The Living Universe (2 page)

We cannot understand who we are or the journey we are on without first understanding where we are and the universe we are in. Our future pivots on how we answer the question of whether we regard the universe as dead or alive. As we will explore in great detail throughout this book, I think the evidence points toward regarding the universe as alive. We will progressively unfold what this means, but here is a preliminary distinction between these two views:

Dead universe view
. The universe is a barren and inhospitable place comprised almost entirely of non-living matter and empty space. Life is extremely rare. On Earth, matter has somehow organized itself to high levels of complexity and has produced living entities. However, considered in the context of the larger universe, the human enterprise is a trivial speck. Our existence as humans appears to be pointless and without purpose—a cosmic accident that will be forgotten. A dead universe has no memory and tells no stories. When the body dies, the “lights go out” and we disperse, leaving no trace or remnant, either physical or non-physical. What matters most is matter—material possessions, material power, material pleasure, and material prestige.

Living universe view
. In counterpoint to the dead universe perspective, the living universe is a paradigm that portrays the universe as buzzing with invisible energy and aliveness, patiently growing a garden of cosmic scale. It suggests that we humans, as conscious life forms in this immensity, are very precious. We serve an important purpose for a universe growing conscious forms of life: Through us, the universe sees, knows, feels, and learns. We are learning how to live ever more consciously in a living universe. What matters most is not matter but what is invisible—the aliveness within ourselves, our relationships, and the world around us.

Several hundred years ago, the mechanistic and materialistic view of
a non-living universe was liberating—part of the Enlightenment-born rationalism that helped humanity free itself from superstition and fear to achieve extraordinary intellectual and technological breakthroughs. But this paradigm no longer serves human evolution. By removing aliveness from the fabric of the universe, the initial success of the materialistic perspective has ultimately led to environmental exploitation and a profound global crisis.

Because our view of the universe creates the context within which we understand and choose our future, it is critically important that we have an accurate understanding of our cosmic home. Where a dead-universe perspective generates alienation and despair, a living-universe perspective generates inspiring and resilient visions of a higher pathway for humanity. Is this affirming view of the future justified?

Three core questions run through this book. The Introduction sets the stage and focuses the inquiry. We explore the first question—
Where are we?
—in the next two chapters. In
Chapter 1
, we expand our thinking about the universe and ourselves. In
Chapter 2
, we consider the universe through the lens of science and ask whether it has the basic characteristics of a living entity. Because the science of life is at an early stage, it is premature to declare that science can prove the universe is a living system. Instead we ask, does this evidence
point in the direction
of a living or a non-living universe? If so, how does this matter?

We then explore the second question—
Who are we?
—in Chapters 3, 4, and 5. In
Chapter 3
, we explore who we are in relation to the universe through the eyes of the world's major religious and wisdom traditions. In
Chapter 4
, we consider how a “Mother Universe” can contain countless daughter universes, including our own.
Chapter 5
explores our soulful nature as cosmic beings learning to live in a living universe.

We explore the third question—
Where are we going?
—in Chapters 6 and 7. In
Chapter 6
, we ask where is the universe going? Does it have an evolutionary direction that is apparent? If so, how does our journey fit with it? Are we “going with the flow,” or not? In
Chapter 7
, we look at where we are on our journey and focus on the unprecedented pivot we are making as a species—moving from a path of separation and differentiation to a path of connection and communion.

In closing,
Chapter 8
presents six tasks that are vital for our journey home and
Chapter 9
offers suggestions for personal meditation and group conversation that explore the theme of a living universe.

I am grateful for the support of the many people whose unique contributions helped bring this book into the world. First, I appreciate those who, through their financial support, enabled me to complete this lifetime project. I especially want to acknowledge two individuals who were initial supporters, Ted Mallon and John Levy; thank you for your trust in me and in this work. Three foundations stepped forward with important grants: the Kalliopeia Foundation in California (thank you, Barbara Sargent and Barbara Cushing), the Fetzer Institute in Michigan (thank you, Frances Vaughan), and the Foundation for Global Community in California (thank you, Richard Rathbun). I am grateful to other individuals who provided important support along the way: Kimberly and Foster Gamble, John Steiner and Mar-go King, and Charles Silverstein. The president of the RSF Social Finance organization, Mark Finser, was an invaluable ally who provided a fiscal home for the living universe project.

Second, I want to express my great appreciation to those whose
feedback helped to shape this work. Deepak Chopra, I am deeply grateful for your Foreword. Profound thanks also to the community of friends and scholars who critiqued earlier versions of this book: Chris Bache, Bill Barnard, Coleen LeDrew Elgin, Dave Ellis, Scott Elrod, Kimberly and Foster Gamble, Roger Housden, Jean Houston, John Levy, Joel Levey, Nipun Mehta, Carter Phipps, Frank Poletti, Richard Rathbun, Charles Silverstein, Bill Veltrop, and Roger Walsh. Your feedback was invaluable in moving the work toward its greatest potential. I am also grateful to Colleen Mauro for her expert editing of the initial draft.

Third, my great appreciation goes to the superb publishing team at Berrett-Koehler, who were so helpful, transparent, and professional throughout the publishing process. I especially want to acknowledge Steve Piersanti for his skilled collaboration as my editor and his creative leadership as president of Berrett-Koehler. Steve's feedback was restrained, persistent, discerning, and consistently helpful. I am grateful for the support of Judy Johnstone and her skillful editing of the final manuscript. To Detta Penna, many thanks for her elegant design and for seeing this project through production. To Camilla Coates, my grateful thanks for her graceful illustrations. I also appreciated the editorial feedback of B-K authors Alan Briskin, Dee Hock, David Korten, and Libba Pinchot, and B-K manuscript reviewers Douglas Dupler, Elainne Obadia, John Renesch, and Don Schatz.

Finally, I want to express my great appreciation to my wife Coleen LeDrew Elgin for her feedback on this manuscript and for being such a loving and supportive partner as, together, we learn to live in the living universe.

Duane Elgin

February, 2009

The universe is a communion and a community.
We ourselves are that communion become conscious of itself.

—T
HOMAS
B
ERRY
¹

Is the universe non-living at its foundations? If it is dead and without consciousness in its underpinnings, then it is unaware of—and indifferent to—our existence. What do you think? Are we strangers in a strange land, unwelcome outsiders?

What if, instead, the universe is alive at its deepest foundations? If there is a permeating field of aliveness and an ecology of consciousness throughout the universe, what does that mean for our life and life purpose?

You may wonder, with the challenges of climate disruption, energy shortages, wars over resources, deep poverty, and more, why should you care about the universe and our connection with it? My answer is that we humans need to step back and get our bearings.

The dream of material prosperity is becoming a collective nightmare as we overwhelm the Earth with our sheer numbers and
our voracious appetites as consumers. With growing urgency we are being pushed to imagine new ways we can live together agreeably and sustainably on this planet. Yet we find ourselves without a compelling sense of direction. It feels as if we are wandering into history—alienated from the Earth, from one another, and from the universe. We are lost. Where do we find a way forward that articulates a common journey for the human family?

I believe we must look beyond devising solutions to the energy crisis or the climate crisis, although that is important. Possibly the most fundamental challenge facing humanity is to look beyond adversity and visualize futures of great opportunity. In a self-fulfilling prophecy, we actualize who we think we are. The archetypes and stories we present to ourselves act as beacons guiding us into the future. To explore potential guiding images, let us step back, draw upon the deepest wisdom that humanity has to offer, and ask three fundamental questions:

1.
Where are we?
Although there is a natural inclination to start with ourselves, it is important to begin with the question of where we are rather than who we are. When we start with ourselves, we tend to asssume that our physical body defines who we are, and from this a cascade of consequences flow—giving us the kind of world we have now. If we begin, not with ourselves, but with
where
we are, and if we freshly open to the universe and ask what kind of place this is, then we may be led to a larger understanding; we may see that we are more than biological beings—that we have a cosmic connection as well.

Let's look at the universe in which we live and ask this core question: Do we live in a living or non-living universe? Einstein said if he could ask God one question, it would be “Is the universe friendly or not?” This book asks an even deeper question: Is the
universe
alive
or not? The way we answer this simple question has profound implications for whether we experience life with feelings of alienation or belonging, see it as pointless or purposeful, and regard it with feelings of indifference or reverence.

2.
Who are we?
Having looked at the universe in which we live, we can now ask: Are we beings limited to our physical biology or do we somehow participate intimately with the larger universe? Our collective self-image as a species has yet to form, but it will emerge vividly within the next few decades as the communications revolution intersects with the perfect storm of an unyielding, whole-systems crisis for the Earth. This unfolding crisis will force us to take a hard look at ourselves in the mirror of our collective media and ask “Who are we as a species?” Are we no more than bio-physical beings in a struggle for material survival—or do we have a cosmic connection and purpose that calls us to awaken to a vastly larger potential?

3.
Where are we going?
Is there a discernible direction to life and evolution? Without a dramatic change in direction, humanity is headed toward catastrophe. The changes required for humanity to live sustainably on the Earth are so broad, so deep, and so far-reaching that if we are to avoid a global calamity it is crucial that we discover “great stories” that can align and orient our journey into the future. Is there a story of our awakening as a species with such compelling promise that it overcomes our fears and our historical inertia?

To bring a more personal perspective to these questions, I want to share a few experiences that have been important threads in the tapestry of my life. Connecting with the miracle of aliveness has been a
passionate interest since growing up on an Idaho farm in the 1940s and 1950s. I was born prematurely to my mother, a nurse, and my father, a farmer. We lived in the country with my brother, two dogs, a half-dozen cats and assorted farm animals a couple of miles outside of a small town of about five hundred people. Growing up in the big sky country of Idaho, I felt myself a small creature against a vast landscape. Because I worked on the farm until my early twenties, my roots are in the land, and I feel as much a sense of identity as a farmer as I do a scholar, educator, or activist.

Some of my earliest recollections are of lying on the living room floor and watching sunbeams pouring through a window and moving across the rug, their golden rays bringing a living presence and nurturing aliveness into the room. As a young man, farm life brought me the gift of deep silence in a setting where subtle ecstasies would regularly blossom: the smell of freshly mown hay, the fragrance of dry earth moistened by a brief summer shower, the Sun setting over distant mountains. When alone, I would sometimes lie down in a furrow to experience the earth and the sea of flourishing crops. I recall lying down in a field of lettuce, nearly covered by its abundant leaves, and absorbing the humming aliveness of the earth, the fields, and the sky above me. Irrigating crops, pruning apple trees, tending farm animals—these were regular invitations to celebrate nature's miracle of luminous aliveness. Like water seeping into a dry sponge, over many seasons a nameless and palpable presence gradually permeated me.

In my early twenties I moved to the city, where I felt a deep separation from the familiar aliveness of my farming days. In 1971, I was working in Washington, D.C., as a senior staff member of a joint presidential-congressional commission on the American future. Thoughts about the aliveness of nature were set aside as we
focused on the next thirty years and issues of population growth, urbanization, and the shortage of critical resources like water. Although intuitions of a living universe still resonated within me, in the intense world of politics they seemed a soft sensibility to be disregarded. Still, I was conflicted. Was the living presence I experienced on the farm in Idaho just my imagination? Or, did the invisible aliveness permeate even the coarse world of Washington politics? How important was something so hard to grasp and yet so rich with felt experience?