Over the past couple of years, I've been intrigued by experiments carried out by scientists in Switzerland hunting for the illusive Higgs Bosun, or 'God Particle' as it has been called in the national press. These experiments have been conducted using a sophisticated piece of equipment, the Large Hadron Collider, to fire protons in opposite directions around a rink at high speeds in sub-zero temperatures, conjuring images of bobsleigh teams taking part in races at the Winter Olympics. The vital exception, however, is that these protons are hurtling towards each other on a collision course so that particle physicists can record what happens at their moment of impact. Such a simulation is believed to recreate conditions of the Big Bang, a scientific theory of how the universe was created.

Rumours are starting to circulate from sources in Geneva that these experiments have been a success, that the fundamental building block and missing link in the formation of matter has been located. If these rumours are true, one of the most important advances in human understanding of the physical world could soon be announced, putting an end once and for all to archetypal myths of creation involving a superior being or God as the mastermind behind the construction of life as we know it.

Sceptics and non-believers may soon be in possession of a powerful piece of information to trump all arguments concerning deities of any religious faith. 'How can you believe that' they might ask, 'in light of this scientific evidence?' To insist upon the verity of scripture as provider of answers to cosmic questions may come to be seen as a confession of insanity. Subverting Nietzsche for a moment, results from the LHC could pronounce in sonorous tones once and for all that 'God is dead.'

Whilst this may or may not sound the death knell for Western religions predicated on divine creation, surely, from an Advaitin point of view, science is only demonstrating what the sages have said all along? The discovery of the Higgs Bosun, if indeed it has been made, only strengthens arguments for interconnectivity or non-duality rather than dissolving them like ghostly vapours caught in a hurricane.

For Advaita, what difference would such a scientific discovery make? Would the naming and demonstration of the Higgs Bosun affect our understanding of the mind, of the nature of reality? Would it help us to accept our place in the grand scheme of things, to recognised the unity masked by conjuring of unenlightened thought? Will it have any impact on the interpretation of scripture?

No doubt, some dogmatic faiths could be in for a bumpy ride in years to come. Much of the Old Testament of Christian doctrine will be rendered obsolete for those who still adhere to such principles as 'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth' and believe in a wrathful Being paused above clouds with lightening bolt in hand, waiting to strike down sinners for their transgressions. Some religious fanatics will be unswayed, refusing to take notice of scientific data that interferes with their beliefs. Advaita, however, should remain largely unaffected.

'Why is this?' some might ask. Like many Eastern schools of thought, Advaita doesn't rely on it's adherents subscribing to a belief system. Knowledge espoused through its texts insist upon conformance with pramanas or methods through which knowledge can be attained. Whilst there are six types of pramana, the three principle ones are perception, testimony, and inference.

Perception is what we see for ourselves, what is validated through personal experience. Whilst there may be records from sages claiming direct contact with ethereal beings, can we validate this through our own experience, our own perception of the world? Maybe after too many beers, we might convince ourselves of divine contact, but unless the experience is verified through repetition without beer-goggles, it can't conform to any notion of reality.

There may be references to spiritual beings in scripture that could fall under the category of testimony, through sacred texts like Bhagavad Gita or the Vedas. Advaitins are encouraged to reflect, or to meditate upon such testimonies, but not to directly believe in what is written because the Big Book says it is right. On doing so, metaphors prevalent within such teachings unravel, revealing knowledge through narrative. If such knowledge then conforms with our perception of the world, we can consider it valid.

Finally, we come to inference, which is perhaps more open to suggestive interpretation. Conclusions are drawn that seem to conform with other information at our disposal. As Dennis Waite explains in 'The Book of One', 'we inferred the earth to be spherical, because we saw ships gradually 'disappearing' over the horizon before space travel actually showed it to be so.

Validating knowledge through pramanas accords with scientific methods of discovery. We read what the experts say, and see if it conforms to our own experience through reflection or experimentation. We may draw inferences based upon conclusions we reach through reading, but until such conclusions are verified through personal experience, these remain as suppositions. Advaita isn't predicated on taking someone else's word as gospel. It's predicated on self-knowledge, or seeing things as they really are through self-enquiry.

So whilst the isolation and identification of the Higgs Bosun or 'God Particle' may herald a momentous advance in mankind's understanding of the physical world, it will mean little when it comes to self-enquiry. Knowing how matter is created won't help us realise our interconnectivity with life. That still, and will always, remain a personal challenge for each individual, to experience what it means to be One with all around us.

Working through Bhagavad Gita can be a time-consuming process. I’m still ploughing through Chapter 2, with the help of commentaries by Swami Dayananda and excellent online audio recordings of classes given by Swami Tadatmananda. Whilst I’ve been able to grasp some of the concepts introduced in a chapter that is often defined as being a summary of the entire Bhagavad Gita, there are many stumbling blocks that keep tripping me up.

Two key issues stand apart from the rest, and these involve notions of karma and reincarnation. A few months back I read Swami Muni Narayana Prasad’s excellent book on these subjects and found no major problem assimilating the information he presents. From a genetic standpoint, it seems acceptable that reincarnation can occur through transference of genes and DNA to offspring, and that energy particles change form when the body ceases to function as a suitable vehicle for housing awareness.

There’s no problem either with a chain of cause and effect that might be conveniently labelled as karma. It seems fair enough that actions have consequences, be they good or bad, and that good actions are statistically more likely to attract positive outcomes in the same way that bad actions are likely to attract negative consequences. A flick through papers or long-term observation of behavioural patterns seems to confirm this.

The above is, of course, a gross simplification, but the stumbling block it has been leading me to is this: What’s the point? If I can accept that the field of consciousness exists in all times and in all places, why do I need to take on board a belief system that doesn’t seem to be necessary? If I can accept that really there is no life or death, only a process of change, why do I need concern myself with reincarnation? Why do cause and effect, action and consequence need to be shrouded in the mysticism of karma? Aren’t these two aspects of spiritual discourse over-complicating a relatively straight-forward view of the intricate nature of life?

Such was my point of view until yesterday, when a glimmer of insight dawned through a writing assignment that serendipitously landed on my desk. I was asked to interview two men about homelessness and how they were trying to regain an element of stability from which to rebuild their lives.

The first man (let’s call him Bill) told a tragic tale of death and heartbreak that escalated into a downward spiral of depression and alcoholism. A cruel twist of fate cataclysmically disrupted a settled family life, ended a successful career, marriage, and deposited Bill in a destitute situation.

The second man (let’s call him Phil) spoke of a transitory existence roaming from city to city, situation to situation. He talked about a desire for freedom, from being told what to do, what to think, how to behave. Sadly, he came across as a rebel without a cause, a victim of his own creation, obsessed with conflict that was temporarily transcended by the bottle.

After these interviews, it occurred to me that terms like karma and reincarnation serve a purpose in as much as they provide a way of helping people make sense of this maelstrom of existence. The burden of loss associated with general concepts of death is made easier to bear by belief in a system that allows for rebirth. It is only terminology, after all, and if that terminology helps provide solace, comfort, or gives meaning to an otherwise seemingly meaningless loss of life that can cause people to spiral out of control, why oppose it?

The same goes for karma. If the idea of karma helps an individual to accept life’s flow of positives and negatives, so be it. We can’t reliably predict when or how the effect of an action is going to be felt, but we can take care of our emotional responses by learning to accept what we experience as part of life’s process, rather than continually finding conflict by fighting against it. If that involves a labelling system called karma with attendant terminology of punya and papa for good and bad, that’s fine as well.

Both of the people I interviewed were learning how to come to terms with life in their own ways. Bill had joined a local church group and, through conversation, it was apparent he had made significant progress in terms of identifying and defining a value system that would lead to a better future. Many of the conclusions he had drawn through his life experience were parallel with advaitin teachings.

Phil, on the other hand, was still battling his demons. When I spoke with him, he was carrying a copy of Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now. Like many, he’d figured out the conflict he was trying to avoid was taking place in his mind, and not necessarily in the situations he found himself in. Hopefully that knowledge will lead him on to bigger and better things.

The real insight, however, that dawned after interviewing Phil and Bill, was that the stumbling block I kept tripping over was me. If karma and reincarnation aren’t issues causing any personal concern why get frustrated with them? This made me recall the old metaphor about vedantic teachings in which it is suggested that practitioners use thorns (teachings) to remove thorns (issues), but discard both when no longer needed.

The underlying truth IS that the field of consciousness pervades all things, at all times, in all places. Understanding this truth is no doubt a step in the right direction. Yet it’s equally important to realise that as humans we converge upon such a nucleus by travelling on different trajectories, each of which has its own scenery, its own array of characters, its own diversions and unique blend of experiences.

The potency of scripture stems from its ability to take into account the heterogeneous nature of human understanding, and it recognises that understanding is dependent on subjective experience which differs in each and every one of us. At the level of mithya (unreality), no two lives are the same, as the cases of Bill and Phil demonstrate.

In the future there may be a need for me to return to the topics of karma and reincarnation, but, for the time being, I’m going to hurdle over these stumbling blocks. By the time I reach the end of Bhagavad Gita’s second chapter I’ll probably need to reappraise the situation, but in the meantime, there seems little to be gained from using a thorn to pick out a thorn that wasn't imbedded in the first place.