Clarifying Michael A. Singer’s Concepts
Michael A. Singer’s The Untethered Soul explores a
powerful truth: that inner freedom is found not by controlling
thoughts and emotions, but by stepping back into the seat of
awareness—the true self that observes all experiences without
resistance. His approach is experiential and spiritual, yet many of
the core insights resonate with emerging neuroscientific
understanding.
The use of the word "energy" to describe love is to me quite vague.
In this page I offer some more insight into this. Yet the brain
is part of the material world too, even though it is very complex and
interconnected. It is far advanced over our home computers which
work mostly as serial recipe readers. My computer in the machine I am
using has 16 parallel paths in its CPU. Compare this to the
brain which has billions, maybe trillions of processes going on at the
same time.
One useful concept, is that the consciousness works something like
the operating system of a computer. So if place our consciousness at a
high level, it can cause the whole brain to work together, and keep
lower level from taking over control. Consciousness not only makes us
aware, it may act as a cocoon to hold everything in the brain so it
works together and does not fight itself, or otherwise go off the
rails.
Cognitive Noise Control
There’s a voice in your head that never stops talking. It judges,
comments, worries about the future, and dwells on the past. It has
something to say about everything. Most people go through life
listening to this voice, believing it’s who they are. But it’s not.
It’s simply the mind’s habit of constant chatter—like a radio that
never turns off.
Science has a name for this background activity: the Default Mode
Network. When the brain isn’t focused on something specific, this
network kicks in.
It’s active when we’re daydreaming, remembering the past, planning
ahead, or just having inner conversations. When something unpleasant
happens, a single negative thought can repeat over and over, feeding a
matching negative emotion.
If this cycle continues unchecked, it can take over. We might react
emotionally and say things we don’t mean. So how do we break the
spell?
It starts with understanding that our peace of mind depends on our
consciousness—and that consciousness must be trained. If we let it run
wild, it gets stuck following the internal voice, looping through the
same thoughts again and again.
The solution is to separate consciousness from the voice. We must
shift it to a deeper place within us—what many spiritual traditions
call the soul, or what we can simply call the true self. This is the
part of us that watches, reflects, and chooses. When consciousness is
rooted in the true self, it can observe the inner voice, question it,
and disagree with its exaggerations or fears.
From this place, we can make better decisions. It’s like an
engineer fine-tuning a machine. Instead of letting the internal voice
run the show, the true self steps in and gently redirects.
But often, people don’t make this shift. They stay identified with
the inner voice and believe everything it says. The inner voice is
just a problem-solving machine. It tries to fix everything—even when
it can’t. After all, there are nearly nine billion people on Earth,
and we can’t control any of them. We can’t control nature either. It
rains or it doesn’t. Things happen outside of our control.
We can control ourselves, however, to the point of being happy and
productive most of time. By controlling ourselves, we control
what we do. We can see that our tasks get done. We wash the
dishes, clean the house or have someone else do it. We eat the
right food, and get the right sleep. We end of living longer,
being happier, and in general things go much better.
More so, what we can do is ask the inner voice to calm
down. If it’s not needed, it can be quiet.
When our consciousness is centered in the true self, we can clearly
see that the voice is not who we are. It’s just a tool—sometimes
helpful, sometimes annoying—that needs guidance.
The most powerful realization is this: you are not your
thoughts. You are the one who hears them. Just like you can turn off a
loudspeaker or point a microphone in another direction, you can step
back from the noise.
That’s the gift: realizing that the noise is not you. You are the
one who hears it—and the one who can let it go.
Clarifying Singer's Concept of Energy
Scientifically, energy is defined as the ability to do work.
Gasoline, for example, contains energy because it can power a car.
Similarly, when we eat food, we bring energy into our bodies. This is
the physical form of energy.
But emotional experiences affect us differently. If we go through a
trauma—like when someone we love leaves us—we often feel drained, as
though we’ve lost energy. We might even feel empty and confuse that
emptiness with hunger. But it’s not physical energy we’re missing; our
consciousness is simply fixated on the sudden absence of love.
So what is love? Love is one of the most precious connections we
can share with another person. In its presence, we feel joy. Kindness
flows freely. There’s a sense of harmony, support, inspiration, and
shared purpose. Love lifts us up—it’s a state of goodness that engages
the highest parts of our minds. Neuroscience shows that when we're in
this state, areas like the frontal lobe are more active, and
everything seems to make more sense.
But when someone criticizes us or makes us feel small, that loving
energy fades. The warmth disappears. That’s what Michael A. Singer
refers to as an “energy blockage.” It’s like the flow of something
essential has been cut off—not just a line of communication, but the
entire system of joy, trust, and connection that love sustains.
When we experience love, it touches every part of our being. We
feel connected not only to another person, but to life itself. We love
ourselves more fully, and the world around us takes on a richer, more
vibrant meaning.
Love is like a tapestry woven from threads of happiness, kindness,
purpose, and support. If we’re emotionally strong and resilient, small
disruptions don’t destroy the whole—it’s just a snag in the fabric.
And if we are spiritually mature, even bigger challenges can be
repaired.
When the heart closes, it’s because consciousness has allowed it
to. Consciousness is not fixed; it moves. And if it moves toward
healing, love, and perspective, we build resilience. The heart, then,
is more than just an emotional center—it’s a reflection of everything
good within us: how we see the world, how we help others, and how we
recognize something greater than ourselves.
Singer often speaks about “opening the heart.” This isn’t just
about signals moving through nerves. It’s about harmonizing the many
parts within us—emotions, thoughts, intentions—all working together.
When we close down, we weaken hat harmony. We move consciousness to a
less empowered place.
For example, if a marriage becomes focused only on sex, love tends
to become mechanical. Certain hormones can suppress the more
thoughtful, emotional parts of the brain, like the frontal lobes. But
if love leads and sex is just one part of a much deeper connection,
then intimacy becomes something beautiful—like icing on a cake rather
than the whole cake itself.
So when we talk about the heart "opening" or "closing," we’re not
just referring to a simple valve. We’re talking about the openness or
restriction of a whole inner system.
It’s true that most people open up when good things happen and
close down when things go wrong. But this emotional reactivity is a
sign of immaturity. If we stay attached to every passing moment—good
or bad—our lives become unpredictable and unstable. One moment we’re
happy, the next we’re sad, and it all seems random.
But we can rise above this randomness. If we keep our
consciousness centered in the true self and learn to love each moment
no matter what, our lives become more consistent, peaceful, and full.
This isn’t easy. It takes deep inner work. It takes meditation,
mindfulness, and the decision to be fully present—because our time
here is limited, and every moment matters.
Psychoactive Drugs and Conscious Access to System
Parameters
Psychoactive substances, from psychedelics like psilocybin to
stimulants or sedatives, alter the brain’s chemistry and neural
connectivity. Singer does not advocate for chemical means, but the
effects of these drugs on consciousness can offer fascinating insights
that support his ideas. Psychedelics, in particular, are known to
reduce activity in the default mode network—the very system tied to
the inner narrator—and enhance global brain connectivity, which often
leads to ego dissolution, increased awareness, and emotional
catharsis.
We might think of these substances as temporary access to hidden
system parameters in the brain—like a user accessing developer mode on
a computer or tuning the filters in a signal-processing system. Under
psychedelics, the boundaries that normally partition thoughts,
memories, and sensory input break down, often resulting in a profound
experience of interconnectedness and clarity—an experience that Singer
describes as natural when one lets go fully.
However, whereas drugs force these changes from the outside,
Singer’s method involves intentionally releasing control and relaxing
into awareness. His approach is like reprogramming the system from
within the operating environment, without external hacks or
injections—allowing the nervous system to evolve naturally through
conscious practice. This is in my mind a much more healthy way
to do it. One can use drugs such as alcohol to make one feel
"good", but alcohol is addictive. One might be cautious in
experimenting with drugs. I have seen people's minds damaged by
chemicals.
Speculative Integration: Consciousness as the Master
Operating System
As we said in the introduction, consciousness keeps the brain in
check. It also makes us feel alive. More importantly, if we let
our consciousness to step back and view the whole brain, great things
happen. We unify the brain, making all parts work together,
synchronizing their activities. We can get along with others
much better with consciousness focused at a high spiritual level where
we think of others and not so much ourself.
The self-concept—the “me”—as the ego causes a person to think about
how important they are at the expense of others. But
consciousness, as Singer describes it, is the master operating system:
always present, silently running in the background, unaffected
emotionally by what happens.
Conclusion: Toward a Unified Model of Inner Freedom
Michael Singer’s The Untethered Soul offers
a timeless method for attaining inner peace by shifting identification
from the thinking mind to the witnessing consciousness. Neuroscience
increasingly validates the benefits of this shift, showing that
awareness, emotional openness, and reduced identification with
thoughts lead to improved mental health and well-being. Allowing the
consciousness to unify the whole brain works much better than allowing
consciousness to just float around.