The human in the spotlight
On Pentecost, Christians commemorate the descent of the Holy Spirit. According to the Bible (Acts 2:1–4), tongues of fire appeared and came to rest upon each of the apostles. They were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in different languages, as the Spirit enabled them.
This seems an appropriate occasion to introduce the subject of subtle energy interactions as one possible way of understanding reality.
In the 1960s, I studied to become a primary school teacher at the Pius X Institute in Antwerp. We were fortunate to have many excellent teachers. One of them has remained particularly memorable to me: Roger Broddin, our physics teacher. He awakened my fascination with optics—you know: lenses, mirrors, interference, and the remarkable properties of light.
Later, in the same buildings on Olympiadelaan in Antwerp, I attended the Higher Institute for Educational Studies (HIVO). There, philosophy was taught by Father T'Jampens. His lectures fascinated me so deeply that I continued attending them until the institute finally closed its doors in 2000.
Father T'Jampens was renowned not only for his extraordinary erudition and remarkable psychic abilities, but also as a paranormal healer. He repeatedly emphasized that the power, the energy—or what he called the “the human energy field”—required for such healings did not originate from himself but from the Holy Trinity. He regarded himself as nothing more than a humble intermediary. I discussed this subject in greater detail in 'Weetje 098' on the Pius X senior website.
His approach occasionally led to differences of opinion with Father Ludo Docx. Father Docx taught religious education both at the teacher-training college and at HIVO, but he remained cautious about the paranormal. In his view, religion could retain its credibility only by presenting itself in the most scientifically responsible way possible. This perspective emphasizes the material and sensory dimensions of reality. From that standpoint, the miracles described in the Gospels are not understood as literal historical events but as traditional narratives that gradually evolved to give greater meaning and color to the Christian faith.
Father T'Jampens, however, maintained that science, being finite and founded upon material and sensory assumptions, inevitably limits itself to only one part of reality. Religion, in his view, embraces a much wider domain, encompassing everything that exists in any form, including paranormal phenomena and the subtle dimension of existence. It was precisely in this broader vision that he saw the essence of a dynamic understanding of Christianity.
How, for example, could one demonstrate scientifically that one loves one's spouse or one's children? Quite simply, one cannot. This illustrates that such a reality cannot be reduced to the domain of science alone. Whoever insists on doing so loses something essential: the capacity for genuine empathy with another human being. The German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer expressed this beautifully when he argued that another person should not be regarded as a Nicht-Ich ("not-I"), but as an Ich-noch-einmal ("I once again").
Everyone immediately recognizes the flaw in the statement: "Antarctica does not exist because I have never been there." Yet not everyone notices the similar mistake in the claim: "Paranormal experiences do not exist because I have never had one." Then, we should stop treating empirical science as the supreme measure of all reality.
Science can speak only about what is empirically testable. It cannot determine whether an unusual personal experience exists or does not exist. Its assumptions are fundamentally material and sensory in nature. Whatever lies outside those assumptions is, by definition, not scientific. Yet that does not necessarily make such an experience unreal.
To claim that a paranormal phenomenon or a religious experience does not exist, science would first have to demonstrate that, with its finite axioms, it can encompass the whole of an infinite reality. In other words, it would have to prove that its own domain coincides with reality itself. Yet to do so, science would have to adopt a standpoint that transcends its own material and sensory premises. The moment it attempts this; it moves beyond the very assumptions on which it is founded. Consequently, such proof cannot be given. Science therefore describes only part of reality, not reality in its entirety.
A methodically practised science recognizes this and is aware of its own limits. Science understood as an ideology does not. The latter form of "science" continually demands—often in a rigorous manner—strict proof for the existence of unusual phenomena, lying outside its accepted framework, while never providing proof of the universal validity of its own underlying assumptions. In other words, it demands from others precisely what it itself fails to provide. Consequently, statements about phenomena that lie beyond its own domain amount to nothing more than opinions alongside other opinions. Science is magnificent; science is indispensable. But beyond the boundaries of its own domain, it does not have the final word.
Gradually, Father Ludo Docx came to appreciate Father T'Jampens' vision and the remarkable way in which he was able to heal people. When, a few years ago, I presented him with my book Homo Religiosus: Religion as an Experiential Reality, he compared Father T'Jampens with the prophets of the Old Testament. Those were remarkable words indeed.
Let us now turn to the concept of the subtle body, an idea as old as humanity itself. Every primitive, ancient, and classical culture was familiar with it. It appears in the writings of the early Greek philosophers, particularly the Milesian school, and likewise within Christianity—the two principal foundations of Western civilization.
In 1 Corinthians 15, the Apostle Paul presents the human being as a threefold entity: we possess a biological body; we are, in our deepest essence, an immaterial spirit; and, most relevant to our present discussion, we possess a subtle body. Likewise, in Luke 8:43–48, Jesus asks, "Who touched Me? For I felt power go out from Me." We then learn that a woman who had suffered from chronic bleeding for twelve years had been healed. More precisely, she was healed after touching His garment. She believed that His clothing shared in His extraordinary power, and according to the Gospel account, she was indeed healed.
The idea of such a subtle force, together with Father T'Jampens' remarkable ability to perceive and apply it in healing, has always fascinated me. His work, however, had to remain discreet and far from public attention. In my country, practices of this kind are prohibited by law, even when conventional medicine has reached its limits. Because of past abuses, such practices have been prohibited. That naturally raises some questions.
Our largest telescopes explore the furthest reaches of the universe. Our most advanced microscopes reveal individual atoms. Yet the moment one suggests the possibility of scientifically investigating this subtle dimension of reality, one is almost invariably met with skepticism—or even outright dismissal. The response from ideological-scientific circles is often immediate: "Don't bring that here. Science has more serious matters to deal with." Apparently, the subtle body is not considered one of them.
This seems hardly consistent. If something may exist, surely it deserves to be investigated. Or have we not entirely left behind the mentality of 1633? When Galileo argued that the Earth revolves around the Sun rather than the other way around, the authorities condemned him for being heresy instead of examining the evidence his telescope provided.
Should we not allow experiments, rather than prejudice, to decide?
Although the subtle body reveals itself to those endowed with clairvoyant perception primarily through an objective inner image of reality—rather than through mere subjective imagination—it also appears to possess a far more modest optical aspect.
It is this latter aspect that concerns us here. More specifically, what might become visible if, instead of directing our attention towards the stars or the atoms, we were to place the human being itself under observation? Might it be possible to bring at least something of this hidden reality into the light?
Imagine throwing two stones into a still pond at the same moment. Each impact produces expanding concentric ripples that gradually spread across the water until they overlap. Wherever two wave crests coincide, they reinforce one another, producing a higher crest. Where two troughs meet, they form a deeper trough. But where a crest and a trough coincide, they cancel each other out. A cork floating at precisely such a point remains perfectly still, while another cork, only a short distance away continues to rise and fall with the waves.
The essential point is that waves may reinforce one another, weaken one another, or—under the appropriate conditions, even cancel each other completely. Expressed more generally, one might say that a movement, combined with an identical movement travelling in the opposite direction, can produce... stillness.
The same principle is familiar with noise-cancelling headphones. Such devices generate a sound wave that is identical to, but opposite in phase from, the incoming sound wave. As a result, both waves neutralize one another. More generally: a sound wave combined with an equal but opposite sound wave produces... silence.
Light likewise propagates in the form of waves. Could one therefore construct a kind of "light-cancelling" instrument—an optical device in which light waves interfere destructively, so that light added to light produces... darkness?
The practical difficulty is immediately apparent. Approximately two thousand wavelengths of visible light fit within a single millimeter. Creating a field in which light is almost completely extinguished through destructive interference is therefore extraordinarily difficult. Moreover, such a field would be extremely unstable. The slightest disturbance could upset the delicate balance and allow light to reappear.
Throughout history, and in cultures across the world, those claiming clairvoyant perception have maintained that the human being is surrounded by a subtle aura—the subtle body described by the Apostle Paul. To those capable of perceiving it, this aura appears as a series of increasingly rarefied layers surrounding the physical body. The innermost layer—perhaps best described as the most "material" of these subtle layers—lies immediately adjacent to the biological body and is usually no more than a few millimeters thick.
The question, then, is whether such a delicate layer might be capable of disturbing the fragile equilibrium created by destructive interference. Suppose this mist-like substance were indeed to present even the slightest obstacle to passing light, delaying it by no more than a fraction of a wavelength. Such a minute delay would locally destroy the destructive interference, allowing the disturbance itself to become visible. This was the hypothesis I subsequently set out to investigate experimentally.
With this possibility in mind, I modified my Newtonian telescope into what might be called a "dark-field telescope": an instrument designed to extinguish almost all incoming light through destructive interference. Its primary mirror has a diameter of 155 millimeters. The mathematical calculations and technical challenges involved in constructing it were considerable, but they fall outside the scope of the present discussion. Once the instrument was finally completed, I placed my hand—or more precisely, only my index finger—within its field of view.
Naturally, I had certain expectations. One cannot recognize what one is looking for without first having some idea of what to expect. The situation is comparable to interpreting an ultrasound image or an X-ray. Someone without the necessary background sees truly little; an experienced observer immediately recognizes meaningful patterns.
The familiar expression "seeing is believing" represents only one side of scientific inquiry. The reverse is equally true: "believing precedes seeing." Every investigation begins with a hypothesis that is considered sufficiently plausible to warrant experimental testing. The results then refine, modify, or even overturn that hypothesis. There exists a continuous dialogue between theory and experiment: theory guides observation, while observation, in turn, reshapes theory.
What eventually appeared in my instrument is shown in the photograph below.
I was also able to record the phenomenon on video. The recording, accessible through the link below, lasts approximately thirty seconds.
First, the video shows colorful streams of rising air. Since my hand is warmer than the surrounding atmosphere, it creates convection currents that become clearly visible.
I then adjust the instrument to produce destructive interference. The image suddenly darkens, and the colorful air currents disappear as well. The reasons for this are not easily explained within the limits of a brief article. Next, I hold both index fingers in front of the mirror and move them gently up and down. The reader is invited to observe particularly the faint but distinct luminous band that appears immediately around the fingers.
How should these observations be interpreted?
The observations themselves are difficult to dispute. Something undeniably appears in the image. What I had anticipated—and what immediately attracts attention—is that the luminous band follows the movement of the finger with a slight delay. It resembles the flame of a burning match, which lags slightly behind when the match is moved gently back and forth. According to clairvoyants, both the appearance of this luminous band and its slight delay correspond closely with what they themselves perceive.
Even so, this phenomenon would represent only an extremely limited aspect of the aura—assuming, of course, that it is indeed an aura. We are told that genuine clairvoyant perception requires deep mental concentration and reveals a far richer reality. Some even maintain that such perception is equally effective, or sometimes clearer, with the eyes closed. It therefore seems evident that perceiving events from the past or future, or observing distant locations clairvoyantly, cannot be explained as an optical process alone.
For that reason, the significance of the present experiment should not be overstated. As suggested earlier, merely observing a luminous band tells us relatively little in itself. Only when this phenomenon is considered within the broader framework of a philosophical or religious worldview does it acquire a meaning.
Viewed from this perspective, the observations may constitute an indication of the objective—and perhaps even scientifically investigable—existence of a subtle body, of the human aura, and of the subtle forms of energy associated with it. For that reason alone, I believe the phenomenon deserves further investigation.
At the same time, everyone is entitled to his or her own interpretation. Those who see nothing more than rising warm air in these observations equally deserve our respect. Indeed, that interpretation is not without merit. Clairvoyants tell us that the aura continuously releases subtle energy, rather as a flower diffuses its fragrance or the human body radiates heat. While the first luminous band surrounding the body may perhaps be distinguished to some extent, it is far from obvious where that band ends and the surrounding phenomena begins. In the absence of a rigorous definition, such boundaries remain difficult to establish. Moreover, as far as I am aware, research in this field is still in its infancy and remains, quite naturally, open to discussion and critical examination.
May we nevertheless hope that the phenomenon described here will be approached with an open mind? One occasionally encounters the attitude: "Subtle reality cannot exist; therefore, it does not exist." Such conclusions are sometimes drawn before the experiment itself has even been considered. Many people understandably prefer to remain within a strictly material and sensory conception of reality. Adopting a more holistic perspective is, for many, a significant intellectual step.
Finally, a modesty note is in order. What I have described remains the work of an enthusiastic amateur with a passion for building instruments and exploring unusual ideas. I certainly do not claim that these observations constitute proof of the existence of a subtle body or an aura. What I do believe is that I have developed a method for adjusting the entire surface of a mirror so that it operates under conditions of destructive interference. Whenever this extraordinarily delicate equilibrium is disturbed, intriguing phenomena become visible.
For that reason alone, I believe the technique deserves to be investigated further under professional scientific conditions and with larger optical systems. Such research lies well beyond my own possibilities. Moreover, the method is considerably more demanding than it may at first appear. Large astronomical telescopes employ parabolic mirrors, whereas the production of destructive interference requires spherical optical surfaces. Alternative solutions may well exist, but discussing them would take us beyond the scope of this introductory article. They will be considered in a later chapter.
These reflections conclude the present discussion of subtle energy* interactions and—returning to the symbolism of Pentecost—of a worldview that seeks to give such phenomena their proper place within a broader understanding of reality.
The Webmaster
(* See, among others, the book 'The ‘homo religiosus’, Religion as an experiential force', Chapter 8: Animism as an omnipresent subtlety.)