Book Review: The Flip

The Flip: Epiphanies of Mind and the Future of Knowledge by Jeffrey J. Kripal is a strange and fascinating little book. Kripal is a professor of religion at Rice University, and in the past decade he has focused on scientists who have experienced things that challenged their preconceived ideas about life and the universe. Brushes with death, going on unexpected "trips" of the mind like those you might have if you took psychedelics or seeing something like a UFO or someone who has passed on. They admit if a trusted friend had told them about something similar before their experience, they would have dismissed it and insisted that surely there was a "rational" explanation. But now they're not sure. That is the "flip" in the title. They now see life as something that is potentially full of mystery, and that science, although useful and something of great value, may never be able to explain it all. They're also more open to the idea that life is meaningful above and aside from the personal meaning we invest in it, and that music, art and literature might have more depth than they previously realized.

Kripal goes into detail about the cultural history of materialism, and how we in the modern world have been conditioned to accept materialism as our default way of thinking. He also talks about how consciousness is still strange, and how scientists still don't know exactly how it works. He goes into a lot of detail about the weirdness of quantum physics. And he talks about how our brains might be something like a radio that is tuned into our conscious mind rather than the generator of it.

Kripal warns that just because you have one of these experiences, it doesn't mean it will transform you into an enlightened person full of sunshine and love. And he thinks being open to the mystery is not about adopting a lot of dogma or preaching to others. But it can provide hope, and it can open us up to a richer and deeper life.

I appreciate the book and what Kripal is saying. As a young man, I studied religion and philosophy. I guess I was looking for the "meaning of life." But I never settled on anything that was fully satisfying. And like many, I fell into the habit of accepting materialism as my default. The problem with that is I had serious depression. It was crippling. I ended up in the hospital several times. The reasons for that are complicated, but one of the things that made it hard for me to pull out of those depressions was the idea that life in general and my life in particular had no meaning. I feared my consciousness was just a cosmic accident, and I would soon be dead, and it didn't matter because nothing really matters. When you have serious, clinical depression, it's hard to do ordinary things, like brushing your teeth, because you can't help but fear you and your teeth have no significance.

Early on, I came to believe that if life did have meaning, it was something transcendent and enigmatic. But I guess I was still pulled in that materialistic direction, and I wanted it all spelled out somehow. Maybe fundamentalism comes from this need to reduce the ineffable to a formula that can be passed on with a literal interpretation of words.

But I think I'm becoming truly more open to the mystery, rather than just giving it lip service. Maybe that's because I'm getting older, and I know I have more years behind me than ahead. And many people I've known and cared for are already gone. I just can't stand the idea that they are truly gone, and their lives ultimately meant nothing. I've also had some experiences that I can't explain.

In the late '90s, I had a brain tumor removed. It was a huge ordeal that changed my life. But the weird thing is, I knew I had the tumor a year before I was diagnosed. One spring night, I had a dream. The dream was so disturbing that I sat straight up in bed. And I had to get out of bed, get some water and sit on the sofa for a while. In the dream, I saw myself in a hospital bed and I knew there was something seriously wrong with me. While sitting up that night on the sofa, it came to me. I knew what the dream was telling me. I had a brain tumor, and it would have to be surgically removed. I knew it. I knew it every day for a year. So, when I went to see my doctor after all the tests, and I was told I had a tumor, I was not at all surprised. I could have told them before they did their tests. Maybe something out there knew I was an anxious person, and I needed to be prepared for the ordeal ahead. Maybe. I don't know.

For several years after my mother died, I would sometimes hear her as I was falling asleep. I would hear her say my name, just as she had all my life when she wanted my attention. And it was as if she were in the room with me. I didn't find it frightening. In my sleepy state, I just accepted that she was still with me. Maybe she was. Maybe she still is.

I think one of the things that prevents us from talking about such things and accepting that they might have some explanation that isn't materialistic is the fear of being dumb and being thought of as dumb. But at this point in my life, I'm not sure being "smart" is worth giving up on the idea that life has meaning and my mother is still looking out for me.