John Horgan, author of the best-selling The End of Science, chronicles the most advanced research into the mechanics—and meaning—of mystical experiences. How do trances, visions, prayer, satori, and other mystical experiences “work”? What induces and defines them? Is there a scientific explanation for religious mysteries and transcendent meditation? John Horgan investigates a wide range of fields — chemistry, neuroscience, psychology, anthropology, theology, and more — to narrow the gap between reason and mystical phenomena. As both a seeker and an award-winning journalist, Horgan consulted a wide range of experts, including theologian Huston Smith, spiritual heir to Joseph Campbell; Andrew Newberg, the scientist whose quest for the “God module” was the focus of a Newsweek cover story; Ken Wilber, prominent transpersonal psychologist; Alexander Shulgin, legendary psychedelic drug chemist; and Susan Blackmore, Oxford-educated psychologist, parapsychology debunker, and Zen practitioner. Horgan explores the striking similarities between “mystical technologies” like sensory deprivation, prayer, fasting, trance, dancing, meditation, and drug trips. He participates in experiments that seek the neurological underpinnings of mystical experiences. And, finally, he recounts his own search for enlightenment — adventurous, poignant, and sometimes surprisingly comic. Horgan’s conclusions resonate with the controversial climax of The End of Science, because, as he argues, the most enlightened mystics and the most enlightened scientists end up in the same place — confronting the imponderable depth of the universe. "A marvelous book....[Horgan has] a gift for pulling back the curtain to unveil diminutive wizards, a technique he employs adroitly in this new book...." --Dick Teresi The New York Times Book Review "[I]nformative, critical . . . fascinating and disturbing." Library Journal "[A] great read, full of amusing vignettes and thoughtful reflections." --Stephen Mihm The Washington Post John Horgan, a former senior writer for Scientific American, is the author of the acclaimed End of Science and Undiscovered Mind. His articles have been published in the New York Times, the Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times, Science Magazine, and a wide range of other publications. His work has won awards from the American Psychia-tric Association and the National Association of Science Writers, among others. With both a B.A. and an M.S. in journalism from Columbia University, Horgan has lectured at McGill University. He lives in New York State with his wife and two children. Rational Mysticism Dispatches from the Border Between Science and Spirituality By John Horgan Mariner Books Copyright © 2004 John Horgan All right reserved. ISBN: 061844663X Excerpt Introduction Lena"s Feather My wife, Suzie, is known in our hometown as a nurturer of birds. One recent spring a neighbor brought her a crow hatchling he had found in the woods. After failing to find its nest, Suzie decided to raise the crow, which she named Lena. When she first arrived, Lena had blue eyes, as all fledgling crows do, and she could barely walk, let alone fly. A cardboard box in the corner of our living room served as her nest. When Suzie approached with grape slices, moistened dog food pellets, and live mealworms, Lena flung her head back and opened her beak wide. Suzie dropped the morsels into Lena"s pink gullet, and Lena gulped them down. Lena was soon hopping and flapping around the living room like a gangly teen, crashing into chairs and windows, poking through our bric-a- brac. After Suzie took her outside onto our deck, Lena launched herself onto the roof of the house and into nearby trees. She always returned for meals, and each night after dinner Suzie brought her inside for the night, until one evening when Lena vanished into the woods. Suzie was distraught, fearing that a hawk or an owl would kill the adolescent bird. But when Suzie went outside at dawn with a plate of worms and grapes, Lena careened out of the sky and skidded onto the deck, cawing. That pattern persisted. Lena disappeared at night and returned every morning for food and companionship. Because I am my family"s earliest riser, she usually greeted me first. As I sipped coffee in my attic office, caws approached through the skylight above my desk, followed by wingbeats and claws scratching shingles. A moment later, Lena peered down at me through the skylight, cooing. When I went out on the deck later to read the newspaper, she crouched at my feet and yanked on my shoelaces or perched on my shoulder and pecked the paper. I pretended to be annoyed, shooing her away, and to my delight she kept coming back. Lena loved playing tag with our kids, Mac, who was five then, and Skye, who was four. As they chased her, she bounded on the ground before them, occasionally pirouetting behind them and scooting between their legs, staying just beyond