Your body does not feel velocity. You can drive down a straight, perfectly smooth highway at a hundred, a thousand or a million miles per hour and feel absolutely nothing. You do not feel meters per second. What you do feel are changes in velocity: speeding up, slowing down, going over potholes and around curves. Your entire body feels the slightest acceleration, or meters per second per second. This is the mass dimension, foreshortened in space as a second time dimension. Yet you are not in mass the way you feel yourself to be in space and time. The reason for this is, I believe, that consciousness is not in space, time, mass, or anything else. The dimensions are fundamental structures of consciousness; they are within it. They coordinate feeling, seeing, hearing, smelling, and tasting. That is why you see and feel objects at the same place and time. You touch the flowers on the table where and when you see and smell them. It is this coordination of the sensory realms that gives the flowers an apparent material existence independent of conscious experience. Mass blends with space and time on the quantum level. A subatomic particle’s location and motion in space-time is always a function of its mass. The point at which mass becomes indistinguishable from space and time is exactly the point at which tactile consciousness becomes indistinguishable from visual; or where the particle nature of light supercedes its wave nature. The assumed existence of material substance creates a duality that stands in the way of progress in modern physics. Understanding mass as a dimension obviates the assumption of matter while explaining its apparent existence.
Samuel Avery holds a bachelor’s degree in religion as well as a master’s degree. He has taught university level courses and has practiced meditation daily for forty-one years. Samuel has written a series of articles and books on the relationship of physics and consciousness to each other, including the books Transcendence of the Western Mind and The Dimensional Structure of Consciousness. Since 1973 he has lived with his wife on a small farm on the banks of the Nolin River in central Kentucky. He has wandered to Europe, Russia, South America, Africa, and the Caribbean, but always found his way back to the farm. When not writing, he is usually outside, walking, planting, building, gathering firewood, or sitting quietly. In the summer the deer reach over the fence to nibble apple branches. In the fall, the leaves dry and rustle through the open barn door. When it rains, he sits under the porch roof.