person next to us stares us squarely in the face and says that it hasn’t?” For example, are we lying to ourselves if we say that a loved one is already healed while we’re standing over that person in the intensive care unit of St. Someone’s Hospital?

  The irony of this last question is that its very nature eludes any single answer. In a universe of many possible realities, there are numerous potential answers. Somewhere among all those alternate realities there exists a scenario where our loved one’s healing has already happened. Someplace there’s a reality where the disease never even occurred. For reasons that we may never know or understand, however, this isn’t the outcome that’s been awakened—it’s not the reality that’s lying on the gurney in front of us.

  The answer to our question boils down to what we believe about the world and our power to choose. The question then becomes: “Which possibility do we pick? Which reality does our loved one or the doctor decide on?” To answer this, we must first acknowledge that we have the power to make such a choice.

  Just as Neville’s story of the man and his near-fatal illness demonstrated, the present reality isn’t set in stone. Rather, it appears to be soft and malleable; it can even change when it looks as if there’s no reason for it to do so. In Neville’s account, the young man’s doctors had made a diagnosis (picked a reality) with an expected outcome. Not knowing that he had a choice, the man initially believed them and bought into their version of reality. It was only when he was offered another possibility and he accepted it that his body responded to his new belief—and did so quickly. (I share another powerful example of such a possibility in Chapter 4.)

  Einstein made a famous statement that we can’t solve a problem while we’re in the same level of thinking that created it. Similarly, we can’t change a reality if we remain in the same consciousness that made it. To lock in one of the many possibilities described by the Copenhagen, many-worlds, and Penrose theories of reality, we must pinpoint it. And we do so through the way we “observe” it—that is, how we feel about it in our lives.

  Once we recognize that we have a choice in terms of what we see as our reality, the next questions that are commonly asked are: “How do we do it? How are we to view someone as healed if the body of that person appears diseased?” The answer begins with our willingness to look beyond the illusion of what the world is showing us. In the example of our loved ones’ illnesses, we’re invited to see beyond the sickness that they’ve experienced, thinking about them as already healed and feeling what it’s like to be with them in this new reality.

  To choose a different possibility, however, we must do more than just think about the new way of being or wish that the recovery of our loved one had already happened. This is perhaps the greatest caution in this way of seeing the world and the one that can present the greatest pitfall. In our fear of losing the people, places, and things that we hold most dear, there’s a temptation to deal with the magnitude of the situation by denying the reality that stares us in the face, simply saying that we don’t believe it. But unless we also take the actions that replace that frightening reality with one of healing, our nonacceptance is bound to produce little more than frustration and disappointment.

  I’ve personally experienced the loss of friends who fell into this trap and are no longer in this world today. Although they’re the only ones who’ll ever know what really happened in their hearts and minds before passing, I had the opportunity to witness some of the struggles they went through with their beliefs. “If I’m such a powerful being,” they reasoned, “then why do I still have this condition? I’ve changed my beliefs … why haven’t I healed?”

  The topic is deep, personal, and sensitive. And the answer can often bring up strong feelings in discussions about what “is,” how the universe seems to work, and where God fits in. The bottom line is this: There’s a fine and delicate balance between simply choosing a new possibility and actually following through with the thoughts, feelings, and beliefs that awaken that outcome as a new reality.

  Key 8: To simply say that we choose a new reality is not enough!

  To choose a quantum possibility, we must become that way of being. As Neville suggests, we must “abandon” ourselves to the new possibility and in our “love for that state … live in the new state and no more in the old state.”11 And that’s precisely what the ancient instructions found in some of our most cherished traditions invite us to do. The technique for this human-to-divine interface is often called prayer.

  SPEAKING QUANTUM: FEELLNG

  LS THE KEY

  Earlier in this chapter we identified the various interpretations of why quantum weirdness seems to happen in the way that it does. The theories are particularly concerned with why the act of our simply observing matter seems to change it. While each explanation varied as to why the particular effect is happening, they all seem to suggest the same common denominator: us and our role as observers in the world.

  When we observe something—that is, when we consciously focus our attention on one place in time—it appears that we’re locking one of the many quantum possibilities into place in that instant. Whether it’s coming from a “parallel reality” or from the soup of flickering quantum probabilities, the theories suggest that what we see as Reality (with a capital R) is what it is because of our presence.

  While this appears to be revolutionary news to modern science, it’s been accepted as the way things are in ancient traditions and indigenous cultures for centuries. In the words of times past, scribes, mystics, healers, and scholars did their very best to preserve this great secret of our relationship to the universe and pass it on to us. Sometimes we find it in the places where we would least expect to encounter such powerful wisdom.

  From the temple walls an
d tombs in the deserts of Egypt to the Gnostic wisdom of the ancient Nag Hammadi library to the traditional medicine practiced today throughout the American Southwest, the language that breathes life into the possibilities of our imagination, dreams, and prayers remains with us. Perhaps the clearest example of this language is described in the words of a man who lived in a monastery nearly 15,000 feet above sea level, high on the Tibetan plateau.

  In the spring of 1998, I had the opportunity to facilitate a combined research trip and pilgrimage into the highlands of central Tibet for 22 days. During that time, the group and I found ourselves immersed in some of the most magnificent, rugged, pristine, and remote land remaining on the planet today. Along the way, we visited 12 monasteries, 2 nunneries, and some of the most beautiful humans that you could ever imagine, including monks, nuns, nomads, and pilgrims. It was during that time that I found myself face-to-face with the abbot of one of the monasteries and got the chance to ask the question that we’d traveled so far and long to ask.

  On an icy morning, we found ourselves cramped into a tiny chapel surrounded by Buddhist altars and ancient thangkas (the intricately brocaded tapestries that depict the great teachings of the past). I focused my attention directly on the eyes of the timeless-looking man seated lotus-style in front of me. Through our translator, I asked him the same question that I’d asked every monk and nun we’d met throughout our pilgrimage. “When we see your prayers,” I began, “what are you doing? When we watch you intone and chant for 14 and 16 hours a day; when we see the bells, bowls, gongs, chimes, mudras, and mantras on the outside, what’s happening to you on the inside? ”