Quantum physics, consciousness, and The Grateful Dead

I’ve always been fascinated by Carl Jung’s concept of the collective unconscious, the idea that a part of the unconscious mind is shared among all humans, containing universal symbols and archetypes inherited from our ancestors. It influences our thoughts, feelings, and behaviors, and is thought to explain the similarities found in myths and cultural stories across different societies. The concept of the collective unconscious is reflected in Joseph Campbell's description of the "Hero's Journey," also known as the monomyth. The Hero’s Journey is a narrative pattern that describes the typical experience of a hero who goes on an adventure, faces a crisis, and returns transformed. This concept outlines stages such as the call to adventure, trials, and the return home, illustrating a universal structure found in many myths and stories across cultures, as well as the ritual of initiation that remains common in many indigenous populations.

My grasp of quantum physics is…well…minimal, at best. Quantum physics is the study of matter and energy at the most fundamental level. Among the things we understand through that lens is that, for example, light can be both a wave and a particle at the same time. And “entanglement” in quantum physics describes a phenomenon that occurs when two or more objects are connected in such a way that they can be thought of as a single system, even if they are very far apart. The state of one object in that system can't be fully described without information on the state of the other object.

Scientists have tried to understand the nature of consciousness for years, and in the last few years, quantum physicists, of all people, have begun to demonstrate evidence that consciousness, that supposedly human characteristic that we believe defines our essence as individuals is, in fact, something that exists outside of us and is embodied in our physical existence, both at the same time.

There have been several research projects over the last ten years seeking to understand the quantum nature of consciousness. The latest is a research study at Wellesley College by Professor Mike Wiest that was conducted to understand how anesthesia affects the brain. They gave rats a drug that binds to microtubules in the brain and observed that it took the rats significantly longer to fall unconscious under an anesthetic gas. The research team’s microtubule-binding drug interfered with the anesthetic action, thus supporting the idea that the anesthetic acts on microtubules to cause unconsciousness. Extrapolating from those findings, Wiest postulated that “this finding supports the quantum model of consciousness…[and] more broadly, a quantum understanding of consciousness gives us a world picture in which we can be connected to the universe in a more natural and holistic way,”

Said more simply, consciousness as we think of it is us participating in a universal energy that exists within us and is also connected to an energy that exists outside of us.

The idea that consciousness is an energy which we embody, and at the same time, a greater energy outside of us in which we participate, is a compelling thought, and, I think, explains a great many things. If it is true that consciousness exists outside of us, then the surprising similarities in so many of the philosophies and religions of the world is not so surprising after all, since each describes a common experience of our humanity, and remarkably similar concepts of what happens when our existence in our physical bodies comes to an end.

And that brings me to The Grateful Dead. Since the passing of Bob Weir on January 10th of this year, I’ve read countless posts by people who knew him in one context or another talking about the man, as well as who he was as an integral part of The Grateful Dead, and about the phenomenon that was and is the Dead. What has struck me in all of it is the recurring theme of a connection outside of our individual selves, to the music, to the community of Deadheads, and the connection that Weir described as the realm outside of ourselves…Jerry Garcia coming to him in his dreams, hearing Jerry whispering in his ear while he’s onstage. Other surviving members of the band have described the same sense of connection to a realm outside of the physical world.

The Dead never had a lot of commercial success from studio albums. Rather, their worldwide success came from their live performances, connecting with their audiences, supporting and promoting the sense of community among the Deadheads. Yeah, the music was and is fun, and yes, especially earlier (60s and 70s) psychedelic drugs had a lot to do with the experience, but the experience of the Dead is about way more than that. You can’t listen to the music without feeling something larger than yourself. It’s hard to explain, but it taps into something that brings people together in a way that I’ve not experienced elsewhere. I was never a Deadhead in my youth. In fact, it was only in the last several years that I went to hear Dead & Company for the first time. I was with my now ex-wife, and I remember sitting in the grass at The Gorge in Washington, looking at all the people, mostly older folks, in their tie-dyed t-shirts and overalls and dresses, women with flowers in their hair, and I remember saying to my wife “I’m sure this is going to be fun, but these are not my people.” The music began, and people were dancing and grooving, and soon I was on my feet, totally absorbed in and part of the experience, and my wife stood beside me and said, “Are you sure these are not your people?” There was no denying the feeling of being part of something much larger than just my own personal experience. At the end of the show, I was honestly blown away as we were leaving. There must’ve been ten thousand or more people there, and it was the most orderly, and kindest group as we all were leaving, making way for one another, helping those who needed it, smiles and warmth and generally…love in a way that I’d never felt it before on that sort of a grand scale.

In his last interview with Rolling Stone, Weir said “I look forward to dying…I tend to think of death as the last and best reward for a life.”

Where am I going with all of this? If consciousness is something both shared and uniquely embodied in each of us, what would it mean to be aware, and feel, more connected to our fellow humans, and to those who’ve gone before us? How would it feel to know that when our physical existence ends, we don’t end, but rejoin a universal consciousness? It seems to me it would make life, and death, perhaps more meaningful.

The poem Human Family by Maya Angelou feels especially appropriate to end with.

Maya Angelou, Human Family

I note the obvious differences

in the human family.

Some of us are serious,

some thrive on comedy.

Some declare their lives are lived

as true profundity,

and others claim they really live

the real reality.

The variety of our skin tones

can confuse, bemuse, delight,

brown and pink and beige and purple,

tan and blue and white.

I've sailed upon the seven seas

and stopped in every land,

I've seen the wonders of the world,

not yet one common man.

I know ten thousand women

called Jane and Mary Jane,

but I've not seen any two

who really were the same.

Mirror twins are different

although their features jibe,

and lovers think quite different thoughts

while lying side by side.

We love and lose in China,

we weep on England's moors,

and laugh and moan in Guinea,

and thrive on Spanish shores

We seek success in Finland,

are born and die in Maine.

In minor ways we differ,

in major we're the same.

I note the obvious differences

between each sort and type,

but we are more alike, my friends,

than we are unalike.

We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike.

We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike.