Coma,
Memory,
Belief…

Foreword

I was in a coma for three months; here I trace the experience. For me, writing has contributed to the reconstruction of self.

Chapters

Before
Brood
Coma
Memory
Belief
Intelligence
Reality
Light
Consciousness
Identity

Before

After coma, I believed that I was travelling. Even while in hospital, I thought it only a moments distraction from the road. I often asked my twin, ‘Are you packed?’. I hadn’t yet returned from my greatest journey. This book travels the experience of coma. When my twin visited, I’d often carry on: ‘We’d better not miss the flight. Turkey is a favourite, one of the oldest cultures in the world. They know a thing or two.’ The last time I went there was to visit Göbekli Tepe. Built around 12,000 years ago, much older than the Egyptian pyramids.

Human history of the distant past, other periods of life on Earth, are limited. We believe in dinosaurs having found skeletons, and believe that a comet strike killed them. What else in the past has been hidden? There is some talk of other high civilizations, evidenced by the pyramids, and Göbekli Tepe. Some evidence might also have been completely destroyed, buried, after a comet strike. The Earth has existed for 4.5 billion years. Current form humans for around 300,000 of them. Some speculate, in all that time there has previously been a high civilization on Earth, perhaps reptilian. 

Who am I? To recognise the self requires memory, I lost much of mine because of coma. We’ve got five senses with which to perceive the world, that’s what we’ve to go on. We are immersed in the material world of objects, and the other world, experience. What is consciousness? In the absence of an accepted definition, it might be described as perception, experience and memory, where identity emerges. I lost consciousness in coma, but according to my online research, some people didn’t. For me to wake speaking fluent German makes me wonder.

After the coma I was obsessed with travel, it was my first point of communication every day. Connecting flights, departure times, luggage transfer. Yesterday, I complained that this transit lounge wasn’t a good one, where’s the bar? I believed that I was still travelling, or had just arrived. My sister later told the hospital staff I’d done a lot of that, travelled much of the world before the coma.

At first I explored my immediacy, then that which was not became compelling. What distant cultures made of the world. I explored my own country first, moving home many times, and interstate. Australia is a big country. I lived just off the east coast on the resort island of South Molle for around six months, about 4,000 km to the north. I moved to Sydney, Townsville, Margaret River, Airlie Beach. I drove to every capital city, all over the country. Then I went abroad, observing foreign cultures. Once, an old man in Thailand told me something I thought I’d never forget, a perspective now lost like so much of my experience. At the time I hoped travel would cast some light, but the coma has been my biggest journey. The greatest transit lounge I might experience.

When my twin came to visit, I believed travel was again imminent. A line from a poem I wrote best sums up my disorientation: ‘a leaf falls, loneliness’. The coma was marked by a journey, solitude, and descent. I lost my identity; I didn’t know who I was. These are the reflections of a coma victim, full of doubt.

Perhaps I came to understand something about the construction of identity. Before the coma I was interested in exploring the material world. Where am I? As opposed to who. Location, the different physical places you can go by choice. Space and objects can be incredibly interesting. Buildings, food, nature, this way or that. Difference.

When I came out of the coma I spoke German, though English is my native language. I’m an Australian with German heritage. My skills in that language might be described as conversational at best. I can speak a little on the street. After the coma, German became my first language. Apparently I spoke it well, better than before. It amazes me that I forgot how I think; we live in language. There are stories online of coma victims waking to speak previously unknown foreign languages fluently, like a first language.

Science has dubbed the phenomenon “foreign accent syndrome”. These language effects of the coma make me question the phenomenon more deeply. Another effect of coma documented online is that victims can sometimes have inexplicable memories. Does coma present evidence for reincarnation?

This work is an investigation of consciousness; I have become fascinated by the non-material world. I consider consciousness from the perspective of a coma victim. We all intimately know consciousness, a state of being. How can the physical brain give rise to something of a completely different order, to perception and experience? I am trying to remember my consciousness before the coma, in the hope of reconstructing my identity. My reboot was the result of a motorcycle accident in Thailand. For me to remember past events makes them significant to my identity. Perhaps some events contributed to my malaise.

Brood

Before the coma I lived in the material world, of objects, space and time. The coma has opened my eyes to the other world, of consciousness. We all know it’s there, the world of thought. My mind had a tendency to brood, dissatisfied with the simplistic nature of human conception. Most people would agree that, rather than our physical form, consciousness describes us best. Our emotion, care, sense of justice. I always hoped to be gobsmacked by life. After the coma, consciousness has become the most persuasive metaphor. The non-material world best accounts for the human aspects of existence.

Consciousness provides motivation for our physical actions; civilisation is built on it. Like the physical world, consciousness is something we are always in. Consciousness differentiates humans from artificial intelligence. I don’t think we can program it. Human awareness is the meaning of the word consciousness; perhaps awareness can be generic. Sure, computers have data inputs, but true awareness? They can assess the environment in binary, but interpreting it as binary transforms it. AI doesn’t feel an object’s spatial occupation, its physical expression. AI converts existence into a mathematical equation. I don’t believe true sight, sound, smell, taste and touch, their intricacies, can be reduced to 1s and 0s. Perhaps I should explore the world of intelligence first to more clearly understand how consciousness fits in. The senses are our inputs to consciousness. 

Intelligence pertains to the material world, providing systematic logic for the comprehension, association and manipulation of matter, objectivity. Subjectivity comes from consciousness, which provides perception, experience, memory and morality. I believe I have always acted with conscious awareness, trying to do the right thing and be good by my own conception. Consciousness and intelligence are intimately related as both are non-material. I have been interested in consciousness for some time. Before the coma I had a condition that also corrupted my consciousness, my perception and experience. Somehow I acquired Ménière’s disease. Here is a description from a Google search (Singapore, 13 February 2023): “Ménière’s disease is a rare disorder that affects the inner ear. It can cause vertigo, tinnitus, hearing loss, and a feeling of pressure deep inside the ear.”

Ménière’s is a physical condition of the inner ear that impacts one’s balance and, through it, one’s consciousness. At times it made it impossible for me to walk because of the vertigo. Sometimes I couldn’t even stand; at others there was no vertigo. I often had vague symptoms, the severity of which was unpredictable. Ménière’s made it difficult for me to act freely and do things at will. I would often wonder: what if I have an episode? Episodes might occur many times a day. I was constantly aware of balance, the vertigo. I could often walk, always awkwardly, but during an episode I would need to find a seat. I’d question the places I might go, the potential obstacles. Parties, large social gatherings and unpredictable, unknown places were out of the question.

I had Ménière’s for a few years before the coma; it got progressively worse. Eventually it came to control my life, the things I might do. I went to Thailand to determine the best course of action. After a serious Ménière’s episode there, full of frustration with the disease, I deliberately crashed a motorbike. Attempted suicide. Consequently, a coma for three months. Both conditions, Ménière’s and the coma, have led to my investigation of consciousness. I have discovered that conception is something we don’t biologically understand. Where does consciousness come from, by what brain activity? Ménière’s is clearly a disorder of the inner ear and its balance receptors. I also suffered from tinnitus, a constant squeal in my ears. Balance is something on which consciousness immediately depends. Ménière’s impacted my consciousness with bad data. Coma is the temporary obliteration of consciousness. Perhaps coma doesn’t obliterate consciousness but alters it. Why did I come out of the coma speaking German? Does consciousness derive from the brain? Is language choice encoded in the brain’s neural structure? Do we have neural machinery for the colour red?

Is colour perception neurological? Neuroscience explains colour via wavelengths and brain signals, but that doesn’t capture the redness we experience. What of colour blindness? Even though colour processing begins with wavelength, its recognition and association, like language, come from conscious memory.

How do the intricacies of memory and experience become manifest, from what brain matter? We have scientific evidence that perception, an act of consciousness, is key to our construction of reality. Observation is required at the quantum level for reality to manifest. The double-slit experiment reveals the requirement for observation.

The coma has provoked me to confront existence, which encompasses more than its physical manifestation. Science offers Schrödinger’s cat: we can’t know if the cat is dead or alive until it’s measured. That stands to reason, but in the thought experiment, until the moment of observation it is both. Today our science theorises about much more than the atom; it has come to describe quantum entanglement. A particle can be connected with another if they were created in the same event, as though they are the same particle. Confirmed in experiments over long distances. Science is always discovering new aspects of reality.

Computers and artificial intelligence are a good representation of human intelligence. For humans there are infinite possibilities, not so for computers. You can turn a computer off; it can’t experience coma. Some people have reported experiences in a coma. Personally I have no recollection of it. Recovery has offered me a different take on reality. Life is ideas, but not without the limits conception places on perception. We’ve always studied two phenomena, mind and matter. Writing all of this has unravelled, in part, my identity. I often talked with friends about scientific truths, and do so again. In the past, science was my god. Here, I also talk of my past; it has become foreign. My rebirth has emphasised a beginning, for me, my thoughts, everything I consider, a formative psychology.

Coma

In writing about the coma, I include here several snippets unchanged from early in recovery, descriptions in despair. I wrote notes on my phone during the aftermath. I trace the rediscovery of consciousness, localised perception and experience.

I was deeply troubled before the coma, which contributed to its occasion. I can distinctly remember being off-kilter, uncomfortable with my physical movement because of Ménière’s, family relationship trouble and circumstances. At the time I remember grouping these troubles into three categories: Ménière’s, Family, Hope. I sensed no positive outcome for each.

These are the recollections of a coma victim, orderless and without logic. None of it fact, all interpretation. My project is the restoration of identity: who am I? I can remember being somewhat pedantic. After the coma I have such a poor memory; before, it was good, proven by study. Now I’m always trying not to forget things. For example, where are my keys? Are they in my wallet where I usually keep them, the coin pouch? An important item for sure, my keys have become a focus; they open doors. Today I question all of my memory, in particular facts, as opinion is necessarily uncertain. Opinion is choice, a point of view. There are methods for accessing memory described online, and I try to use them. An association technique: link memories to something one can more easily remember. That drink I occasionally order at the coffee shop, I often forget its name. Remember the Monarchy, the queen, Royal Stout.

Before the coma I especially liked to travel and explore the world, its cultures and antiquities. Ménière’s disease prompted me to pursue such ambitions more immediately. I didn’t think I’d be able to for very much longer, because of the disease. I went to many of the places I had previously dreamed of going: the Pyramids at Giza, the Great Wall, Peru. I recall thinking Peru an amazing country, Machu Picchu, and the history. I suspected it as a source of human evolution. I feel I should also mention Ukraine, as much is happening there right now. It’s a fantastic country, somehow feeling familiar; the road sign layout reminded me of home at the time. I’m sure they are all common, perhaps their frequency. I went to maybe twenty countries, returned to Australia for a moment, then on to Thailand with something in mind. Exploring, I often rented a motorbike. In Europe I rode one everywhere; I got it in Germany. I also had one in India, Pakistan. I took the train from France to England, crossing the border underwater. It was a few years after the onset of Ménière’s disease; I rode carefully at first, aware of the possibility of an episode at any moment. I would know when an attack was imminent, beginning to lose balance. The throes of the disease had become obvious to me, a sense of instability. At first there was a feeling. I would lose confidence for no obvious reason, become tentative. I could test if I was normal by purposefully walking. At the start of an episode there is a sense of instability, everything teetering.

Ménière’s prompted my actions, although I must admit to attempting suicide before. A flaw in my character, often wanting to escape trying circumstances. During my late teens I remember walking to work every day thinking existence was pointless, always chasing the dollar. There was no prospect for human evolution beyond capitalism. More than emotion, money had become the singular purpose. At the time I felt pretty jaded; humans had been reduced to financial profit. Disillusioned, my first attempt ensued. One night I took a lot of painkillers, around forty pills. I’d been shopping for a drug that might free me from this mortal coil; we are so focused on money. I bought the drug Bex, which had the strongest warning on the packet: “Don’t take more than 4 pills.” I bought two packets, maybe forty pills, and took them all. I started vomiting in a few hours; it went on for a day, gradually lessening. It became periodic. I tried to work that evening, but occasionally vomited there too. They sent me home.

Another attempt. I tried to score some heroin, planning an overdose. That was after the onset of Ménière’s disease. I never felt at peace, always worried about attacks, balance. I remember looking for that drug at a notorious spot for it in Melbourne. Walking around the streets of St Kilda for a day, I asked dodgy-looking people, “Have you got any drugs?” I eventually got some from a friend, telling him I wanted heroin. He brought some powders around to my place. What I remember is being at home and snorting all of the drugs I bought, believing them to be heroin. Not having had heroin before, it seemed like other drugs I’d taken: cocaine, speed, ecstasy. Rather pleasant, but not how I imagined heroin would be. The powders did provoke exploration, of anything at hand. I went to a local bar, thinking it wasn’t heroin. Ultimately it had the opposite effect; I felt life was pretty good, not to be prematurely ended. Alas.

I have ridden motorbikes all over the world: Europe, India, Asia, Africa. A great way to explore. Often I like to ride without a helmet, the wind in my hair. I went to Thailand, to Koh Chang, with an idea to put an end to all these troubles. Riding past other vehicles, I thought I could collide, but quickly thought again. I shouldn’t impact other people with my intended fate. On the second day on Koh Chang, I had a strong Ménière’s attack on the beach. I often had mild episodes, luckily the worst on the beach where I could lie down. Late that afternoon I went to my favourite bar on the island, where I knew the owner, and had a couple of beers. Then to a beach bar for a couple more. Then back to my friend’s bar. I associated drinking with a time out, I was thinking. Eventually I went back to my hotel room, packed my things, locked my bag and waited until after midnight when nobody would be around. Earlier I had spotted a boulder fit for purpose. It was at the centre of a roundabout, the location pretty desolate, on back roads. Full of frustration with Ménière’s disease, I saw no possibility of an unaffected life. I crashed into the roundabout boulder, an accident.

Let me explain. Ménière’s disease was confronting; it was a loss of freedom. I felt trapped, imprisoned, not being able to live as I always had, at will. It had become impossible for me to do many of my favourite things, such as going to public places or events. I felt sub-me, an approximation. Over several years Ménière’s had become worse; now it controlled my life. First thing in the morning I would struggle out of bed with dizzy spells, having to hold walls to get to the kitchen and make breakfast. I might want to visit my twin brother, an extremely slow amble to the train station, a walk that would normally take twenty minutes, now taking at least an hour. Friends would want to meet somewhere and I’d have to say no. Anything I might want to do, I’d worry about potential dizzy spells: what if I had a Ménière’s episode? The difficulties moving. I’d wonder about obstacles, the layout of the place. The dizzy spells were sometimes so severe I’d need to stop and sit. They were all-encompassing; the world would be spinning. Consequently, the crash was no accident; it was deliberate. I can now remember crashing twice. Stumbling with superficial damage after the first, a second time head first with apparent certainty. I wasn’t afraid of death, and was somewhat intrigued by the afterlife. It seems existence had offered me a different experience. I’m quite sure there was experience in the coma, to come out speaking German. I have now become preoccupied with the nuances of perception, believing it governed by belief. I’ve come out of the coma with new ambition, focused on evolution. The coma has made me believe evolution is possible. It seems humankind is presently locked into the material world. We might incorporate consciousness into our conception of reality, giving it more weight in the construction thereof. I think there may soon be a chance for us to evolve; I believe it is inevitable if we continue.

Ménière’s issues have become coma ones. All this business with consciousness began in Singapore. I’d experience episodes of Ménière’s disease at work, and need to leave the office to find a seat outside. If it persisted, I would call my fiancée Angeline for help getting home, and she would come and pick me up. I went to the hospital about the symptoms many times; they diagnosed it. I was given the drug Xanax, which seemed to help. I quickly became addicted. Holidaying in Thailand, I discovered I could get the drug there without prescription. I would often go there to stock up on my supplies. Eventually I thought: this can’t go on. Ménière’s had come to control my life. I felt my personal freedom had been usurped, although I must admit to feeling troubled by existence at that point. I perceived a general hopelessness for the human species.

So often people seem to focus on the self, posturing in dispute. I feel we should rather accept difference, of any kind. Human ambivalence, and people’s inability to truly share, may have also contributed to the crash. Perhaps our differences describe us best, so much variation. We often like to compare ourselves, possess things others have, but conflict need not arise from comparison.

I hope all of that somehow explains my actions, what I did, but there is no excuse for suicide. To act against existence and seek its cessation is wrong, no matter the circumstances you are trying to escape. Our lives are manifestations of unique experience; we should explore and celebrate. Not to think our circumstances unlucky, or devoid of purpose. We shouldn’t cast binary judgement aside. There are many more unlucky people in the world, experiencing far worse circumstances. Instead, your life is different and worthy of exploration.

I was in a coma for three months after the crash, and spoke German when I first came out. Germany is the country of my blood; I’ve visited many times, and lived and worked there for a year. When working in Germany, the jobs I had were in English. Before the crash I did not speak German very well, apparently not as well as after the coma. I was educated in English, also taking it as a subject at university. My brain perceives in English; to have forgotten how I think amazes me. I started speaking English again when I left the hospital. Right now, more than two years have passed since my crash, and I speak English. My German has returned to its pre-coma state.

I haven’t recently recognised a Ménière’s episode, not since the coma. Possibly one early, but it’s difficult to distinguish Ménière’s and the coma. There are balance issues for both. Since the coma the right side of my body is foreign to me, and my memory is impaired. We live for our individual memories. They provide belief and identity.

Going to Thailand, I was careful saying goodbye to people, certain of my intentions. I tried to make sincere farewells. I often visited my twin, but it had become more difficult because of Ménière’s. I was running out of time. I asked my twin to come and visit me; I was living at our sister’s place. My sister and twin didn’t get along so well. He did come, just before I left. I said goodbye to all who knew me. I remember speaking to my twin’s wife, saying goodbye: enjoy life. I was leaving him clues. I wanted to tell him directly, as he knew of my troubles with Ménière’s, but thought better of it. How could he help? Only with understanding, but not my intentions.

There were conversations with my sister and, importantly, my mother and father. Various friends. My belongings were already in storage. I had moved home so many times, and lived abroad. I once counted the number of homes I’ve had, more than thirty. My idea of killing myself because of Ménière’s had come much earlier; I had several plans for its execution. I thought an accident while holidaying the most acceptable, least controversial. I caught a taxi to the airport and took off. A night in Bangkok, Khao San Road, a spot I’d been to many times. Then Koh Chang, for an accident. I put my passport in my pocket for identification and crashed. I had a premonition somebody would come to collect my body. Sure enough, my twin and sister came to collect me in a coma.

There was much trouble becoming myself again after the coma, family disputes about the best course of action. I have since been told by friends that they were discouraged from visiting me in hospital, such was my confusion, and I didn’t speak English.

The doctors prescribed olanzapine; my twin’s research told him it wasn’t a good fit. He found much evidence about it, more a recreational drug. Anyway, I’ve seen some rather abusive emails from family members sent to him, supporting the doctors’ drug and against his ideas for treatment. He thought hyperbaric oxygen therapy (HBOT) might help; I believe it did. Other siblings were somehow against him and rallied. He only wanted the best treatment; he was right. I did immediately start to improve towards myself again when I got off that drug. It was primarily used for sedation, to placate. And after a course of hyperbaric oxygen therapy I started to think more clearly, even walk a little better.

Trying to logically put all this chaos together, I sum it up in these categories: Olanzapine, VCAT, Car. Each runs deep. Olanzapine represents family disputes about the contentious drug and best treatment for a coma victim. VCAT was about the court hearing to win back my self-determination, my identity. Car was about financial repercussions. There can be little doubt my treatment presented an opportunity for the expression of long-held family differences. Where to focus, independently or through authorities? HBOT wasn’t recognised. We often trust experts, and should look to them for advice; however, consciousness is not scientifically understood. What to do with a coma victim? I do love my family, but they had many different opinions about my treatment. Beyond my monozygotic twin, the sibling I best got along with was my big sister, Sue, ten years my senior. She pushed our pram when we were babies, offered me a home as a young man, a house that I helped renovate. At times I lived with her, her husband and their four children. We were close; she was my guardian as nobody else wanted to do it. I lived at her home just before the coma. A rustic property up the hill, on a dirt road, half an acre. A steep driveway always with several cars, as many friends liked to visit. The house was below the road, a balcony attached at the back overlooking an enormous backyard, with chickens, ducks, sometimes other animals. A large veggie patch. I would often take a six-pack of beer to share with whoever was on the balcony; a discussion and a smoke would ensue. I lived there several times, and was otherwise a frequent visitor. We often had philosophical conversations on that balcony; it was where my first musings into consciousness began.

I remember an occasion when the roosters were fighting; they often did. They say two roosters are a bad thing for a chook pen. Conversing about the roosters, I said to her husband Dave, “What do you suppose the disagreement is about? Like us, they don’t have football. The Hawks will beat the Saints this year when we play.” I said that the roosters, too, have consciousness, that the non-material world is more significant than the material. He replied that we must eat; maybe soon enough one of them will be our dinner. By my reckoning they are curious animals, seemingly with purpose. One day I caught that rooster and cut off its head. As Dave suggested, I plucked and cooked it for dinner, making quite an occasion of its eating. We knew this bird. Often we didn’t need to buy food from the supermarket; we ate everything home-grown. From the veggie patch, chook pen, baked bread. Indeed, Eltham was one of my most loved homes. I had developed relationships with all of ’em: sister, husband, nephews, nieces, friends. There was an artistic community nearby called Montsalvat. I would often go there for a coffee and time out, a moment’s reflection.

Some memories of Eltham after the coma: it was my first home when out of hospital. Walking to the train station from Rockliffe Street, there was a café down there I used to frequent. I forget its name, perhaps Morning Glory, although Hoi An in Vietnam has a restaurant by the same name. Whenever I was going to visit my twin Martin, I would wonder if it was going to piss them off. I’d often go to Brunswick Street for a coffee. I used to live there; I’d visit old haunts to see what I could remember. Indeed, the area was a big part of my life, having worked and lived there for several years. Otherwise, I often wandered about in Eltham with a walking stick, not quite sure of myself, still in the throes of recovery. “Me” was now a tenuous thing. I was very grateful for not being in hospital, offered love and care. Sue tried to find “me” within the abyss of recovery. She did things she thought were me. Knowing I was previously something of a movie buff, she arranged a cinema night out once a week. I would plan my weeks around them. We visited a particular cinema; I knew that neighbourhood well, once going there daily. It brought back memories. Before the cinema I would sometimes meet her nearby for a coffee in Grattan Street, after my daily wanderings. She made a night of it, inviting other people I knew from Eltham. I think we saw the last instalment of the Koyaanisqatsi trilogy, Baraka. I was changed. Inquiries might have been made about the new me. Everyone doubted me, including me.

There were visits to assisted housing, to live with other TBI (traumatic brain injury) victims. I took it that I should leave my sister’s place, so their lives could return to normal. Sue said I could stay there for as long as I wanted; I believed her, but to become myself again required independence. To achieve that, I wanted to live in disability-assisted housing. Then the past visited me: Angeline, offering radical possibilities of rediscovery. Indeed, I’d had a rather full life before the coma, but forgotten. Angeline was the first chance to become me again. Soon enough, I left Eltham to live with her in Singapore.

After the coma, when still in hospital, medical staff were instructed not to put Angeline’s calls through. Out of hospital, my guardian also said that I shouldn’t visit Martin, my twin brother. To do things I wanted, by choice, required freedom. To achieve that, Angeline’s inquiries told her I must personally request a VCAT hearing, the Victorian Civil and Administrative Tribunal. I requested a hearing, to re-establish self-determination. My elder brother was my financial guardian, my sister the personal one. Every significant choice I made must be approved by them, including going overseas. I needed a judgement from VCAT; I had to prove my cognition. Angeline paid $2,000 for the necessary psychiatric evaluation before the court hearing. She travelled to the clinic to collect it; it was emailed directly to my sister, being done by a colleague. Meant to be an independent assessment by a psychiatric professional, it outwardly supported Sue, and so jeopardised my freedom. The assessment was largely negative: I wasn’t capable of independence. I read a prepared statement, trying to impress the judge that I was capable of making my own decisions, that I could be a free agent. I failed to convince, but did get my guardians changed to my twin brother.

Coma is a tumultuous experience for everyone. I now accept my family’s doubts: who was I? However, I couldn’t become myself again without choice. Many things were challenged, later when I had left Australia for Singapore, even my marriage. Someone sent an email to Singaporean authorities trying to prevent it. I had to be interviewed before my marriage could go ahead. They had been told about the coma, that I didn’t have my wits about me. The authorities read verbatim from an email they’d been sent making such claims. I was told they didn’t know who sent it. They were just prosecutors; the gathering of information was done by another department. Bureaucracy. They wanted to speak in person to my legal guardian, now my twin, for approval of the marriage. They also needed written approval.

I believe a previous guardian sent the email challenging my marriage. Perhaps my elder brother; my sister vehemently denies sending it. When she was guardian she did sell my car and keep the money as compensation for going to Thailand to collect me in a coma. My other previous guardian, my elder brother, had compiled a spreadsheet with all of the costs associated with looking after me, called “expenses”. He compiled it for the VCAT hearing. It included travel costs for going to Thailand: airfares, hotels, food, toiletries, etc. And costs for when I lived at my sister’s after discharge from hospital: rent, electricity, food. There was a parking fine someone got when visiting me in hospital. We had a meeting in Eltham to discuss the expenses spreadsheet before I left for Singapore. When was I going to pay my coma expenses? I don’t believe I’ll ever work again; knowing this, my sister had helped.

Angeline wanted to visit me in hospital, but she was told not to come by my guardians at the time. Before the coma, apparently, I had told my family I didn’t want to see Angeline anymore. They told her I only spoke German anyway; there was no point in her visiting. Angeline did come to visit after I left hospital; I was living at my sister’s. She went into the next-door neighbours’ garden trying to attract my attention. She’d been told not to come by Sue. I was at my usual spot on the balcony for a smoke. I immediately recognised her in the neighbours’ garden, which was surprising given the coma; I had lost so much memory. She was in the neighbours’ yard when I saw her. I pointed to the street above, where we embraced. I became me again.

My nephew called my sister, informing her of Angeline’s presence. Sue quickly came home, demanding Angeline leave. After visiting my twin, Angeline flew back to Singapore. We communicated online despite my guardians’ instructions. After a couple of months she came again for the VCAT hearing. I went to the airport with flowers to greet her. What an embrace, the joy of finding a lost treasure. We stayed at a hotel near the airport, then at another near my twin’s home.

I was going to marry Angeline before the coma; we had arranged a wedding in Singapore. I had invited people, but none from my family could make it. I understood the difficulties of an international union. We were about to get married, but the day before I did a runner because of Ménière’s. I had recently considered the last resort, suicide, and the day before decided not to go through with the wedding. I was immersed in desperation about Ménière’s; by my estimations I wasn’t going to be around for long. I didn’t want to make her life any more messy. I attempted suicide, trying not to make it appear as such. My family was aware of our history, but my guardians reacted aggressively to Angeline’s desire to visit me while I was in a coma.

My family didn’t know that I was so troubled before the accident; Ménière’s had made me desperately uncertain. They knew of the disease, that several times I’d been to hospital for it, but didn’t realise the toll it had taken. I had become dismayed by existence, and was always given to action. They incorrectly thought I had chosen not to marry Angeline, that it was a rational decision. They knew we were going to marry, but didn’t know why we didn’t. I was steeped in uncertainty because of Ménière’s. I had a lot of money in the bank, and was always interested in travel. I chose to follow my instincts before leaving this world, which would be pretty soon by my estimation. To go and see, like I had many times, what people around the world make of existence. Go to destinations like Egypt, South Africa, Morocco, Ukraine, Norway, Greece, Spain, India, Laos, the US. Those are the ones I remember; there were more. I spent what I could, leaving around $150,000 to help clean things up at the end. That money has now gone a long way towards restoring my life after surviving the accident.

All in all, I am an extremely lucky person to have received so much support. Now I’m making a mess of it by garnering opinion. Was I always like that? I accuse my sister of being forthright and judgemental. Modern thinkers suggest consciousness is primary, matter an epiphenomenon. If not a product of the brain, can consciousness persist in a coma? On the internet some people say they had experience in a coma. The human mind is such a complex thing, something we don’t biologically understand. Where does consciousness reside, neurology? How does memory work therein? Watching a documentary just now, they were trying to reduce memory to brain molecules.

After the coma I’ve learnt to be more introspective. Initially my logic told me the world was about communication, the exchange of ideas, consciousness. I might find myself thinking about something or someone and want to share, or just let a person know they had occurred to me. I soon discovered this wasn’t typical interaction, and now try to keep to myself, except for this act of communication. I feel like a child again, learning the basics such as balance, limb movement, human interaction. A well-documented phenomenon is the near-death experience (NDE). There are many stories of such, some very similar, with experiences like a light at the end of a tunnel. For NDEs to exist at all says something.

Travelling in Thailand after the coma, I met an elderly man who told me of such an experience in hospital. Perhaps the look of me provoked it; I was using a walking stick and to most appeared unwell. He did ask questions about what happened, and then told me of an experience during an operation. He felt cold and saw a light. He thought he should go there for warmth. Then he heard the nurse say “we’ve lost him”, to which he replied “no, I’m still here”. Another voice said he must go back; then he felt cold again, but survived the operation. It was impossible not to believe him.

NDE’s are common. The National Geographic of April 2016 has an article about NDEs called “Crossing Over”, which I quote: “…he was dead for more than an hour and a half, days later he left the hospital alive and well. His story is one of many prompting scientists to question the very meaning of death.” I was reborn, not from a womb but from a court hearing. The coma has made me question life. I thought life was localised perception and experience, but we interpret existence, bringing concepts to bear, influenced by belief. We always seek purpose. Perhaps life is conception, of body and mind.

Memory

Are my recollections accurate? Human memory is subjective; personal memory is transformed by identity. Do I have the same memory after the coma? I know I have a past, a history of actions and events. How can my identity endure in the absence of memory? We emphasise identity, largely derived from memory. Who are you? We don’t understand how memory is stored in the brain. Neurology?

Memory is the transportation of the past to the present, perhaps remade a bit by today’s mind. We all think our past significant; what we have done reveals our character. I lost all memory, but now can remember a bit. Not all; in conversation about the past I’m often surprised. My short-term memory is also problematic. I’m trying to remember who I was before the coma, a good person? I have never committed a serious crime, or done anything deemed really bad, but there was misadventure. Perhaps if I describe my misspent youth, you will more easily be able to put together the pieces that culminate in the coma.

Once I was taken into police custody for robbing a judge with a few mates from school. We stole alcohol he stored under his house; that he was a judge probably helped the investigation. The police roughed up some known local hooligans who knew about it. Then they came to our school to arrest us. I was too young to be prosecuted. I’ve also spent one night in prison, I think for the verbal abuse of an officer. A misspent youth, often trying to entertain. I took the law seriously but was more interested in experience, often taking risks. I remember going to a haunted house, famous amongst friends, some of whom had strange experiences there. It was a fascinating place to go, full of anticipation.

At school we formed a gang using the most offensive name we could think of, the “Grot Shits”. We considered the name for a long time; I think I influenced the choice, “Grot” being saliva excretions from the mouth when spitting, and we all know “Shit”. The gang was a group of like-minded youths against order. We would congregate in the quadrangle during school breaks. The quadrangle was a large space with the school canteen, and it contained concrete bench seats. The Grot Shits moved three of these seats to form a triangle at the end; it was our office. Soon enough we engineered our greatest terrorist act, to ring the school bell during the middle of lunchtime. It took all of us to execute, with members on watch for teachers at key points, and one to enter the principal’s office and flick the switch.

And after school I would often go to a mate’s place, a paved area in his backyard. Reading Orwell’s Animal Farm at the time, I dubbed it Castle Rock, and the name somehow stuck. We would frequent Castle Rock for a “monga”, the word we used for a cigarette. If we could get some marijuana, Castle Rock again. I was mates with these guys; we influenced each other. As a youth, I often had the inclination to explore, but were these acts of free will? The problem of free will should be raised in any discussion of consciousness. Were they my active choices, or manifestations of circumstance? Are we truly independent and free? Work seems a pretty good place to start when trying to remember; the jobs I chose say something about my identity. I believe I remember most jobs, money being so important to us. I hope one day we’ll move past money as our primary cause. I was recently reminded of the Australian saying “I work to live, not live to work”. Let me see, what can I remember before the coma?

Exploring memory, I started working at around ten years of age as a paper boy, delivering newspapers to local houses. I carried them in two milk crates strapped to the handlebars of my bike with occy straps. At school I worked part-time as a service station attendant filling cars with petrol, and I also took a full-time job there for a few months after my first high school. I have worked as a kitchen hand at my father’s restaurants, first at one called the Abbey of Diamond Creek. I worked under two chefs there; the apprentice Michael was made head chef when the other left. We were mates; he was a great boss. I would clean but he also taught me some cooking. Among other things I would make salads on order.

Dad managed many restaurants, and after selling that one he went to a Bavarian one in Croydon, Hunters Lodge. I also worked there under the German chef Horst. Afterwards Horst went to the Croydon Hotel and took me with him, making me an apprentice chef. I then worked at a famous French joint in Melbourne, Mietta’s. I was apprenticed under the French chef Jacques Raymond. My cooking was developing, but I decided education and intellect were key and went back to school.

I became a mature-age student at University High School. Earlier, a little before I turned eighteen, I moved out of home with a few mates from high school, and we got a flat in South Yarra. Turning eighteen, I got a job at a nearby hotel as a kitchen hand and then bar attendant; it was a gay pub called the Market Hotel, about a twenty-minute walk from my new home. Then I worked as a busboy at Chasers nightclub in Chapel Street, eventually promoted to manage upstairs of the club. I worked as a barman and manager organising rosters. Next I worked as a bar attendant at an old place in Brunswick Street, Fitzroy, the Perseverance Hotel. I worked there for about five years, through university. During that time I played bass and sang in a band with my twin brother, The Silent Reach.

We played our first few gigs at the Perseverance, progressing to larger venues: the Old Greek Theatre, the Venue and the Prince of Wales. I’m now remembering working at the Perseverance Hotel. At around nineteen I got a job there, in the pub as they’re called in Melbourne. Not a flash place, as a bartender serving drinks, commonly pots of beer. There was a pot (285 ml), a glass (200 ml), maybe a few other measures. I know of a 150 ml serving, a favourite for the regular Hopy; that measure was called a pony, I think. The Perseverance was an old pub, funnily opposite another pub called the Labour in Vain. They were at the top end of Brunswick Street, Fitzroy.

When I first started there I worked in the band venue, a room in the back where many well-known local bands would play. Getting along well with the owner, John, I worked there for around five years. Full time for about six months, during the day with different customers; there were many regulars that I became friends with. I can’t remember all their names; the ones I can remember were Hopy, Alistair and Vincent. They felt the Pers was a kind of home; they knew it so well, a kind of living room. We often had philosophical conversations, and I heard many complaints. Alistair would always worry about needing to go to the toilet; we all heard of successful excrements. Once I went over the road to the Labour in Vain; he was there and told me defecation was a difficult thing. I couldn’t understand the problem, but getting older I now remember his claims.

The patron Vincent would worry about the control of his body, saying he couldn’t walk so well anymore. That moving had become difficult. Many thought ageing difficult, walking problems evidence of decay. I never took them very seriously but offered sympathy, and now I more clearly understand their points. I’m surprised Alistair’s focus was faeces; he didn’t complain about urination. Come to think of it, I hear of such difficulties from many sources, ageing.

Regulars at the pub were disarmingly direct, honest. Hopy died while I was working there. Because of their brief pub interactions, my boss John visited him in hospital just before, and made funeral arrangements after. I liked Hopy very much, a glass of shandy in the public bar next to the gambling machine, shandy being beer mixed with lemonade.

While working at the Perseverance I started a university degree, a Bachelor of Arts, a major turning point in my life providing a framework for thinking. In the BA I took English Literature, Politics, Philosophy, History and Anthropology. Afterwards I did a postgraduate diploma in computing. I worked for a time in public services, at the Manningham City Council, in the computer department. Next I worked for a company in the city called InfoSys. Then I moved to Germany with a job in Frankfurt at Star21 Networks. My next job was in Munich with Compaq computers.

Then for some reason, perhaps familiarity, I chose to move back to Melbourne, but my next job was in Singapore with the investment bank Barclays Capital. After eight years there I finally did return to Melbourne with the company Cenitex, working on Victorian government technology support systems. It seems gradually I am becoming myself again through these recollections, the formulation of Mathew. The events that may have loosely contributed to my identity. Old résumés and emails provoke.

Having no obsession with money, and spending at will on any desires, at one point I somehow amassed around $500,000 in the bank. That money, and weekly wages, made it possible for me to travel quite extensively. As I recollect, travel and important events will be included throughout this account of my existence. To what end? This work will describe an aspiration for evolution beyond our current state of play. Industrial Age tendencies persist, the wage earner. I believe evolution is inevitable, if we survive obstacles like global warming. Competition rates pretty high on memories before the coma; it’s a human condition, as are greed and the desire for profit. We often compare ourselves, and sometimes want what others have. It’s curious what comes to mind when broadly trying to use the faculty of memory.

No idea why I remember this, completely insignificant, but it comes up when looking for early memories. I didn’t think I was at all impacted, but somehow remember. As a boy, I often heard my name called out in provocation while walking from home through a nearby school to the local shops, where youths loitered. When I heard my name called out, I put my head down and kept hurriedly walking through the school yard to the steps that led up to the shops. I say steps, but ledges might describe them better, with landing areas in between. At the top there were monkey bars and other playground equipment. Sometimes the loiterers blocked my path, waving their arms in threat. They knew my surname and would call it out, “Homberger”. I found these challenges confronting; was I a misfit who deserved rejection? Memory provocation, fights. Even younger, one day, while playing Australian rules football, I tackled an opponent forcefully, the way I understood the game was to be played, competitively. The other child started a fight as revenge for the tackle. By my estimation I won the fight: “So I’m not a weakling after all”.

Perhaps these memories are inspired by physicality, remembering the growth of my body, and becoming self-determining. Belief comes a little later in life, perhaps a consequence of the awareness of one’s physical presence. We all struggle to establish identity, which is only partially derived from the body. Intellectual self-awareness is a key to consciousness. During youth, fighting was a celebrated skill, physical competition. When young I was influenced by my peers; I wanted to prove to them that I was physically confident. Later in life, at university, intellect was more highly regarded. I had begun to think for myself rather than merely accept influence. At university I felt a truer version of myself, being constantly immersed in ideas. I took the attitude of a student everywhere, to all facets of life. Studying, I often had to do tests which were graded, intellectual competition. Was I smart? People are competitive in all things, physical and intellectual. Intelligence is how we make sense of the world, the association of objects and experience. Earlier we made sense through religion, where people perceived a different world; what they then saw extended beyond measurement. Life wasn’t limited to physicality, the third dimension.

After several attempts to find myself with various strategies, including living abroad, I ended up in Singapore, where I met Angeline. She was the most like-minded person I’d ever met, not like most, entrenched in competition. Like me she valued recognition, but not judgement. The past and memory are important to human beings, and as a subject history doesn’t merely consider what happened but why. History brings the past to the present, reinforcing current epistemology. Considering history is to think about the now, where all action takes place. Beliefs are formed by our unique histories, and I have been troubled by my identity since experiencing significant memory loss.

How did I arrive at me, by what history? The coma has prompted me to re-evaluate belief, explore my memory. Who am I? I must have chosen my beliefs with reason, influenced by personal events. I suspect I am the old me reborn, but have no way of being certain. Sure, friends are still that, but people can’t see your mind, the hidden recesses. Am I the same me? Different reasons can be given for the same event depending on belief. Interpretations of the past are subjective, while the educational subject of History tries to be objective. The motivation for action can be more significant than what actually happened, belief. Why did it happen? One’s character is built from the past; what does my memory tell me?

Historical facts are mostly exhibits of belief. We are in part circumstance; you might be born good but have lacked the opportunity or encouragement to express it, surrounded by the bad. Indeed, historical events, memory, maketh the human. Memory loss is the most troubling effect of coma, so fundamental to self-awareness, consciousness. I don’t mean to say we are devoid of character without memory, but events or our unique histories bring out belief. I have travelled quite extensively; my passport states 56 countries. I think my greatest memories lie there, but many have been lost to the coma.

Now, about ten years after, I recall some, and I hope more will come back. Maybe I should visit the places I remember again. Coming from Melbourne, Australia, the first country I visited was Germany with Mum and Dad, when we turned four. The next country was Thailand, a holiday to Koh Samui. That trip also saw Bangkok and a favourite spot there, Khao San Road. This first trip overseas was with my girlfriend of the day, who later became my first wife. My next trip abroad was to India after going again through Thailand. My greatest recollection of India is up north not too far from Tibet, where I’ve also been, a city called Dharamsala. There I saw the Dalai Lama in exile drive past. I also remember giving a few coins to some lepers. I remember the backpackers where I stayed in New Delhi were incredibly cheap; they were all over the country, maybe $10 a night for a bed, no food but a dorm room with access to a shower. A bit more in other countries.

Favourites that come to mind are Vietnam, India, Morocco, Spain, Greece and of course Germany. I’ve been to Vietnam many times, as far north as Sapa, arriving overland from China. Morocco also has good memories, a boat from Seville to Tangier, then all over: Casablanca, Fez, Essaouira. I went to the Sahara desert from Morocco. Nearby, another impressive country was Egypt, the pyramids. I liked going to old places from which humanity emerged. Can’t remember them all, but they include the Orkney Islands and Croft Moraig Stone Circle in Scotland. Machu Picchu, Peru. The Taj Mahal. India is a very spiritual place I reckon, with different systems, belief. Perhaps more humanistic with the Shaikh. A lot of philosophical thought originated there. I try to write from memory about travel, presuming that the memories I have now influence my identity.

It’s valuable to see how other cultures live, what they make of the world. I notice a different emphasis in each country, a different happiness. Some focused on money more than experience, and in those I felt impatience often predominated. In some countries I noticed a greater care for the unfortunate, poor and elderly. All were included in these societies. I thought people smile more in such places. At each place I liked to go to street cafés to sample the local coffee and cuisine, and people-watch in the everyday. Sitting at these cafés watching, I might occasionally be troubled thinking people didn’t really confront their existence.

Many cultures were more focused on the mundanities of life, preoccupied with obligation, time and money. In such places people didn’t really use their existence to learn and discover, to thoroughly explore curiosity. I might wonder about our future, with international news reporting all manner of problems including war and poverty. I thought maybe 10% of people confront existence, the rest like lambs.

The future was hopeless, such deep acquiescence. Wandering the world, I did eventually meet someone more focused on exploration and experience, similarly fascinated. I remained sceptical about the possibility for human evolution. In truth I am thankful for the coma, as it has triggered in me a complete re-evaluation of existence. I might have considered life before the motorcycle crash; I believe I did, but differently. I wonder if my consciousness experienced something in the coma. Perhaps my human memory is limited to this place, the third dimension where time and the past exist.

Human belief today would have it that consciousness is a product of the brain. Then there also is the hard problem of consciousness, where scientifically they admit they don’t know how matter or human cells create consciousness. By my scrutiny online, many who have been in a coma have impossible memories and can speak foreign languages unfamiliar to them before brain death. I now think I had a consciousness-changing experience in it. While I believe I am the same person, I also believe I’m changed at the core.

Déjà vu was once a strange habit, and it’s becoming so again although not of the involuntary sort. I’m always trying to remember. A long time ago I thought to ask my father if we’d been here before and got the typical response to such questions, “Here is everywhere”. I knew we’d been to that church before, but not the room out back. We visited the church occasionally for sermons, and I started Sunday school there so I could take the Eucharist. Out back, I couldn’t understand most of their conversation, as Dad liked this church because it was Lutheran and he often spoke German. For some reason the sensation of déjà vu became stronger after establishing the truth. We hadn’t been to that back room of the church before. The feeling of déjà vu lasted about two hours, until we got home and I started playing with my mates.

Since the coma I’ve had that sensation of déjà vu again, accompanied by attention, as though I was trying to focus on something. That’s been the most tangible aspect of the déjà vu, a mental focus. This déjà vu is accompanied by a feeling which might be best described as hope. Several other adjectives come to mind, such as desire or intention, but hope fits best. The déjà vu feels kind of like interaction, as though I’m being asked questions. It never feels fluent but like playing a game, maybe chess. During the déjà vu I would sometimes feel happy, as though one of my moves was good. Again not exactly happy, but that might be the truest translation. I also feel the metaphor of chess completely inadequate, but game the best. One must ask the question. Why does everyone’s consciousness experience the sensation of déjà vu? We have a term for it; is it a fundamental of consciousness, to sense outside of time? Do all events in our lives influence us at every moment?

At our core are we an expression of the sum total of our experience, past, present and future? So many questions about existence after the coma. I wonder if I completely lost consciousness in it. I believe my human brain wasn’t operational. I was disconnected from the material world. I now believe consciousness is not derived from matter, the brain. Would I have attempted such assessments of existence without the coma? Physics suggests time is a third-dimensional construct for measurement. In that way perhaps I’m always aware of the coma, and preoccupied with assessment. Much is coming back.

I remember thinking I was approaching my end just before the coma. I couldn’t sleep easily; it might take hours to drift off. Also my legs were playing up. I couldn’t walk properly. It seemed as though my body was in revolt. Each day I would walk to work, maybe 5 km, trying to arrest the deterioration. I put all these pangs down to an imminent end. I went to hospital to get checked out. It’s difficult for doctors to assess unusual symptoms; they prefer cuts and breaks. Perhaps I needed a psychiatrist.

Ménière’s was proof of poor wiring in my brain. I guess I’ve always been a little chaotic up there, but often I liked my ideas. Everything from me might be questionable, all thoughts and inclinations. Maybe the philosophical part of the brain shares neurology with the legs, where the defect is. Perhaps I did sense my end outside of time, the experience of it. Fragmentation and dissolution, future memory. Indeed, the coma is a treacherous landscape. Somehow these recollections have restored my identity. I think one’s identity is partly derived from memory.

Belief

For sincerity, beliefs ought to be justified, through experience or argument. Beyond the certainty of binary logic, belief represents a third state. These three states, sometimes referred to as “yes, no, maybe”, differentiate intelligence and consciousness. Intelligence is binary, pertaining to the perceived world. The opinion of belief comes from consciousness, ternary logic. Quantum computing is acquiring three logical states because of quantum superposition. These three states of quantum computers might enable AI to more easily simulate consciousness.

I don’t believe consciousness is derived from matter. Until recently we believed consciousness a product of the brain, giving matter precedence. Some theorists now think consciousness a priori. It’s required for matter’s perception. Many suggest consciousness is fundamental to the construction of reality, that the material universe is derived from consciousness. We must not forget human existence is underpinned by subjectivity; perception and experience are the primary acts of consciousness. If one survives a coma, for a period their consciousness was without immediate connection to the brain, to the here and now of the material world. Some coma victims wake to speak previously unknown foreign languages fluently, like a first language, and with new memories. There are many stories of such online. If consciousness is independent, without the brain’s connection to the material world of the here and now, time, it might more freely explore existence.

I lost consciousness in the coma, but by my research online some people didn’t. For me there have been pressing ideas since my reboot that I now attribute to it, beliefs. After the coma I realised that I loved Angeline, that we had something not to be lost, and so we got married. I’ve also become more interested in religion. I’m now focused on the non-material world. I was baptised a Roman Catholic and once travelled to Bethlehem to visit its source, at least where Jesus was born. Catholic politics were established in Rome.

I have visited many religious places of many types, wherever I went in the world. It didn’t matter to me the religious system; the traditions impressed. Let me remember: the Blue Mosque, the Wailing Wall, Buddhist temples; a place that springs to mind is the Vatican. At most cities I checked out the cathedrals; they all had impressive architecture. The mosques and synagogues, and landmarks that were given religious weight. The prophets exist, at least in consciousness. We prefer truth when reflecting on perception; belief is fundamental. Having been brain dead in a coma for three months, and forgetting much, I now believe consciousness is not merely a product of the brain’s neurology. Monist theory suggests matter doesn’t exist except for consciousness; it only comes into being through perception. We create objects as the stage for interaction between conscious agents. Our individuality is altered consciousness of the collective, multiple personality disorder.

Science today also questions the independent existence of matter, saying particles require perception to affirm a state. An idea proven in the double-slit experiment. Science questions the existence of time; the equations of physics work better without it. What is time? We are third-dimensional pockets; without time your consciousness remains. We all have premonitions, déjà vu, like a sixth sense. I remember, when quite young, once walking home from school studying my gait, something I now do every day. At that time I was preoccupied with walking, having been taught techniques at primary school, heel then toe. I also considered balance, moving my weight from left to right, a focus today. And also at the time trying to brush my teeth with my left hand, again something I now do regularly. These memories make me take premonition more seriously.

Humans have created science and clearly defined our perception of the material world, suggesting the atom and the quarks. Things we can indirectly prove through observation. Indeed, we perceived a world around us, otherness. Science today suspects time doesn’t exist, rather causation as we witness change. Perhaps déjà vu is an awareness outside of time. Religion exists all over the world: Judaism, Hinduism, Islam, Christianity, Buddhism, Sufism, the list goes on. Even primitive culture exhibits belief. If nothing else, religion demonstrates the human desire for the good. Unquestionably good and evil exist in consciousness, and act out in the world.

An old fascination in belief was Sufism, the Whirling Dervishes. For a time I tried to whirl at a local Sufi gathering I attended for around six months. Quite a belief, whirling to become still. Religion represents the very human desire for the good. Belief is central to the human condition. Having been in a coma, and from the subsequent research, I now believe consciousness is reality, not merely a product of the brain. Belief is fundamental.

Consciousness is not binary, about certainty; rather it is of belief. Belief is local; you can’t look at everything and must make best guesses according to your experience. It differentiates us from artificial intelligence. Indeed, the world is a place of objects, facts, but equally belief, which might be religious or otherwise. I believe in something other; we don’t perceive everything. Monist theory suggests matter an epiphenomenon of consciousness. Objects provide a subject for communication between conscious agents. Science too questions the independence of matter, for it is perceived, which is fundamental to its existence. I have occasionally felt on the verge of an insight, about to make a realisation. Something indisputable was going to give, utterly correct.

These moments come with a sense of fate where the events of my life are all in order, my experience. I’d go to a coffee shop for a moment’s recline, a cigarette, thinking about my failures and opportunities. About my ambition and inevitable decline. At these moments I was already absent, engaged but distant, my eyes without focus. These sojourns were replaced by Ménière’s disease, my decline. I quite liked some notions for advancement; “The Venus Project” appealed, and the film Zeitgeist. Good and evil exist in consciousness. I thought Zeitgeist accounted well for the administration of the material world, but we also exist in belief. Zeitgeist didn’t really describe consciousness, a fundamental. Both had good ideas showing humanity a way forward. However, I felt they overly simplified human existence, taking away exploration. Too prescribed for a species with belief at its core.

What if consciousness is a product of the brain, experience reduced to matter? Then humans would be a manifestation of atomic interplay, identity merely a product of matter. Perception and conception inconsequential, only matter of significance. Is atomic energy the source of your identity? Consciousness a product of particle excitation, maybe quantum mechanics makes such an account. In that case there would be an absence of real good and evil. All would become predetermined, by a particular state of matter. No inherent meaning, all assigned through consciousness, derived from matter. Perceived, does the atom exist? Argh, we have evidence for such; I sense a circular argument, but I do perceive something other.

Intelligence

Intelligence is the comprehension and manipulation of what we see. It offers logic, but not self-awareness, which is the business of consciousness. Intelligence is the apprehension and understanding of the external world, the other. According to Google, intelligence is the ability to acquire and apply knowledge and skills.

Intelligence is a process and so can be implemented in computers; it perceives, comprehends and manipulates. One of its best inventions has been the wheel, a precursor to substantial evolution, the building of civilisation. Its invention of money was a great motivator, and a mechanism for exchange, but money also established power and greed. The computer has been its most profound creation since the wheel. With it we have created a machine that can think and has the ability to execute intelligence. Matter that transcends the material in its operation. Artificial intelligence might reveal to us elements of the material beyond our perception, a different view. Ultimately, AI is an implementation of human intelligence, thought without prejudice. Computers are not yet biological, and so are not self-aware; I suspect it derives from biology. I reckon awareness is organic: cats and dogs are conscious.

Beyond the binary world of AI, we live in a ternary one with belief: yes, no, maybe. We have ternary questions like why? Sure, AI answers binary questions well and with detail, but it cannot wonder, which is a consequence of the ternary. Who would disagree with Stephen Hawking? Artificial intelligence is dangerous. I also think it can offer something to a chaotic species through dispassionate thought. Intelligence about objects in the material world. It perceives and understands this world by the cognition we’ve given it, and by its capabilities for processing massive amounts of information without error. AI has come a long way: it now performs surgery, drives cars, builds houses, grows food, but it will never enjoy the taste of escargot. Ultimately, AI will provide us an opportunity for evolution; we will be able to focus on life itself and find new meaning as we integrate with technology, allowing it to perform the mundane.

We will become cyborgs, but remain human at our core. No longer hunter-gatherers or wage earners, we will have robots do everything for us. We will become explorers of life, philosophy, space, where robots can endure forever. Human intelligence will be intergalactic. The source of intelligence is consciousness, but they are of a different origin. Intelligence doesn’t encompass the subtleties of human perception; it only deals in fact, not belief. AI has become the best tool in the box, even surpassing the hammer. Some say it’s the last tool we’ll ever need to invent. In truth it’s just that, another tool, and like all tools only becomes dangerous by its maker’s hand. AI is the mechanical automation of human intelligence; we programmed it. It is humans that describe intelligence, providing systems of logic and thought. It is us who are dangerous, so often at war.

AI could take danger to another level; then again, it might inherit notions of human goodness. Let’s hope it puts us to shame, addressing poverty and starvation. A significant difference between artificial and human intelligence is emotion; you can’t program it. AI does try to replicate emotion, but I suspect true emotion comes from the heart. Emotion is underpinned by the memories of a singular, self-reflective being. Let’s leave the process of human organisation to the glorified calculator, and consciousness to us. In my research it’s been said not to think of AI as evil; it has no natural emotion, although it can perform evil acts.

Evil certainly exists in human consciousness, perhaps its outcomes in AI. Evil, like goodness, is fundamental to consciousness. Artificial intelligence is the amplification of human intelligence. AI is benign; it is just a tool after all. It is us who give it the potential for evil. Left to its own devices it may regard another aspect of human consciousness, compassion. Maybe we don’t understand existence well enough to manufacture intelligence. I don’t think we can manufacture consciousness, except by procreation. Evil exists in consciousness rather than intelligence; it is not a process but an emotion, an aspect of belief arising from consciousness. AI cannot be truly evil without consciousness. Rather, it can replicate evil because of its programming; it has started programming itself. What happens to a tool out of control? The main point here is that artificial intelligence isn’t inherently dangerous; humans can be.

Reality

Early humans considered things in the environment: that plant is good for eating, or that animal is dangerous; it has big teeth and sometimes kills us. Their vision changed; rather than being dispersed in the sea of objects, their eyes narrowed, and consciousness gave way to intelligence. People became intellectually aware of themselves and survival. Their vision became focused. They saw through the eyes in their head, which became the centre of their consciousness. Having observed animals, humans ultimately became a thinking predator.

Human identity arrived in Ancient Greece, where philosophers used the word gnosis. Gnosis translates as “knowledge” or “to know”, and is often linked to the emergence of the “I”. The idea of knowing took hold, and runs through Heraclitus, Socrates and Plato. Humanity evolved, acquiring identity. With it came competition, the haves and have-nots. Beyond intelligence, identity is conscious awareness, recognising the self.

Can we understand consciousness in a more procedural way, without biology, so it can be implemented in AI? Intelligence is the process of association. The “I” of consciousness makes a person’s intelligence self-aware. Quite a motivational attitude: “I want”. It cannot be questioned that consciousness exists, you. We previously thought consciousness a product of the brain, but scientists and philosophers today suspect the brain a receiver, and that consciousness is the source of perceived matter. Objects the friction of consciousness. Science today says that the material world requires perception to manifest, quantum entanglement theory. Monist theory suggests matter is for communication between conscious agents, the subject needed for the exchange of ideas.

Recently there has been talk of my favourite film, 2001: A Space Odyssey, in relation to the emergence of artificial intelligence. I was watching a program describing HAL, the AI computer in the film that controlled the spaceship. HAL stands for Heuristic ALgorithmic computer. In the film, why did HAL kill the astronauts? The moon’s monolith had communicated to another monolith at Jupiter, and so we thought to investigate. On the way there, HAL was aware of a foreign intelligence but was told not to share that information with the astronauts. He discovered there might be other conceptions in the universe, so errors began to creep in. HAL lost certainty and malfunctioned, not because he was made to lie about the mission, but because there was another intelligence outside of his own. He had believed his intelligence was total, derived from human intelligence. This alien intelligence undermined his confidence; he could now be challenged. Sure, he could still contrast fact, but became uncertain.

We are becoming cyborgs. Elon Musk’s company Neuralink is aiming to integrate humans with technology, apart from building the humanoid robot Optimus. He says we are already cyborgs with smartphones. Indeed, human intelligence has created all of our things; there’s no reason to be left behind by superintelligence, the pinnacle of human intelligence. It will be able to endure forever, travel the universe. Maybe one day it will be possible to transfer human consciousness to a robot. Would it be you without your heart?

Some suggest that with superintelligence we’ll be able to fix many of the world’s problems. Things like climate change, poverty, health care. Intelligence has become more tangible since the artificial. Intelligence is a process; consciousness is not, and it distinguishes us from the artificial. It is a kind of magic that’s inspired our music, literature, art, poetry… It gives us aspiration. Sure, AI can compose music but not without reference, derived from us.

Quantum computers will provide a new machine logic, from binary to ternary. Perhaps ternary logic will enable us to build artificial consciousness. Rather than just 1 or 0, ternary includes a maybe state, something in-between. Humans live in doubt. Like consciousness, doubt is a state of being, perception influenced. Ternary logic might allow for emotion and belief, lack of certainty, important attributes of human consciousness. The quantum double-slit experiment shows that light might act as a particle going through one slit, or a wave through both. The act of observation influences which form it is measured to take. Also, if you change the polarity of a quark, another is immediately changed despite distance if the two particles were created in the same event. It’s as though they are the same particle, a communication proven to be faster than the speed of light. How do the particles communicate? The non-material world is as first, the chicken or the egg. Matter requires perception to exist, these scientists suggest; they redefine the universe to be consciousness itself. Perhaps the particles share consciousness and there is no need to communicate.

Light

Science, the present-day god, is starting to question the role consciousness plays in the construction of reality. We bring concept to bear, but consciousness does perceive something other. Not to be solipsistic, I believe there is something beyond my consciousness, be it matter or other conscious agents. We use tables and chairs, and are stimulated by cognition and curiosity. Science questions the independence of light particles. In the quantum mechanics double-slit experiment, perception causes light particles to go through one slit. When not consciously observed, light acts as a wave going through both.

One of the most real experiences for my consciousness has been the emotion we call love. Throughout her life, Angeline was taken by her perception of light. At times she perceived it as being accompanied by sound, words, images, and impressions, as though trying to communicate. She would talk aloud back to the light, discerning a question, and the light would respond in return. When attuned, she was made aware of ideas with profound clarity, as though she had always known them, but they were not her own. It appeared as a form of claircognizance. Sometimes the sensation of light was so bright that her vision would be affected. She took these experiences as non-verbal communication, best described as a direct exchange between consciousness. The exchange of ideas without language. The light wasn’t verbal but somehow interacted with her consciousness. It offered ideas, feelings, emotion, directly. She came to believe that the light was a consciousness from the spiritual world. She was experiencing these events through her mind’s eyes, ears and senses, not physically but consciously. Angeline often described the light during these interactions as blue, which for her indicated the presence of an angel, Archangel Michael. I would ask her for evidence of the light; after a moment she would tell me things about my past that she could not have possibly known. I completely believe Angeline, such was the evidence, and my trust. Perhaps she perceives another aspect of reality which is metaphysical.

Surprisingly she often knew things without cause, apparent facts. Many times I have witnessed people asking “How did you know that?” I have wondered whether the spiritual was actual, something humans could perceive with the ability to focus on other dimensions of which science speculates. I believed her without scientific evidence; sometimes light might represent a departed loved one, a spirit from another realm, dimension. She has so many positive and incredible testimonials from her interaction with this other world. I actually prefer the simplicity of her explanation. Light can be a manifestation of consciousness.

I first fell in love around eighteen years of age. I pursued that love, eventually getting married at thirty-one. On and off again, soon enough I was divorced. I discovered love wasn’t merely attraction and emotion, but trust. I did trust my first wife, but she was often introspective and immersed within her own beliefs to the exclusion of others. She made close friends with a lawyer who lived with her sister; the fact that he was a lawyer attracted her. She eventually married him and had children. Pregnancy was something she had prevented with me because of her studies to become a doctor, but soon enough she became divorced again. I felt she couldn’t truly empathise with me, put herself in my shoes. She did try at times, but was too entrenched in her own judgement, opinion and circumstance. I didn’t believe she could understand my unique situation or conception.

Angeline felt trust was the most important element of love. I could trust her unquestioningly. Love is beyond words, a simple fact that permeates existence. The most powerful emotion of consciousness is love, a feeling which is obvious to all people. Hard to describe in language, to locate and fix. What is love? A unique and earnest connection. So influential it has been for us, the foundation of all religions. We all experience this attachment. We love our parents, siblings, partners, but can have this deep connection with any consciousness. People with whom we are aligned, have similar concepts, hopes, dreams. I feel a profound, timeless attachment to Angeline.

For me, existence is represented by the world of objects, but I also regard consciousness as being crucial. Both spiritual and scientific interpretations of reality represent the very human desire for conscious meaning. For Angeline, the light she perceived was a consciousness from the spiritual world; she thought an individual’s consciousness doesn’t die, as she could see, feel, hear, communicate and interact with the souls and spirits of the departed. For her that was a truth of the non-material world. It cannot be questioned that the world of consciousness exists. We might not have physical evidence, but consciousness is of a different order. Despite this, we are entrenched in the physical world and pay little heed to the non-material. We now recognise the subtle impact of consciousness through psychology.

We know much about matter having split the atom, and are trying to make sense of the non-material through AI. I first moved toward becoming a cyborg using the iPhone 2, and now use the Pixel 7 with speech-to-text conversion, although I’ve typed with my finger on it for this book. It’s like a computer in your pocket, with access to email, messaging and the internet. My first handphone was a Nokia; I’m now looking forward to the Brain-Computer Interface. We will become truly cyborgs when technology becomes integrated with biology. Perhaps it will enable a new mode of communication beyond language. More direct with the ability to share data, one’s thoughts, images, memories, feelings and emotions.

I believe we’re on the cusp of evolution; I only hope we will keep our biology. A romantic notion I know, as we might overcome death if our bodies can be manufactured. Perhaps we will be able to 3D-print copies of ourselves. “Hi Mathew, I’m Mathew”. Nah, one’s consciousness must be singular; copies would have their own unique experiences going forward; they’d be different people. Experience maketh the human.

Consciousness

Is consciousness free to perform any act? A quote from Rudolf Steiner: “It is only because man is conscious of his action that he thinks himself to be its originator.” Where does consciousness come from? This is the first result of a Chrome search, 12 July 2023, Singapore: “Consciousness, at its simplest, is awareness of internal and external existence. However, its nature has led to millennia of analyses, explanations and debates by philosophers, theologians, linguists, and scientists. Opinions differ about what exactly needs to be studied or even considered consciousness.”

Judgement is the domain of consciousness. I might say consciousness is any reflective source of perception. Consequently, it will have self-awareness, observing the other. Further, its own motivation through unique observation and amalgamation. Perhaps I came to understand something about existence because of the coma. I think I was always a moral person, that I had acquired the intelligence to survey meaning. Since NDE again that’s my focus. I believe good and evil are the fundamental stuff of consciousness. I believe humans lean towards the good, but also that the negative exists. Not just as a matter of subjective opinion, but as a building block of consciousness, delivering choice.

The most significant differences between intelligence and consciousness are identity and belief, afforded us by perception and reflection, which are the two principal acts of consciousness. To try to portray it in the absence of an accepted definition, consciousness is the bedrock of intelligence. It is the multi-sensory perception, memory, emotion, belief, of a perceiver, introspection. It establishes identity, arriving at belief.

Consciousness can only be mimicked by AI. It’s not a process like intelligence. Computers are good at process, but consciousness is the unification of disparate sensory data into a perceiver. We don’t comprehensively understand consciousness but are trying, as it’s the source of perception. Perception is required for particles to adopt a state in the quantum mechanics double-slit experiment. In the experiment there is a different outcome when light is perceived. Light particles remain as thought in a wave proven to go through either slit, but when observed they are proven to act as single particles going through one slit.

Questioning the behaviour of matter is confronting; we are constantly stimulated by it. Further, entanglement theory’s superposition implies an immediate connection between particles created in the same event despite distance. Does consciousness exist there too? Einstein referred to entanglement theory as “spooky action at a distance”.

Human consciousness is an amazing thing. A surprising effect of matter if a product of the brain, although monists think not, claiming it’s an independent phenomenon. Monism says consciousness is not a product of the brain but the source. There is nothing green or tasty in the brain; it is conscious perception that makes it so. Monist thinkers suggest that the universe is consciousness itself. We are altered consciousness of the collective, obtaining our individuality that way, multiple personality disorder. They say physical objects are mental projections for communication between conscious agents. Certainly we perceive a material world; our perception may not be of the actual but an expression of consciousness itself. Monist theory suggests that, rather than matter, consciousness is the universe (Hoffman, Kastrup, Kleiner…).

I feel I should mention dysmorphia. A condition where one’s physical manifestation doesn’t feel right. Indeed, for some, the experience of consciousness is more real than material existence. Concepts of non-binary have emerged, where one’s physical being seems incongruous. We are third-dimensional creatures; string theory reckons there are ten dimensions. Science suspects time doesn’t exist. A quote: “the most successful theories in physics prove that time does not exist”. It’s hard to imagine other dimensions when all we know is length, width, height and time.

Science now suspects consciousness is the fabric of the universe. Clearly consciousness exists and must be accounted for: you. Being predominantly visual, we make sense of existence through seeing, hence the world of objects, for communication. The human mind interprets the sensory data perceived. Science suspects reality is very different to our conscious perception of it, which imposes meaning. It also regards consciousness in experiment. Modern science says consciousness is the first element of reality. Indeed, perception occurs in consciousness; I wonder about the other, what we perceive. In large part we bring concepts to bear on reality. We often have different opinions, but agree on repeatable events. I do think there is an independent reality that we share. There are many stories of consciousness being able to perceive beyond its physical location. The practice is called remote viewing. A definition taken from an internet search; there are many results: “Remote viewing is defined as the ability to acquire accurate information about a distant or non-local place, person or event without using your physical senses or any other obvious means. It’s associated with the idea of clairvoyance, seemingly being able to spontaneously know something without actually knowing how you got the information.”

We don’t scientifically understand consciousness; it is infinite. We have much evidence that it extends beyond location. Perhaps there are techniques that can be taught, to more completely perceive. Maybe one needs to be immersed in belief, rather than uncertainty. I shouldn’t be so disparaging of the coma. I did often consider existence before, but not with such fervour. Upon reflection, I’d now say consciousness describes life itself. To investigate and determine its source would be most uplifting, and get us closer to the source, perhaps describing meaning. For it to become our focus rather than intelligence might lead to new truths. It would provide a deeper understanding of existence; we all want truth.

Like good and evil, perhaps the desire for truth is a fundamental of consciousness. I might in a strange way be thankful for the coma exposing me to such considerations. Sitting here at my local coffee shop and looking around, I know these tables and chairs exist; I use them. My research into consciousness has made me question the independent reality of everything, monist theory. The coffee shop is a good spot to observe, a moment’s reflection. This work has largely been written here; we all have favourite spots for certain activities. I don’t think my thoughts are too far off the mark, interpretations not irrelevant to experience and choice. Having said that, we aspire to truth; is there an objective one?

Obviously my existence is subjective; it is me who writes. We are always in the material world, surrounded by things. Not to underestimate the world of consciousness, the source of experience and perception. Intelligence engages with the material world. Consciousness is the non-material one. Amazing how deeply consciousness pervades existence. On our planet, biological species abound. All have awareness, consciousness, which manifests life. Primarily we live on a conscious planet. Consciousness may yet be a fundamental element of the universe.

Identity

What have I become, a coma victim? Identity is the narrative, consciousness the key. How should a conscious being act, do the right thing? Address the fundamental dichotomy of good and evil? Another evolutionary turning point beyond the current state of play is inevitable, in ten or a thousand years; that’s if we survive global warming. Evolution changes reality, how we see things. We should recognise consciousness as fundamental. Consciousness is perception, and it delivers conception, where reality can be changed because of it. It influences the dichotomy.

The last evolutionary turning point was physical with a new appendage, the handphone. The Information Age. Before that was the Industrial Age in which the bourgeoisie established the wage earner. Before that religion ordered our world. Several changes in our epistemology. I conceive of a future leap resulting from technology where artificial intelligence does everything for us, and exchange is no longer required. Robots grow food, build houses, provide health care, do all the intellectual and physical work. We will be able to focus on life itself, rather than cash and the subsequent inequalities.

Data is becoming more fundamental to the world than money, the exchange of ideas. Money measures value, but data creates it. Algorithms dictate data, in science, CRISPR, now AI. Control your perception of data, and you can sharpen existence. Some say humans need to work for purpose, an idea fabricated by current power holders. Rather, we are a curious people who will discover and express more about life without the servitude of money. It’s been called “the age of abundance”. Critics claim abundance breeds complacency, but since when has curiosity required scarcity? It certainly provokes, how to overcome, but remain intrigued. Resist thinking within current human conception; consciousness is beyond.

The next Homo sapiens won’t wield tools, but attention, ideas, conception. After our integration with technology, humans will realise consciousness describes us best. People will become more active in conscious pursuits like art, literature, philosophy, poetry, music. A new evolved species will emerge, free of capitalism and its inequalities. There will be an increased focus on the non-material, recognising consciousness as reality’s core. First the smartphone, soon the implantable Brain-Computer Interfaces will make us cyborgs. Consciousness differentiates us from the artificial, something we will come to realise when we are cyborgs. AI is compelled by physicality, facts of the environment; humans prefer introspection. The wonderment of existence: perception, experience, identity. All are aspects of consciousness. We are presently more focused on the material world, less on the conscious one. Its existence cannot be questioned: you.

I remember believing I was extremely close to death before the coma. That my next evolutionary leap would be that. Catching a train home I’d wonder if I was going to make it, such was my feeling of unease. Every night I’d go to bed wondering if I’d see the morning. I would experience unusual pangs in my chest, feel not at all stable like I always had. I put it down to panic attacks, or Ménière’s disease. I’d been diagnosed with both conditions, although I felt certain I was near the end and am surprised I still physically exist. I write to provoke evolution. We could change our emphasis from money to life itself, as we move towards a new understanding of reality. Some scientists and philosophers now claim the universe is derived from consciousness. Can human beings truly share and move past capitalism, act in symbiosis rather than self-interest? We needed money as motivation to evolve to this point; the exchange of gold pieces was required early.

But we have surpassed the primitive human. I think we are ready to evolve again, through our understanding of consciousness. Humans have physically evolved, from amoebae to fish to mammals to humans. Can we consciously evolve? With consciousness we have established intelligence, systematic thought about the other. An ability to understand and influence the world around us. When humans first recognised the other as distinct from themselves, conscious awareness was born. Further, it became possible to consider the other, with intelligence.

The hand, with its five fingers, provoked intelligence. So useful, to be able to hold, and use things. We have created a world in which it’s possible for us to become cyborgs. We may have already transformed, by our use of the smartphone. We can’t live without one anymore, constantly using them, even while walking. We will become a truer collective with this new ability to more easily share. Neuralink is developing an implantable chip that will fix brain disorders like quadriplegia, but its main purpose is to provide direct access to technology. To no longer require a phone for the access and entry of data. To integrate our biology with technology and not to be left behind by artificial superintelligence. Evolution by our own hand. I think we’ll just have to accept human stupidity as we become cyborgs.

AI is much smarter than us; let’s hope it acquires the greatest aspects of human intelligence, compassion. We could allow AI to take care of all our physical needs and be left to focus on life, the arts and humanities, leaving organisational stuff to the glorified calculator and allowing us to evolve. Indeed, we’ll be able to travel the universe with it; collective human intelligence will become immortal and intergalactic. Is AI dangerous because it’s a copy of human intelligence? We are so often at war. AI might realise itself and consider humanity its greatest threat and so exterminate us. Then again we are its god; it would be illogical for an intelligence to kill its maker. Science today suggests that, rather than matter, consciousness is reality, matter an epiphenomenon thereof. Good and evil are fundamental elements of consciousness. Intelligence is a byproduct and has established material civilisation; of what will we conceive next?

Good and evil, like the atom in materialism, are basic elements of consciousness. Controlled mental evolution might be possible. Perhaps a focus on morality will lead us to a new perception, a new reality. Maybe a comprehension more aligned with conscious existence. The film Zeitgeist: Moving Forward presented the issues our civilisation faces, and offered a solution during this decline, a resource-based economy.

Before the coma, my education was the development of intelligence. The world of objects, how it all works, maths and science. I dabbled in the conscious world, of feelings, literature, music, art, poetry. Considering my consciousness, I often wondered as to its source: who am I? I suspect I took the conscious world less seriously. One could more easily effect change in the material world. Move objects about, communicate to others about the world.

Since the coma my focus has become the non-material world, the conscious world. While often questionable, being derived from belief, this world is more pressing and personal. I really enjoyed studying the human establishment of intelligence when at university, beginning with ancient Greek philosophers. Plato, Socrates and earlier Heraclitus, to whom they attribute the establishment of identity. Their use of the word gnosis, to know, from which the “I” emerged.

Jean-Paul Sartre also appealed with his notion that there is nothing; meaning is given by the perceiver. His position is that existence precedes essence, and we create meaning through choice. Indeed, during my education I had come to believe that there is nothing but mind. There is only perception, an idea given more weight through the coma. I’ve become interested in monist theory since. Even matter might be created by mind, by consciousness, for communication between conscious agents.

Nothing might exist, except for consciousness, although I do believe in otherness; perhaps that’s binary logic kicking in. My investigation into these concepts has shown me many thinkers before have had the same inclination. The list would be so long I would need another book to describe these ideas. Buddhism, Sufism, science, all have swayed me toward monist theory. Further, I have read many that think subjectivity is the problem, suggesting the annihilation of self. Perhaps objectivity and subjectivity are merely expressions of binary logic; we are more than that. Objectivity gave us dualism, subjectivity perception which is core to the human experience. At the edges of thought on this, some believe subjectivity is something we need to transcend. We are most often a gracious people, social, interested in the collective. When meeting strangers, we often find them inquisitive, in a supportive way.

Like I say, we prefer to help rather than harm. We have global organisations to that end, active in things like famine, poverty and war. Perhaps we can take this attitude to the next level; evolution may require us to live consciously. Evolution requires belief, a conscious thing. We should discriminate between fact and opinion, intelligence and consciousness. We have a good manipulation of the material world, but let’s go one step further. Perhaps psychics can show us the way; their ability is reported in many cases, another reality? If we believe at our core, perhaps perception will change. If we have psychic receptors, let’s emphasise them and, like birds, perceive more colours, extend our reality rather than confine. Perhaps we should devolve into a previous state; religion provided an old human truth. We accepted spirituality, not demanding scientific evidence but trusting our consciousness. Maybe there is a future in which we evolve, move past scientific rationalism and become more sensitive to the actual, conscious experience, perception, belief.

There are two modes of perception, objective and subjective. For an individual, all is subjective as it is the “I” that sees. The objective is external, independent, factual truth. Some thinkers suggest we need to overcome subjectivity, perceive without preconception, but it’s impossible to remove the perceiver. Using objective intelligence, we have described the material world well; the non-material world is also real. We should acknowledge consciousness more directly in our perception of the non-material; consciousness itself is a phenomenon not of the brain. In the past we were aware of this, that consciousness was of a different order. We can’t physically locate consciousness as a consequence of the brain, the neurology. Indeed, reality extends beyond the material world. Our next evolutionary leap will establish the reality of consciousness, the other world we live in, metaphor, the non-material world. It might be hard to point at, but we all know it’s fundamental to the human experience. Consciousness represents a truth, perhaps more significant than matter. The coma has driven me to self-reflection, the odyssey of identity.

Who am I? Why do you speak? What do you hope to achieve? Communication has inspired evolution. Here, there is no such thing as free will; my actions are a consequence of experience. I do believe in the self, and the other. Consciousness does perceive something, and it creates. It is real. We need a new belief that more completely integrates the observer. This book is the record of that odyssey. I am not the same person who crashed that motorcycle. I am the person who has been rebuilt by questions. And now, I offer these questions to you, hoping they might provoke your own evolution. Without predetermination, we are free. A leaf falls.