True Nature: Notes on Spirit and Science

Each of us is drawn in our own unique way to the spiritual life. Perhaps a personal crisis suddenly forced you to ask deeper questions about existence. Maybe your longing for more meaning in life gradually increased to the point where you could no longer ignore it. Or you might have simply exhausted all other options.

It may seem paradoxical at first, but science can also lead one to the spiritual life. The ancient Greeks called the study of the nature of things physics. Like ancient physics, modern physics is the search for an understanding of the universal principles and laws that govern the world. It looks beneath the surface of things to discover their true nature, or what the Greeks called their physis. Since the desire to know the true nature of things is fundamentally a spiritual longing to know Reality, at the root of physics is the seed of the spiritual life.

Modern physics, however, is not the physics of Reality, but the physics of the material world. Although it has answers to questions about the nature of matter and energy, it can not answer questions about the nature of your own awareness, the nature of God or Reality. There is more to the nature of things than what is contained in the laws of modern physics.

True nature, thus, has a double meaning. On the one hand, it refers to the true laws of the natural world, i.e., modern physics. On the other hand, it refers to your own true nature, or the true nature of God or Reality. So, in its most general sense, the true nature of things is at once both physical and metaphysical, scientific and spiritual. And, more profoundly, this hints at the possibility that, ultimately, your own true nature has some hidden identity with the true nature of the world.

Teachers often say that mystical experience is something that ultimately cannot be described in words, and one has to directly experience it for oneself. It seems that without one’s own experience, then, one is left to either believe such experiences exist or not. So, how is this any different from a believer in unicorns telling us they have had a direct experience with unicorns, citing all sorts of evidence for their belief, and telling us we should believe also?

First, genuine mystics do not tell us we should believe, but tell us we can test out their teachings if we want to. Granted, to be motivated to seek Enlightenment or Gnosis it is helpful to at least believe it is possible. But this is not blind belief, but the kind of belief a scientist has when testing a theory. It might be found to be wrong.

At a deeper level, though, one should realize that the teaching “one has to directly experience it for oneself” can be a useful teaching, but like all mystical teachings it is relative and limited. So if we cling to it as absolute, then it will lead us into contradictions or inconsistencies. The analogy between Gnosis and other kinds of experiential knowledge is just an analogy, and it breaks down at a certain point. Why? Because, unlike ordinary experience of things, Gnosis is not an “it” to be experienced by “oneself.” Gnosis is not some “thing” one experiences or believes, like how one experiences or believes a UFO or anything else. It is not comparable to knowing or believing anything because it is not any “thing” at all.

If we think Gnosis is a thing, then we inevitably get caught up in thinking what it is and is not, how to get it or lose it, what it is and is not like to experience it, who has it and who doesn’t, etc., etc., ad nauseum. Although it can be of relative value to talk at times as if Gnosis were something, we can quickly get lost and confused if we grasp onto Gnosis as some definite thing to be experienced or attained or defined or whatever.

In short, it is helpful to keep in mind the saying of the Buddhist philosopher Nagarjuna: “Whether any teaching is true or not depends solely on whether one is non-clinging or clinging in regard to it.”

Many spiritual teachers advise students to “stay in the present” or “be in the present moment.” But why is “staying present” considered important or valuable? In short, this teaching is an antidote to the habit of being lost in thoughts (which are usually about the past and the future). To help us become more aware of this habit, the teaching of �stay present in the moment� is given as a kind of precept to help us notice our thoughts and not be as caught up in them. The goal is not to get rid of thoughts or stop thinking, but just to be more aware of thinking and not so lost in it. This is important because so much of our suffering is caused by being caught up in thoughts and mistaking our thoughts and thinking for what is really going on. The more we are able to see our thoughts as just thoughts, the more free we are, and the more happy we are.

There is also a deeper truth to be discovered when we are no longer caught up in thoughts. It is seen that time itself is imagined. The past and the future are, by definition, not presently being experienced. And we never experience anything other than the present. The “present” is then no longer experienced as a limited point in a temporal continuum extending from a distant past into a distant future, but is revealed to be an open space beyond time in which everything arises and passes. This “present” is a timeless present, what some call the “eternal now.”

Teachings are intended to be helpful to us, of course. Sometimes, though, our thinking mind can get tied up in knots with them, especially the more paradoxical of the mystical teachings. When this happens, it might be helpful to remember that all teachings are “fingers pointing to the moon” and are not absolute truths about ultimate reality. Their value rests in their effectiveness to help us practice and realize, and that will depend on each individual and where they are at.

For example, the teaching that Reality can not be grasped by the mind can be useful if it helps us see and let go of mental grasping. But if we grasp onto “Reality can not be grasped by the mind” and make it into some “truth” then we have turned the teaching itself into an obstacle. Our conceptual minds then get all twisted up in paradoxes. If we simply follow the instruction to let go of grasping, though, the teaching has served its intended purpose.

What (if anything) does quantum physics have to do with consciousness? Does quantum physics provide a connection between mind and matter, or a mechanism for the mind to affect the physical world?

These are very controversial questions, and there is no consensus about the role of quantum physics in the relationship between mind and matter. Many physicists simply “shut up and calculate” (as Richard Feynman put it) and ignore the philosophical problems. But quantum physics does challenge our way of understanding reality.

The central problem is this: According to quantum physics, an unobserved physical system has various entangled properties, but when the system is observed only one of these properties is seen. This fundamental difference between observed systems and unobserved systems is at the heart of the measurement problem in quantum physics. What is the nature of this transformation (called the “collapse of the wavefunction”) from an unobserved combination of multiple possible properties to a single observed property? What causes it? How does it happen? When does it happen? Does it really happen at all?

There are two approaches to answering these questions about measurement. The first approach assumes that collapse is a real physical event, and then provides some explanation for what causes it, when it happens, and how it happens. For example, some people have argued that consciousness is somehow involved in collapse. Others have taken this argument a step further and proposed that individual conscious volition can select how the collapse takes place. Such control, however, would constitute a violation of the laws of quantum physics as they are now understood. Thus, our present understanding of quantum physics does not provide a mechanism for the mind to influence matter, or for us to “create our own reality” as some have put it.

The second approach to the measurement problem assumes that collapse is not a real physical event, and then provides some explanation for why it nevertheless still appears to happen. The proponents of this approach point out that there appears to be no particular time or place where collapse can be experimentally established to have taken place. For example, quantum eraser and delayed choice experiments suggest that collapse is not a physical event tied to a particular time or place. Moreover, it was proved (by John von Neumann) that the place where we consider collapse to have taken place can be shifted arbitrarily without changing the results of the measurement. In other words, it is unobservable. But perhaps the most convincing argument against collapse is the fact that it is in blatant violation of the laws of quantum physics. It is quite unscientific to assume the existence of some physical process that is both unobservable and violates the laws of physics.

So, if collapse is not a physical event, what is it? And why does it appear to happen? Here is one way to understand it. Just as the earth appears to be flat on small areas where its curvature is negligible, so quantum systems appear to have collapsed on macroscopic scales where entanglement is negligible. The process of collapse is analogous to approximating a small area of the earth’s surface using plane geometry. Although it is convenient and quite accurate to view a small area of the round earth as if it were flat, approximating that small area with a flat earth model is not a physical event or process. So, thinking that collapse is a real event is like thinking that the earth somehow really becomes flat when we look at small areas of it and can’t see the curvature. Just because we ignore something doesn’t mean it no longer exists. The laws of physics tell us that the quantum entanglements continue to exist, even when they become so subtle that we can’t observe them.

In a sense, collapse is something that consciousness does. But it is not doing something to the physical world. It is a shift in our view of the physical world. More precisely, collapse corresponds to ignoring certain subtle aspects of the world (i.e., entanglements between quantum possibilities) and approximating the world with a classical model. Collapse is not a physical event, but a collapse in our vision from a more complete and expansive reality to a limited approximation. This approximation becomes an illusion if we forget that we have ignored something and mistake our limited view for all of reality.

If we could develop sufficiently subtle instruments of observation so that we could become conscious of the quantum entanglements that are not normally observable on the macroscale, we would become aware of a more complete reality rather than being limited to the thin slice that remains after we ignore all the subtleties. We would not “create our own reality” but simply free ourselves from a limited view of reality that we had created for ourselves. Thus, we don’t create our own reality, we create our own illusion. Through ignorance we create illusion, and we free ourselves from illusion not by creating reality, but by ceasing to ignore it.

(To read more on this subject, see my articles Questioning the Scientific Worldview and The Illusion of Materialism.)

Two little fish friends are swimming in the ocean and find a sunken shipwreck. As creative and imaginative young fish tend to do, they start playing in the ship, imagining that it is floating above water, that they are sailing on great adventures, encountering pirates and storms, taking this ship on a great journey across the ocean in search of a lost treasure on a distant island paradise. Eventually, though, their imaginations get a bit carried away. They get so engrossed in this fantasy that they forget they are only imagining it all…

These two little fish now think they are really afloat above water, really searching for a real treasure. The way they see it, they are on a real journey across the surface of a vast ocean to an island paradise. They have real struggles with storms and pirates along the way. Then one day they notice the presence of water here and there on the ship, and this makes them very worried that the ship is leaking and might sink. They imagine there must be a big hole in the bottom of the ship and become very fearful. So they desperately start bailing water to keep the ship afloat. This becomes part of their adventure, of course, as they bail not only to keep afloat but also to stay afloat long enough to find that treasure, and that distant paradise island where they can finally rest. They become quite worried, though, that they�ll never make it. In fact, it seems they may not make it to any dry land.

Then one day an older, wiser fish swims by and sees these two little fish desperately bailing water out of the sunken ship. As they bail the water, they beg the older fish, “Please help us bail! Help keep our ship afloat so it doesn’t sink!” The older fish laughs and tells them, “You silly young fish! Your ship is not afloat. It has already sunk.” The two little fish take great offense at this ridiculous comment. “Not only are you a crazy old fish,” they tell him, “but you are very cruel as well for not helping us as we face this life-threatening situation.” The older fish then understands and responds, “I’m sorry. I didn’t see the seriousness of your problem! I’ll try to help you.” The two little fish are then very relieved to hear that they will get some help. He might be a bit crazy, but now they think this old fish will help them. This restores their hopes that they will not sink, that they will reach the island paradise across the ocean and find the treasure.

“So,” the older fish asks them, “have you found the source of the leak in your ship? Do you know where all this water is coming from that you�re so busy bailing?” One of the little fish answers, “Well, it�s obviously coming from a big hole in the bottom of the ship.” The older fish then asks, “So, have you seen this hole? How big is it?” The two fish look at each other. “No,” one of them confesses. “We’ve been too busy bailing water to look,” the other explains. The two fish continue to bail the water and start getting a bit frustrated with this old fish. “Hey, I thought you said you’d help us,” one little fish complains, “but all you’re doing is asking questions. “Yah,” the other little fish adds, “Why don’t you do something really helpful and bail some water?”

“But perhaps if you found the hole in your ship,” the old fish explains, “then you could repair it and you wouldn’t have to work so hard bailing water. With the hole repaired, you’d have a much better chance of reaching your paradise island and finding your treasure.” The two little fish think this over, and it makes some sense. But they still have some doubts, and are very worried about the water that keeps leaking in the ship. If they stop bailing to look for the hole, they might not find it in time and the ship will sink. Then again, if they can fix the hole, it would be great. “How about this,” one of them finally says to the old fish, “Since it’s your idea, why don’t you go look for the hole and fix it while we continue to bail?” “I have a better idea,” the old fish replies, “You know your way around your own ship, while I don’t know it at all and might get lost. Why don’t I stay here and help bail while one of you goes to look for the hole?” The older fish then picks up a bucket and starts bailing.

With some ambivalence, one of the little fish stops bailing and goes looking for the hole in the ship. But when he stops bailing to go down below deck to look, he finds water starts gushing everywhere. Frightened, he starts bailing frantically again and quickly becomes exhausted. “Did you find the hole?” the old fish asks him. “No,” the little fish gasped, “The moment I stopped my bailing, all this water started pouring in from every direction. I was too busy bailing it all to look anywhere.” The old fish looks at him and reminds him, “Our agreement was that I would bail and you would look for the hole in the ship. Why don’t you go look again. See this time if you can resist the temptation to start bailing when you notice the water. That way, maybe you can look for the hole without all that bailing obstructing your ability to look.” So the little fish again stops bailing and starts looking for the hole. Again, he gets scared and starts bailing. Again, he gets exhausted. He tries again, and again finds himself bailing water. But after repeated attempts and a lot of frustration, he finds that he eventually becomes less frightened of all the water and can actually start looking more and more for the hole. He is finally making progress! In fact, after time, he starts to enjoy the water a bit. It is kind of fun for him to swim around in it. And it is relaxing to have a break from that exhausting bailing!

“I can stay down there a long time now,” the little fish reports to the older fish with no small bit of pride. “Well,” the older fish says, “That’s fine. But remember our agreement was that you were going to look for the hole in the ship. How is the search coming along? Have you found the hole yet?” Remembering the agreement, the little fish’s excitement dissipates for a moment. “No, but I’ve been learning all sorts of things about swimming in the flooded parts of the ship below deck.” The older fish then askes him, “So, are you still worried about the ship sinking?” After a moment of self-reflection, the little fish confesses, �Yes.� “Okay,” the older fish says, “Then go find the hole and fix it!” So the little fish goes off in search of the hole. He searches and searches, but can�t find it. He keeps going back, over and over. He looks in the engine room, in the boiler room, in the cargo hold, in the crew quarters. He searches and searches until he searches the entire ship. Finally, he comes back quite frustrated. “I can’t find the hole anywhere!” he vents to the older fish. “Go look again,” the older fish calmly advises him, “perhaps you missed it somewhere.” So, with great determination, the little fish goes off to find that hole, once and for all. Again, he searches every corner, every crook and cranny of that ship. Nowhere, though, can he find any hole. Now he starts becoming very perplexed. Why couldn’t he find the hole? Where could it be? There must be a hole because there�s all this water. But I couldn�t find a hole anywhere for it to come in through. Totally bewildered, he tells the older fish, “I’m sorry, I’ve failed. I looked everywhere and I didn’t find any hole in the ship. I have no idea where all the water is coming from. To make matters worse, there’s so much more water in the ship than I ever saw before. It seems to be everywhere, but has no source. I�m at a totally loss what to do. There’s no point in bailing anymore since no amount of bailing can possibly keep all this water out and prevent the ship from sinking. We’ll never reach the paradise island and find our treasure.”

The older fish then turns to the little fish and asks one simple question, “Tell me, my little friend, as you look around this ship right now, do you see any place that is not already completely flooded with water?” At that point, the little fish looks and suddenly sees the truth that had always been there, but only forgotten: The ship is, and always has been completely submerged! It cannot sink because it is not floating above water in the first place! There is not really any paradise island, no treasure, no ocean to cross, no need to bail. He remembers now, that it was all just a game he was playing. “Hey, old fish,” the little fish exclaims, “Why didn’t you tell me this in the first place?” The old fish laughs, “I did tell you. Remember? You didn’t believe me. So, you had to find out for yourself.” With gratitude, the little fish hugs the older fish and asks, �What can I do to repay you for helping me wake up from that nightmare?� The older fish directed his attention over to the other little fish, who was still desperately bailing water. �You can go help out your little friend over there,� the old fish replied, �it looks like he�s trying to keep this sunken ship from sinking!�

Most of us are naive realists: we are convinced there are �facts� that are simply given to us, and there are “things” that really exist “out there.” We can’t walk through walls, move mountains, or make the sun rise just by wishing it. Reality has its own laws that are completely independent of what we want or think. Or so we believe. But is it really true?

Upon closer examination, those �objectively given� features of our experience are mere conventions, habitual ways of interpreting experience that are so deeply conditioned that we have become unconscious of them. We can see how this might be the case by considering a few examples, starting with an obvious one.

The border between the US and Canada is a convention. It does not exist in reality, but is a geopolitical division that people created and agree upon. It is arbitrary in the sense that the border could have been drawn somewhere else. Yet, for practical purposes, it is a fixed feature that we all live with as if it had an objective existence. Even though it is ultimately imaginary, it is a very useful thing to know about and helps us understand many things about the relationships between people who live in different parts of North America.

It is not difficult to see that the US-Canadian border is a convention, and has no objective reality. Other distinctions, though, seem very objective at first, and it takes a closer examination to see that they are really just conventions. For example, consider the boundary between land and ocean along the Pacific shoreline of North America. It seems that the shoreline objectively exists, and is not a mere convention. It seems that nature has determined where to draw the shoreline, and we can’t just move it like we could move the US-Canadian border. It seems objectively real.

To see that the shoreline is a convention, we have to look a bit deeper. It seems the border between land and ocean must be drawn in a particular place because we have overlooked quite a few implicit assumptions and ambiguities. For example, the shoreline might seem quite clear in most places, but where do we draw the shoreline at the mouth of the Columbia river? The Pacific shoreline there is no longer a border between land and ocean. We could draw a straight line across the mouth of the river between points of land on opposite sides, but nature doesn’t tell us which points to use. Or we could define the shoreline at the mouth to be a border between salty ocean water and fresh river water, but where exactly is the distinction between these types of water? The one dissolves continuously into the other. At what specific concentration of salt does the fresh water become salt water? There is no clear boundary between the two, and where we decide to draw the line is our choice, a mere convention.

Even at the boundary between land and water, if we look closely we’ll also see that the distinction there is not so clear. Consider a beach where the ocean is far out at low tide and very near at high tide. Where do you draw the shoreline? Moreover, the ocean waves are constantly rolling in and out. Where, exactly, is the border between ocean and land as the water moves up the sand and gradually sinks into it? Even if you considered it at one instant in time, there is no objective way to draw the line. If a 1/16 inch thick film of water covers the sand, is that “land” or “ocean”? What if it is 1/32 inches thick? 1/64 inches? Nature does not come with answers to these questions. It does not tell us exactly where to draw the shoreline. The “shoreline” is a convention that depends on an agreed way to answer these questions.

Try this kind of analysis yourself with anything you think is objectively “out there.” Upon close analysis, all we can find are our own decisions to agree to draw boundaries using one convention or another. Although these conventional ways of drawing boundaries help us communicate our shared experience, they are not imposed upon us by nature. They do not have objective existence in reality itself, but are part of the way we all interpret (often unconsciously) our experience.

Does this mean that it is possible to move mountains? In the framework of conventional reality, no. In a certain sense, though, it is possible to move mountains, albeit not in the usual senses of “move” or “mountain.” It is possible to experience the world in radically different ways that, although perhaps quite unconventional, are not any more or less real than other more conventional ways.

Since Fritjof Capra’s Tao of Physics popularized the parallels between quantum physics and Eastern mystical philosophies, some people have concluded that quantum physics implies a mystical worldview. But does it really?

First, we should recognize that quantum physics admits multiple philosophical interpretations, and they are all consistent with the empirical predictions of the theory. There is the Copenhagen interpretation, the many worlds interpretation, the Bohm interpretation, and dozens more, depending on how fine you draw your distinctions. Included among this variety of interpretations are several mystical interpretations.

Second, there is no agreement on which interpretation of quantum physics is correct. Why not? Because nature does not tell us which interpretation of quantum theory is correct. Physicists may favor some interpretations over others, but that is a matter of cultural consensus, and not based on scientific evidence. In short, there is no scientific proof for any one interpretation. We just don’t know exactly what reality quantum physics points to.

However, while quantum theory may not tell us exactly what our world is, it does tell us what our world is not. There are some very definite constraints it places on how we view reality. In particular, quantum theory is incompatible with naive realism, the view of reality that takes for granted that things exist objectively “out there” independent of each other and separated in time and space. That is one thing it does share with mysticism. And there are other parallels as well. So, although quantum physics does not prove, validate, or imply a mystical worldview (or any other worldview), it can be interpreted in a way that is compatible with mysticism.

Because scientific facts cannot determine for us one unique interpretation, we must choose among those interpretations that are compatible with the theory and the facts. When we make that choice, we must bring in other extra-scientific criteria if we are to make more than a random choice. One criterion is to seek a coherent worldview that is comprehensive of the broadest range of human experience. An interpretation of quantum physics that is compatible with mysticism has the virtue of bringing our overall understanding of reality into greater harmony and coherence.

Mathematics is (from one point of view anyway) the study of a particularly rigorous and precise kind of knowledge. Although it is quite specialized, it nonetheless can open us up to insights into the nature of knowledge in general. One example of this comes from the mathematician Kurt Godel, who proved two remarkable theorems that shook the foundations of mathematics. If we reflect on these theorems, they have the potential to shake the foundations of our own knowledge as well.

Before Godel proved his two theorems in 1931, a number of eminent mathematicians were engaged in a program whose goal was to objectify all of mathematics, i.e., make it into a complete and consistent system of symbols and rules for manipulating them. One motivation for this program was to eliminate inconsistencies and paradoxes in mathematics that might be hidden in vague intuitions and informal arguments. The idea was that if you could make all your assumptions and rules of reasoning completely explicit in a system of symbols and rules for manipulating those symbols, then there would be no room for inconsistencies to creep in. The challenge was then to find and make explicit a set of axioms and rules of logical inference that would provide a foundation for all of mathematics. If such a goal were realized, using the rules of logical inference we would be able to deduce every truth of mathematics from the axioms by manipulating symbols in a completely explicit and mechanical way, without appeal to any intuitions or informal arguments. Mathematical knowledge would be completely objective.

Godel pulled the rug out from under this program and showed that it is impossible to objectify all of mathematical knowledge in this way. Assuming that a set of axioms is consistent and sufficiently complex to define basic arithmetic, Godel proved that there are mathematical truths that can not be proved within the system itself. The system, in other words, is incomplete. It can not encompass all truths. Even if one were to expand the system by adding another axiom or two, Godel’s theorem says that there would still be another truth that is beyond the power of this expanded system to prove. Thus, it is impossible for mathematical knowledge to be completely objectified. Or, to put it another way, there will always be a dimension of mathematical knowledge that transcends any objective system of mathematics. There will never be any final mathematical system, any complete and explicit description of mathematical truth. Like an eternal spring, mathematics flows from an inexhaustible, hidden source.

Like the program to objectify all of mathematics in one system, we sometimes think that we can understand all of reality with our logical systems of thought. Whether it be a grand unified theory of physics or a master philosophical system, there is a tendancy to think that reality can be defined and captured by systems of thought. Or we slip into the opposite extreme and think that reality can not be known at all. What Godel’s theorem suggests, however, is another possibility. Rather than viewing our quest for deeper knowledge as an ultimately futile project whose goal is to completely capture reality in an objective system of thought, we can see it as an invitation to participate in deeper and more subtle communion that infinite source from which all objective knowledge arises. Although objective systems of thought can comprehend only a limited part of reality, our knowledge is not limited to objective systems of thought.

Bhakti yoga (union through devotion) is often contrasted with jnana yoga (union through knowledge). The stereotypes of these two paths make them out to have little if anything in common, except perhaps their ultimate goal. One common image used to describe them is that they are two paths that converge only at their ends. I’d like to share another way to look at these two types of practice: The bhakti and jnana paths are like two views of the same path rather than two different paths that converge.

We can look back on experiences along the path and interpret them in either bhakti or jnana terms. Each way of looking at the same experiences makes just as much sense as the other. The same is true of specific practices. The bhakti practice of silent prayer, for example, is just another way to look at the jnana practice of neti neti. In both cases we become simple and set aside all forms to become more intimate with the formless transcendent. It’s the same practice whether we’re getting closer to the naked Beloved or the naked Truth. In both cases we need to surrender our attachments to forms to get closer to the formless.

Both jnanis and bhaktas have a longing at the root of their seeking. A jnani’s longing starts as a simple curiosity while a bhakta’s longing starts as a simple desire for happiness. These seeds can both grow into more powerful longing. The frustration of this longing when it is directed to worldly objects is manifested as a lack of satisfaction, and both the jnani and bhakta can experience a psychological crisis when it goes so deep that it shatters all hope of satisfying that longing in worldly objects. Both then redirect their longing to the transcendent to begin the path in earnest.

In both cases, an initiation – in the form of a spiritual insight or divine experience – provides the carrot, while the dissatisfaction with the world provides the stick. Just as a bhakta has a longing for transcendent Love, a jnani has a longing for transcendent Truth. The bhakta wants union with Divine Love while the jnani wants identity with Divine Truth. The sense of self of both is emptied more and more as attachments are surrendered to the truth of impermanence and the love of the transcendent. A bhakta uses a mantra to help turn attention away from the world and toward the divine, while the jnani contemplates a teaching (e.g., ‘neti neti’) to do the same thing. Both refine this to cultivate continuous awareness of the transcendent, and eventually begin to see the transcendent within the world. The bhakta would say God is all things and the jnani would say emptiness is form, but it amounts to the same thing said in different ways.

Of course, there are difference between bhakti and jnana yogas. But thinking of these as different paths that converge only at the end deprives us of seeing convergences all along the way, from beginning to end. It is perhaps more helpful to view them as different perspectives that can be used at any stage of the path to look at whatever practice we are doing or whatever experience we are having.

(For more on this topic, see Love and Knowledge: Two Paths to the One.)