Subtitle: Every Chink in Our Understanding of the Universe is Undeniable Proof of the Monad
Beyond Biocentrism takes a few mysteries of modern physics — like quantum superposition, and its staggering dependence on the experimenter’s observation to determine reality — and expounds them into a theory that all creation exists as a product of mind: that our conscious observation of a thing is all that creates it, that mind itself is the stuff of the universe.
Time, the book states, is not real. Since relativity, we’ve known that different observers experience time differently depending on their relative speed and the force of gravity acting on them. Time moves measurably faster in the mountains that at sea level. Intuitively, we might suppose that time merely vacillates intermittently around some objective yardstick — that there is a “real” time somewhere unifying all its observers. But no such yardstick exists. Without an objective measure, time itself doesn’t properly exist.
Space is a bit dodgy as well. Since the discovery of quantum entanglement — spooky action at a distance between quantum particles — we’ve had to revisit the basic presumption that objects can only interact when they are proximate. But with quantum entanglement unifying the behavior of particles light years apart, we must revisit our assumptions about what space itself is.
Causality is a bit suspect as well. Since the presence of the observer itself can completely alter how quantum particles behave, we have to conclude that something about consciousness is messing with the basic gears of reality.
A tantalizing entree. What is the main course? Why, the pat assertion that obviously, the only conclusion left in the face of such doubts is that the universe is entirely a fabrication of one infinite, timeless consciousness. Thank you. We would talk about how to better prove this model in the future, but the future does not properly exist.
Beyond Biocentrism takes a few of the ineffable mysteries of modern physics and uses them, with ample latitude and disappointing self-assurance, to justify that the stuff of the universe is mind itself. There’s a kernel of an idea in there that’s quite offputtingly gilded.