"Hmm," Zac mused. "I'm still not sure I'm buying all this. If my body is responding to my mind, then how come cancer treatment works? How come drugs work? If you had cancer, would you get medical treatment with drugs and chemotherapy?"
"Yes," I replied.
"Why wouldn't you just 'think yourself better?' If your mind is so powerful, why use drugs?"
"I'd combine both approaches. It's not an either-or scenario, Zac. Regarding the use of drugs, it's like that parable of the man stranded on the roof of his house during a flood. He prayed to God for help. A rowboat came by, but the man refused to get in because he believed God was going to save him. A motorboat came by, and the same thing happened. A helicopter came by, and the same thing happened. Finally, the man drowned and went to heaven. He confronted God and said, 'I had faith that you would save me, but you let me drown!' God said, 'I sent you a rowboat, a motorboat, and a helicopter. What more did you want?' Modern medicine is the rowboat, the motorboat, and the helicopter. It's not the be-all-and-end-all, but it obviously works to some extent."
"But does it only work because you believe it works?" Zac asked. "Is everything caused by the placebo effect?"
"No," I replied. "Obviously not. That's like asking if gravity still works if you don't believe in it. Gravity is a neurosis in the mind of a super-intelligence, as are the mutually-agreed-upon effects of drugs. However, a strong personal conviction can alter these neuroses, in the same way that I can alter my own subconscious habits with conscious conviction. Listen to this anecdote from The Holographic Universe…"
Given the evidence we have looked at so far, one might almost wonder if all drugs are placebos. Clearly the answer is no. Many drugs are effective whether we believe in them or not: Vitamin C gets rid of scurvy, and insulin makes diabetics better even when they are skeptical. But still the issue is not quite as clear-cut as it may seem. Consider the following.
In a 1962 experiment Drs. Harriet Linton and Robert Langs told test subjects they were going to participate in a study of the effects of LSD, but then gave them a placebo instead. Nonetheless, half an hour after taking the placebo, the subjects began to experience the classic symptoms of the actual drug — loss of control, supposed insight into the meaning of existence, and so on. These “placebo trips” lasted several hours.
A few years later, in 1966, the now infamous Harvard psychologist Richard Alpert journeyed to the East to look for holy men who could offer him insight into the LSD experience. He found several who were willing to sample the drug and, interestingly, received a variety of reactions. One pundit told him it was good, but not as good as meditation. Another, a Tibetan lama, complained that it only gave him a headache.
But the reaction that fascinated Alpert most came from a wizened little holy man in the foothills of the Himalayas. Because the man was over sixty, Alpert's first inclination was to give him a gentle dose of 50 to 75 micrograms. But the man was much more interested in one of the 305 microgram pills Alpert had brought with him, a relatively sizable dose. Reluctantly, Alpert gave him one of the pills, but still the man was not satisfied. With a twinkle in his eye he requested another and then another and placed all 915 micrograms of LSD on his tongue, a massive dose by any standard, and swallowed them (in comparison, the average dose [Stanislov] Grof used in his studies was about 200 micrograms).
Aghast, Alpert watched intently, expecting the man to start waving his arms and whooping like a banshee, but instead he behaved as if nothing had happened. He remained that way for the rest of the day, his demeanor serene and unperturbed as it always was, save for the twinkling glances he occasionally tossed Alpert. The LSD apparently had little or no effect on him. Alpert was so moved by the experience he gave up LSD, changed his name to Ram Dass, and converted to mysticism.
Michael Talbot
"Okay…" Zac thought. "If my consciousness can 'override' the mutually-agreed-upon neuroses of the universe, like the effect of drugs on my body, can it override any neurosis? Like, if my arm got chopped off by a chainsaw, could I regrow it — even though the mutually-agreed-upon neurosis says I can't?"
"Theoretically, yes. Practically, no."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that, theoretically, you could grow back an arm. That possibility exists in the lower dimension. However, you probably won't grow back the arm, even if you believe you can."
"How come?"
"It's like I said earlier — your belief is not the only input into this algorithm. Do you think you can prevent a natural disaster with your belief, alone?"
"No," Zac said.
"Right. The answer is no. As God says, 'you are not grown enough in your consciousness to alter individually that which has been created collectively.' The neurosis that prevents arms from growing back was created collectively and would require Jesus-like abilities to overcome. According to God, '[Jesus] understood how to manipulate energy and matter, how to rearrange it, how to redistribute it, how to utterly control it.' You're not a skilled alchemist yet, so I wouldn't pin your hopes on regrowing your arm. However, if you genuinely had faith that your arm could regrow, it's quite likely you'd manifest a prosthetic arm instead. Growing a new arm would produce an excess amount of mutual surprise in the system, whereas obtaining a prosthetic arm would represent a much more parsimonious route through mutual expectation."
"Mutual expectation?"
