Before I die, I want to observe—even if only in part—this thing we call "consciousness".
Human beings are said to be creatures that acquire the ability to perceive things symbolically. When it comes to our perception of the external world, this makes sense to a certain extent, especially if we take into account that we possess autonomous learning circuits. But, where does “consciousness” come from? Turning one’s gaze. Moving one’s body. Wanting to eat. Liking. Disliking. What are these things? What gives rise to that sensation—that ineffable pleasure that appears out of nowhere and gradually invades the body, reaching into its every last corner?
Each of us lives within a limited and relative world, bounded by what our own sensory organs allow us to perceive. For better or worse, that is not enough for me. I want to know. I want to know all the way down to the very arising of that feeling—the feeling of coming to know.
The interactions that the human species generates within “relationships” are so vast that I hesitated to venture into that question. And yet, that was precisely what transformed my “curiosity” into a “question.” I had thought that the world needed "a window" through which things could be seen more clearly, because then we would be able to see one another more clearly. But it was not "the world" that needed it. It was "me". Not a window shared with someone else, but one that stands just for me.—the window that reaches beyond space and time.
I have conviction, but no evidence to substantiate it. The surest way forward is to formulate a hypothesis and put it to the test.
Okay, what to do first?
