edgar-mitchell

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The Way of the Explorer
ever since the human mind was capable of self-reflection. I wanted to
study the totality of consciousness. I strongly believed that consciousness,
as a field of inquiry, encompasses all human activity. It fits precisely into
the gulf between the way science looks at the world and the way various
cultural traditions do. Mystical traditions assume, implicitly or explicitly,
that consciousness is fundamental. Scientific tradition (epiphenomenalism)
explicitly assumes it is secondary. It seemed to me that the study of
consciousness provided the only unified approach to the questions of who
we humans really are, how we got here, where are we going, and why. But
I soon realized that the term consciousness itself has different meanings in
different languages and cultural traditions.
I began infinitely hopeful that the methods of science would eventually
provide the answers, and with only two fundamental assumptions. The
first was that we were dealing with events likely explainable by natural
processes, and second, that all human experience is valid, or real to the
percipient. Only the interpretation or meaning given to the experience is
subject to question. If supernatural or paranormal events were actually
involved, that would emerge in due course. The vehicle for this project
would be a nonprofit foundation that would allow me to function as an
independent scholar. Academia wouldn’t be very receptive to these interests,
but I knew these were issues naturally requiring a multidisciplinary
approach. Thus, the Institute of Noetic Sciences was conceived.
What I initially envisioned was an organization that wasn’t so much a
place as a state of mind. At such an institute scientists from across disciplines,
and qualified lay people with similar interests, could come together
to share questions, insight, and opinion, and then research and write on
these subjects that were so close to their hearts. The forum would not be
academic in the traditional sense. It would have an auxiliary purpose as
well: funding key research that otherwise likely wouldn’t attract money
from mainstream sources. This, of course, would require tax-exempt status
and reliable sponsorship. At the beginning, this didn’t seem like an
insurmountable task.
In the fall of 1972, an auspicious series of phone calls and introductions
led to a meeting with a philanthropic couple living in California.
After these initial discussions they pledged an annual sum of $600,000, as
they had decided this was critical work we wanted to accomplish. In the
following weeks I contacted a small number of people I thought could
really make this thing take off, and they generally responded with unbridled
enthusiasm. We organized a lengthy retreat to finalize plans and to
organize budgets and programs. The future appeared bright.
Then in January, after everything seemed to be sailing in the right
direction and staff people were moving into place, I made a final visit to
our would-be sponsors. When I arrived at their home I discovered their