The Deep Law of the Living Cosmos

with guest contributor Freya Mathews

This post by Freya Mathews originates in a talk given to the Living Waters co-operative inquiry, which was adapted for a talk presented in the Changing our Minds: Connecting to Country Conversations Series,  St James Piccadilly, London. Here, philosopher Freya Mathews elaborates earlier posts on the philosophy and practice of living cosmos panpsychism and ontopoetics, and relates this to her understanding of Deep Law

Part 1           

It is widely recognized now that the reductive, materialist view of the world – the view that we inherited from the Scientific Revolution of the 17^th century and that underpins our modern, industrial civilization – is at the root of the havoc that this civilization is currently wreaking on the biosphere. Many thinkers are accordingly trying to construct alternatives to this worldview – trying to provide different metaphysical foundations for the way we humans collectively inhabit our Earth.

I think it’s fair to say that most people who are engaged in this search for alternatives are looking for a more holistic understanding of things. We hear this in repeated calls to see “all things as interconnected”, and to see ourselves, as humans, as part of this interconnected, indivisible, larger whole rather than seeing the world as made up of bits and pieces that we are at liberty to take apart to suit our own convenience.

In some ways, contemporary science seems also to be heading in this holistic direction, after starting out, back in the 17^th century, with an extreme form of atomism that explained physical phenomena by breaking them down into discrete constituent particles. Fundamental sciences like physics are today, by contrast, filled with fields and with ideas like quantum entanglement and nonlocality. But I think we need to be cautious in face of this apparent change in the direction of science. In the first place, science seeks to represent reality basically in quantitative, mathematical terms – this is one of its most distinguishing characteristics. But such mathematical analysis of physical phenomena relies on metrics – units of measurement. So at an explanatory level, science does still require that phenomena be ‘broken down’ into constituent units.

But the second and deeper reason we need to cautious about regarding science as currently heading in a holistic direction is, I think, to do with its distinctive way of knowing: the scientist, as knower, positions herself at a remove from reality: she seeks understanding through theory. But theory is her own construct. Theories vary of course according to the phenomenon under investigation; but in all cases the scientist is the author, the creator, of the theory. In this sense, she acts on it; but the theory does not act on her. As its author, she is not part of the theory. So insofar as scientists see the world through the lens of theory, they remain psychologically, or as philosophers would say, phenomenologically, outside the world. This stance is reflected in external methodology: scientists position themselves as detached observers of phenomena, often acting on those phenomena through experimentation, but not themselves being acted upon. They investigate things from the outside.

A truly holistic way of understanding reality would, by contrast, include the knower in the world they were seeking to know. This implies, I think, that holistic understanding must ultimately be arrived at via direct experiences of rapprochement with reality, rather than via the distancing lens of theory. The knower must make himself available to be acted upon by the world as well as acting on it. As a knower, he must be prepared to be touched by the world, subjectively moved and rearranged by it.

It surely follows that there will inevitably be many different ways of articulating an holistic alternative to the reductive scientific worldview. If holism by its nature escapes the net of quantitative, mathematical analysis then presumably it can only be glimpsed through qualitative frameworks, frameworks specific to particular cultures and philosophies. Such frameworks will always be interpretive – they will never be able to ‘nail down’ reality with the literalness and predictive power that science delivers.

Nevertheless, theorizations – scientific and otherwise – do remain important in our current crisis of civilization because they motivate us to experiment with new ways of being in the world. If we think there are good rational grounds for adopting a more holistic view of reality, then we might be prepared to explore new experiential practices. Should these practices result in new forms of experience, then our theories may help us to interpret these experiences and integrate them into our culture. The theories will also enable us to defend our emerging holistic perspective against the scepticism of a wider society still deeply invested in the old reductive paradigm.

Part 2           

With all these qualifiers then, let me outline my own version of an holistic worldview, firstly at the level of theory, and then at the level of the more intuitive practices that this theoretical framework can open up. As I am a philosopher, my particular version of holism has developed within the context of environmental philosophy, and more particularly within the context of a conversation amongst ecophilosophers that began here in Australia several decades ago. As such, I think of my approach as in certain respects a place-based outlook – a way of understanding and participating in the cosmos that is rooted in this land – though this outlook has of course also absorbed many influences from outside Australia. In any case, the version of holism that has come together for me, over these decades and in this place, and out of a particular skein of influences, is one that I have come to call Living Cosmos Panpsychism.

… the universe… is to all appearances self-creating, self-regulating and self-renewing – in a word, self-realizing

To approach the idea of living cosmos panpsychism, we might start by noting that the universe at large – the universe that we can see for ourselves in the night sky and that astronomy has revealed to us – is to all appearances self-creating, self-regulating and self-renewing – in a word, self-realizing: it maintains itself and increases its existence under its own steam, so to speak. Since these are properties we normally associate with living systems, let’s suppose, for the sake of the argument, that our universe is a living system – a unity that is so organized as to create, maintain and increase its own existence. Let us think of it not merely as an ad hoc collection of material bodies – particles, celestial bodies, clusters of celestial bodies and so forth – but as a single unity or substance. Indeed, let us think of it first and foremost as the great elastic medium of space itself, fluid and fieldlike but substantival, with a dynamic intrinsic geometry. Everything that we can see and measure in our universe is, from this point of view, a disturbance – like a ripple or current – in this fundamental, field-like manifold.

The 17^th century philosopher, Spinoza, called such deformations, ‘modes’ of the fundamental substance. From this point of view then, we can call all material particulars, including ourselves, are modes of this great living being we call the cosmos. And since it is a living system, let us think of its fabric as not merely physical but irreducibly psychophysical – let us imagine that there is an innerness to this dynamic, unfolding space as well as an outerness: it is imbued with inner impulses, animated by a primal will to exist and to increase its existence. (Spinoza used the Latin word, ‘conatus’, to refer to a will to self-existence and self-increase. From this we can derive the word, ‘conativity’ – a key term in relation to living cosmos panpsychism.)

The living cosmos unfolds its existence… by self-differentiating via patterns of disturbance in its psychophysical fabric

The living cosmos unfolds its existence both by globally expanding itself (think ‘the expanding universe’) and by self-differentiating via patterns of disturbance in its psychophysical fabric. These patterns of disturbance eventually include complex little local configurations that are also relatively self-maintaining and self-renewing – like little whirlpools that arise in the context of particularly intricate patterns of wave interference. These whirlpool-like configurations hold their identity for a time before dissolving back into the surrounding field. Because they pro-actively, dynamically, hold their geometric conformation for a time, we can think of them as themselves living systems – the kinds of organisms and ecosystems we find on Earth. As such they are possessed of a derivative conativity of their own, an individual will to self-existence.  Although they pro-actively maintain their individual structure for a time, they are of course no less part of the field-like fabric of the universe than all the other disturbances ebbing and flowing around them. So their conativity is real inasmuch as each self-system pro-actively seeks to distinguish itself from the ebb and flow of its environment, but it is also only relative: each self-system is still continuous with the unity of substance.

The living cosmos, as pictured here, may be described as ‘panpsychist’ because every aspect of its physical structure is an outward expression of an inner field of awareness or subjectivity: in other words, every aspect of physical existence also has a ‘mental’ dimension, and vice versa.

As modes of this greater psychophysical field, our role in this panpsychist scheme of things is clearly to contribute in some way to the ongoing unfolding of the cosmos – to its ongoing self-renewal and self-increase. But what is this contribution? How can we discover it?

Part 3

I want to pick out two key concepts here that can help us to answer this question.

The first concept is ontopoetics. The second is Deep Law.

Ontopoetics

To see what I mean by ontopoetics, let’s remember that, from the perspective of the living cosmos, the special capacity of organisms to feel, think and communicate represents an enrichment of the universe’s own field of experience. It represents new possibilities of finitude, of a multiplicity of perspectives, of dialogue, and of increasing reflexivity in the otherwise expansive and singular field of unitive awareness. But in addition to these further dimensions of enrichment that organisms bring to the larger field of awareness, there is a dimension that is largely overlooked in modern societies. This lies in the possibility of communication between organisms and the cosmos itself.  Such a form of communication would surely open up new, indeed transformative, registers of experience and in this sense increase the psychophysical richness of the overall field. The idea that we as humans do have a capacity to engage in such a form of communication, and that the universe has a capacity to respond in kind, is what lies behind the idea of ontopoetics.

What might a communicative exchange between ourselves and the cosmos look like? This is not in fact an entirely unfamiliar phenomenon. Many of us have been visited at some point in our lives by a certain kind of experience which, though striking, confounds our modern cultural categories: we have no way of processing it within the terms of the received discourses of our society. In premodern societies, experiences of this kind were often read as omens or signs. In Indigenous societies they may be understood as references to old or new Dreamings. In a more contemporary Western context, Carl Jung spoke of synchronicities, mysterious manifestations in the outer environment of inner states of a person’s psyche – manifestations that Jung named but was unable to explain. Omens, signs, Dreamings, synchronicities – these terms suggest in their different ways instances of I-Thou encounter between self and something larger, moments when that ‘something larger’ seems to speak directly to the human self in a ‘language’ that is both apposite and intimate.

Let’s step back from earlier interpretations of this mysterious phenomenon and view it instead, again for the sake of argument, as an instance of direct communicative encounter between ourselves and the living cosmos. In order for such a communicative encounter to occur, we presumably first need to assume a stance of address – we need in some basically ceremonial way to invoke the cosmos. If the cosmos responds to our invocation, its response will be recognisable as a response because it will deploy the terms of reference of the invocation itself.

… the ‘language’ that the cosmos will speak in response to our invocations can only be… the language of poetics, of imagery, of meaning conveyed through the symbolic resonance of things.

Of course, the ‘language’ that the cosmos will speak in response to our invocations can only be a concrete one. It will be the language of poetics, of imagery, of meaning conveyed through the symbolic resonance of things. It is in such language – traditionally the language of both poetic narrative and dreams – that our invocations need to be couched, so that they may in due course be answered in the same language, this language of things. The term, ‘ontopoetics’, is intended to capture this cluster of meanings: ontos, from the ancient Greek word for being, or for having the status of an existent thing; and poetics, both in its modern sense and in a sense drawn from the ancient Greek, poiesis, making or creating. Reality is, from the ontopoetic point of view, not only informed with meanings of its own but is disposed to interact with us on the level of meaning to create new, poetic configurations.

The history of religion is full of what I am calling ontopoetic moments. Think of the Old Testament: the burning bushes, parting seas, pillars of cloud by day and of fire by night, significant rainbows or bolts of lightning, unusual celestial bodies – all might be seen as responses on the part of a living cosmos to implicit invocations framed by the poetic narrative of the Hebrew religion.

Ontopoetics is not however merely the province of organized religions. Many of us will remember significant moments in our own lives when something like a ‘sign’ appeared in our physical environment, legible in the terms of our own private (or shared) frame of reference, as if in response to an implied invocation. It might be a rainbow; it might be finding a gold ring on a track in some out-of-the-way place; it might be a sudden visitation by a wild animal.

Whatever it is, when I do invoke the world ceremonially by way of such a narrative frame of reference and when the world responds to me with an emanation or conjunction of circumstances clearly referenced to that same story, I cannot fail to be stunned. There is such intimacy in the revelation, such largesse in the gesture, such unexpectedness, one can hardly help but surrender to the experience. One’s heart is opened up to an entirely new register of salience and purpose.

It is through ontopoetic communion then, I want to suggest, that the living cosmos pulls us into alignment with Deep Law.

Deep Law

So what is Deep Law?

The living cosmos must presumably unfold itself in accordance with a normative logic that is conducive to its ongoing self-realization. Since we exist only as modes of the cosmic conativity, we need to try to discover this normative logic so that we can align our own lives with it, and thereby contribute effectively to cosmic unfolding. What is this logic? We find our clue, I would suggest, in ecology. There is a distinctive strategy discernible in stable ecosystems that enables living things collectively to maintain and increase their existence most effectively. This strategy is basically one of accommodation: each living thing seeks to satisfy its own conative needs in ways that least disrupt the conativities of others. Indeed, ideally creatures fulfil their needs in ways that support the conativities of others, providing life-giving opportunities or resources for them.

The best example of this logic is perhaps provided by what biologists call ecosystem engineers. And the best-known example of an ecosystem engineer is the famous beaver. What do beavers want? They want safe refuges from river turbulence and from predators. To this end they dam waterways to create still ponds in which they can build convenient stick lodges. These dams redirect stream flows, in the process hydrating the entire surrounding landscape, creating wetlands that provide habitat for myriads of other plant and animal species. At the same time, these wetlands provide the necessary conditions for healthy waterways and hence for healthy beavers. Healthy ecosystems generally are held together and continually regenerated by countless such synergies.

This way of accommodation, of wanting only what one’s eco-neighbours need one to want, is logically the most efficient strategy for conative beings because it is a way of least resistance. By using only what our environment freely affords us, while choosing actions that answer to the needs of our ecological neighbours, we secure our own existence with the least expenditure of effort on our part, while at the same time recursively providing for those who provide for us.

This logic of accommodation, which is at the same time a logic of least resistance, correlates at a deep level with the notion of wuwei so central to the Chinese philosophy of Daoism (where Daoism is the Indigenous philosophy of China).¹

It also has affinities with the biological  concept of symbiosis.²

If we accept this as an intrinsic logic of cosmological unfolding – a normative logic, since highly reflexive beings such as ourselves are not bound to follow it, deterministically – then we might describe it as an Ought at the core of the Is – a Deep Law that we as modes of cosmic conativity should strive to follow.

This notion of Deep Law also has strong resonances with Aboriginal notions of Law, or First Law, here in Australia.³

However, since we humans, as I said, have the capacity for reflexive thought, we can choose our own path through life. We are free to follow the Ought at the core of the Is, or we can allow ourselves to be side-tracked by the many distractions and ideologies that our manic present-day consumer societies thrust upon us.

This is where ontopoetics comes back into the picture. Once we have experienced the astonishment of ontopoetic encounter, we are truly shifted on our metaphysical moorings. We now know that we are noticed by the cosmos, that the horizon of our existence and significance is far wider and higher than we had ever imagined. This is a new axis of meaning for our lives. We are accountable not merely to our society but to a cosmos that is aware of us and perhaps even takes the trouble to salute us. This is a new dimension of intimacy – perhaps, for us, of love – that calls us into alignment with Deep Law. All competing distractions for our attention are by comparison reduced to tawdry irrelevance. From here on, we shall simply be unable to bear to continue living in ways that trash this tender cosmos and disrupt the poetic order. We have indeed been pulled inside the cosmos, into its subjectival dimension – where this is a form of congress that can only be achieved via feeling. Our will has become coincident with cosmic conativity. And with this, and only with this, I think, we make the transition to a holistic perspective.

If we are on board with all of this, then we will surely be wondering how we can cultivate the sensibilities proper to ontopoetics and Deep Law in our own lives? Are there specific practices – and indeed specific forms of economic praxis – that can be deployed?

4.       

One set of practices, familiar to readers of this Substack blog, has been detailed by Peter Reason throughout Learning How Land Speaks (for example here and here). I have been involved in exploring this set of practices alongside Peter and other colleagues through a short course, Living Waters, at Schumacher College.⁴[5] The aim of the course is to provide an opportunity for participants to spend dedicated time each week in communion with a particular river or other waterway in their own neighbourhood. The idea is for them to try to engage with this river at a communicative level. They are invited to start by ceremonially addressing the river in some way and then paying close, loving attention to it, taking note of the detail and nuance of every particular as well as the layered patterns of ecological coherence that it presents. In the process, participants also open themselves to signs of communicative intent that might become evident. Together with members of small inquiry sub-groups, they then try, week by week, to make sense of the resulting experiences, where this adds a critical and reflective edge to their interpretations. The cooperative process also bonds the members of the sub-groups into mini-collectives that share an emerging new perspective, thereby creating small pods of a nascent culture.

[For other practices via which we might cultivate ontopoetic sensibilities, see my two earlier Substack posts here and here]

Perhaps via such practices we might take a first step towards reinhabiting our world as a living cosmos.  In Aboriginal English here in Australia there is a word that has entered the wider Australian vernacular: ‘Country’.  As Sandra Wooltorton, a faculty member of the Living Waters course, put it in a recent paper, “Country is living, responsive and caring, and [the word] is capitalised to denote an Indigenous understanding of one’s place, which connects people, socio-economic systems, language, spirit and Nature through interrelationship.”⁵

I think it would be fair to say that this word, ‘Country’, signifies a localization of a living cosmos. Here in Australia, Country has been sung into communicativity and responsiveness  by thousands of years of ceremonial address. Aboriginal people experience what I am calling ontopoetics in their own Country on a routine basis. They also exercise many other sensory and affective forms of attunement to Country. Some of these developed as active adaptations that were necessary for forms of livelihood that depended on intimate knowledge of local ecologies as well as custodianship of those ecologies. In other words, some of these cognitive capacities arose from the material and economic culture of traditional Aboriginal societies – they grew out of the everyday fabric of Aboriginal ways of life. For those of us who are not Indigenous to the places in which we live, or who have lost our deeper cultural connections to these places, these older ways of life and custodianship have of course given way to industrial modes of production that not only blind us to local ecologies but in fact tend to destroy those ecologies outright. Under these conditions it may seem doubtful whether we could deepen our budding holistic consciousness to the point where it could really start to direct our lives.

Is there any remedy for this?

With current global population levels, we cannot go back to pre-agrarian or Aboriginal modes of livelihood, but there may be other ways in which we can, at a personal level, reinvent custodial roles today and thereby  enter into deep, ongoing relationship with a particular place, where this might in turn increase our attunement to its inner life and hence to Deep Law.

At a societal level, there may be ways of reconfiguring and de-industrializing our economic praxes so that even our current large-scale societies could start to align again, to a degree, with Deep Law.⁶

We look forward to future posts from Freya Mathews on how individuals may reinvent custodial roles; and how contemporary society as a whole might again align with Deep Law.

1. See my recent book, The Dao of Civilization: a Letter to China, Anthem Press, 2023.

2. In biological theory, there are many different forms of symbiosis, some mutually advantageous to the parties in question, some not so much – for example, parasitism. (However, biologists are now starting to discover the key role that parasites play in ecosystems. See, for example, Jesse Nichols, “Nature can’t run without parasites”, Grist. https://grist.org/video/parasite-climate-change-ecosystem-health-science. At a population or ecosystem level then, even parasitic forms of symbiosis may turn out to be consistent with the logic of accommodation/least resistance.) Another cognate concept within biological theory is that of symbiogenesis. However, this term is used to refer to the more specific case in which one organism becomes physiologically internal to and integral to the functioning of another.

3. Again, these parallels are explained in Mathews 2023.

4. Other faculty members for the course are Andreas Weber, Stephan Harding, Sandra Wooltorton, Jacqueline Kurio and Ezekiel Fugate.

5. Wooltorton, S., Poelina, A., Collard, L., Horwitz, P., Harben, S., and Palmer, D., 2020. Becoming family with place. Resurgence, 322 (Sept/Oct)

6. See Mathews 2023.