Imagine a world where science and spirituality are no longer strange bedfellows but companions in the same inquiry. Where the age-old questions of “Who am I?” and “What is real?” are not dismissed as abstract musings but approached with the same rigor and reverence as particle physics or neuroscience. That world doesn’t just exist in some speculative future—it’s being gently revealed, one conversation at a time. And recently, one such conversation may have moved us closer to it.

In a deeply engaging dialogue, philosopher and former CERN scientist Bernardo Kastrup and spiritual teacher Rupert Spira met with host Simon Mundie for an expansive exploration of the nature of consciousness, the illusion of the separate self, and the limits of our current scientific worldview. It was more than a philosophical discussion; it was an invitation to reimagine everything we take for granted about life, death, and what it means to be.

The backstory is itself poetic: two men from seemingly opposite ends of the spectrum—one rooted in hard science, the other in non-dual spiritual tradition—discovering not just common ground, but a shared understanding of the very ground of being. They first met in Amsterdam and, from the first conversation, found an instant recognition: the rare kind where you don’t need to finish a thought for the other to understand it completely.

Kastrup, trained in computer science and once immersed in the world of AI and the Large Hadron Collider, found himself questioning the foundations of consciousness through the back door—by wondering if one could build an artificially conscious machine. That curiosity led him back to his lifelong passion: philosophy. Spira, meanwhile, is often labelled a “spiritual teacher,” a term he gently resists. For him, the pursuit is simply about understanding and living in alignment with the nature of everyday experience—what is real, right now.

The central thesis they both arrived at—through radically different paths—is this: reality is not made of matter. It’s made of mind. Or more precisely, consciousness. Not your consciousness, not mine, but a universal consciousness of which we are each a unique modulation. The materialist view—that the world exists independently “out there” and that our brains produce consciousness like a factory—crumbles under scrutiny. And yet, it’s the worldview that underpins most of our institutions, assumptions, and anxieties.

To help make this radical idea more digestible, both men offer compelling analogies. Kastrup describes perception as a cockpit dashboard: we mistake the dials and screens (our sense data) for the actual world outside the plane. But we’ve never seen the world directly—only the interface. Spira uses the analogy of a dream: from within it, everything seems external and material, but on waking, it becomes clear it was all the activity of one mind. Just as Jane in a dream doesn’t realize she’s an aspect of Mary, the dreamer, so too do we mistake ourselves for discrete individuals, not realizing we are modulations within one infinite consciousness.

Here’s where it gets profound: if consciousness is fundamental and not generated by the brain, then death is not the end. Kastrup points to numerous scientific findings that support this. For instance, people under the influence of psychedelics—when brain activity decreases—report more vivid, expansive experiences. Fighter pilots who pass out during high-G training report rich inner lives while their brains show almost no activity. Even in deep, dreamless sleep, people often report a subtle kind of awareness upon waking. These aren’t metaphysical opinions—they’re empirical data that shake the very foundations of the materialist paradigm.

And yet, some object. If we’re all just modulations of a universal consciousness, isn’t that nihilistic? Doesn’t that dissolve our individuality? On the contrary, says Spira. True individuality—the flavor of each person, the particular expression of the whole—actually flourishes when freed from the burden of ego, the illusion of being a separate, isolated self. In other words, individuality isn’t destroyed by this understanding; it’s liberated.

There’s an ethical imperative here too. If we genuinely recognize that we share our being with all others—people, animals, even nature itself—then love becomes not a moral ideal, but a natural expression of truth. The implication? Less suffering internally, less conflict externally, and a renewed reverence for the natural world.

Of course, shifting from a materialist worldview to an idealist one isn’t just about ideas—it’s about lived transformation. Spira shared how his own turn toward this understanding was catalyzed not by philosophy, but heartbreak. In that crucible, he began asking what, if anything, could be known for certain. The answer was consciousness itself—the knowing of experience. From there, a life of deepened peace, reduced suffering, and more intimate connection with others unfolded.

Kastrup, too, doesn’t claim enlightenment or perfect peace. He admits to suffering, anxiety, and inner struggle. But what has changed is the meaning. Suffering no longer feels nihilistic; it’s become purposeful, even sacred. It drives depth. It connects. “Life is not about me,” he says, “it’s sacrificial.” Yet in that sacrifice is a joy and richness that no ego-driven purpose can ever touch.

And this brings us to what may be the most inspiring implication of all: if even a small but growing number of people internalize and live from this understanding, the ripple effects could be immense. As Kastrup says, his role isn’t to deliver spiritual experiences, but to help skeptical minds give themselves permission to open—to make space for the likes of Spira to do their quietly revolutionary work.

Both men agree that this conversation—this synthesis of science, spirituality, and lived inquiry—is long overdue. It could, if embraced, transform education, governance, economics, relationships, and the way we inhabit this planet. As Spira puts it, “There is literally no area of society that would not be profoundly affected by this understanding.”

At the close of their conversation, Simon Mundie thanked the two for their time and their work, suggesting that what they’re doing might just change the world more profoundly than any technological invention. Spira responded with characteristic humility, but also with truth: what matters is not who delivers the message, but the truth of the message itself.

And perhaps that’s the real point here: to listen. Not just with the mind, but with the heart. To listen to that still, small voice that knows, however buried, that there is more to life than material things and separate selves. That knows there is something here that is always at peace, always whole.

That something is you.

Credits:
This piece draws on a rich and beautifully moderated conversation between Simon Mundie, Rupert Spira, and Bernardo Kastrup.