What Consciousness Looks Like
Making Sense of "I think therefore I am."
Consciousness is among the most intricate, profound, and essential phenomena in human life. For centuries, philosophers, scientists, and theologians have grappled with the nature of consciousness, seeking to comprehend how a material brain, composed of neurons, synapses, and biological processes, can give rise to subjective experience—the rich tapestry of thoughts, emotions, perceptions, and self-awareness that we associate with being human. What I propose is not new, it is that the answer to this question lies not only in the brain itself but in the complex relationship between the brain, the body, and the environment. Consciousness is an emergent property of this interaction, a phenomenon that arises from the continuous interplay of life-regulating mechanisms.
To understand consciousness, we must begin with the body. The brain does not exist in isolation. It is intricately linked to the body’s physiological processes, constantly receiving and sending signals that regulate homeostasis—the process of maintaining the body’s internal equilibrium. From the regulation of temperature, blood pressure, and glucose levels to the management of pain and emotional responses, the brain is tasked with ensuring the well-being of the organism. This relationship between brain and body is essential to understanding how consciousness emerges.
Consciousness is an embodied experience. It is rooted in the body’s continuous monitoring of its internal states and its interactions with the external environment. Consciousness does not float above the biological processes of life but is deeply embedded within them. The body, with its complex network of signals and feedback loops, provides the foundation upon which consciousness is built. It is in the body’s constant quest for balance and survival that the seeds of consciousness are sown.
The brain constructs representations of the body’s internal states and integrates them with sensory inputs from the external world. These representations are not static but constantly updated in response to changes in the body and the environment. Consciousness, then, can be seen as the brain’s ongoing attempt to make sense of these ever-shifting signals, to create a coherent narrative that allows the organism to navigate the complexities of life.
At the most basic level, consciousness can be understood as a phenomenon that arises from the brain’s ability to create a sense of the self in relation to the present moment. Antonio Damasio referred to this as core consciousness, a foundational level of awareness that allows an organism to experience the here and now. Core consciousness is not about abstract thought or long-term planning; rather, it is about immediate survival. It is the moment-to-moment awareness of the body’s internal state and its surroundings, allowing the organism to respond to threats, opportunities, and challenges as they arise.
Core consciousness is closely tied to the regulation of homeostasis. When an organism feels hunger, thirst, fear, or pain, these sensations are not merely signals that something is wrong; they are integral to the experience of consciousness itself. The brain constructs a sense of the self in the present moment by integrating these bodily signals with sensory inputs from the environment. This self is not the complex, reflective self of human identity but a simpler, more immediate self—a feeling of being alive, of existing in the world.
This is why I argue that consciousness is fundamentally rooted in the body. The sensations of hunger, thirst, or fear are not abstract concepts but direct experiences of the body’s internal state. They provide the foundation for the brain’s representation of the self, and it is through these bodily experiences that core consciousness emerges.
While core consciousness provides the foundation for moment-to-moment awareness, human consciousness is more than just a response to the present moment. We have the ability to reflect on the past, imagine the future, and construct a coherent narrative of our lives. This higher-order level of awareness, which is called an extended consciousness, is what allows us to experience a sense of personal identity, to engage in complex reasoning, and to navigate the social and cultural world.
Extended consciousness builds upon the foundation of core consciousness but adds new dimensions of complexity. It is here that memory, reasoning, and self-awareness come into play. Unlike core consciousness, which is tied to the present moment, extended consciousness allows us to think about ourselves in relation to time—to remember past experiences, anticipate future events, and construct a sense of continuity between the past, present, and future.
One of the most important features of extended consciousness is the autobiographical self—the self that we experience as a continuous entity over time. This self is not a static entity but a dynamic process, constantly being updated and reconstructed in response to new experiences. The autobiographical self allows us to create a narrative of our lives, to make sense of who we are and how we fit into the world. It is through this narrative that we experience meaning, identity, and purpose.
Emotions and feelings play a central role in the emergence of consciousness. In my research, I have come to the conclusion that emotions are not secondary to consciousness but are, in fact, central to its development. Emotions are complex biological responses to stimuli that have an impact on the organism’s well-being. They are the brain’s way of signaling the body to prepare for action—whether that action is to flee from danger, approach a source of nourishment, or engage in social interaction.
Feelings, on the other hand, are the conscious experience of these emotional states. When we become aware of an emotion, we experience it as a feeling. For example, the feeling of fear is the conscious experience of the body’s emotional response to a threat. In this sense, feelings are the bridge between the body’s internal states and the brain’s decision-making processes. They provide the organism with valuable information about its physical and emotional well-being and help to guide behavior.
In my view, feelings are not mere by-products of consciousness; they are essential components of it. They provide the brain with a continuous feedback loop that allows it to monitor the body’s internal states and adjust behavior accordingly. This feedback loop is crucial for survival, as it helps the organism navigate its environment and make decisions that promote well-being. Feelings are not just passive experiences; they are active participants in the process of consciousness.
The self is a central feature of consciousness, but it is not a single, unified entity. Rather, the self is composed of multiple layers, each of which contributes to our experience of being conscious. According to Damasio, the most basic layer is the proto-self, a non-conscious representation of the body’s internal states. The proto-self is not a conscious entity but a collection of neural patterns that map the body’s internal milieu. It provides the foundation for higher levels of self-awareness but is not itself a part of consciousness.
The core self emerges when the brain constructs a representation of the body in relation to the environment. This is the level at which core consciousness arises, and it provides the organism with a sense of being alive in the present moment. The core self is not concerned with the past or future but with immediate survival. It is the feeling of "I am," the basic awareness of being.
The autobiographical self, as discussed earlier, is a more complex level of self-awareness. It is linked to extended consciousness and allows for the creation of a narrative identity. The autobiographical self is what enables us to reflect on our lives, to make sense of our past experiences, and to imagine future possibilities. It is through this self that we experience a sense of personal continuity and identity.
Consciousness is not something that can be reduced to a single part of the brain or a specific neural circuit. Rather, it is an emergent property that arises from the complex interactions between the brain, the body, and the environment. The brain does not create consciousness in isolation but in constant dialogue with the body’s internal states and the external world.
This view of consciousness as an emergent property challenges traditional dualistic approaches that separate mind from body or reason from emotion. In my view, consciousness is a holistic phenomenon that cannot be understood without taking into account the biological and emotional processes that underlie it. The brain is not merely a cognitive machine; it is an organ that is deeply embedded in the body’s quest for survival and well-being.
Emergence, in this context, means that consciousness is not reducible to the sum of its parts. While individual neurons and neural circuits play a role in consciousness, the phenomenon of consciousness itself arises from the interactions between these components. It is through the brain’s continuous monitoring of the body and its integration of sensory inputs that consciousness emerges as a dynamic, fluid process.
Despite the advances in neuroscience, consciousness remains one of the most challenging puzzles in science and philosophy. One of the key questions in the study of consciousness is the so-called hard problem—how physical processes in the brain give rise to subjective experience, or what philosophers call qualia. How is it that a collection of neurons and chemical processes can produce the rich inner world of thoughts, emotions, and perceptions that we experience as consciousness?
While research has made significant strides in understanding the biological mechanisms that underlie consciousness, it does not claim to have solved the hard problem. The relationship between physical processes and subjective experience remains a profound mystery. However, I believe that by focusing on the biological and embodied nature of consciousness, we can begin to understand how subjective experience emerges from the complex interactions between brain, body, and environment.
Subjective experience is not an isolated phenomenon but is deeply connected to the biological processes of life. The feelings and emotions that we experience as part of consciousness are not arbitrary; they are rooted in the body’s ongoing quest for balance and survival. Consciousness, then, is not a disembodied process but a reflection of the organism’s continuous engagement with the world.
"I think, therefore I am" (Cogito, ergo sum), René Descartes’ famous assertion, is widely regarded as the foundation of modern philosophy. This short yet profound declaration encapsulates a breakthrough in how we understand existence, knowledge, and consciousness. In Descartes' formulation, the act of thinking becomes the bedrock of self-awareness and self-assurance. But how does this famous proposition relate to modern views on the nature of the mind, consciousness, and identity? How does it hold up under the scrutiny of contemporary neuroscience and philosophical inquiry?
When Descartes coined the phrase, he was attempting to establish a firm ground for certainty in an era rife with skepticism. He began by doubting everything that could possibly be doubted—his senses, the external world, the existence of other minds, and even the existence of his own body. Descartes’ project was rooted in a form of radical doubt, where he subjected every belief and experience to intense scrutiny, questioning the reliability of perception, memory, and sensation. The world around him could be an illusion, perhaps manipulated by an evil demon who deceives his senses. Descartes went so far as to doubt the existence of his own body, for surely the physical form could be part of this illusion.
However, amidst all this doubt, one thing remained indubitable: the fact that he was doubting. To doubt is to think, and to think is to exist. Hence, even if everything else were an illusion or deception, the very act of thinking could not be denied. This led him to the conclusion, “I think, therefore I am.” In other words, the very act of doubting or thinking confirmed his existence as a thinking being. Descartes thus arrived at an unshakeable foundation for knowledge—his own consciousness.
Descartes’ insight was revolutionary because it shifted the focus of philosophy inward, toward the mind and its operations. Rather than grounding knowledge in the external world or in sensory experiences, he anchored it in the internal realm of thought. What Descartes realized was that thought—consciousness—was the one thing that could not be doubted. If there is thinking, there must be a thinker. This is why the cogito is so important: it affirms the reality of the self through the process of thinking itself.
However, Descartes' dualistic separation of mind and body—his res cogitans (thinking substance) and res extensa (extended substance)—would later come under scrutiny, particularly with the advent of modern neuroscience. But his insight about the primacy of thought in establishing self-awareness persists. In many ways, his cogito laid the groundwork for our modern understanding of consciousness and personal identity. The central notion that consciousness constitutes the core of being would resonate throughout philosophy and science for centuries to come.
Fast-forward to the contemporary era, and the phrase "I think, therefore I am" takes on new dimensions. The cognitive and neuroscientific revolution of the 20th and 21st centuries has radically expanded our understanding of the brain and mind, providing rich insights into how the processes of thinking and self-awareness arise. This has prompted new interpretations and questions about Descartes' original statement.
In modern cognitive science, thinking is understood as a multifaceted activity involving different brain networks, memory, language, emotions, and sensory processing. Neuroscientists study how consciousness—the very thinking that Descartes identified as proof of existence—emerges from the complex interplay of neurons firing in synchrony, shaping the contents of our thoughts, perceptions, and sense of self.
Moreover, our understanding of self has evolved. The modern self is not simply a static, isolated cogito but is deeply embedded in the social, emotional, and environmental context. Our "thinking" does not happen in a vacuum; it is influenced by our biology, history, relationships, and even culture. Cognitive science suggests that the self is less of a monolithic entity and more of a dynamic, ever-evolving process shaped by continuous interactions between brain, body, and environment. In this sense, "I think, therefore I am" may be reinterpreted as "I engage with the world, therefore I become."
One of the key challenges to Descartes' dualism came from the recognition that the mind cannot be separated from the body. Antonio Damasio, among others, has argued convincingly that consciousness is deeply tied to the body and its physiological processes. Damasio's research on the brain and body interaction suggests that thought and self-awareness are not solely confined to the brain but are also deeply influenced by bodily states—what he calls the embodied mind. The self, in this view, emerges from the brain's continuous monitoring of the body’s internal states, such as heartbeat, breathing, and digestion.
This understanding shifts the ground beneath Descartes' cogito. While Descartes envisioned the mind as a purely thinking substance distinct from the body, modern neuroscience shows us that thought is always embodied. The body’s internal signals and its interactions with the environment play a central role in shaping consciousness. Thus, a contemporary reading of "I think, therefore I am" would recognize that thinking cannot be divorced from the physical processes of the body. Consciousness is not a disembodied, abstract entity but a process rooted in the biological organism.
Another major development in our understanding of consciousness comes from research in psychology and neuroscience, which has revealed that the self is far less stable and unified than we once believed. Experiments show that our sense of self is often fragmented and that our thoughts and emotions are constantly in flux. Far from being a fixed point of certainty, the self is a dynamic, ever-changing construction.
This raises questions about the certainty Descartes placed in the cogito. Can we truly say, “I think, therefore I am,” if our thoughts are often incoherent, fleeting, or contradictory? In modern cognitive science, the self is viewed as a narrative that the brain constructs out of the flow of experience. The self is not a singular, unchanging entity but a story that the brain tells itself to make sense of the world.
Building on this, many contemporary philosophers and neuroscientists argue that consciousness should not be understood as a substance or a thing that exists in the brain. Instead, consciousness is a process—an ongoing activity that emerges from the complex interactions between the brain, body, and environment. This view is supported by findings in neuroscience that show how consciousness arises from the synchronized firing of neurons across different regions of the brain.
In this light, Descartes' cogito might be rephrased as "I process, therefore I am." Consciousness is not a static thing that can be captured in a single moment of thought. Rather, it is a dynamic, continuous process that unfolds over time. The self, too, is not a stable entity but a constantly evolving construction that emerges from this process.
This process-oriented view of consciousness aligns with the notion of emergence—the idea that complex phenomena (like consciousness) arise from the interaction of simpler components (like neurons). Emergence suggests that consciousness cannot be reduced to any single part of the brain but arises from the collective activity of the entire system.
One of the key features of human consciousness is the ability to reflect on one's own thoughts—a capacity known as metacognition. This ability to think about thinking is central to Descartes' cogito. When Descartes says, "I think, therefore I am," he is engaging in metacognition—reflecting on his own doubt and realizing that this act of reflection confirms his existence.
Metacognition is one of the hallmarks of human consciousness and plays a crucial role in our sense of self. It allows us to step outside our immediate experience and reflect on our thoughts, actions, and emotions. This capacity for self-reflection is what gives rise to the autobiographical self—the self that we experience as a continuous entity over time.
However, modern research suggests that metacognition is not always reliable. Our self-reflections are often biased, incomplete, or distorted by emotions and cognitive biases. While Descartes believed that the cogito provided an indubitable foundation for knowledge, modern psychology shows us that our thoughts and self-reflections are not always trustworthy. The self, like consciousness, is a construction—one that is shaped by the brain's limitations and imperfections.
In the contemporary world, the rise of artificial intelligence (AI) challenges our understanding of consciousness and the cogito. Can machines think? Can they be conscious? These are questions that Descartes could not have anticipated, but they force us to reexamine what we mean by "thinking" and "being."
AI systems, particularly those that use machine learning and neural networks, can process information, learn from experience, and even perform tasks that resemble human thinking. However, most AI researchers agree that current machines do not possess consciousness. While they can simulate certain aspects of thought, they lack the subjective experience that characterizes human consciousness.
This brings us back to Descartes' cogito. "I think, therefore I am" asserts the existence of a conscious, thinking self. But what if thinking does not necessarily imply consciousness? AI systems can "think" in a certain sense—they can process information and solve problems—but they do not have subjective experiences. This distinction between thought and consciousness suggests that Descartes' cogito may not apply to all forms of thinking
Descartes' "I think, therefore I am" remains a powerful and foundational statement about self-awareness and the certainty of existence. However, modern neuroscience and cognitive science have complicated this picture, showing that consciousness and the self are far more fluid, dynamic, and embodied than Descartes could have imagined.
While the cogito affirms the reality of the thinking self, it must now be understood in the context of a self that is not fixed but constantly evolving, shaped by the brain, body, and environment. The act of thinking is not the sole proof of existence but part of a larger, more complex process of consciousness—one that involves the entire organism and its interactions with the world.
In the end, "I think, therefore I am" continues to resonate because it captures something essential about the human experience: the act of reflection, the awareness of self, and the search for certainty in an uncertain world. But in the light of modern science, it also invites us to reconsider what it means to think, to be conscious, and to exist in an ever-changing world.
Consciousness is the essence of what it means to be alive. It is the process by which we experience the world, navigate our environment, and construct a sense of self. It is not a fixed state but a dynamic, evolving process that is shaped by our biology, emotions, and interactions with the world.
In the end, consciousness is about more than just cognition or abstract thought. It is about the rich, embodied experience of life itself. It is through consciousness that we feel hunger, joy, pain, and love. It is through consciousness that we make sense of our experiences, build relationships, and find meaning in the world. Consciousness is the story of our lives, the continuous thread that weaves together our past, present, and future. It is, quite simply, what makes us human.