Ultimate Selfhood

The self that we experience as the “I am I” is far more than the fleeting narrative of personal identity we often mistake for reality. Beneath the surface of daily thought and perception lies a deeper, more intricate structure: a threefold composition of spirit, mind, and materiality. This triadic nature of the self echoes the Hermetic principle of correspondence—“As above, so below”—which reveals the hidden unity and mirrored relationships between all levels of existence. The spiritual plane, the mental plane, and the physical plane are not separate silos, but interdependent dimensions of one unified Self. This understanding, though ancient, is stunningly well articulated in more modern esoteric writings such as those of William Walker Atkinson, especially in The Kybalion and Arcane Formulas. Atkinson, writing under pseudonyms and through veiled traditions, pulled back the curtain on ancient wisdom, not simply to dazzle but to instruct those prepared to receive such teachings.

Having recently participated in a profoundly thought-provoking session, I find myself unexpectedly revisiting The Kybalion with a sense of awe and curiosity. Though published in 1908 and fairly recent in the stream of spiritual literature, it possesses a timelessness and clarity that makes it feel as if it speaks across centuries. This work, attributed to “Three Initiates,” distills Hermetic wisdom into digestible yet potent axioms and principles, emphasizing the interconnectedness of all things and the dynamic operation of the mind as the bridge between the spiritual and the physical. What has become unmistakably clear to me is that there is but one Self, capital S, and that the ego—what we often rely on to define individuality—has accumulated too many layered and contradictory meanings to be truly helpful. The ego, while a functional necessity in the physical realm, becomes an obstruction when mistaken for the totality of the Self.

The true Self exists simultaneously in three planes: the spiritual, the mental, and the physical. It is not that we have a spirit, mind, and body—it is more accurate to say we are all three at once. These are not compartments but gradients of expression. The spiritual plane is the realm of pure potential and original cause, the unmanifest energy or essence. The mental plane is the realm of formation, where thought forms take shape and begin to organize energy. The physical plane is the realm of manifestation, where those patterns of energy solidify into experience, matter, and motion. What is astonishing—and increasingly evident the more I reflect on Atkinson’s insights—is that the mind is not merely an observer, but an active intermediary. It is in the mental plane that the energy of the spiritual is applied to the realm of the physical. The mind draws down the light of the spirit and impresses it upon the fabric of material existence.

And yet, it is precisely within this mental plane that conflict arises. This realization is central to my growing understanding. The spiritual and physical planes, for all their oppositional qualities, share something crucial: they are both amoral. The spiritual plane, as the infinite field of potentiality, does not discriminate in the way we morally evaluate outcomes—it simply is. Likewise, the physical plane, composed of matter and governed by impersonal forces, does not possess inherent ethical dimensions. It responds to causes, follows patterns, and reflects energies without judgment. The mental plane, however, is where discernment, conflict, and decision emerge. This is the stage on which our struggles play out—not because the mind is flawed, but because it bears the weight of mediation. Every thought we form, every desire, fear, and memory, creates a ripple that tries to organize itself between the above and the below. The friction of trying to bring coherence between the two produces what we often call suffering.

But it is in this very realm of tension that our creative potential is also born. As Atkinson often emphasizes in his esoteric formulations, the mental plane is both the problem and the solution. It is through our capacity to think, to imagine, to direct attention, that we unlock the power to transform. We become alchemists not by avoiding the world or retreating into spirit, but by engaging all three planes with conscious integration. This was a radical and liberating idea for me: that the same mind which suffers can also heal; that the same internal space where confusion reigns can give rise to insight. The mental plane is our forge, and we are both the blacksmith and the iron.

What we are being invited to do, as I now see it, is to integrate these three realms—to embody them as facets of one Self. This integration is not achieved by domination, by letting one plane override the others, but by harmonizing their interaction. The spiritual must inform the mind, which in turn must consciously mold the physical. This, I believe, is the essence of true Hermetic work—not escape, but transformation. Atkinson’s writings, especially in Arcane Formulas, outline this process with unexpected precision, providing methods and meditations that are as applicable today as they were over a century ago. The formula is not religious dogma, but a science of inner being—a way to know and operate the levers of Selfhood.

I walk away from this journey—and from this session—with renewed appreciation for how layered and luminous human existence truly is. To even begin to understand that we are not fragmented creatures but a unified field of consciousness expressing itself across dimensions is both humbling and empowering. There is no separation between above and below, only a difference of vibration. The Self is not a prisoner of the body or a figment of the mind, nor is it some disembodied spirit trapped in form. The Self is the totality of all three—a dynamic, ever-unfolding unity. When the mind serves as a faithful mediator, honoring the wisdom of the spirit and the structure of the body, balance and purpose emerge.

This insight has altered my view of inner work and self-development. I no longer see the mind as a battlefield or the body as a hindrance. Instead, I recognize that each is a reflection of the other, a necessity in the unfolding of Self. The answer, for me, lies in acceptance, in deliberate cultivation of harmony, and in the ongoing process of integration. The teachings of Atkinson and the principles of Hermetic thought do not demand belief so much as they invite practice—experimentation with how we direct thought, how we perceive energy, and how we bring our internal universe into resonance with what lies beyond it.

This exploration has not only illuminated certain truths I had long intuited but never named—it has also rekindled my hunger for further study. To see anew something like The Kybalion—to find within its words the scaffolding of my own inner experience—is a gift I didn’t expect. I now understand why the ancients spoke in symbols and correspondences: not to obscure, but to awaken. The world above and the world below are not divided, and neither are we. We are the bridge, the channel, the living testament of unity-in-expression. And in this, I find both peace and purpose.

My Current View of the Nature of Reality

In our world saturated by materialist assumptions and scientific reductionism, and religious dogma, a new form of spirituality is emerging—one that reclaims ancient wisdom while embracing modern consciousness studies. Two contemporary thinkers, Bernardo Kastrup and Donald Hoffman, offer compelling bridges between science, philosophy, and deep spiritual insight. Kastrup, through his model of Analytic Idealism, asserts that consciousness is the sole ontological primitive—that all things emerge within and from consciousness itself. There is one universal mind, and what we experience as individual consciousness is a dissociated aspect of this one source. Donald Hoffman, meanwhile, proposes what he calls Conscious Realism, a theory in which consciousness is not the product of the brain but the very fabric of reality itself. Instead of a single mind, Hoffman posits a universe composed of interacting conscious agents, each contributing to what we mistakenly perceive as an external, objective world. He argues that what we call reality is merely a user interface, shaped by evolution to promote survival rather than truth. Our perceptions are icons, not windows.

These modern frameworks echo the poetic metaphysics found in early Christian mystical texts, particularly The Gospel of Truth, attributed to Valentinian circles in the second century. In that gospel, creation is not a literal series of events but the unfolding of divine awareness. Humanity's fall is described not as sin in the traditional sense but as a state of forgetfulness—of ignorance regarding one's origin in the divine. Christ is not merely a sacrifice for wrath but the embodiment of divine memory, sent to awaken humanity from its slumber. He comes not to punish but to remind. The cross is not the locus of appeasement but the fulcrum of revelation, shaking the soul out of its amnesia and into the awareness of its source. This mirrors Kastrup’s assertion that our apparent separation is not real, but a dissociation—a compartmentalization within the larger consciousness. Likewise, in Hoffman’s terms, we have believed too literally in the icons we see, taking interface for substance and forgetting the deeper, conscious structures beneath.

But long before these Christian mystical texts were written—and even before Greek philosophy laid the groundwork for idealism—indigenous peoples across the world were articulating similar views through shamanic traditions. Ancient shamanism, found in the Amazon, Siberia, Africa, Australia, and the Americas, consistently holds that the material world is not the primary reality. Shamans enter altered states of consciousness—through trance, dance, plant medicines, or dreams—not to escape the real, but to access a more real, spirit-infused realm that underlies and interpenetrates the visible world. In these states, they report encounters with entities, ancestors, and archetypal forces, and they navigate dimensions where thought, symbol, and intention shape the environment. Such experiences support the idea that consciousness precedes matter, and that the material world is a symbolic interface, much like what Hoffman and Kastrup suggest.

Shamanism also shares the core insight found in The Gospel of Truth—that we are beings who have forgotten who we truly are. The shaman does not merely heal the body but retrieves the soul, restores memory, and reintegrates the person into the web of life. These rituals aim to reverse fragmentation, to mend the split between the visible and invisible, between the individual and the cosmos. Kastrup's view of dissociation within universal consciousness closely resembles the indigenous notion of spiritual disconnection as a form of soul loss or imbalance. Likewise, Hoffman’s conscious agents resemble the spirit-beings and intelligences recognized in animist and shamanic cosmologies. These beings are not figments of a primitive imagination, but inhabitants of other layers of the conscious field, accessible through non-ordinary states of awareness.

The prologue of the Gospel of John carries a striking resonance with these themes. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Logos here functions not simply as a name for Christ but as the rational pattern and meaning behind all things—the structure of divine mind. “In Him was life, and that life was the light of all humanity.” Life and light—consciousness and awareness—are not accidents of biology but the very essence of being. When John later says, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us,” it is not merely about incarnation but about divine consciousness breaking into human perception. Chapter 17 deepens this mystical theme. Jesus speaks of unity: “That they may be one, Father, as you are in me and I in you… that they may be brought to complete unity.” This is not an institutional unity, but ontological unity. He speaks as though his own consciousness and the Father's are intertwined, and he desires that same experience for humanity. It is the language of reintegration—the healing of the dissociation that Kastrup describes, and the lifting of illusion Hoffman critiques.

Paul’s epistles echo this cosmic consciousness in deeply mystical terms. In Colossians, Paul proclaims, “He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” Christ is not just an individual but a cosmic template, a unifying field. “For in Him all the fullness of deity dwells bodily.” Christ is not just an agent but the pattern of divine reality itself. In Ephesians, Paul extends this thought: “There is one body and one Spirit… one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.” Here, spiritual union is not moral agreement but ontological participation in the divine. The individual ego, separated by fear and survival instincts, begins to dissolve into a larger, luminous unity. This mirrors not only Hoffman’s model of conscious agent networks but also indigenous visions of the great web of life, in which all beings are animated by Spirit and interrelated through sacred reciprocity.

Modern spirituality, then, has an opportunity to synthesize these diverse insights into a cohesive path of awakening. It begins with a fundamental shift: seeing consciousness not as a byproduct of brain chemistry but as the very ground of existence. The illusions of separation—between self and other, divine and human, sacred and secular—can be healed. In this spirituality, prayer is not pleading with a distant deity but aligning with the deeper flow of the one mind. Meditation becomes a tuning of attention back into the divine presence from which we are never truly separate. Ritual, long dismissed as superstition, regains its sacred function: to symbolize and enact inner realities, to realign the self with the rhythms of cosmos and spirit. Shamanic ceremony, Christian sacrament, and contemplative silence all become valid technologies of the sacred.

The story of Christ becomes not a once-for-all transaction, but an eternal drama of remembering, of awakening from forgetfulness. The “kingdom of God within” is not metaphor, but an invitation to rediscover one's identity in the universal consciousness. This is a message as ancient as the drumbeat of tribal medicine men and as contemporary as quantum theory. It bridges the firelit visions of the shaman with the deep exegesis of the mystic. It is the perennial message: you are not what you think you are, you are more, and you have never been separate from the Source.

In this synthesis, the Gospel of Truth, the Gospel of John, and Paul’s mystical Christ are no longer bound by doctrinal literalism but are seen as poetic revelations of the structure of consciousness itself. Analytic Idealism, as articulated by Bernardo Kastrup, gives a metaphysical framework for this spirituality: the world is real, but it is mental, symbolic, and alive within divine mind. Conscious Realism, as proposed by Donald Hoffman, offers a scientific metaphor: the reality we see is not the thing-in-itself but a dashboard—custom-tailored to our sensory evolution. Indigenous shamanism, often dismissed by modern thinkers, returns to the table as an intuitive, experiential map of the same insight: that the world is sacred, that mind is primary, and that true healing is a return to relational, holistic consciousness. We are the divine, looking through filters, interfaces, and personas, slowly remembering what we always were.

Thus, modern spirituality becomes an act of reconnection. Not through dogma, but through direct experience. Not through fear, but through awakening. It speaks to the mystic, the scientist, the seeker, and the shaman. It honors ancient scripture, not by freezing it in the past, but by decoding its deeper truths in the light of new understanding. In Christ, we see not a gatekeeper, but a guide—calling us out of the dream of separation and into the luminous truth of shared being. In the language of John, we become one as Christ and the Father are one—not by merit, but by nature. In the terms of Kastrup, we awaken as fragments of the One Mind dissolving the illusion of fragmentation. In Hoffman’s vision, we learn not to cling to the icons, but to explore the deeper conscious reality they hint at. And in the heartbeat of the shaman’s drum, we find the rhythm of a world where all is alive, all is interconnected, and all is sacred.

This synthesis is the gospel for a post-materialist age—a gospel of unity, awakening, and inward return. It is the good news that we were never separate, never lost, only dreaming. And now, the dream is thinning, the light is dawning, and the Word that was in the beginning is speaking again—not in thunder, but within. And the Spirit that moved across the waters, danced in sacred fire, and whispered in tribal chants is still speaking in every tradition that dares to remember.

What Don Juan Matus, Don Miguel Ruiz, and William Walker Atkinson Have in Common

The exploration of personal power within the unseen world of consciousness finds intriguing parallels in the writings of Carlos Castaneda, William Walker Atkinson, and Don Miguel Ruiz. Although these authors stem from distinct cultural and philosophical backgrounds, their works converge on key concepts that illuminate the nature of human potential, perception, and spiritual mastery. Castaneda’s Don Juan novels delve into the esoteric practices of Mesoamerican shamanism, where the Yaqui sorcerer Don Juan Matus teaches the path of the warrior, emphasizing the necessity of impeccability and the accumulation of personal power. Similarly, Atkinson’s works, rooted in the Western Hermetic tradition, explore the control of thought and the harnessing of mental energy as a means to influence both the material and spiritual realms. The concept of impeccability, also echoed in Don Miguel Ruiz’s The Four Agreements, acts as a common thread that binds these traditions, revealing a shared understanding of the disciplined life required to navigate the unseen dimensions of existence.

In Castaneda’s accounts, Don Juan presents personal power as an elusive force that must be meticulously cultivated through heightened awareness, discipline, and the ability to shift one’s perception of reality. This power is not merely about control or dominance but rather the capacity to engage with the world in a manner that transcends ordinary human limitations. For Don Juan, impeccability—living with unwavering intent and responsibility—is essential for accumulating this power. Every thought, action, and decision must align with a deeper sense of purpose, allowing the practitioner to move through life with clarity and strength. Failure to maintain impeccability results in the dissipation of personal power, leaving the individual vulnerable to the chaotic forces of both the seen and unseen worlds.

Atkinson’s perspective, though articulated through the lens of Western Hermeticism and New Thought philosophy, resonates with Don Juan’s teachings. His works, particularly The Kybalion and Thought Vibration, emphasize the mastery of mental energy as the key to shaping one’s reality. Atkinson asserts that thought is a form of vibration that can be directed with intention, influencing both the inner world of consciousness and the external circumstances of life. This process requires unwavering focus and self-discipline, mirroring Don Juan’s insistence on impeccability. Just as the warrior must guard against frivolous thoughts and actions that drain personal power, Atkinson’s practitioner must maintain mental clarity and purpose to harness the full potential of thought vibration. Both traditions recognize that the mind’s habitual patterns can either empower or enslave the individual, depending on the level of awareness and control applied.

The concept of impeccability as articulated in Ruiz’s The Four Agreements further underscores the importance of aligning one’s thoughts, words, and actions with integrity and purpose. Ruiz describes impeccability as being “impeccable with your word,” which extends beyond mere honesty to encompass the conscious use of language as a tool for creating reality. Words, like thoughts, possess a vibrational quality that influences both the speaker and the surrounding world. To speak with impeccability is to use language in a way that uplifts, empowers, and aligns with one’s highest intentions. This principle closely parallels Atkinson’s emphasis on the power of thought and Don Juan’s insistence on mindful action. In all three systems, the disciplined use of thought and speech serves as a conduit for personal power, enabling the individual to navigate both the physical and metaphysical dimensions of existence.

Despite their cultural differences, these teachings reveal a shared understanding of the unseen world of consciousness as a realm governed by laws that can be understood and harnessed through disciplined practice. Both Mesoamerican shamanism and Western Hermeticism view the universe as a field of interconnected energy, where thought and intent shape the fabric of reality. Don Juan teaches Castaneda that perception is fluid and malleable, allowing the warrior to shift between different “assemblage points” that determine how reality is experienced. This concept finds an echo in Atkinson’s assertion that the mind can attune itself to different vibrational frequencies, thereby altering both perception and circumstance. In both traditions, the ability to navigate these shifts in consciousness is a mark of advanced spiritual development, requiring years of practice, discipline, and unwavering intent.

Furthermore, the emphasis on personal responsibility and self-mastery is central to both systems. Don Juan repeatedly emphasizes that the warrior must take full responsibility for their life, recognizing that every thought and action carries consequences that ripple through both the seen and unseen worlds. Similarly, Atkinson’s philosophy of mental control stresses that individuals are the architects of their own reality, bound only by the limitations of their beliefs and mental habits. This shared emphasis on responsibility reflects a deeper understanding of the interconnected nature of existence, where every action and thought contributes to the greater reality of life. The path to personal power, therefore, lies not in seeking external control or dominance but in mastering one’s inner world, aligning thought, word, and action with a higher purpose.

Another point of convergence is the idea that true power comes from detachment and the ability to act without attachment to outcomes. Don Juan teaches that the warrior must act with impeccable intent, fully committed to their actions yet free from the need for specific results. This detachment allows the warrior to move through life with grace and fluidity, unencumbered by fear or desire. Atkinson similarly emphasizes the importance of maintaining a calm and focused mind, free from the distractions of fear, doubt, and attachment. By cultivating inner peace and mental clarity, the individual becomes a conduit for higher forces, allowing their intentions to manifest with greater ease and precision. This alignment with the flow of the universe is not a passive surrender but an active engagement with life, guided by the understanding that true power arises from harmony with the deeper currents of existence.

Ultimately, the teachings of Castaneda, Atkinson, and Ruiz converge on the understanding that the unseen world of consciousness is not a distant realm accessible only to a select few but an ever-present dimension that can be navigated through disciplined practice and unwavering intent. Personal power is not something to be acquired or possessed but a natural result of aligning one’s thoughts, words, and actions with the deeper laws that govern both the physical and metaphysical realms. Impeccability serves as the key to this process, ensuring that every aspect of one’s life becomes a reflection of their highest purpose. Whether approached through the lens of Mesoamerican shamanism, Western Hermeticism, or modern Toltec wisdom, the path to personal power ultimately leads to the same destination: a life of clarity, purpose, and mastery, where the boundaries between the seen and unseen dissolve, revealing the infinite potential of the human spirit.

How I understand Christ Consciousness

Christ consciousness, understood as the anointing of the Logos, reveals a profound spiritual truth that transcends traditional interpretations. The Gospel of John opens with the declaration that the Logos was with God, was God, and became flesh, dwelling among humanity. Yet, the world did not recognize this divine presence. This statement is not merely a historical reference to Jesus but a universal truth about the presence of the divine consciousness within all people. The Logos—the divine reason, order, and creative principle—is the foundation of all existence, permeating every soul. Christ consciousness is the awakening to this inner presence, the realization that the divine essence of the Logos dwells within each individual, awaiting recognition and activation.

The term "Christ" signifies the anointing, a state of being consecrated and set apart for a higher purpose. In this context, to be anointed is to awaken to the presence of the Logos within oneself, thereby aligning one's consciousness with divine wisdom and love. This anointing is not exclusive to any one individual; rather, it is a universal potential available to all. The Gospel of Truth, attributed to the Valentinian tradition, emphasizes that humanity's fundamental problem is forgetfulness—forgetfulness of its divine origin and the presence of the Logos within. Through Christ consciousness, one remembers their true nature, transcending the illusion of separation and experiencing unity with the divine.

This understanding reframes the life and teachings of Jesus as a demonstration of what is possible for all humanity. Jesus embodied Christ consciousness, living in perfect alignment with the Logos, and his mission was to awaken others to this same reality. His statement, "The kingdom of God is within you," underscores that the divine presence is not external but resides within the human heart and mind. The Logos is the eternal source of wisdom, creativity, and compassion, and when one becomes aware of this inner presence, they experience a profound transformation. Fear, doubt, and confusion are replaced by love, clarity, and a sense of purpose. This is the essence of the anointing—the realization that one is not separate from the divine but a manifestation of it.

The Gospel of Truth describes humanity's condition as one of ignorance and forgetfulness, leading to suffering and alienation. However, this state is not the result of sin or inherent flaw but simply a lack of awareness. The message of the Gospel of Truth is one of remembrance and awakening. By recognizing the presence of the Logos within, individuals rediscover their true identity as beings of light and love. This awakening is not a distant goal but a present reality, accessible at any moment through introspection, meditation, and a deepening awareness of the interconnectedness of all life. The anointing of Christ consciousness dissolves the illusion of separation, revealing the unity of all existence and the infinite love that flows through every being.

This perspective shifts the focus from external authority to inner realization. Traditional religious teachings often emphasize obedience to external doctrines and rituals, but the awakening to Christ consciousness is an inward journey. It is about attuning one's mind and heart to the frequency of the Logos, allowing divine wisdom to guide one's thoughts, words, and actions. This inner alignment creates a life characterized by compassion, creativity, and harmony. As individuals awaken to Christ consciousness, they naturally radiate love and understanding, transforming not only their own lives but also the world around them.

The statement that the Logos was in the world but the world did not recognize it is a reminder that divine presence is always available, though often overlooked. Caught up in the distractions and demands of daily life, people lose sight of their true nature. Yet, the Logos continues to speak through the beauty of nature, the depth of human relationships, and the quiet voice of intuition within. Awakening to Christ consciousness is about learning to listen—to hear the silent wisdom of the Logos that constantly calls each soul to remember its divine origin. This remembrance is the essence of spiritual awakening, the realization that one is already whole, already connected to the infinite source of love and wisdom.

The anointing of the Logos is not reserved for a select few but is the birthright of every human being. Just as a seed contains the potential to become a mighty tree, every person carries the potential to awaken to Christ consciousness. This awakening does not require adherence to specific religious beliefs or practices; it is a universal experience that transcends all cultural and theological boundaries. It is about recognizing the divine essence within oneself and all others, leading to a life of compassion, creativity, and joy. As more individuals awaken to this reality, the collective consciousness of humanity is elevated, creating a world characterized by greater understanding, cooperation, and love.

In essence, Christ consciousness is the anointing of the Logos—the realization that the divine creative principle is not separate from oneself but is the very essence of one's being. This awakening is the fulfillment of the human journey, the return to a state of unity and wholeness. The Gospel of Truth serves as a reminder that the only barrier to this realization is forgetfulness, and through remembrance, humanity can reclaim its divine inheritance. As each person awakens to the presence of the Logos within, they become a beacon of light, illuminating the path for others and contributing to the collective awakening of humanity. This is the true meaning of the anointing—to live in alignment with divine wisdom and love, transforming both oneself and the world through the power of Christ consciousness.

Hoffman and Kastrup's Cosmology: Could This Be Useful For Today's Spirituality?

Donald Hoffman and Bernardo Kastrup, despite their different academic backgrounds, present strikingly similar cosmologies that challenge the materialist assumption that consciousness arises from physical processes. Hoffman, a cognitive scientist and evolutionary psychologist, and Kastrup, a philosopher specializing in artificial intelligence and neuroscience, both argue that consciousness is not a mere byproduct of matter but is instead the fundamental reality from which everything emerges. While their terminologies and methodologies differ, their core ideas align in ways that suggest that what we perceive as the physical world is not an objective reality independent of mind but rather a kind of perceptual interface or representation.

Hoffman’s work in cognitive science has led him to conclude that our perception of reality is entirely shaped by evolutionary necessity rather than by an accurate depiction of an external world. His Interface Theory of Perception argues that our senses do not show us reality as it is but instead present a simplified model that aids in survival, much like a computer desktop interface provides icons that obscure the complex circuits and code underneath. He extends this insight into a broader ontological framework in which space, time, and matter are not fundamental but are merely convenient representations generated by conscious agents. In this view, reality consists of networks of interacting consciousnesses, and our everyday experience is akin to a virtual environment designed to help us function rather than to reveal any deep truth about the structure of existence.

Kastrup, on the other hand, comes from the philosophical tradition of analytic idealism, which holds that the physical world is the extrinsic appearance of an underlying mental reality. He likens individual minds to whirlpools in an ocean of universal consciousness, appearing distinct yet inseparable from the larger whole. But Kastrup goes even further, proposing that we, as individuals, may actually be dissociative personalities of the broader mind-at-large, much like the phenomenon of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), where multiple personalities emerge within a single human mind yet experience themselves as separate. From this perspective, what we call individual consciousness is a localized pocket of dissociation within the cosmic mind, giving us the illusion of separateness. Just as in DID, where distinct identities within one mind may be unaware of each other, we fail to recognize our deeper unity with the whole. Kastrup sees space and time not as absolute entities but as emergent properties of consciousness, similar to how the narrative of a dream unfolds within the dreamer’s mind.

Both thinkers also seek to resolve the Hard Problem of Consciousness, which has long puzzled scientists and philosophers. Instead of asking how unconscious matter gives rise to subjective experience, Hoffman and Kastrup flip the question: How does consciousness give rise to the illusion of matter? Hoffman proposes a mathematical model in which networks of conscious agents interact to create structured patterns that we interpret as physical laws. For him, consciousness is not something that arises from neurons firing in the brain but is rather the fundamental building block of reality itself. Similarly, Kastrup argues that matter is what consciousness looks like when viewed from an external perspective, much like how a person’s brain activity can be observed on an MRI scan even though their inner experience remains invisible to others.

While Hoffman tends to approach these questions with a scientific and mathematical framework, seeking formal models to describe conscious interactions, Kastrup employs a more philosophical and metaphysical approach, drawing on history, neuroscience, and logic to support his claims. Their different vocabularies sometimes obscure their shared vision, but at their core, both are articulating the same fundamental idea: what we think of as the physical world is not the ultimate reality but rather a perceptual construct shaped by consciousness itself.

One of the most intriguing aspects of their work is how they reframe space and time. Hoffman, influenced by quantum physics and evolutionary theory, argues that space-time is an illusion—a convenient but ultimately misleading mental construct that helps organisms navigate their environment but does not reflect the underlying reality. He likens this to the way a computer desktop presents neatly arranged icons rather than exposing the complex inner workings of the machine. Kastrup, though coming from a different angle, makes a similar argument. He sees space-time as the outward expression of mental processes, akin to the way a person’s emotions may manifest as facial expressions. In both cases, reality is not what it seems, and what we take as fundamental—matter, space, time—is merely a representation of something deeper.

This perspective aligns with modern physics, which increasingly suggests that information lies at the foundation of physical reality. In quantum mechanics and digital physics, many researchers propose that the universe behaves more like a vast computational process or an information-based structure rather than a purely material one. This shift resonates with Hoffman’s and Kastrup’s views, as both suggest that what we perceive as "matter" is an emergent phenomenon of deeper conscious interactions, much like how information processing in a computer leads to the appearance of digital environments. If reality is fundamentally informational, then it is not difficult to conceive of it as something shaped by consciousness itself rather than by unconscious matter.

Interestingly, this idea also has deep historical roots. The ancient Pythagoreans believed that mathematics was the fundamental reality of existence, seeing numbers and geometric relationships as the underlying principles of the cosmos. This view, though ancient, is remarkably close to Hoffman’s approach, where reality is best understood as mathematical interactions between conscious agents. Kastrup, while less explicitly mathematical, shares this notion in his emphasis on structured mental activity as the foundation of the world. In a way, both thinkers revive the Pythagorean perspective, reframing it through the lens of modern science and philosophy to argue that the fabric of reality is not physical substance but structured, intelligent order—whether seen as conscious networks (Hoffman) or a unified mental field (Kastrup).

Their perspectives offer an alternative to the prevailing materialist paradigm that has dominated science and philosophy for centuries. Instead of assuming that consciousness is an epiphenomenon of brain activity, both Hoffman and Kastrup argue that mind is primary and that what we call the physical universe is a derivative phenomenon. Their work challenges long-held assumptions about the nature of reality and suggests a radical shift in how we understand existence.

Despite their differing backgrounds and approaches, the fundamental alignment between their ideas is hard to ignore. Whether through Hoffman’s mathematical framework of conscious agents or Kastrup’s oceanic metaphor of mind-at-large, both are painting a picture of reality in which consciousness is not a late evolutionary accident but the very ground of being itself. While Hoffman describes a vast network of interacting conscious agents, and Kastrup describes the self-expressions of a singular universal mind, the distinctions between their models may ultimately be more a matter of vocabulary than substance. Their insights, though framed differently, are converging on the same revolutionary conclusion: reality as we experience it is a perceptual illusion, consciousness is the foundation from which everything emerges, and our sense of individuality may itself be a dissociative phenomenon within a greater cosmic intelligence.

Gnosticism With a Reimagined Cosmology

Is the Gnostic Cosmology a metaphor?

“In the beginning, beyond the confines of time and space, there existed the ineffable and boundless Source, often referred to as the Monad. From this primordial unity emanated a series of divine beings, known as Aeons, each embodying distinct aspects of the Source's infinite nature. Among these celestial entities was Sophia, the personification of wisdom and the youngest of the Aeons. Driven by an insatiable desire to comprehend the fullness of the Source, Sophia embarked on a journey that led her to the periphery of the Pleroma, the divine realm of light.

In her quest, Sophia's yearning precipitated an unintended consequence: the emergence of a flawed and ignorant creator, Yaldabaoth. This being, unaware of the higher realms from which he originated, fashioned the material universe—a cosmos marked by imperfection and suffering. Yaldabaoth, proclaiming himself the sole deity, was oblivious to the existence of the superior spiritual dimensions above him.

Within this material realm, Yaldabaoth and his subordinate Archons crafted the first human, Adam. Recognizing the deficiency in their creation, Sophia intervened, imparting a spark of divine essence into humanity. This infusion endowed humans with the potential to transcend the material world's limitations and reconnect with the higher spiritual realities.”

Parallel to this ancient narrative, modern scientific cosmology offers a profound account of the universe's origins. Approximately 13.8 billion years ago, the cosmos began from an initial singularity, expanding and evolving into the vast expanse we observe today. This event, known as the Big Bang, set forth the laws of physics, leading to the formation of galaxies, stars, and planetary systems. On at least one such planet, Earth, conditions coalesced to foster the emergence of life, culminating in sentient beings capable of reflection and inquiry.

At first glance, the Gnostic cosmology and modern scientific understanding might appear disparate—the former rooted in metaphysical mythos, the latter in empirical observation. However, a deeper exploration reveals intriguing parallels that bridge these two perspectives.

The concept of the Monad in Gnostic thought mirrors the singularity posited by cosmologists—a unified origin from which all existence flows. Sophia's descent and the subsequent creation of the material world can be seen as an allegorical representation of the universe's transition from a state of pure potentiality to manifest reality. Yaldabaoth's ignorance of the higher realms reflects the inherent limitations within the material universe, a domain governed by entropy and impermanence.

The divine spark embedded within humanity resonates with the scientific recognition of consciousness as one of the universe's most enigmatic phenomena. Just as the Gnostics believed this spark offers a pathway to transcendence, modern thinkers ponder the role of consciousness in understanding and potentially transcending the physical laws that govern our existence.

Moreover, the Gnostic emphasis on esoteric knowledge (gnosis) as a means to achieve spiritual liberation finds a counterpart in the scientific endeavor. Both paths value the pursuit of deeper understanding—whether it's the nature of divinity and the cosmos in Gnosticism or the fundamental principles governing reality in science. This quest for knowledge serves as a bridge between the material and the transcendent, guiding individuals toward a more profound comprehension of their place within the grand realm of existence.

In synthesizing these narratives, one might envision the universe as a dynamic interplay between the material and the spiritual. The scientific account details the mechanisms and processes that have shaped the cosmos, while the Gnostic perspective offers insight into the underlying purpose and destiny of conscious beings within this vast expanse. Together, they present a holistic vision: a universe born from a singular origin, imbued with the potential for self-awareness, and driven by an intrinsic impulse toward reunion with the Source.

This integrated narrative invites a reevaluation of humanity's role in the cosmos. It suggests that our journey is not merely a physical traversal through space and time but also a spiritual odyssey toward enlightenment and unity. By embracing both the empirical rigor of science and the introspective depth of Gnostic wisdom, we can aspire to a more comprehensive understanding of reality—one that honors the material world's complexity while acknowledging the profound mysteries that lie beyond.

In this light, the ancient Gnostic teachings and modern scientific cosmology need not be seen as conflicting paradigms but as complementary lenses through which we can explore the profound questions of existence, purpose, and the ultimate nature of reality.

Did Evangelical Christianity Create the Moral Decline It Condemns?

Many voices today cry out for America to “return to God” and, more specifically, to evangelical Christianity. They claim that the country’s moral decay stems from abandoning Christian values. However, a strong case can be made that the blame for much of the moral confusion and lack of self-control in modern society can be laid squarely at the feet of evangelical Christianity itself.

For centuries, religious institutions wielded fear as a primary tool of control. One hundred fifty years ago, the idea of hell—an eternal torture chamber for the disobedient—was an effective means of coercion. The fear of divine wrath and endless suffering kept many people in line. But as knowledge and awareness have expanded, fewer people buy into this fear-based approach to spirituality. More and more individuals recognize that a truly loving God would not condemn people to eternal torment. The concept of hell as taught by evangelicals does not hold up to scrutiny, and once that fear dissolves, people begin to question the entire system that promoted it.

The Numbers Don’t Add Up

Another reason for the decline of evangelical influence is simple demographics. There are approximately 8 billion people on this planet, yet evangelicals make up no more than 10% of the global population. Are we to believe that a just and loving God would design a system in which only a tiny fraction of humanity finds salvation while billions of others are doomed to unimaginable suffering? This view not only defies logic, but it also contradicts the very nature of a deity that is supposed to be merciful and just.

This exclusivist mindset—one that insists that only those who believe in a particular interpretation of Christianity are saved—has done more harm than good. It alienates people and makes faith seem like an exclusive club rather than a universal invitation to love, transformation, and understanding. As people become more aware of the diversity of beliefs worldwide, the evangelical claim to exclusive truth becomes harder to accept.

The Suppression of Alternative Christianities

The problem runs even deeper when we look at how orthodox Christianity suppressed other expressions of Jesus’ teachings throughout history. Early Christianity was incredibly diverse, with many different interpretations of Jesus’ message. Some groups emphasized love and wisdom, others focused on mystical union with God, and some even saw Jesus’ teachings as a call to inner enlightenment rather than strict religious dogma.

However, as the centuries passed, orthodoxy sought to silence these alternative voices. Councils were convened, creeds were written, and texts were declared heretical. The diversity of early Christianity was forcibly narrowed into a rigid framework that could be controlled. What we now recognize as mainstream Christian doctrine was not a natural evolution of Jesus’ teachings but a carefully curated and politically motivated selection. This historical reality makes it easier for people today to dismiss Christianity altogether. When they see that much of what they were taught was shaped by power-hungry religious leaders rather than divine revelation, they conclude that the entire enterprise is untrustworthy.

A Lost Opportunity for a Gentler Christianity

Imagine if Christianity had taken a different route—one that truly emphasized love over fear. What if the dominant message had been one of grace, compassion, and inclusion rather than eternal punishment and exclusivity? A Christianity that modeled itself after the most profound teachings of Jesus—love your neighbor, forgive endlessly, serve humbly—could have been a unifying force rather than a divisive one.

Instead, much of Christianity, particularly in its evangelical form, chose to define itself by what it opposes rather than what it stands for. It became known for its condemnations rather than its embrace of the broken, the lost, and the searching. It became a political force rather than a spiritual refuge. Is it any wonder, then, that so many people today reject it?

The Late Canonization of Scripture

Another major issue that undermines evangelical credibility is the late canonization of Scripture. Many believers assume that the Bible has always existed in its current form, but this is far from true. The process of determining which books were “inspired” and which were not was a lengthy and politically charged process. By the time the biblical canon was finalized, centuries had passed since the events it describes.

Furthermore, those who controlled this process had clear agendas. Emperor Constantine, who convened the Council of Nicaea, was more interested in unifying the Roman Empire than in preserving theological diversity. The result was a rigid system that left little room for alternative perspectives. When people today learn about the human—and often political—elements behind the Bible’s formation, it becomes easier to question its authority.

Rethinking Jesus' Teachings on Hell

One of the most misunderstood aspects of Jesus’ teachings is his references to hell. The word he most frequently used was Gehenna, which was an actual location—the Valley of Hinnom outside Jerusalem. This place had a dark history, once being a site of child sacrifices and later a burning trash heap. Jesus’ references to Gehenna were likely a response to contemporary Jewish teachings about the afterlife rather than a declaration of eternal torment.

In first-century Judaism, some groups believed that sinners would spend a limited time in Gehenna, similar to purgatory, before being purified. It is very possible that Jesus was not endorsing this view but rather critiquing it. Yet over time, this evolved into the Christian concept of an everlasting hell, a doctrine that has driven people away from Christianity rather than drawing them toward it.

Where Do We Go from Here?

If evangelical Christianity bears significant responsibility for the current moral confusion, what is the solution? The answer is not necessarily to abandon spirituality altogether but to embrace a version of faith that is based on love, inclusion, and understanding rather than fear, exclusion, and control.

A return to the core of Jesus’ teachings—emphasizing love, mercy, and justice—could offer a compelling alternative to both rigid fundamentalism and outright secularism. Many people still long for spiritual connection and meaning, but they will not find it in a system that relies on outdated fear tactics and exclusivity. They will, however, be drawn to a faith that recognizes their intrinsic worth, encourages their growth, and fosters a sense of belonging.

Conclusion

The idea that America must return to evangelical Christianity to solve its moral problems is deeply flawed. If anything, evangelicalism itself has contributed to the very issues it now laments. By promoting fear over love, exclusivity over inclusion, and dogma over genuine spirituality, it has driven many away from faith altogether.

But all is not lost. There is still an opportunity to reclaim the essence of Jesus’ message—one that invites, heals, and transforms rather than threatens, divides, and controls. If Christianity is to have a meaningful future, it must embrace this shift. It must move beyond fear and into the radical love that Jesus himself embodied. Only then can it offer something truly worth believing in.