“The Neuroscience of Spirituality” begins by stating that a person troubled by mental illness or addiction may be encouraged to turn to spirituality for help. That non-material quality just might not be as estranged from science, and especially medicine, as previously believed. In many cases, a spiritual practice really can heal or even prevent many kinds of injury, both physical and mental. The bonus gift is that, unlike, for instance, drugs, a spiritual grounding probably will not come at a high cost to relationships or economic survival:

[S]piritual experiences have been observed creating physical and chemical responses in the human brain. Finding a way to connect with the universe or a higher power releases dopamine, the neurotransmitter responsible for pleasure and reward.

If that commentary from a long-term facility that treats addiction sounds unlikely, here is an academic paper from a government website to back it up.

The author, E. Mohandas, M.D., derived interesting conclusions from studies of yoga and meditation. Religious and spiritual practices, including appeals to A.A’s Higher Power, “have shown definite neuroanatomical and neurochemical changes” in humans. Moreover, they can have a positive impact on mental health, and even augment and supplement psychotherapy and other modalities.

These conclusions are based on “a meta-analysis, which summarized the results of 147 independent investigations involving a total of 98,975 subjects.” According to the paper,

The neurochemical change as a result of meditative practices involves all the major neurotransmitter systems. The neurotransmitter changes contribute to the amelioration of anxiety and depressive symptomatology…

Of the 120 identified studies published prior to 2000 investigating religiousness and alcohol/drug use/abuse, most of them found a clear inverse correlation between these variables. A study conducted on students in a large metropolitan area showed that religious factors were strongly associated with lower drug abuse…

In a science fiction story published in the 1950s, one character was a farmer who walked between furrows in a field, and whose weathered face seemed to show a grim and forbidding expression. But unbeknownst to the spectator, the farmer was actually seeing a radiant display of color where every drop of dew contained an entire rainbow, a visual field of complicated motion in which every atom was alive and vibrating with essential energy, all described in such a way that it now seems the author must have been one of the early psychedelic pioneers. Or an accomplished practitioner of arcane healing arts.

Apparently, there are such people, who, whether naturally or through effort, find so much of heaven in the current moment that there is no room for thoughts of the past or future. Depending on what type of society they are born into, they may be shunned, tolerated, or venerated, but a study of history finds them in all times and places. These are people who have perfected a technique for living in a resplendent eternal present.

A previous post mentioned that anorexics derive more pleasure from holding back, and thinking about finally eating, than from the actual consumption of food. What they really get off on is the anticipation. And pathological gamblers are happiest when the dog race or the card game is in progress, because they enjoy the uncertainty more than actually winning. “The inability to predict reward occurrence” turns out to be a very resonant phrase. As previously suggested,

The dopamine of anticipation can never let you down… It can never betray, or disappoint. The reward can never be damaged, rescinded, stolen, misplaced, forfeited, or seized…

Some spiritual people experience plenty of very agreeable chemicals while living in a continuous state of bliss, as if the afterlife they fully expect to experience were already the reality. In this respect, they resemble the anorexics and pathological gamblers mentioned in that piece, who thrive on the dopamine rush of anticipation. The reward is in the wanting, not the getting. Very spiritual people who are hooked on anticipation dopamine realize that this preference does not mean they are better than anyone else — just different.

One of the most ancient human institutions is the religious community, where people of the same sex live together; deprive themselves of every pleasure, from an unbroken night’s sleep to a chocolate milkshake; and renounce worldly reward. The most rigorous spiritual systems are founded on the idea that the material world is one gigantic rigged game, where the prize is always unsatisfactory, if not downright illusory. If we can learn instead to forsake the earthly types of rewards and learn to love the anticipation, things will work out much better in the long run.

Which comes first, the willingness to cooperate with this system, or the random occurrence of anticipation dopamine that shows us the possibility of the system working? It seems probable that, the more we practice, the more the brain will cooperate by producing the dopamine of anticipation to help us along the way. With “nothing to show for it,” we can be blissful as saints all the time.

The paradox is that true believers (and practitioners) reap the greatest reward of all: direct and palpable contact with the source of all of the goodness in the universe. Furthermore, in many cases, they hope and expect to feel this same ineffable ecstasy after death, throughout eternity. Without question, the state of transcendence must be regarded as a fine achievement. Post-mortem, with no body to weigh a person down, the system could be said to work perfectly. The believers and practitioners who are still alive on Earth, however, require equipment: a body that contains a brain, to produce the dopamine reward.

In a situation where someone logically knows they should be happy, and yet is unmoved, that person is “just not feelin’ it.” Everything looks right, but the fabled reward system refuses to function as advertised. The dopamine doesn’t kick in. There is emptiness. When the putative treasure is unearthed, when the itch is satisfied, when the Nobel or the Oscar is won, when the trophy finally sits on the shelf… that outcome is almost an irrelevant detail. Something is still missing. The pursuit of happiness is a joke until a person stumbles upon the secret, which is to go in pursuit of an entirely different kind of trophy.

In a popular meme, one cartoon child always yanks away the football when the other cartoon child is about to enjoy kicking it. In far too many cases, that’s life. Until it’s not.

Written by Pat Hartman. First published August 9, 2024.

Sources:

“The Neuroscience of Spirituality,” BurningTree.com, September 13, 2019.

“Neurobiology of Spirituality,” NIH.gov, 2008

Image Copyright: Dylan/Attribution 2.0 Generic