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CONSCIOUSNESS AND EVOLUTION

"Our unique attributes evolved over a period of roughly 6 million years. They represent modifications of great ape attributes that are roughly 10 million years old, primate attributes that are roughly 55 million years old, mammalian attributes that are roughly 245 million years old, vertebrate attributes that are roughly 600 million years old, and attributes of nucleated cells that are perhaps 1,500 million years old.
 
If you think it is unnecessary to go that far back in the tree of life to understand our own attributes, consider the humbling fact that we share with nematodes [roundworms] the same gene that controls appetite. At most, our unique attributes are like an addition onto a vast multiroom mansion. It is sheer hubris to think that we can ignore all but the newest room."
David Sloan Wilson - Evolution for Everyone, 2007

Reflecting on Wilson’s observations prompts us to reconsider not just our evolutionary past, but also our everyday experiences in a more profound and contemplative light. As the title of Wilson's book implies, these evolutionary observations are not novel. The same holds true for this text. The aim here is not to present groundbreaking scientific research but to revisit familiar concepts in a contemplative and illuminating manner. Next time you casually declare, "I am hungry," pause and consider how mystical, ancient, and unchanged this impulse truly is. Such reflections foster humility and awareness. They reveal how sensations like hunger—arising from deep within—become mundane when appropriated by the ego. Behind ordinary statements such as "I am hungry" lies a sensational world brimming with wonder. Beneath our conceptual understanding of hunger, roundworms insistently communicate in their primordial language.
 
Indeed, this profound truth permeates every thought and sensation we experience. Behind the veil of conceptual simplifications, roundworms and countless other ancient whispers continue speaking to us, reminding us that the infinite mystery of life continuously awaits our exploration. To truly perceive this, we must consciously revisit the familiar and simply pause to observe deeply in novel ways.

"What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?-
 
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows:
 
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:
 
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:
 
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:
 
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?
 
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare."
Leisure (1911) - W.H. Davies

The Recipe for a Human
What is it actually to be a human being seen from a biological perspective? What bitches brew does it take to make such an impossible creature? Here's my take on the recipe:

Take about 40 liters of water. Add the right amount of Precambrian primordial sea salt. Fine-tune it to match the exact percentage of salt in that ancient sea. Then, add two kilograms of various bacteria. These bacteria, among them mitochondria, lived freely or in symbiosis before they became peaceful bio-citizens in the human body. Include countless forms of viruses, even some inherited from Neanderthals. Now, blend in cellular life forms that stretch back to the dawn of life. Finally, sprinkle about one percent of actual human genes over our 'Frankensteinian' brew.
  
This recipe is too long to complete here, but all ingredients lead to one conclusion: anatomically, humans are a baroque composite, a synthesis of untimely prehistoric beings.
   
In this sense, the human body is a living zoological museum, composed of life forms and behaviors that reach back to the earliest stardust.
  
This odyssey was made possible by cooperation and recycling.

OUR RECYCLED BIOLOGICAL STRUCTURES
We are composed of reused bio-software. From an evolutionary perspective, humans are made of various survival systems. The oldest code in this recycling process is of course our 'urge' to survive. It’s the teleological reason we are still here. All functional Darwinian systems, from the primordial soup onward, are preserved as building blocks in our biological and psychological architecture.
    
Evolution doesn’t anihilate its foundation. Instead, it builds on existing biological structures. Our bodies are the sum total of all our previous species' lives.
   
As humans, we've only been here for a brief 2.5 million years. As zoological cell colonies, we are much older. Inside us are all forms of life’s previous forms—cells, microbiomes, worms, reptiles, and mammalian systems—coexisting under one roof. Some lie dormant; others help us in the game of survival.
 
Ion channels in Necturus salamander cells are found in rats and humans. Any DNA that worked well in evolution is reused by more advanced systems. The genes that regulate our heartbeat originated in sea anemones. We share 25% of our genes with trees. Our appetite is driven by genes developed in roundworms. Our teeth started as fish scales. Our face was formed when we were still fish. A fish face has eyes, a mouth, and sometimes, like the blobfish, even a nose!

The Blob fish - Psychrolutes marcidus

In the fetal stage, we relive our species' history, developing the beginnings of gills, for example.

As seen in this BBC video, a human fetus’ face is formed between the second and third month, assembled like a puzzle. This starts at the fish stage, finally forming a recognizable human face. The final piece is the philtrum, the groove under the nose.
 
Notice how the face, just before it takes on a human form, goes through various zoological stages in the shape of animal faces. During the fetal stage, we climb up all the previous steps on the evolutionary ladder that our species has utilized.

Before taking on a human form, our face passes through various zoological stages. During fetal development, we climb the evolutionary ladder, revisiting every step our species has taken.

Let me sum up this simple yet profound fact: as biological beings, we live at the intersection of prehistoric animals' operating systems streching from biomechal history to neurological functions. We are a living untimely zoological museum, a hub where even ancient reptiles behaviors have survived the passage of time.
 
We are a patchwork quilt of mostly ancient elements, with only small traces of the modern, each layer adding complexity to what we call 'human.' In fact, the majority of what makes us is not even human.
 

THE BRAIN'S TRIUNE DISAGREEMENT

We are obliged to look at ourselves and the world through the eyes of
three different mentalities, two of which lack the power of speech.
MacLean

The illustration below shows the brain as constructed in three layers. This is, of course, a strong simplification of the actual conditions. It may even be incorrect. Nonetheless, it is thought-provoking. The project here is not strict empirical brain science, but to intuitively view the brain's different operating systems as deposits from various time periods in our evolutionary history.

The innermost and oldest part of the brain, the brainstem—or R-complex—is shared with reptiles. It governs our most instinctive and autonomously regulated behaviors. These primal mechanisms operate independently and are unable to comprehend the emotions of the mammalian brain or the language of the human neocortex.

The middle layer, the limbic system, is common to mammals. It allows us to sense ourselves and the world with emotional awareness.

At the top lies the neocortex, shared with whales and great apes. This outermost layer is the seat of language, abstract thinking, and consciousness. Of particular interest are the frontal lobes, where human self-awareness maybe resides.

The idea that our brain is layered—reptilian at the core, mammalian in the middle, and human on the surface—offers a striking lens through which to understand impulsive acts like Uruguayan footballer Suárez’s sudden bite of an opponent. After all, a soccer match can be seen as a symbolic tribal battle over a prized resource, not unlike animals fighting over food. We battle ourselves as we battle others, and we unite in groups only to face other groups in new forms of struggle.
 
We do not know Ourselves
It gives here sense to view all these layers of untimely biological operative systems as different 'personalities' within ourselves.

G.I. Gurdjieff, the Greek-Armenian mystic, argued that ordinary humans live in a state of hypnotic "waking sleep". We are in his perspective not single, unified beings but rather a collection of a hundred different personalities—each unaware of the others. These fragmented selves take turns running the show, often contradicting one another without our recognition.

Imagine a traveler with a clear destination. Along the way, his ‘selves’ hijack the journey—one craving comfort stops for a drink, another seeking adventure veers off track, a third, fearful, turns him back. In the end, he never reaches his goal—not due to external obstacles, but because no single ‘I’ was truly in control.

Gurdjieff’s teaching emphasizes witnessing this fragmentation as the first step toward self-unification. True inner mastery means transforming these competing impulses into a singular, harmonious "I."
 
But why are we not naturally conscious of this inner chorus? Why do these hidden selves continue to shape our actions, thoughts, and emotions without our recognition—tricking us again and again?
 
The answer lies behind the closed doors of perception. And paradoxically, to open that door, we must first close our eyes.

UNTIMELY SYSTEMIC CONFLICTS AND COOPERATIONS
From brain circuits to individual psyches to entire societies, it becomes evident how difficult it is for different survival systems—each evolved in its own time—to cooperate harmoniously. The ego, in this context, can be seen as one such system: a structure asserting itself, often at the expense of collaboration. As Meister Eckhart observes:

“The tendency is ever towards self-repetition, towards the preservation of the species: it is every man's intention that his work should be himself.”

Fragmented by nature, the ego-centric system seeks affirmation by opposing others. And when no external "other" is available, it turns inward—fighting itself in a recursive loop of identity defense.

Conflict and cooperation coexist at every level, both within and between systems. According to Niklas Luhmann’s systems theory, society is composed of functionally differentiated systems, each governed by its own code and logic. These systems are self-referential—they communicate internally, but rarely coordinate seamlessly across domains. This disjunction breeds friction, miscommunication, and systemic conflict.
 
Take, for example, the divide between government and economy: one operates on the logic of power, the other on profit. Governments aim to regulate for the public good, while businesses lobby for deregulation to maximize gain—resulting in mutual misunderstanding. In healthcare, doctors aim to heal, but insurance companies focus on cost and risk, often denying treatments despite medical necessity. Law upholds legality; education aims for qualification. These aims may conflict when legal structures constrain pedagogical freedom. Science pursues truth; politics pursues power—scientific evidence is often disregarded when it becomes politically inconvenient. And while the judiciary seeks justice, media seek attention—creating distortions when sensationalism overrides due process.

Luhmann describes these systems as structurally coupled but operationally closed: they depend on one another but interpret reality only through their own lens. Deep cooperation, in this view, is not impossible but inherently limited.
 
Mathematical Reuse = Structural Reality, Not Just Poetic Analogy
When we apply these insights to the structure of our untimely brain striking parallels emerge that go beyond metaphor. As repeatedly emphasized on Meditation.dk, existence is intricately patterned by mathematical principles recurring across all scales, from the infinitesimal to the cosmic. When the iris of a human eye echoes the structure of a galaxy, this is not merely symbolic—it is algorithmic reuse. As above, so below.
 
Societies and cultures reflect the same recursive structure. Our collective memory—expressed in myths, narratives, and rituals—is a continuous reworking of ancient material. Much like dormant genetic codes activated for new functions, our social systems repurpose old survival strategies, reframing them to serve modern needs.
 
In this light, the frictions we encounter—between brain regions, between individuals, and across societal systems—are not merely dysfunctions but expressions of layered, untimely architectures striving to coexist in miscommunication and competetition. Whether biological, psychological, or institutional, these systems are not designed for seamless integration but for survival in their own evolutionary contexts. What emerges, however, is a deeper pattern: the recursive reuse of structure, logic, and form across scales. Recognizing this, we begin to see not chaos, but an intricate choreography of conflict and cooperation—an algorithmic dance encoded into the very fabric of life, culture, and consciousness.
    
THE REFURBISHING OF UNTIMELY RECYCLED SYSTEMS
Even culture is adhering to these divine algorithmic laws. Human storytelling returns again and again to archetypes—the hero’s journey, the transformative quest—because these themes reflect ingrained psychological and social patterns. They are not invented anew but resurfaced in new clothing. Often they these stories even change their core message. The Danish author Ludvig Holberg's 'Jeppe of the Hill' serves as example of how stories adapt and radically evolve across cultures and epochs. The original Indian version explores the theme of 'maya'—illusion—asking whether one is a beggar dreaming he’s a king or vice versa. Early European versions lose this idea, focusing instead on class hierarchy. Holberg’s adaptation warns against role-swapping, emphasizing a commoner’s failure to imitate nobility. The story shifts meaning as it crosses cultures and time.
 
That is why the notion of the triune brain can ony serve as a fresh inspiration and nothing more. The old systems will always get refurbished by the new ones.
 
Technological Evolution
Like biological evolution, our technologies build upon what came before. The internet arose from telecommunication systems, which evolved from postal networks. Smartphones are compact computers built on decades-old principles. Evolution—both cultural and biological—is recursive, cumulative, and conservative in structure.
 
 This brings us back to the untimely architecture of our brain.

To balance internal conflict between brain regions evolved in different eras, evolution didn’t simply stack new parts atop old ones—it also renovated those older structures. Like restoring a centuries-old house, evolution reinforced the basement rather than demolishing it. The damp cellar—the reptilian brain—remains, but now with upgraded wiring from the neocortex.

In this light, urban civilization reflects its biological roots. Cities still contain buildings from a century ago, with roads designed for cars invented decades back. But now, everything is layered with digitalization—just as the human brain’s newest layers send neural projections into its oldest parts. We live in ancient body-homes—old walls, pipes, and frameworks—but they’re fitted with central heating, smart lighting, internet, and modern insulation.

Thus, the biological reuse of old systems, retrofitted for modern needs, is not only a principle of evolution but a metaphor—and reality—pervading every level of life.
 
Goosebumps as Positive Emotional Markers
It's worth noting that these repurposed, older layers don't function exactly as they did in their heyday. Take, for example, the phenomenon of hairs standing on end. In our evolutionary past, this response was associated with aggression or fear. In a similar vein to hairs standing on end, the phenomenon of goosebumps was originally an evolutionary response to cold or fear. The rising of small "pimples" on the skin would have helped our hairy ancestors retain a layer of warm air close to the skin or it would have helped them to look bigger and more dangerous. Nowadays, we often experience goosebumps during emotional or awe-inspiring moments, such as listening to a beautiful piece of music.

Furthermore in mystical traditions, many recount experiencing this same biological reaction during profound encounters with the divine. I've had numerous experiences myself where all my hairs stood up as I felt a transcendent presence fill my soul. In this way, a biological mechanism originally intended to signal threat has been repurposed to signify intense, positive emotions.

Morphed Organ Functions
Lungs and Swim Bladders: In fish, the swim bladder is used for buoyancy. It is thought to have evolved from the lungs of ancestral fish that adapted to life underwater. In this way, an organ used for gas exchange in one environment was repurposed for buoyancy control in another.
 
In Public Speaking
The "fight or flight" response is a primal reaction geared to prepare our body for imminent threats. Yet, in today's world, non-life-threatening scenarios such as public speaking or job interviews can spur this adrenaline and cortisol surge. Interestingly, actors and public performers often attest that a measured dose of this age-old adrenaline can enhance the vigor and caliber of a performance.
 
Blushing and Social Interaction
Blushing is thought to have evolved as a social mechanism to show submission or a change in social status, helping to establish social hierarchies without the need for violence. Today, it serves as an involuntary emotional signal, revealing feelings like embarrassment or romantic interest, which can carry different contextual meanings.
 
Pupil Dilation as a Sign of Interest
Pupil dilation originally served the purpose of allowing more light into the eye in low-light conditions. However, it's also been observed to occur during states of emotional arousal or when looking at someone we find attractive, giving a new social context to an old biological function.

Tears as Emotional Signals
Crying is thought to have initially evolved as a way to clean and lubricate the eyes. Now, tears have a communicative function, signaling feelings like sadness, joy, or relief, and prompting social support or action from others.

Smiles & Laughter for Social Bonding
Laughter likely had its origins in signaling contentment or trust within a social group. While it still serves this function, it has been co-opted for various purposes in complex human societies, ranging from a form of critique (satire) to a way of strengthening social bonds beyond immediate family groups. Similarly, smiling, especially when showing teeth, can elevate oxytocin levels in both the smiler and the recipient. However, flashing teeth in a smile to a dog might be misconstrued as aggression.

These examples demonstrate how biological traits originally evolved for one purpose can be repurposed or imbued with new meanings in complex human societies.
 
However, glimpses of the original behaviors these bio-operative systems were intende for can often be seen through the veneer of modernity. Consider Western political tendencies for power struggles and exploitation of other cultures—aren't these just echoes of our ancestral primate drive to dominate the food chain? The primal reflexes of our ape ancestors are still lurking just beneath our tailored suits. When we peer down into an abyss, we feel a sensation in the sphincter and coccyx, regions rife with nerves that have outlived their original purpose. These nerves remain blissfully ignorant that the tail they once helped to balance has long since disappeared.
In this context, the layered perspective of the brain retains its validity.

Brief Overview
Using Ernst Bloch's term "unzeitgemäßheit" (untimeliness) — albeit out of its original context — we can see that our bodies are complex amalgamations of biological systems developed throughout life's vast history. The past continues to influence the present; we exist in multiple timelines concurrently. We are echoes of the primordial seas, bearing information from every epoch. As a result, various parts of our anatomy differ in age. While some body parts operate on ancient bio-software, others utilize newer systems. Only the latest brain functions operate in full consciousness, with older systems rooted in primal, more dormant states of awareness. Most of our existence unfolds in unconsciousness — not just due to Freudian repression, but because our body, a patchwork of genetic software, dates back to our earliest origins as single-celled entities in ancient seas.In summary, the human cell colony is a Noah's Ark for all previous life's bio-operating systems.

۞

PSYCHIC ARCHEOLOGY
Excavation through Conscious Introspection

"We still draw the boundaries of our personality too narrowly.
We always count as part of our personality only what we separate as individual, recognize as deviating. But we consist of the whole mass
of the world, each of us, and just as our body itself carries the
development pedigree down to fish and even further back,
so we have in the human soul everything that has ever lived."
Hermann Hesse: 'Demian'

The time has arrived to introduce an entirely new perspective on this concept of evolutionary patchwork. Let me first highlight this point through Hesse's profound insight: we are indeed "the whole mass of the world."

This realization naturally raises the question of how we might consciously engage with this timeless, internal accumulation of worldly experience.

Drawing from personal experience, I confidently assert that the primal, Precambrian cells within us still vibrate with life's fundamental frequency, accessible to those who cultivate enough inner silence to perceive it. This is not a solitary claim—consider Lama Anagarika Govinda's observations:

"There are people who, through concentration and other yoga exercises, can bring the subconscious up to the conscious level where they can discern and judge, and thereby benefit from the unlimited treasures of the subconscious memory, among which not only the memory of our previous lives is stored but also the past of the lineage, all pre-human forms of life, and the memory of the consciousness that makes all life in the universe possible."
Lama Anagarika Govinda

While it may initially seem unconventional, meditation can indeed be understood as a form of inward archaeology. The following text will explore this intriguing idea further. The poem by the Sufi mystic Rumi provided below elegantly portrays the journey of life as a profound process of spiritual evolution.

"Originally, you were clay. 
From being mineral, you becamet vegetable. 
From vegetable you became animal, and from animal, man. 
During these periods man did not know where he was going, 
but he was being taken on a long journey nonetheless.  

And you have to go through a hundred different worlds yet. 
I died from minerality and became vegetable; 
And from vegetativeness I died and became animal. 
I died from animality and became man. 
Then why fear disapearance through death? 
Next time I shall die Bringing forth wings and feathers like Angels. 
After soaring higher than angels- 
You cannot imagine. 
I shall be that."

This mystical vision suggests that our personal evolution mirrors both the biological and spiritual journey of all life, making introspection an excavation not only into our ancient, collective past but also into our future.

In fact, this inverted way of viewing material unfoldment as a product of spirit is not foreign to Western thought. By the late 18th century, translations of Sufi mystics, including Rumi, had made their way into German philosophy. Schelling, inspired by these mystical insights, repeated Rumi's ideas, tracing the journey from unconsciousness to fully awakened consciousness, this time not unfolded in the mystic, but in the creating artist and his art.

The universal spirit,
which slumbers in the stone, dreams in the plant,
awakens in the animal, becomes conscious in man
and reaches its highest unfolding in the artist.

Now, the task is not merely to philosophize but, as Lama Govinda suggests, to consciously journey inward through these archaeological layers of previous life experiences. For this exploration, we require an introverted consciousness, illuminating our path through the half-awake animals, dreaming plants, and slumbering stones still residing within our inner darkness. This inward journey simultaneously becomes a journey backward through time, making introverted consciousness inherently archaeological.

Those who bravely turn inward, away from external distractions, discover within themselves experiential realities far surpassing the limited capacity of the rational, language-oriented brain. At deeper levels, we all resonate with the primal roar of the lion and the terrified cry of the deer, evoked by ancestral memories encoded within our amygdala and beyond.
 
We 'innerstand' all life because we consist of recycling
In meditation, we intuitively 'innerstand' the lion's roar. We share fundamental biological operating systems with it. The deeper we explore our inner life, the older layers of human evolutionary history are revealed. In this sense, meditative introspection mirrors astronomical extrospection: the further we gaze into the universe, the older the phenomena we observe.

The next creature to confront is the snake or dragon, ancient symbols of the reptilian brain. This bio-circuit operates beyond the realm of emotions and feelings, consisting primarily of abstract patterns of sensing. In ancient Indian traditions, it is symbolized by the Kundalini snake, the serpent power that energizes the awakening of consciousness. However, the reptilian brain is not only accessed through meditation. In dreams and psychedelic journeys, the snake frequently reappears.

Just as researchers can recreate a dinosaur snout on a chicken by reversing its genetic code, we can, through meditation, revisit our own inner biological prehistory in an evolutionary journey. This journey takes us back to what I, borrowing from Meister Eckhart, call the "ground of origin." Here, this ground rests in the billions of years of cellular life humming within us. The billions of cells that make up what we call a human being are a living, prehistoric cross-section of the entire journey of life.
 
To OWN an Insight Through Experience
It’s one thing to read about these ideas, but by truly looking and feeling within myself, I have experienced myself as part of the biological world mass. As a sea anemone, I have sensed the tides of the primordial ocean. I have felt the snake crawl up my spine on its journey to the brain. I have lived the inner Stone Age man’s impulse to throw the first stone at a man from a foreign tribe. Yet, in this, I am not unique. Anyone who turns inward with sincerity can access these earlier—not individual—lives, but universal life forms that reside within us all.

The majority of this journey must be undertaken without the identity we associate with the 'I'. To turn the inner zoological clock back even for a second requires letting go of the familiar sense of self.

"There are people who, through concentration and other yoga exercises, can bring the subconscious up to the conscious level where they can discern and judge, and thereby benefit from the unlimited treasures of the subconscious memory, among which not only the memory of our previous lives is stored but also the past of the lineage, all pre-human forms of life, and the memory of the consciousness that makes all life in the universe possible."
Lama Anagarika Govinda

 
Reincarnation is a Scientific Fact
Again and again, reports of reincarnation surface in connection with deep meditative experiences, near-death encounters, and entheogenic journeys. These experiences are often interpreted as individual because, in our normal state of consciousness, we perceive ourselves as separate individuals. Thus, Mr. Petersen might feel as though he has experienced being Mr. Hansen in a previous life. But this happens when our limited mind takes linguistic ownership of a profound, non-verbal experience. The small ego tries to translate something from a fundamentally incomprehensible, multi-dimensional universe into our familiar world of three dimensions. And it fails.
 
In this context, the ego is like a frog at the bottom of a well, trying to explain the life of birds in the sky. An even more fitting analogy might be ants attempting to describe a highway with cars—an experience so vast that their attempt to cross the highway is entirely at the mercy of forces beyond their comprehension.
   
Individual versus Transpersonal Life
At this point, language itself begins to strain under the weight of trying to convey experiences that occur beyond the typical subject-object relationships in a three-dimensional universe of time, space, and matter, as we know them from daily life. In such experiences, there is no 'I' in the conventional sense to observe or narrate.
 
We consist of collective reincarnated operating systems whose primary task has always been survival. Transpersonal experiences of pre-existence are therefore not personal in nature—individuality and language are relatively recent evolutionary developments, appearing within the last few thousand years.

FROM SEA TO LAND
In the context of life's billions of years of evolution, this is less than a blink of an eye compared to the birth of cellular life in the primordial ocean.

"Oh Friend! Understand
The body is like the ocean
Rich with hidden treasures.
Open its innermost chamber
and light its lamp."
– Mirabai

We rose from aquatic Precambrian life, and we still carry it within us,  protected by cell membranes. We are now washed ashore on the coast of life, essentially walking waves stirred by storms from the primordial ocean and warmed by sunlight from a million mornings.
 
Swimming in one's own Cambrian primordial ocean is something that can be done without the traditional sense of self. Here, you are a traveler of attention and consciousness, unbound by the ego-operating system we rely on in everyday life. This alone can make the encounter with one’s evolutionary past feel unsettling. The sense of control that our everyday consciousness clings to has no place here.

Continuing with zoological imagery, this is entirely my own poetic way of describing something that is difficult for the conscious, cognitive mind to grasp. These metaphors help me 'innerstand' and connect with my interoceptive sensations, but you might find different imagery that resonates more with your experiences. What inner creatures might you discover within yourself?

Inner Jellyfish, Fire Coral, and Sea Nettles
In the deepest realms of meditation, oceanic metaphors make sense for me to describe these three-dimensional energy patterns or clusters. The shapes and movements of these inner sensations often resemble aquatic life. Let me introduce my inner jellyfish—a slow-moving sensory pattern that drifts around my stomach, with tendrils extending into my arms, legs, and head. Depending on the intensity of the sensation, it can transform into something more like a fire coral or a sea nettle, emitting prickly or burning sensations. These jellyfish-like creatures, along with countless other inner life forms, seem to live autonomously, swimming through the body’s dark, primordial ocean.

Anyone willing to introspectively explore their inner landscape can embark on a hunt for these ancient Cambrian creatures lurking namelessly within the body’s inner darkness.
 
It’s utterly fascinating to realize that we carry within us such a varied sensory aquarium without being aware of it. How astonishing it is that we can know so much about the external world and yet remain profoundly ignorant of our own inner world.
 
The Inner Zoo:  Ancient Life Forms and Land Creatures
It’s not just primordial aquatic creatures we find within us. Our bodies also harbor land creatures, representing different evolutionary stages. We all carry snakes, reptiles, mammals, prey, and predators within us. As we move up the evolutionary ladder, these energy forms become more dynamic and fast-moving.

The ancient, pre-Cambrian energy forms—like jellyfish—move slowly, almost like tidal waves. In contrast, the inner monkey leaps rapidly from branch to branch, making it a challenge to track and contain. At first glance, one might assume that catching a jellyfish would be easier than taming a monkey. However, the paradox is that the older the bio-operative systems are, the more difficult they are to grasp, and thus harder for consciousness to penetrate. Their very slow-moving, continuous nature makes them elusive to a mind wired to detect change and quick patterns. It is precisely their timeless, unhurried rhythm that consciousness struggles to comprehend.
 
Communicating with the Inner Creatures
Our conscious a-ha awareness becomes the lingua franca for communicating with the ancient, remodified life forms within us. The highest act of love is simple, conscious attention. When we offer this loving attention to our inner animals—often frightened, wounded, or confused—they begin to relax and find peace within their own natural rhythms.

Where should we begin?

In my experience, it is far more important to engage with the Cambrian creatures within us than with the more evolved reptilian, mammalian, or early human parts. The deeper we go into these ancient cellular life forms, the more profound the transformation becomes.

If we can transform the jellyfish so that it no longer stings, even the restless inner monkey seems to calm down. The relaxation of our inner world begins with conscious love and attention directed toward the primordial depths of our being. From this core of ancient awareness, healing radiates outward to all later layers of these zoological energy creatures, gradually restoring balance and  harmony across the entire inner ecosystem.

Every organism has its own self-referential operating system
The illiterate mystic Nisargadatta Maharaj claimed that the sole purpose of life is to protect, expand, and develop consciousness.
 
For every life form, whether it is autonomous or functions as an organ in a larger biological context, there is an internal feedback-based operating system. In this sense, every living organism has a companion in the form of a consciousness operating system. The logical consequence of us being carriers of the biological world mass is that we also have all previous forms of awareness systems within us. We not only share appetite-regulating mechanisms with roundworms, but we also live a life through their rudimentary form of consciousness.

These primordial forms of consciousness is what I in the chapter, What is Awareness, refer to as awareness.

Many of these archaic awareness operating systems still contribute to our maintenance as a human cell colony. Others are rudimentary and/or dormant but can be awakened under special circumstances. This is in this light I understand the Indian mythology of the Kundalini snake entering the thousand petalled lotus of the brain.
 
Even individual organs of the human body have their own field of awareness, which in turn link up with each other in the same way that countries form alliances.
 
It seems that these awareness fields, in their collective connection in hubs, become increasingly conscious. The more systemically complex they become, the more 'awake' they become.

It is my clear intuitive feeling that any self-referential system becomes aware and thus alive when it reaches a certain point of complexity. In this context, it might be irrelevant whether it concerns machines or biological life.
 
THE JOURNEY HOME

I am a lizard King - I can do everything - J.Morrison

A consciousness liberation of our inner nerve tree's long delicate branches requires that, in our meditation, we address sensitivity rather than flee from it. Let us now meditate directly into the body and sensitivity to manifest the clarity of consciousness that the Eastern traditions' Indian-anchored survival strategy meditation forms have invested in life beyond the body for good reasons.
 
Meditation.dk is for those who dare to venture into the darkness of the body. Here, the brave explorer lights the light of wakefulness. With this light, consciousness sees inward, while attention feels the warmth of the light. For light can both be seen and felt.

The word religion comes from the Latin word religare, which means to reconnect, to re-establish a connection to something earlier and more original.

In this sense I see Meditation as a religious project, and this project involves traveling back and into one's own biological world mass - not as we do every night when we fall asleep, but traveling into this darkness with the wakeful light of consciousness as a lantern.

This inner journey, in my opinion, is the most important journey a person can undertake. It is a journey back to the roots, back to one's biological past. 
For Freud, this journey stopped when one had reached an understanding of childhood. Jung took a much deeper dive beyond the boundary of our individual lives. The ancient yogis explored inner landscapes far beyond the intellect.
 
For the brave meditator, the journey has hardly begun here. For it continues back to the beginning of life in the primordial sea, a primordial sea that still exists encapsulated in droplet form in our cells. Perhaps the journey only ends when we recognize o urselves as the stardust our carbon molecules are made of.

Yes, Meditation is psychic archaeology.


With warm regards,
Gunnar Mühlmann
gunnars@mail.com

 

NOTE ON BIOLOGICAL REUSE:

Biomechanical History
Consider the structure of the human hand. At first glance, it's a uniquely human trait that enables us to grasp tools and manipulate our environment. But this too is a biological patchwork. The basic pentadactyl limb configuration is hundreds of millions of years old, shared with many other vertebrates, from bats to whales. So, the human hand is not so much a revolutionary design as it is a modification of ancient blueprints.
 
Genetic Echoes
If we move even deeper into the genetic layer, the idea of 'junk DNA' also adds to the narrative of biological reuse. Once thought to be useless, these stretches of DNA are now known to play roles in regulation, development, and disease resistance. Some may be remnants of ancient viruses that infected our ancestors and became integrated into the genome. Here, the evolutionary echo persists even in our genetic code.
 
Genes for Development - Hox Genes
Hox genes, which are responsible for body plan development, are remarkably conserved across animal species. They control the placement of limbs and organs in everything from fruit flies to humans. In both cases, the same genes dictate the anterior-posterior axis of the creature, showing that the basic "blueprint" for laying out a body has been reused and modified over hundreds of millions of years.

Molecular Machinery
ATP Synthase: This enzyme is responsible for making ATP, the energy currency of the cell. It is highly conserved across all domains of life (Bacteria, Archaea, and Eukaryota), indicating its fundamental importance. Even in vastly different species and cell types, the mechanism for producing ATP is often strikingly similar, a clear case of biological reuse at the molecular level.

Sensory Systems
Opsin Proteins: These light-sensitive proteins are found in the photoreceptor cells of the eye and are vital for vision. Remarkably, similar opsin proteins also exist in simpler organisms. For example, certain algae use a form of opsin to sense light direction for photosynthesis. The fundamental molecular machinery for detecting light, therefore, appears to have been reused for various forms of vision in more complex organisms.
 
Gut Instinct
Our gut microbiome is another fascinating area of biological reuse. Comprising a complex ecosystem of bacteria, viruses, and fungi, our gut microbiota affects everything from digestion to mental health. Many of these microbes have ancient origins and have co-evolved with us, playing an essential role in our survival. These internal communities mirror ancient environmental ecosystems, now internalized.

Behavioral Traits
Fight-or-Flight Response: This basic survival mechanism is shared across a multitude of species, from humans to small mammals and even birds. When faced with a threat, adrenaline and cortisol levels spike, preparing the organism for rapid action. This physiological response has been conserved because of its effectiveness in promoting survival.

The Neurochemical Symphony
Even our complex emotional lives carry the vestiges of our evolutionary history. Neurotransmitters like dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin govern everything from our pursuit of rewards to our social bonds. These chemicals are not unique to humans; they serve similar functions in many other animals. The pathways that produce feelings of happiness in humans can be traced back to mechanisms that once helped simpler organisms navigate their environments in search of food or mates.
 
Neurological Functions
Serotonin: This neurotransmitter, crucial in regulating mood and emotion in humans, has a long evolutionary history. Interestingly, it serves a similar function in invertebrates like lobsters, which also use serotonin to modulate social status and aggressive behavior. The conservation of serotonin as a social behavior-modulating molecule across such diverse taxa indicates a form of biological reuse.