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The More You Study Consciousness, the Weirder It Gets | The Ezra Klein Show

Ezra Klein talks with the science writer Michael Pollan about his new book, A World Appears, the record of five years touring the science of consciousness. They walk the whole arc: a beeper experiment that catches the banality of inner experience, William James and the stream of consciousness, anesthetized plants and plant neurobiology, the evolutionary case that consciousness handles uncertainty too complex to automate, Alison Gopnik's lantern versus spotlight consciousness, and the discovery that feeling lives in the body. The conversation moves to a brain scan showing a thought firing four seconds before awareness, global workspace theory, the creative power of the wandering mind, and then the far edges, idealism and panpsychism and the brain as a radio receiver rather than a generator. It closes on a Copernican redefinition of the human, squeezed between conscious animals and seemingly conscious machines, on attention as a contested collective resource, and on wonder and the don't know mind rather than any answer.

Published Mar 31, 2026 1:31:01 video 45 min read Added Jun 17, 2026 Open on YouTube →

At a glance

Ezra Klein sits down with the science writer Michael Pollan for a 91 minute conversation about Pollan's new book, A World Appears: A Journey Into Consciousness. The book is the record of five years Pollan spent touring the science of consciousness, the theories, the experiments, the meditation retreats, and the psychedelic trips, and finding himself in stranger and stranger territory the deeper he looked. Klein opens on the paradox that frames the whole hour: consciousness is the only thing we truly know firsthand, and yet we do not know what it is made of, how it works, or why it exists, and the closer you look the weirder it gets.

The two of them walk the full arc: a beeper experiment that catches the raw banality of inner experience, William James and his stream of consciousness, anesthetized plants and "plant neurobiology," the evolutionary case that consciousness exists to handle uncertainty too complex to automate, Alison Gopnik's lantern versus spotlight consciousness, the body as the true seat of feeling, a brain scan that shows a thought firing four seconds before you know you had it, global workspace theory, the case for the wandering mind, and then the far edges: idealism, panpsychism, the brain as a radio receiver rather than a generator. It lands, against every expectation for a science book, on wonder rather than an answer, and on a politics of attention as a shared resource being strip mined.

The beeper experiment, and the banality of the inner life

Klein opens not with theory but with an experiment Pollan put himself through. There is a psychologist at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas named Russell Hurlburt who has spent 50 years doing what he calls Descriptive Experience Sampling. He equips you with a beeper worn in the ear that emits a very sharp beep at random moments. The instant it fires, you write down exactly what was in your mind at that moment, no reaching for the phone, no doubt about timing. You collect a day's worth, maybe five or six beeps, never knowing when the next is coming. There is an observer effect, Pollan notes: you catch yourself thinking "God, if it went off now, that would be embarrassing." But over the day you forget about it.

What struck Pollan was how banal his beeps were. The one he describes in the book: he is waiting in line at a bakery, deciding whether to buy a roll or use the heel of bread he has at home to make a sandwich for lunch. Not profound stuff. Then Hurlburt interrogates each beep to make you a better student of your own mind, because, it turns out, very often we do not know what we are thinking. He asks: did you speak that or hear it spoken? Was it in language or in image? Pollan had no idea. He said there was sort of an image of a roll, but unspecific, "kind of an emoji of a roll, not a real roll."

Klein recognizes this immediately. A lot of his own thoughts, if pushed, are "the feeling of a thought," present but not spoken, not lettering on a projector screen, something less than a fully formed thing. Pollan's phrase, which Klein loves, is that many of our thoughts are "gossamer wisps of mentation." Hurlburt's finding after 50 years is that people think in radically different ways. Some think in pure words, some in pure images, and some, he claims, in "unsymbolized thinking," thoughts that are neither words nor pictures. And at the end of the session he roasts Pollan: he tells him he is low on inner experience. Pollan did not know how to take it. We all assume we have a lively inner life, and to be told you may not have one is unsettling. Part of why Hurlburt reached that verdict, Pollan admits, is that he argued constantly. He found the idea of chopping thoughts into discrete chunks impossible: in that bakery line there was the smell of baked goods and cheese, the image of a woman in front of him in a hideously loud plaid skirt, his awareness of the other people, the question of whether he recognized anyone. His thoughts were "inter infected" by one another, one coloring the next, and Hurlburt kept drilling until Pollan would separate them, which felt like violence to the actual texture of the mind.

William James and the fringe

That tension is why James keeps surfacing. Klein notes that William James "always ends up the godfather, the leading source of metaphor in any book like this." Pollan: James is the father of psychology in America, now regarded more as a philosopher because psychology has become so empirical. James wrote like a phenomenologist, about the lived experience of thought. Pollan first met him while writing How to Change Your Mind, through James's The Varieties of Religious Experience and its famous chapter on mystical experience; James experimented with drugs himself to probe the outer reaches of consciousness. James is "kind of unreadable yet also a great writer," his sentences so long and intricate that they lose a modern reader about 80 percent of the way to the period, Pollan jokes, but the observations put the modern consciousness scientists to shame. The scientists reduce experience to simple things like visual perception or qualia, their word for the felt qualities of experience. James went far beyond qualia.

James's gift, Klein says, is "his precision in describing how imprecise the stuff of the mind is." Pollan reads the passage he loves, on how the objects of our thoughts can never be disentangled from what James variously called their "auras, halos, accentuations, associations, effusions, feeling of tendency, premonitions, psychic overtones," and Pollan's favorite, the "fringe of unarticulated affinities." The fringe. This is the borderlands of mental experience: sink into a daydream, and what exactly was that, not quite a word, not quite an image. Pollan's read is simply that our mental life is far more intricate, complex, and shadowy than we give it credit for, and that it is in the nature of reductive science to simplify in order to understand. It would be very weird, he says, to start from a Jamesian view of the stream and try to make it scientific. The deeper irony Klein names: consciousness is the most familiar thing to us and yet the most unfamiliar, and the more you attend to it, the more elusive it becomes. Meditators learn this fast. You quickly realize you have thoughts you are not thinking and images you did not conjure, popping in on the verge of sleep. The idea of thoughts thinking themselves is bizarre to most people, and Pollan's conclusion is that the poets and novelists are further along than the scientists, which is why the book turns toward literature later for a subtler grasp of thought.

THE BRAIN neurons, electrodes 90% runs unconscious homeostasis, perception measurable, physical objective EXPERIENCE the taste of red felt uncertainty "what it is like" private, first person subjective ? the gap Why is any of it conscious at all? Why aren't we just zombies?
Figure 1. The hard problem, the spine of the whole conversation. The brain side is measurable and physical; the experience side is private and felt. Nobody can say how the first produces the second, or why a perfectly efficient unconscious machine ever needed to light up into felt experience at all.

Plants: anesthesia, sleep, and the reanimated world

Klein steers to the chapter on plants, starting with a fact Pollan taught him: you can anesthetize a plant. A group of botanists call themselves "plant neurobiologists," a deliberately provocative name since there are no neurons in plants. They are trolling conventional botanists, Pollan says, and in the field it is fighting words. Klein, delighted, calls them "plant dorks." They run experiments on how intelligent plants are, how they respond and solve problems, and whether they are conscious, though Pollan prefers the word "sentient."

He draws the distinction carefully. Sentience is the base form: the ability to sense your environment, register the valence (is this good or bad), and respond appropriately. Bacteria do it through chemotaxis, recognizing food molecules from poison and acting accordingly. Consciousness, in his usage, is how humans do sentience, with bells and whistles added: the stream of consciousness, self reflection, being aware that we are aware, where most creatures are simply aware. He notes an aside that we recently learned chimps have imagination, shown by experiments where they play a tea party game, pouring an empty pitcher into cups and getting fully into it while clearly knowing it is not real. "Every time we build a wall and say only humans can do this, we find that actually no, other animals can."

The anesthesia experiment: scientists exposed plants to anesthetics that work on humans, including xenon gas, which is bizarre because xenon is inert, with no chemical reaction, yet it still puts us under. A carnivorous plant or the sensitive Mimosa pudica, which collapses its leaves when touched, will, under the gas, enter a period where it appears asleep and then regain its responsiveness. The fact that plants have two states of being, lights on and lights off, is "a very pregnant idea." Klein brings in Thomas Nagel's famous essay What Is It Like to Be a Bat?: the test for consciousness is whether it is like anything to be that creature. So perhaps it is like one thing to be a plant awake and like something else, or nothing, to be one anesthetized. But Klein presses the limit. Nagel's "like something" is internal, to the organism. You could imagine a state change with no inner experience at all. Pollan's own toaster example proves it: plug in a toaster and it toasts, unplug it and it stops, but we do not think it is like anything to be a toaster in either state. Response to stimuli does not by itself imply subjective experience. The difference between plants and toasters, Pollan grants, is complicated, but living things have purpose, directionality, a built in good and bad, where the "care" we attribute to a thermostat is just us projecting; the thermostat does not care whether it is 70 or 65 degrees.

The researcher behind much of this is Stefano Mancuso at the University of Florence, who has also shown that plants sleep, meeting criteria for sleep that Giulio Tononi defined, which we thought belonged only to higher mammals and birds. It turns out even insects sleep. Some take that as evidence of consciousness. Klein, knowing Pollan is a gardener, asks the question everyone reaches for: are we causing plants pain? When we mow the lawn, is the smell of cut grass the scream of suffering? "That'll make you crazy," Pollan says. Klein's sharp rejoinder: people already know we cause pain to cows, pigs, and chickens on an industrial scale and simply do not think about it, so plainly mass suffering does not make humans crazy. Pollan flags the related Silicon Valley anxiety about owing moral consideration to possibly conscious machines, and Klein's suspicion lands hard: there will be a lot of concern about machine welfare right up until the moment it becomes against someone's interest to act on it, and the far future debate (boomer versus doomer) is partly a way to avoid what is right in front of us.

On plant pain specifically, researchers split. One believes yes, we are hurting plants, "but hey, that's just life," because if you give up animals and plants you are down to salt. Mancuso disagrees: pain would not be adaptive to a creature that cannot run away. The central fact about plants is that they are sessile, rooted, stuck in place, which dictates everything, including why their language is biochemical. They produce chemicals to defend, intoxicate, and attract. They are aware of being eaten and often do not mind; grasses benefit from grazing, and fruits and nuts are gifts plants are happy to hand to mammals. Pollan does not worry about pruning his plants, which respond with new growth, joking that he goes through plenty of things that make him grow that he does not enjoy either.

Psychedelics, animism, and plant intelligences

Some of the book grew out of Pollan's experiences with psychedelic mushrooms, which, he concedes preemptively to the letter writers, are not plants. A common psychedelic experience is a new openness to animism, the sense that the world is far more alive than it seems in normal times. Animism, Pollan notes, is close to our species default: traditional cultures the world over hold that a spirit infuses living things, and also rocks, cliffs, sky, clouds. Most children are animists until school knocks it out of them. We live inside an anomalous "bubble of Western scientific materialism," and push in almost any direction, travel, a psychedelic experience, and questions about it reopen. He came out of the plant research, not the trips, with a genuine sense that the world is more alive than he had thought.

Klein raises something he has noticed from psychedelic circles: people who work with plant psychedelics over long periods, mushrooms, iboga, ayahuasca, tend to come to believe they are communing with plant or spiritual intelligences, a sense of "something on the other side," whereas with synthetic psychedelics like LSD or ketamine nobody leaves believing there is an LSD spirit on the line. Pollan agrees, especially for ayahuasca, a brew of two plants where neither alone has much effect. Ask the ayahuasqueros how anyone discovered that obscure recipe and they say, sincerely, "the plants taught me." Western science does not know how to listen to that; it sounds ridiculous. But Pollan: "if I came out anywhere on this whole book, it's that my mind is much more open than it was to a lot of weird stuff, just because the normal stuff hasn't really panned out that well." Why would plant based psychedelics do this more than synthetic ones? He credits set and setting, the idea Timothy Leary is known for, that the experience is shaped profoundly by physical setting and mindset. Plant based brews come wrapped in jungle imagery, leopards and vines. Does he buy the shamans? No, "but there's 5 percent of me that was like, OK, maybe. I've entered this never say never realm with this research."

Why consciousness evolved: the social animal and the zombie problem

Klein turns to the mainstream story: as life grows more complex, conscious experience escalates to help organisms achieve goals; consciousness is adaptive, built by evolutionary pressure. Pollan backs up to set the table. At least 90 percent of what your brain does, you are not aware of: monitoring the body, maintaining homeostasis, processing peripheral vision, smell, touch, all without conscious awareness. If this automatic machine is so good, why does any of it become conscious at all? That is the heart of the hard problem. Why aren't we just zombies? Wouldn't that be simpler?

The leading answer, which Pollan calls a persuasive "just so story," is complexity. You can automate behavior up to a point, but for us that point is social life. We are fundamentally social beings, dependent on others, with an unusually long stretch of helpless infancy. Social life cannot be automated; it is too complex. You need to anticipate what someone will say and how a remark will land, which is theory of mind, the ability to imagine your way into other people, the basis of compassion. Creatures that could imagine what was going on in another's head did better than those who could not. Pollan finds it persuasive. Klein raises a puzzle: a baby or one year old is intensely socially dependent and clearly has a vivid, in fact more intense consciousness than an adult, because the adult is far better at filtering information. The theory implies consciousness gets richer as you grow more goal directed, yet experience plainly narrows as you become more goal directed. Pollan agrees you could argue young children are more conscious than adults, "almost inarguable," and that we prune consciousness down as we age the way we prune so much else in the brain.

Lantern versus spotlight

This is where Alison Gopnik, the developmental psychologist at Berkeley, enters with a frame Pollan found powerful. Her first advice to him: never forget that the people who work on consciousness are not typical in their consciousness. They can sit in a chair and read for hours and think out problems, an extreme version of what she calls "professor consciousness," pure spotlight. She contrasts it with children's "lantern consciousness." Instead of one beam of attention fixed on a single object, the child takes in information from all 360 degrees. It looks undisciplined and unfocused, and it is why some kids cannot sit still in school; they are still flooded from every side. But it lets them solve problems adults cannot, think outside the box, do more divergent thinking. As we age we narrow the focus, which lets us get things done, put on our shoes efficiently, host a podcast, but it means putting on blinders. There is a trade off. And psychedelics, Gopnik says, return us to lantern mode. When she first tried LSD, not until her 60s, she realized "this is how the kids are thinking. They're tripping all the time." Her line: "just have tea with a four year old and you'll see."

LANTERN · the child 360 degrees · divergent · creative SPOTLIGHT · the adult one beam · focused · gets things done
Figure 2. Gopnik's distinction. The child's lantern floods awareness in every direction, undisciplined but divergent and creative. The adult's spotlight locks onto one object, efficient and goal directed but wearing blinders. Psychedelics, she found, return the adult to the lantern.

Consciousness as felt uncertainty

Klein names a theory he says he has thought about more than any other in the book: consciousness as "felt uncertainty." Beautiful, he says, "although in practice I find it very unpleasant." The phrase comes from Mark Solms, a neuroscientist and psychoanalyst in South Africa, author of The Hidden Spring. Solms's theory: consciousness arises when you cannot automate things, specifically when you face competing needs. Say you are both hungry and tired and must decide which to privilege; that takes decision making, and consciousness opens a space to resolve the uncertainty. If everything were predictable, with a neat algorithm for every contingency, you would not need consciousness. But life is full of uncertainty, and that is where consciousness shows up.

Klein finds it half true and half wrong. True, because his own mind is drawn to uncertainty: it ruminates over whatever he is most emotionally uncertain about, not always the useful uncertainties. But two problems. First, the child or the adult on psychedelics is not drawn to uncertainty in the same way; psychedelic consciousness is much more about experience, where uncertainty in Klein's mind is spotlighted, less experiential, a distraction from experience. Pollan grants it is a good point he had not thought hard about, and reaches for pluralism: we should be "pluralists of consciousness," because there are many kinds, psychedelic consciousness, James's mystical forms, everyday spotlight consciousness, the consciousness of a meditator, the peculiar consciousness of writing. We carry a toolkit.

Consciousness lives in the body

The second problem with "felt uncertainty" sets up the conversation's emotional center: felt where? We treat consciousness as a thing happening in the mind, but Pollan calls his biggest discovery the realization, for "someone who lives in his head most of the time," of how important the body is to being conscious. We identify with our heads, maybe because the eyes are there. But consciousness probably arises with feelings first, starting with hunger and itchiness, only later getting filtered up into the cortex to become the complicated thinking we pride ourselves on. Feelings are how the body talks to the brain, and "the brain exists to keep the body alive, not the other way around." We are not just a support system for three pounds of tofu in our heads. These bodily feelings are the beginning of conscious experience, and without them, it is questionable you would have consciousness at all.

Klein agrees consciousness is an interplay of both: he feels uncertainty in his solar plexus and thinks about it in his brain. Where do you feel moral disgust? In your belly. Pollan recounts the ginger experiment: subjects given ginger before being shown a morally distasteful image were less disgusted, because the ginger settled their stomachs. Moral disgust is channeled through the gut. This has large implications for AI consciousness, because feelings are not just signals or bits of information; they are something more somatic, and it is hard to imagine how a computer gets there. Crucially, "feelings have no weight if you don't have a vulnerability, if you don't have the ability to suffer and perhaps be mortal." Otherwise a feeling is just more information.

Then Klein narrates something happening live. Mid conversation he had written himself a note to come back to a section because it was good, and he realized that what triggered the note was not a thought but a body signal: his skin got pricklier, a heightened sensitivity, an alert to his mind to pay attention. His body has reactions and his mind then has to interpret why. Pollan ties this to James again: feelings, emotions, thoughts. Emotions are the physical manifestation; James held that emotion starts in the body, anger begins with a racing heart, and the brain then interprets why the heart is racing, deciding maybe it is fear. The brain is constantly interpreting messages from a body that is feeling on its own, reacting to its environment a million ways. This overturns how you think about digitizing or automating consciousness. If feelings come first, and feelings are embodied, then the brain in a vat does not work, and neither does the transhumanist dream of downloading consciousness onto a machine: you are not going to have a body, so how would that work?

Klein extends it into practical wisdom. If you walk into the self improvement world asking "how do I get smarter," the answer is always train your mind, study, read, journal, with almost nothing about deepening the connection between mind and body. As his own work has become more creative, he has come to think that is a mistake; a huge amount of what he has had to get better at is paying attention to his body so his mind can do something with signals he does not control. We misinterpret them: a hungry child reads hunger as frustration or anger, and we all learn over time to interpret what the body says. Where do adults learn it? Meditation a little, body scans. Pollan invokes Antonio Damasio's 1994 Descartes' Error, which showed that feelings and emotions belong in decision making and that people who could not experience emotion made worse decisions; Damasio rehabilitated feeling in brain science after centuries of drumming it out. Pollan's cheeky hypothesis for why: maybe the kinds of people who do this research are just really out of touch with their bodies. "I'll be hearing from some of them," he adds.

The villain of the embodiment story is Descartes. Klein recalls the philosopher who did not believe animals could feel pain, seeing them as functionally robotic, which helped justify the vivisection of live animals. Descartes was so convinced of his own idea, the monopoly of human consciousness ("I think, therefore I am"), that when animals screamed he heard not suffering but automatic noise. It is, Pollan says, a chilling demonstration of the power of an idea to override our feelings and instincts, to literally change what we see and hear through an ideological lens, and we do it all the time.

A thought, four seconds before you know it

Klein picks up the sequencing, how feelings precede thoughts, with a striking study. The scientist is Kalina Christoff, a psychologist whose field is spontaneous thought: daydreams, mind wandering, creative thinking, flow. She is interested in how things cross from the unconscious into conscious awareness. She works with trained meditators, people with 10,000 hours of practice, puts them in an fMRI, and gives them a button to press the instant a thought intrudes, because even expert meditators get interrupted; her lesson, very freeing to people, is that the mind cannot be controlled. When subjects pressed the button, she looked back at activity in the hippocampus, a source of memories, and found it took roughly four seconds between the hippocampus lighting up and the person becoming aware of the thought. Four seconds, an eon in brain time. What is happening in those four seconds for a thought to transit from unconscious to conscious, and why so long? She does not know.

One candidate explanation is global workspace theory: thoughts compete for access to conscious awareness in a Darwinian process, and only the most salient wins entry to the "workspace," from which it is broadcast to the whole brain. Pollan's objection: a lot of trivial stuff somehow gets through, so the salience story is incomplete. Klein has a deeper allergy to the theory, calling the name "bloodless and built on personal computers in 1998, productivity ideas." But the underlying picture, that something in the mind runs a process deciding what enters the spotlight, rings true. Genuinely shocking events (a car accident beside you) shortcut straight in, but moment to moment there is a competition, and the more aware Klein is of it, the less in control he feels, "one of the great and slightly terrifying lessons." The question of the unconscious, the factory producing the thoughts and the process deciding what to put on the front shelves, does not feel mild to him.

The two of them turn it into a meditation on why we attend to what we attend to. Klein: if he could talk to the algorithm in his mind the way you can now tell Claude how to behave, he would change it, worry less about interpersonal conflict, spend less time wondering whether people are mad at him. Pollan reframes it as overapplied rules. Klein's biggest complaint is that he thinks too much about relational stress, but he was bullied in school, and being out of joint in relationships can genuinely harm you, so it is easy to see how a mind would overlearn the rule "scan for relational threat at all times." Something happens over a lifetime, not the same in all people, shaped by experience: people who grew up in famine store more food when older. And it is driven by success, not pleasure; the mind learns algorithms that promote problem solving and keep the peace even when they do not feel good. "Our minds are invested in our success, not our pleasure." Meditation, like psychedelics, reveals how strange our minds are and how little volition is really involved; we think we are calling the shots but to a remarkable extent we are not. There is a classic meditation exercise: look in your brain for who is thinking those thoughts, who is feeling those feelings, and you will not find anybody.

The wandering mind and the economics of attention

Between the unconscious and the goal directed sits the wandering mind, whose role, Klein argues, we have come to diminish. Christoff studies it; the precondition is boredom, "I've got nothing to do," and suddenly you are off daydreaming. She treats it as an important, understudied part of life precisely because it is not "productive," and almost all of psychology has gone into productive thought. She sees it as a space of creativity; a great deal of creative thinking comes out of mind wandering and daydreaming, something novelists do constantly, and she argues we have lost it, our interiority crowded out by technological distraction.

Klein pushes back on calling it unproductive: he thinks it is very productive, just by a different definition. The biggest barrier to his own true productivity, doing better with the same resources, is that he does not spend enough time letting his mind wander. His most creatively important moments come when he thought he was taking a break, on a walk, not driving his mind into the ground flicking through web pages while too tired to absorb anything, and then the insight arrives; the spotlight's blinders get in the way, and wandering opens them. Pollan agrees, but channels Christoff's point that "nobody wants mind wandering workers; the capitalists want us to be spotlight consciousness." Her own example: her job right now is to grade blue book exams, but her real life project is making sense of her life, and she would be better off taking a walk. There is a tension between what the economy counts as productive thought and what is emotionally productive, or what the economy should count as productive if it were smarter; you cannot quantify it hour to hour.

Klein describes his single most creative mind state: reading something on paper with no screens around, when his mind becomes highly associational. He looks up with ideas, often not about the book at all, the book a scaffolding for a certain quality of attention. It is achieved most easily on airplanes, where there are no distractions, and never with a screen in view. Pollan asks, do you have a pencil in your hand? Yes. The lesson: if we wanted humans to be more creative, much of our received wisdom is wrong. We would put people more in touch with their bodies and teach them to find states of open association and mind wandering, putting themselves in the way of inspiration because it is not controllable the way we wish. Christoff edited The Oxford Handbook of Spontaneous Thought, and its history shows that wildly creative composers and novelists often worked only four or five hours a day and spent the rest unstructured, wandering, walking. Everyone knows the link between walking and breaking through a stuck problem. But phones and social media keep us from looking up, from making associations, because scrolling leaves no time for association, just hit after hit, shrinking the very space of creativity, and the algorithms are sophisticated and know how our minds work. When is Pollan most creative? Walking the Berkeley Hills, though he admits that half the time he fills his head with AirPods and a novel or a podcast, and has to remember to take them out and listen to what is around him. Time in nature, off all media, he calls a hygienic space for consciousness.

To the far edge: idealism and panpsychism

As the book widens to less goal oriented theories, Klein notes two things Pollan tracks: how many consciousness scientists are now dabbling in psychedelics, and how those experiences are upending their theories. The phenomenon is partly selection bias, Pollan jokes, people know they can tell him about their trips, but it is striking, "the felt experience of truth on something" hitting scientists who until that moment accepted only what they could prove. They know they ingested a chemical, and yet the experience was so authoritative they will not dismiss it.

The exemplar is Christof Koch, a prominent researcher who began the modern quest with Francis Crick in the late 1980s and early 1990s and who has changed his mind profoundly several times, rare in a field where, per the saying, "science changes one funeral at a time." Koch, the prototypical brain guy who ran the Allen Institute in Seattle and spent decades with neurons and electrodes assuming consciousness lived in the brain, went to Brazil for a series of ayahuasca experiences and had an experience of "mind at large," a phrase from Aldous Huxley's The Doors of Perception, in which consciousness seemed to be outside his brain. When Klein challenged him that it was just a drug experience, Koch would not take that as disproof or even cause for skepticism. He reached for the Mary's Room thought experiment: a scientist who knows everything physical about color but has lived in a black and white world steps out and experiences color for the first time. What has been added to her knowledge? Koch said, "I was like Mary," and nobody could convince him back in "the box of scientific materialism" that it had not happened; it was as sure as anything in his life. Now he explores idealism.

What is idealism? The philosophy that consciousness is a universal field and precedes matter. We automatically assume matter is primary, that everything reduces to matter and energy. Idealism says no, start with consciousness; matter comes second. The argument against materialism, Pollan says, is the one running through the whole hour: there is nothing we know with more certainty than consciousness, it is the thing known directly, while everything else is inferred through it. So why do we privilege the thing we infer (matter) over the thing we know (consciousness)? "Maybe a smarter person than me knows there's a logical fallacy there. I don't see where it is." Related is the idea Klein says he first heard from Pollan: the mind as an antenna or radio receiver, not generating consciousness but receiving and interpreting a signal. Break the TV and it stops working, but the waves it was absorbing are not gone, and you should not look inside the TV set for the weatherman. The brain is critical, and damaging or anesthetizing it damages consciousness, but in a different role. The unsettling point: the evidence works the same either way, generate or channel; it is hard to argue one is better. We simply stipulate that the brain generates consciousness as an emergent property, which "sounds really scientific, but if you press, it's just abracadabra." It does not actually explain anything.

The difference between idealism and panpsychism: panpsychism holds that every particle carries a quantum of consciousness, of psyche. Just as 200 years ago we added electromagnetism to the stock of what reality contains, we should add psyche as another fundamental thing, a kind of new materialism with something extra. It is a big price, adding something entirely new to the stock of reality, but it solves where consciousness comes from: everywhere, it was already here. These ideas sounded crazy to Pollan at first, until he saw that materialism has hit a wall in consciousness studies, a gap it cannot cross from a good theory like workspace theory to the question "who is receiving that broadcast?" The opposite camp, illusionism, says consciousness is just an illusion, but an illusion is itself a conscious experience, so what about the subject? "That's where everybody starts waving their hands." Pressed on which view he finds plausible, Pollan admits he does not know, leaning a little toward brain as radio receiver, "weird to spend five years on a book and come to an answer like that," but as he warns in the book, you may know less at the end than the beginning and a lot of other things besides.

PositionWhat is fundamentalWhere consciousness comes fromThe hard part
Physicalism / materialismMatter and energyAn emergent property of complex brainsCannot say how matter makes felt experience
Global workspaceBrain processesSalient thoughts win a competition, get broadcastWho or what receives the broadcast?
IllusionismMatter; experience is a trickConsciousness is an illusionAn illusion is itself a conscious experience
PanpsychismMatter plus psycheEverywhere; it was already hereAdds a whole new ingredient to reality
IdealismConsciousnessPrimary; matter comes secondHow does one mind become many separate selves?
Figure 3. The map of positions Pollan toured over five years, from the mainstream materialism that "hit a wall" to the antenna theories he ended up unable to rule out. Every row buys an answer to one question at the cost of another, which is why the conversation lands on wonder rather than a verdict.

The Copernican moment, sovereignty, and the politics of attention

Klein offers his book tour theory: he had told Pollan that How to Change Your Mind was a book about the mind posing as a book about psychedelics, and that this new one is a book about psychedelics posing as a book about the mind. It keeps happening: not just Koch, but a scientist building a robot to make consciousness who takes 5-MeO-DMT and realizes everything is love, plus Pollan's mushrooms, plus many people noting offhandedly that they too have had experiences. There is a larger ontological shock here than the stylized "you ingested a chemical, of course you had a chemical experience," which Pollan calls totally unsatisfying. Part of the interest in psychedelics, he says, is taking back our consciousness: the day you do one is not a day on your phone, it is a day you have fenced off, done with intention, reclaiming and exploring your own mind. He returns to Huxley's transmission theory, which Huxley got from Henri Bergson: in normal times the brain admits only the trickle we need to get through the day, and psychedelics open what Huxley called the "reducing valve" so more consciousness gets in, the mind at large, but also more sensory and bodily information, and crucially "it's ours, it's mine."

Pollan was surprised how interested people are in consciousness, having expected an academic topic. Two things changed it. First, "we feel our consciousnesses are just full of bullshit right now," full of stuff we do not want to be thinking about, our minds under pressure from everyday life, capitalism, the need to succeed financially, and a president who intrudes on our consciousness more of the day than any previous one; take phones away from kids and they are actually grateful. So there is a desire for sovereignty over our own minds. Second, we are entering what Pollan calls a Copernican moment, a possible redefinition of what it means to be human. On one side, animals and even plants turning out to be conscious, eroding what we thought was our special thing; on the other, machines that will be smarter than we are, that many will believe (whether or not it is true) are conscious and act on that basis. Who are we if we are not the smartest, most conscious being? Are we more like the animals who can feel and die and suffer, or more like the thinking machines who speak our language?

This flows into "consciousness sovereignty" and "consciousness hygiene." Pollan has been arguing we should protect the precious space of interiority, a place of mental freedom, while acknowledging that for ruminators, going there does not feel good, and he is a ruminator himself, prone to circular, spiraling thought that keeps you focused without making progress. Still, you can take some control. Meditation is one great way, as challenging as it is: "here's my mind, I'm with my mind, it might be painful, but no one is telling me what to think." We spend so much time thinking the thoughts, rants, and obsessions of other people. Meditation puts a fence around consciousness; you put down the phone, keep a pad to dump the to do items, and when it works there is great pleasure in watching the show go by. (And yes, Pollan insists, contradicting Hurlburt, he does have an internal life.)

Klein names the harder truth: people often do not like being put in a room with their own consciousness, citing the old line that much of the world's trouble comes from man's inability to sit in a room by himself. He recalls a period of heavy meditation when he only got more upset, until the teacher Will Kabat-Zinn said something he never forgot: "so you're not enjoying the process of insight." Klein turns it on the president, who he thinks cannot sit alone with himself without constant distraction and ego reinforcement, a complicated relationship with his own consciousness. One of the great lies about meditation is that it is peaceful; in fact it is often agitating, and it is much more peaceful to distract ourselves. We spend a lot of time anesthetizing ourselves, and there is a generative kind of boredom we no longer experience because we have so many ways to fill the space, a productive unproductivity we have given up but could easily reclaim. Hygiene here means keeping your consciousness from being polluted, from letting others dictate its contents.

Is that consciousness or attention? Closely related, Pollan says: attention is a subset of consciousness, and attachment is another part, emotional attachment, which is now what the companies are going for with chatbots, having already won our attention. He has met people building "attentional liberation movements," like Friends of Attention, and people creating schools around it, a burbling sense that attentional freedom is increasingly a political and structural question. Klein frames attention as a collective resource, a shared capacity being exhausted by figures like Trump and by algorithmic media; a society with diminished, irritable, distracted attention is politically different, easier to manipulate and angrier. The more we allow these intrusions, the less consciousness is a space of freedom, and the more you give that up the more you think other people's thoughts and the more vulnerable you are to lies; nurture your own mind and you are likelier to think independently. How do you think independently while scrolling? You react, but you are not setting the agenda, an algorithm is. Klein notes it is the nature of capitalism to intrude on ever more of our time, citing the Netflix line, Reed Hastings' years ago, that the company's primary competitor is sleep, "one of the more dystopic things I've heard a CEO say." They are competing with the part of our consciousness that wants to think its own thoughts, because there is more money in us thinking theirs.

The cave, and the don't know mind

The coda, Klein's favorite chapter, is Pollan's time with Joan Halifax, the Zen teacher who tells him she has "divested herself from all meaning," and who, rather than granting interviews, sends him to a cave. Pollan had admired her, had been on a panel with her; she has deep psychedelic history, having been married to Stanislav Grof and administered large doses of LSD to the dying in the 1970s, one of the better applications of psychedelics, easing terminal cancer patients. Pollan was working on the chapter about the self and the Buddhist idea that the self is an illusion, which he understands intellectually yet finds the self still stubbornly operating in his life. Halifax had described her Upaya retreat center in Santa Fe as "a factory for the deconstruction of selves," so he went to get deconstructed.

After days with the monks, she said they should go up to the retreat and he would stay in the cave. Not his thing, he is not a camper, but she promised "a five star cave." Past a 25 mile dirt road and a half mile hike, cut into a hillside with a glass door overlooking a meadow, no electricity, no running water, he stayed three or four days while she kept ducking his interviews, finally saying she had divested from meaning. Disaster for an interviewing journalist, but she wanted him to have an experience instead, and he did. Like a long meditation retreat, it edged toward the psychedelic: alone, the borders of self attenuate and grow porous, and you realize how much our identity as selves is a social identity, reinforced by everyone who treats us like a self. Alone in the middle of nowhere with no media, it softens. Meditating for hours, he found life itself became a meditation, with more profound meditations chopping wood and sweeping out the cave than sitting on the platform.

It shifted his thinking. He had been caught in a "very Western, very male" frame of problem and solution, the hard problem of consciousness needing to be solved, narrowing his attention onto that one question for five years. In the cave he realized there is the problem of attention, but also the simple fact of it, and the fact is "so marvelous and so astonishing and mysterious," so why was he not paying more attention to that, being more present? One night, going out to pee under a new moon with no light pollution, the vault of stars was more numerous and gorgeous than ever, and it was not "out there" but reaching all the way down to him, occupying the same intergalactic blanket. All his learned ways of looking at the sky, the brain as a prediction machine running concepts and frames, fell away, leaving just "me, stars, space." It shifted him from solving a problem to being within one.

Klein, who earlier said the book adds wonder even as it subtracts certainty, confesses that going through the theories, integrated information theory and the rest, he kept thinking how sad he would be if any of them were true. If you could prove global workspace theory was the truth of consciousness, or prove consciousness merely evolved as a byproduct for reducing uncertainty, he would hate it. Pollan's reply, a lesson from Halifax and from his wife Judith, an artist, who lectured him that "not knowing has its own power." It is the Zen idea of cultivating the don't know mind. Not knowing opens you in a way that knowing closes you down. We are frustrated with not knowing, but it is our existential predicament about many things, and the long work is getting comfortable with it: more wonder in the face of mystery. That, Klein says, is the place to end, before the closing question.

Key takeaways

Chapters

0:00:00 Intro 0:01:22 The beeper experiment 0:06:08 William James 0:10:48 Plant sentience 0:21:54 Psychedelics and animism 0:26:20 Why Consciousness Evolved 0:28:51 Lantern vs. spotlight consciousness 0:31:42 Consciousness is "felt uncertainty" 0:44:56 Thoughts before awareness 0:46:01 Global Workspace Theory 0:53:38 Mind-wandering and creativity 1:03:22 Idealism and panpsychism 1:12:05 Consciousness sovereignty 1:18:27 Attentional liberation 1:21:15 The Cave 1:28:20 Book recommendations

Notable quotes

"Here is the amazing thing, the deep paradox of consciousness. It is the only thing we truly know, the only thing we have certain actual firsthand experience of, and yet we don't understand it at all." Ezra Klein, 0:00:15

"Many of our thoughts are these wisps of mentation." Michael Pollan, 0:02:49, on the texture James called gossamer.

"The more I thought about consciousness, the more elusive the phenomenon becomes." Michael Pollan, 0:06:40

"Every time we build a wall and say only humans can do this, we find that actually no, other animals can." Michael Pollan, 0:08:50, on chimp imagination.

"It does not make human beings crazy to cause mass pain to living things on an industrial scale." Ezra Klein, 0:11:29, turning the plant pain question back on factory farming.

"The plants taught me, and they will mean it. And we don't know, through the lens of Western science, how to listen to that." Michael Pollan, 0:16:20, on ayahuasqueros.

"You have spotlight." Ezra Klein to Pollan, on adult consciousness, against the child's lantern, around 0:18:51.

"The brain exists to keep the body alive, not the other way around. We're not just a support system for this amazing three pounds of tofu in our heads." Michael Pollan, 0:23:30

"Feelings have no weight if you don't have a vulnerability, if you don't have the ability to suffer and perhaps be mortal. Otherwise a feeling is just more information." Michael Pollan, 0:24:45, on why machines may not feel.

"Our minds are invested in our success, not our pleasure." Michael Pollan, 0:50:11

"Look in your brain for who's thinking those thoughts, who's feeling those feelings, and you won't find anybody." Michael Pollan, 0:50:48, the meditation exercise.

"The capitalists want us to be spotlight consciousness." Michael Pollan, 0:55:40, on why mind wandering is called unproductive.

"You shouldn't look in the TV set for the weatherman." Michael Pollan, 1:09:30, on the brain as a receiver, not a generator, of consciousness.

"Consciousness is an emergent property of the brain, which sounds really scientific, but if you press, it's just abracadabra. It doesn't really explain anything." Michael Pollan, 1:01:50

"We're competing with your dream time." Reed Hastings of Netflix, quoted by Klein, 1:19:00, on sleep as the rival.

"I've divested a meaning." Joan Halifax, quoted by Pollan, 1:25:30, the Zen teacher refusing the interview.

"Not knowing opens you in a way that knowing closes you down." Michael Pollan, paraphrasing his wife Judith and the don't know mind, 1:27:40

Resources mentioned

Where it stands

This is an interview, so the page reconstructs what two careful thinkers actually say, and it is worth marking what is settled science and what is open. The hard problem of consciousness is genuinely unsolved and recognized as such across philosophy and neuroscience; that part is not fringe. The embodiment thread (feelings as bodily, Damasio's somatic marker work) is mainstream and well supported. The evolutionary and social accounts, plus global workspace theory and integrated information theory, are live, respected, and contested research programs, not consensus truths, which Pollan flags by calling them "just so stories" where appropriate. The far edge, idealism, panpsychism, the brain as a radio receiver, is taken seriously by a minority of serious researchers (Koch's recent turn is real) but remains a minority view that most working scientists reject; Pollan is candid that he leans toward it on intuition while admitting he cannot find the flaw in materialism's critics, which is honest rather than conclusive. The plant sentience claims are real experiments under real dispute; "plant neurobiology" is a contested label by design. Treat the psychedelic testimony as exactly what it is, sincere first person reports that shifted scientists' priors, not as proof of any metaphysics. The strongest, most defensible takeaway is also the one the conversation ends on: that attention is a finite, shared, and increasingly contested resource, and that cultivating a "don't know mind" is a reasonable stance toward a question this far from closed.

Full transcript
Here is the amazing thing, the deep paradox of consciousness. It is the only thing we truly know. The only thing we have certain actual firsthand experience of. And yet we don’t understand it at all. We don’t know what it’s made of. We don’t know how it works. We don’t know why it exists. And the closer we look at it, the weirder consciousness gets. The more we try to describe it, the more our language begins to fail. I find that so delightful that something so close can remain so mysterious, that such a central question about the universe is happening inside of us all of the time. Now, that’s not to say we haven’t tried to understand it, or that we haven’t learned a lot from those efforts. In his new book, "A World Appears: A Journey Into Consciousness," the science writer Michael Pollan takes a tour of those efforts, of those theories, of those experiments, of those psychedelic trips and meditation retreats, and he keeps finding himself in stranger and stranger territory deeper inside the mystery. So I want to have him on to talk about it. As always, my email [email protected]. Michael Pollan, welcome back to the show. Thank you. Good to be back. So I wanted to begin with an experiment that you participated in during the reporting of this book, where you wore a beeper and tried to record what was going on in your mind when that beeper went off. What did you learn from that. When’s the beeper going to go off? So the experiment was there’s a psychologist at University of Nevada, Las Vegas named Russell Hurlburt, and he’s been sampling inner experience, as he calls it, for 50 years. And the way he does it is he equips you with a beeper. You wear this thing in your ear, it emits a very sharp beep. Exactly what it was and when it was. There’s no reaching for your phone or any doubt about what you’re dealing with. And then you’re supposed to write down what you were thinking at that very moment, and then you collect a day’s worth of beeps, which could be five or six beeps, and you never know when it’s going to go off. It’s got various kind of observer effect problems. You wonder, God, if the beeper went off now, what would I have to say. Oh, that would really be embarrassing. So you’re there is this self-consciousness, but you forget about it over the course of the day. And I was struck by how banal my beeps were. I mean, I would be like the one I describe in the book is I’m waiting on line at a bakery and I’m deciding, should I buy a roll or use the heel of bread I have at home to make a sandwich for lunch? This is not profound stuff. And then he interrogates you about them to try to make sense of it and help you become a better student of what’s going on in your own mind. Because it turns out very often we don’t know what we’re thinking. At least I didn’t know what I was thinking. And he would say, now, did you speak that or did you hear that spoken? I was like, I have no idea. Was it in language or was it in image? And I said, well, there was sort of an image. It was kind of very unspecific, kind of an emoji of a roll. Not a real roll. And he’d take you through it. And it was an incredibly challenging process. I want to stay on that for a second. I would say that a lot of thoughts I have, if you push me there, the feeling of a thought, I know it’s there, but it’s not spoken. I’m not looking at lettering on the projector screen of my brain. It’s something less than a fully formed thought. This word "thought" implies a kind of roundedness to the thing that just doesn’t exist. And many of our thoughts are these wisps of mentation. That I love that "gossamer wisps of mentation" is how you put it in the book Yeah and then also, many people think in totally uncivilized thoughts, which I don’t really understand what those would be if they’re not words and not images. But his finding after 50 years of this is that we think in very different ways. He roasts you at the end of the experiment. Oh man, you finish this up and he says that you are low on inner mental experience. Yeah I didn’t know how to take this. I mean, we all think we have a lively inner life, but absence of one? It never occurred to me that raises a question for me, which is to what degree was what you were recording in this experiment different than your perception of how your mental life feels to you in a day. Very different. And so what was the difference and what do you make of it. I just assumed I had a little more going on than he thought I had. But part of the reason he came to that conclusion is I argued with him a lot. I found the whole idea of separating thoughts into these discrete chunks absolutely impossible. When I was on that bakery waiting in line. There was the smell of baked goods and cheese. They sell cheese at this place. There was the image of this woman in front of me who had this very loud plaid skirt on that was kind of hideous. There was my awareness of the other people there. Did I recognize anybody? I often bump into people I know here. My thoughts were so inter infected by one another. One thought coloring the next. And he just kept drilling down until I absolutely would separate all that. But I had read a lot of William James at this point. He’s got this amazing essay on the stream of consciousness, and he’s an incredibly acute observer of the nuance and subtlety of our thoughts. And he talks about things like the unarticulated affinity between two thoughts, or how one thought colors the next and then the other, and that it is a stream and you can’t pull anything out of the stream without completely disturbing it. Let’s talk about William James, because he always ends up the godfather, the leading source of metaphor in any book like this. Who is he? So William James is the father of psychology in America. He is now regarded more as a philosopher. And that’s because psychology is so empirical now. He was really I don’t know if he used this word, but he acted like wrote like a phenomenologist, which is to say about the lived experience of thought. And I first got acquainted with him when I was working on how to change your mind, because he’d written the varieties of religious experience, and there’s a fantastic chapter there on mystical experience. And he experimented with drugs himself to look at these kind of outer reaches of consciousness. He’s kind of unreadable, yet he’s also a great writer at the same time. There’s something about his sentences that are so long and intricate that he loses a modern reader about 80 percent of the way to the period, at least me. But the observations are just so refined and they put to shame all the scientists working on consciousness. I mean, I hate to say that because I respect a lot of them, but that he’s onto the subtlety of mental And they, of course, are reducing it to fairly simple things like visual perception or qualia, which is their word for quality qualities of experience. He goes so far beyond qualia. So I had a head full of James when I was doing this experiment, and it seemed to keep doing violence to that. I was. I recognized my thinking more in James than in Hurlbert’s questions. One thing I love about James is his precision in describing how imprecise the stuff of the mind is, and mind stuff is a word. A phrase of his, yeah, I want to quote you quoting him here because I love this. You’re writing. "The objects of our thoughts can never be completely disentangled from what James variously calls their auras, halos, accentuations, associations, effusions, feeling of tendency, premonitions, psychic overtones." And you say, perhaps my favorite "fringe of unarticulated affinities." Yeah, the fringe. It’s so beautiful. But talk to me a bit about that because I do think that I do a meditation often where you note what is going on in your attention and your thoughts and even within thoughts you note. Did I hear that? Did I see that? Did I feel that? And it always also seems to me to be doing a kind of violence. I’ll sink into a dream a little bit. And what was that exactly. It wasn’t quite a word. It wasn’t quite a visual. All this stuff that you just quoted. Tell me a little bit about that. The borderlands of mental experience. I think it’s just a reminder that our mental life is just far more intricate, complex, and shadowy than we give it credit for. It’s in the nature of reductive science to simplify things in order to better understand them. It’d be very weird to start from a Jamesian view of the stream of consciousness and try to understand that scientifically. I feel like one of the central questions of your book, and one reason I like the topic of consciousness so much, is that it is the only thing we have actual experience of. It is the most familiar thing to us, and yet actually quite unfamiliar. And I mean, this is one of the great lessons of meditation or psychedelics more unfamiliar the more you attend to it. Yes, that is really interesting. I mean, the more I thought about consciousness, the more elusive the phenomenon becomes. And meditators get acquainted with this pretty quickly. You realize pretty quickly that you have thoughts that you are not thinking. You have images that you haven't conjured, where did they come from? You’re on the verge of sleep or sleepiness and they just pop into your mind. And, this idea of thoughts, thinking themselves is bizarre to most people. But I just think the poets and novelists are further along than the scientists as they often are. And that’s one of the reasons I kind of turned toward literature year later in the book for a more subtle understanding of the thought process. Well, let’s stay with the scientist for a little while. At least. One of the things you tried to do in the book is track their efforts to reduce consciousness to something measurable, and maybe protohuman nonhuman. You have a great chapter on plants, and I guess maybe a place to start with the plants is you taught me something I didn’t which is you can anesthetize a plant. Isn’t that mind blowing? Can you talk a bit about that experiment and what it seems to imply? So there’s a group of scientists, botanists, and they call themselves plant neurobiologists, which is a very tendentious thing to say because there are no neurons involved in plants. They’re trolling more conventional botanists. I think I appreciate when people troll each other in ways that laymen don’t even understand I was like, oh, that seems fine. No, it’s fighting words in the field. O.K, so they’re plant dorks. Plant dorks. Absolute plant dorks. And they do all these experiments to see how intelligent plants are, how much they can respond and solve problems. And they’ve also done experiments to try to determine if they’re conscious or I would use the word sentient is more reasonable, although they will use the word conscious. Do you want to say the difference in your mind between those two words? In my mind, sentience is a kind more base form, basic form of consciousness. It’s what perhaps all living things have. It’s the ability to sense your environment and recognize what’s the valence. Is that a positive or negative thing happening? and then respond appropriately. Bacteria can do this. They have chemotaxis. They can recognize molecules that are food and molecules that are poison and act appropriately. So it’s a very basic form. Consciousness is how humans do sentience. And we’ve added lots of bells and whistles the stream of consciousness self-reflection the fact that we’re aware that we’re aware other most other creatures are just aware. Although we recently learned that chimps have imagination, which is kind of mind blowing. How do we learn that? Experiments they got chimps, as I recall, to play a kind of tea party game as you would play with a kid and they’re pouring an empty pitcher into cups they get completely into the game, and they. And there’s some reason you can tell that they know it’s not real. So they’re imagining this. Every time we build a wall and say, only humans can do this, we find that actually no other animals can. So anesthetized plants. So one of the experiments these guys did was take anesthetics that work on humans, including a really bizarre one called xenon gas. I say it’s bizarre because xenon gas is inert, yet somehow it puts us out if you expose us to the gas. Which is weird because there’s no chemical reaction going on. And if you take a carnivorous plant or a sensitive plant, mimosa pudica, which is the one, the tropical plant, if you touch it, it kind of collapses its leaves and you give it the xenon gas or any number of other anesthetics that work on us. There’ll be a period where they appear to be asleep, and then they’ll regain their ability. So the fact that plants have two states of being is a very pregnant idea. And there’s this at least two states of being at least two states. Two that we’ve identified on and off, right. Lights on, lights off. That to some implies consciousness. There’s the famous definition of Thomas Nagel, who wrote this great essay called "What Is It Like to Be a Bat?" And his test for consciousness is if it is like anything to be a creature, that creature then is conscious. So it is like one thing when the plants are awake and it is like something else when they’re not, or it’s no longer like anything. But the switch in state is very much like consciousness. Let me hold you on that, because as I understand the Thomas Nagel essay, it’s that it is like something to the organism. Yes it’s internal. And so you could imagine a situation where a world in which it is not like anything for the plant to be awake. You give actually an example related to this in the book, where you say when you plug a toaster in Yeah, you threw me off Yeah toast with it. But when you plug it out, we don’t think it is like something different or unlike something for the toaster to be turned off. I don’t think it’s like anything for it to be a toaster. In so in either state, the fact that something has response to stimuli doesn’t necessarily imply it has a subjective experience. That’s true. The difference between plants and toasters is complicated. But living things have a sense of purpose. They have directionality. They have good and bad. Any kind of things like that we give to a thermostat is really just us giving those qualities to the thermostat. The thermostat doesn’t care on its own, whether it’s 70 degrees or 65 degrees. So I don’t think it’s proof of consciousness, but it’s really spooky and interesting that plants can. And this researcher in question, his name is Stefano Mancuso. He’s an Italian researcher at the University of Florence. He’s also shown how plants sleep. They’re like characteristics that mark a creature’s ability to sleep, which we thought only belonged to higher mammals, I guess. Or no birds. Birds sleep too. But we didn’t think really simple creatures slept. It turns out even insects sleep. And Giulio Tononi is the scientist who came up with the criteria for sleep and plants meet I think all of them, which is interesting. And some. And some take that as evidence of consciousness. You’re a gardener. Yeah. Do you think you’re causing plants pain by pruning them? So you’re bringing up the issue that immediately comes to mind when you start hearing about plant consciousness, which is, are we hurting them? When we mow the lawn, is that beautiful scent of freshly mown grass, the scream Yeah the scream suffering? And that’ll make you crazy. A great way to put it. But if you say it’ll make you crazy. But I actually people know we’re causing pain to cows and pigs and chickens and just don’t think about it. Exactly so it turns out it does not make human beings crazy to cause mass pain to living things on an industrial scale. Yeah although there’s all this worry about this in Silicon Valley that our tender hearts should go out to these machines that might be conscious. And we owe moral consideration to the machines. Anyway, I think here’s my suspicion about that because I do think it is possible we’re going to make sentient machines, machines that have some experience of what it is like to be a machine. And I think that you will find there’s a lot of concern about that until the moment it turns out to be against anybody’s interest to act. You would have to do anything about it. And also, they love the conversation about the far future or near far future of whether it’s boomer or doomer view, because it’s a great way not to deal with what’s right in front of us. One of the things that has struck me, and it’s a theme of your book is our ability as human beings to wall off our experience from that of everything else in the world. I forget the great philosopher you’re quoting here, but there is one of them who just doesn’t believe animals can feel pain, sees them as functionally robotic. Well, Descartes. Descartes And that is in part helping to justify vivisections of live animals and rabbits. And it’s just like I have two dogs. I’ve been around some rabbits. The idea that you would believe those animals are not feeling pain, it actually raises a pretty profound for me question about human consciousness and our ability to interpret what we are seeing around what we would like it to be, as opposed to what it is Yeah that and the power of an idea. I mean, he developed this idea that humans had this monopoly I think, therefore I am. In other words, the thing I know is that I’m a conscious being and nobody else has it. No other creature has it. And he was so convinced of his own idea that when these animals screamed sounds that we would have no trouble interpreting as suffering. He didn’t hear it as suffering, he just thought it was automatic noise. And it is hard to believe. And it’s true. I mean, it tells you something about the power of an idea to overcome our feelings, our instincts. But we do this all the time. And he was so wrong about this. It’s not funny, but we see things through an ideological lens, and it shapes what we actually see and hear. And it changed the sound of those screams to him to into meaninglessness. So then what about plants. Are we causing mass suffering to plants? Yeah, and I talked to Stefano Mancuso about this and some other researchers. Some one in particular believes yes, we are causing pain to plants. And his take was but hey, that’s just life. If we don’t eat plants, we’re down to salt, basically. If you give up on animals and plants. Mancuso doesn’t think so. He thinks pain would not be adaptive to a creature that can’t run away. And the big fact about plants, of course, is they’re sessile, they’re stuck in place, they’re rooted, and that dictates everything about them. And it’s the reason why they’re the language in which they work is biochemical. They produce chemicals to protect themselves, to intoxicate, to attract all different kinds of things. So he says, they’re aware that they’re being eaten. They often don’t mind. The grasses actually benefit from being eaten. And then of course, there are all the fruits and nuts that they’re happy to give away to mammals. So I don’t know where I come out on that. I don’t think my plants, when I prune them, I mean, they like being pruned they respond with more growth and new leaves. And so I’m not too worried about that. There are a lot of things I go through that make me grow that I don’t like. I would say it’s been a consistent experience of my life. Well, it’s a short term, long term thing. Perhaps when you cut them with the secateurs that bothers them, but they respond in a really constructive way. There is also another, more complex way plants are operating on this book, which is that some of this book is motivated by experiences you’ve had with psychedelic mushrooms. Which are not exactly plants, but O.K, Fine. You’ll get letters. I’m just saving you the trouble. And you have an experience there that I have heard from many others, which is a kind of openness to animism. Yes that may not have been there before. Yeah, that’s a very common experience on psychedelics. The world seems much more alive than it does in normal times. Animism is very interesting because it’s kind of our default as a species. You go around the world, you look at traditional cultures. They believe that there’s a spirit infusing, especially living things, but also rocks and cliffs and sky and clouds and everything. And most kids are animists till they go to school. And then we knock it out of them. So it’s interesting that we exist in this unanimous bubble of Western scientific materialism. But you, you push in any direction or travel in any direction or have a psychedelic experience and suddenly questions are raised about it. And I think that’s what’s interesting about what these plant neurobiologists are doing. They're returning us to if it’s not full scale animism, it’s reanimated world. And I did come out of this experience not the psychedelic experience, but the research experience of looking at plant consciousness or plant sentience with a sense that the world is more alive than I thought. I was just weighing whether or not I want to ask you this question, but I think I do. Go for it. So something I have noticed from psychedelic circles, which I’m much less plugged into than you are, is people who work with plant psychedelics over long periods of time tend to find themselves or believe themselves into, as working with plant or spiritual intelligences. People who do mushrooms or iboga or ayahuasca. There’s a sense of there being something on the other side in a way that artificial psychedelics, ketamine, LSD. People do not leave believing there’s an LSD spirit on the other end of the phone Yeah and just as somebody who’s one of your previous books was on psychedelics and doing this book, that the reason I think people get pushed towards animism isn’t necessarily the more narrow question of what happens when you anesthetize a plant, but people are having some kind of experience there where they feel there are plant intelligences communicating to them. Oh yeah. Especially on ayahuasca, especially on ayahuasca, which is a plant based. It’s two plants. It’s a brew of two plants. And if you ask most ayahuasqueros How did you, how did anyone ever figure out the recipe. Because it’s so obscure that these two plants cooked together would have this effect, and neither by themselves has any effect or much of any effect. And they’ll tell you, the plants taught me, and they will mean it. And we don’t know through the lens of Western science, how to listen to that. It sounds ridiculous to us. I mean, if I came out anywhere on this whole book, it’s like my mind is much more open than it was to a lot of weird stuff, just because the normal stuff hasn’t really panned out that well. So it’s true. Now, why would the plant based psychedelics be more likely to do this than the chemistry based psychedelics. I think it’s set and setting. Timothy Leary’s great contribution was explaining that the psychedelic experience is shaped profoundly by the physical setting in which it takes place and the mindset, the mental setting that you bring to it. When you’re using a plant based, psychedelic you. I mean, the imagery is all jungle imagery. People see leopards and they see vines. And do you think that’s because set and setting? or because of something in the. So you don’t buy the shamans who tell you we were told this by the plants? No, but there’s 5 percent of me that was like, O.K, maybe. I’m kind of I’ve entered this never say never realm with this research. So certainly the mainstream interpretation of what consciousness is that as life becomes more complex, as unlike plants were moving around, that you have an escalating complexity in conscious experience in order to achieve goals That consciousness is being created through evolutionary pressure. It’s adaptive. It’s adaptive. Yeah one thing you do is go through a couple of the ideas of what it could be adaptive towards Yeah tell me some of them. So I’m going to back up a little bit to make sense of this idea. One of the big questions is your brain, at least 90 percent of what it’s doing you’re not aware It’s doing all this work monitoring your body, maintaining homeostasis. Perceiving things in your environment without you being consciously aware of it. Peripheral vision, smell, scent, touch all these kind of things. So the question then becomes why does any of it, if this automatic machine is such, is so good at what it does, why does any of it become conscious? That’s part of the hard problem of consciousness. Why aren’t we just zombies? Wouldn’t that have been simpler? And the reasons and to some extent, these are evolutionary just so stories. But they’re persuasive that basically you can automate things until you get to a level of complexity. And for us, it’s our social lives, the fact that we are fundamentally social beings, absolutely dependent on other people with a long period of complete dependence for babies and children compared to other species, we need to. Social life cannot be automated. It’s just too complex. So you need to be able to anticipate what I’m likely to say, how a remark is going to land. We call it theory of mind, this idea that we can imagine our way into other people, basis of compassion and things like that. So once we entered this realm of great complexity, automating our responses just wasn’t going to work. And the creatures that had consciousness that could imagine what was going on in another human’s head did better than people who didn’t, and failed to imagine what was going on in someone else’s head. I find that a pretty persuasive theory. I guess one question it raises is you look at a baby or a one-year-old. They are very, very socially dependent. And I think they are clearly having a very intense experience of consciousness, justice a more intense one than I have. My consciousness is much better at filtering out information than theirs is. You have spotlight I have spotlight So I’m curious to hear you talk a bit about that because on the one hand, it feels like that idea would imply consciousness becomes richer as you become more goal directed, but I think it’s quite clear that it becomes narrowed as you become more goal directed Yeah, I think you could make a case that young children are more conscious than we are. I think it’s almost inarguable. And yeah. Which is a kind of interesting thing that we prune consciousness down the way we’re pruning so many things in the brain as we age. But this idea of lantern versus spotlight consciousness I found very powerful. I learned it from Alison Gopnik, who’s a child psychologist, developmental psychologist at Berkeley, and she gave me a lot of good advice as I was embarking on this. The first was, don’t never forget that the kinds of people working on these questions about consciousness are not typical in their consciousness. These are people who can sit-in a chair for a really long time, read books for a really long time, think out problems. They have an extreme version of spotlight consciousness, which she calls professor consciousness, so that was very helpful. She contrasts this with children’s consciousness, lantern consciousness. So instead of having that one degree of attention focused on some object, they’re taking in information from all 360 degrees. It seems very undisciplined, very unfocused. You find it when kids get to school. Some kids can sit there and do it, and a lot of kids can’t because they’re still taking in information from all these sides. It allows them. It’s interesting. It allows them to solve problems that adults can’t solve. They think outside the box. They have more divergent thinking. And then as time goes on, we narrow our focus. It allows us to get a lot done to put on our shoes in a semi efficient manner in our podcasts and but it involves putting these blinders on. So there’s a trade off. And one of the things psychedelics do and Allison made this point to me also is return us to And, she said in an interview with me and to other people, when she first tried LSD, which wasn’t until I think her 60s, she realized, oh, this is how the kids are thinking. They’re tripping all the time. And she said, just have tea with a four-year-old and you’ll see. And there’s a lot of truth to that. I think I want to get at another theory of what consciousness is for, which is I think the language in the book is consciousness is felt uncertainty Yeah isn’t that beautiful. That is very beautiful. Although in practice I find it very unpleasant. But it. What does that mean? So the phrase comes from a scientist named Mark Solms, who is a neuroscientist and a psychoanalyst in South Africa. And he’s written a really interesting book called "The Hidden Spring" And his theory is that consciousness arises when you can’t automate things. And in this case, he’s talking about the fact that you might have two competing needs. Let’s say you’re hungry and you’re tired and you have to decide which to privilege. And that takes decision making. And what consciousness does is open up this space to resolve uncertainty. So if everything was predictable in the world and you could be certain when this happens, that happens, and you had a kind of neat algorithm to deal with contingencies. You don’t need it. But a lot of life presents us with uncertainty, and that’s when consciousness arises. I think I’ve thought about this part of the book more than any other, and I think that’s in part because the way my mind works, and I’m not sure how generalizable this is. My thoughts attract to uncertainty in my life. I just ruminate and ruminate and ruminate over whatever I am typically most emotionally uncertain about. Not always, by the way, the most useful forms of uncertainty. There are other unsolved problems. It would be better if my mind was interested in thinking about but I get it. So on the one hand, this idea that there is something, at the very least, that is attracting the spotlight of my attention to uncertainty feels true. But I also have a couple of questions and problems with it. One is that it doesn’t seem like what we’re talking here about is exactly I mean, what you were just saying about the child or about the adult on psychedelics, they are not attracted to uncertainty in the same way. The experience of psychedelic consciousness expansion is, in many ways, I think, less of the experience of felt uncertainty. It’s a very good point. It becomes much more about experience, whereas uncertainty, at least in the way I experience it in my consciousness, tends to be a much more spotlighted, much less experiential, it’s a distraction from experience Yeah I think that’s right. I haven’t really thought about that much. I think that one of my takeaways is that we have to be kind of pluralists of consciousness, that there are many different kinds. And that psychedelic consciousness should be counted as one of them, or the mystical forms that James talks about. And then there’s everyday consciousness and spotlight consciousness and that. So I think we all have a toolkit to some extent. And we experience, I mean, the kind of consciousness you experience as a meditator is very different than the kind you do at work. Or when writing, I mean, writing is a great example. That’s a very peculiar form of consciousness. So the other thing I was thinking about with this was consciousness is felt. Uncertainty felt where because I think we think of consciousness as a thing happening in our minds, something I think actually that has come out of my meditation for me. But then I loved seeing how much of it, there was in your book is recognizing how much is happening in the body Yeah, I think that’s my biggest discovery. As someone who lives in his head most of the time, how important having a body is to being conscious. We really think of the head as we identify with our heads more than our bodies. Maybe because our eyes are there. I don’t know. But consciousness probably arises with feelings first. It starts with things like hunger and itchiness this and only later becomes as it enters, gets filtered into the cortex, becomes the kind of complicated thinking that we pride ourselves on. I think that feelings are based in the body. Finally, it’s how the body talks to the brain. And we have to remember this very simple fact, which is the brain exists to keep the body alive, not the other way around. We’re not just a support system for this amazing three pounds of tofu in our heads. And once you realize that realize that the body is the message is coming from the body are really important to the brain. And these feelings are the beginning of conscious experience. And if you didn’t have them, it’s questionable whether you would have consciousness. There’s no doubt. I think that the experience of consciousness is some kind of interplay between both, oath. I feel uncertainty in my solar plexus. I think about things I’m uncertain. Around in my brain. Exactly and where do you experience disgust. Like moral disgust. It’s in your belly. You have a great experiment in the book about ginger. People giving ginger. Could you describe that? Yeah this is a very cool experiment. They gave people ginger before exposing them to some morally distasteful event or something, or image. And the people who had the ginger were less disgusted because their stomachs were settled. So our feeling of moral disgust is kind of channeled through our gut, which is such a weird idea, but that’s probably true of a lot of feelings, and that it has enormous implications for this discussion about A.I., whether it can be conscious because feelings are not just signals, they’re not just bits of information. They contain information. You’re getting a lot of information from a feeling, but it. That’s the residue of the feeling. There’s something more somatic about it, and it’s very hard to imagine how computers could get to that. And feelings have no weight if you don’t have a vulnerability, if you don’t have the ability to suffer and perhaps be mortal otherwise a feeling is just more information. And we know feelings are a lot more than that to us. I want to describe an experience I just had. While we were doing that, I wrote a note to myself to come back to this part of the conversation later, to maybe clip it out because I think it’s particularly good. One thing I find I need to do during these podcasts is pay very close attention to my body, because what happened there is not that I had a thought. This is good. Come back later. What happened there is that my skin got pricklier and I noticed like a heightened sensitivity. And that was an alert to my mind to start paying attention. Well, what am I trying to pay attention to. I see this all the time in the podcast. My body has reactions to things that are going on, and then my mind has to interpret why that is happening. Yeah and the body is smarter about things. And, the mind which created the questions document I walked in here with is but it’s such a strange experience that something just happened in my chest and my hands that told me my body thinks this part of the conversation was good, and to put it into my brain so I could write a little note to come back to it later. William James writes about this. So you have feelings, emotions and thoughts. And emotions are more the physical manifestation of feelings. I can tell your emotions. I can’t tell your feelings. Those are internal. He said basically, they start in the body. Anger starts with a racing heart or something like that. And then the brain interprets why did the heart start racing? Why did blood pressure go up? Maybe it’s fear. So the brain is constantly interpreting the messages it’s getting from the body, and the body is feeling on its own, reacting to its environment in a million different ways. And it totally changes how you think about consciousness and the potential of automating this or the potential of digitizing it. If feelings are that if feelings come first. And I just think that feelings bear more thought in that where do they come from. Why are they. How can they be simulated? Feelings and bodies bear more thought. Yes, this is something embodiment. That consciousness is an embodied phenomenon and that the head, the brain in a vat right meme just know it just doesn’t work. Ditto the downloading of consciousness onto a machine. The dream of the transhumanists. You’re not going to have a body. How’s that going to work? I think if somebody was to go out into self-improvement podcast world or school or anything and their fundamental question was, how do I get smarter, how am I more intelligent, that the answer you basically get has to do with training your mind, studying, reading more, journaling in the morning, whatever it might be. And there’s actually very, very little about deepening the connection between your mind and your body. As I have gotten older and as my work has become more creative, I think I’ve come to think it’s a huge mistake, that a huge amount of just what I have had to get better at over the years is paying attention to my body such that then my mind can do something with these signals that are not always easily interpretable, but have some intelligence that I don’t feel like I am in control of Yeah and we misinterpret them. I mean, think about you’ve got young kids when they’re hungry, they will misinterpret that as frustration or anger and you realize, oh, they just need to eat and then they’ll be fine. So we do go through a process of learning how to interpret what our body is telling us. But it’s true. As adults, where do you go to learn that. I mean, meditation a little bit, doing body scans and things like that I’ve done meditation practices where the focus is very much on the body and what’s going on in every different part of the body. But I think we would be wiser if we learned how to do this and paid better attention to our bodies. And I also think I mean, in a way, this is the lesson of Antonio Damasio’s first book in 1994, "Descartes' Error," it was called, and he was basically showing that feelings and emotions should be admitted into the decision making process, and he proved that people who couldn’t experience emotion or feelings made worse decisions than people who could and that there was a kind of a gut check. We have all these gut, we have all these words for the gut and thought. And there’s some kind of buried deep in the language as this understanding that our gut has something important to tell us about a decision. And so he kind of rehabilitated feelings and emotions in the whole science of the brain. But basically, we’ve been drumming feelings and emotion out of our understanding of the brain for hundreds of years. And, I don’t know why. I mean, it just this idea of the pinnacle of human consciousness is the cortex or the kinds of people who do this research are just really out of touch with their bodies. I like that as a hypothesis. I’ll be hearing from some of them. Well fair enough. I want to pick up on something you said in there about the sequencing, about how feelings often precede thoughts. There’s a great piece of research you bring up that is research done on meditators who are asked to note when they are interrupted in their meditation by a thought. Can you describe that study? Sure so this scientist, Kalina Christoff Hadjiilieva, a psychologist, her field is spontaneous thought, which I hadn’t thought about that as a field. And that includes things like daydreams and mind wandering and creative thinking and flow and to try to understand this, she’s very interested in the question of how things get from our unconscious into our conscious awareness, because we know there’s a lot going on below the threshold of awareness. So she works with trained meditators, people who have 10,000 hours experience meditating, puts them in an fMRI, gives them a button to press as soon as a thought intrudes. Because even if you’re an experienced meditator, it’s going to happen, she says. It happens every tens for everybody, she said. The great lesson of meditation is the mind cannot be controlled. It’s very, very freeing to people trying. What was interesting about this is that when people press the button, she would look back at when something popped out, when there was activity in the hippocampus, which is the source of memories and other stuff as well. But she was watching that as a source of a thought, and it took four seconds between the fMRI showing activity in the hippocampus and the person being aware of that thought. So what is happening. Four seconds in the brain. Time is like an eon. What is happening for a thought to transit from the unconscious to the conscious? And why does it take so long? And she doesn’t know. I’m sorry I can’t pay this off. But one of the theories is called global neuronal workspace theory that there are thoughts competing with one another for access to our conscious awareness. And they’re this Darwinian process and only the most salient ever gets into the workspace. And then broadcast to the whole brain. The problem with this theory is there’s a lot of trivial stuff that somehow gets through, at least in my case. I think there’s a lot of traffic going back and forth. And that’s something also that you happen not just during meditation but during psychedelic experiences. There’s lots of unconscious material that comes up. I actually find this to be a problem with meditation for me, which is that there’s a lot of meditation that is about open awareness or trying to watch things happen. Non-judgmentally yeah, but the very act of having awareness is very clearly changing what is happening in my brain. So the more awareness I have, the more my brain feels slightly or my mind feels somewhat controlled, and the less awareness I have, the more I’m going to get these little wisps of meditation. So there’s a meditation teacher I really like whose meditations are on YouTube named Michael Taaffe. And his attitude is like, look, the machinery of the mind is going to go on, but just put it down the way you put down your phone and just let it do its thing. You can just ignore it. And I find that very helpful. And I have this sense of a little buzzing going on in this corner of thoughts that I’m not paying attention to. But as Kalina shows it’s very hard to control this material and things are going to bubble up and they’re interesting. Well, I guess one of my deep and fundamental questions about being a human being is why I attend to what I attend to. If I could go and talk to the algorithm in my mind, in the way that increasingly you can go tell a clod how it is you want Claude to act. I would change the algorithm. I would worry less about interpersonal conflict in my life. I would spend a lot less time thinking about whether or not people are mad at me. But there is some process by which I hate the term global workspace theory as a description of what is going on in the mind. It’s so bloodless and built on personal computers in 1998. Productivity ideas Yeah, but that idea that things are competing and somehow or another, some part of my mind is running some kind of process to decide what comes into the spotlight of attention. And if it’s really shocking, there’s a car accident next to me or a Yeah, there are shortcuts Yeah like all of a sudden, it’ll move me there entirely. But moment to moment there’s some kind of competition and what comes up. I can be aware of it, but the more aware I am of it, the less in control that I feel, which is one of the great and slightly terrifying lessons And so that question of the unconscious doesn’t seem mild to me. That is, the factory producing thoughts comes from. And then something is deciding what to put in the front shelves. So you’re thinking about it in terms of an algorithm and and a mass of data. And different things could get pulled into it into it. And that’s not a bad metaphor. I mean, we don’t know exactly how it works. There is still this question of if the workspace idea is true, everything we think should be of some consequence. And we all know that’s not true. And so why do things that are completely trivial or banal enter our consciousness. Freud would say we’re suppressing more important things, but there is clearly a way that the mind learns what to think about over time. So to use the example of my kids, it is quite clear to me that my children do not spend any time during the day thinking about things they have to do in the future. They might think it’s about things they want to do in the future, but they’re never I think it’s been a while since my last pediatrician appointment. I might need some shots Yeah. You leave me with my mind alone for much time at all. And a to do list begins bubbling through it. It’s very, very persistent. I mean, I meditate with paper near me to just get things out of there and onto the paper so I don’t keep thinking about them. Somewhere along the way, I went from being a kid who is pretty present in his life and thought more. I think about things I wanted to think about or and became somebody whose mind has bent towards productivity Yeah, not the only thing that happens in my mind, but it is clearly a favored topic Yeah and it makes you successful. I mean, there are standards by which. Well, that makes sense. So how should it. So what I would say about that is you brought up something a minute ago where you said, well, the problem with this theory is that why does so much triviality emerge. But I mean, couldn’t you just say. Well, it is overapplied rules. Like, my biggest complaint about my mind is I think too much about relational stress. But you grow up, you have a family, you’re very dependent on caregivers. It’s very easy to imagine how a mind would bend towards really. I was bullied in school. You being out of joint in relationships can really harm you. So it’s not unclear to me how my mind might have overlearned the rule scan for relational threat at all times. And so I’m curious about that learning like something is happening over time. That is not the same in all people. It’s dependent on life experience. People who grew up in times of famine tend to store more food when they’re older. There’s something happening. And also and that pleasure is not driving this. I mean, it’s success. It’s you are learning algorithms that we’re going to use that computer metaphor that are even though it doesn’t feel good, are promoting the kind of behavior that’s going to solve problems and keep everybody happy, maintain the peace, all these kind of things. So our minds are invested in our success, not our pleasure. I mean, one of the things, I talked a lot about how psychedelics inspired this book, but meditation did too, because as soon as you stop to examine what’s going on in your mind, which many people don’t do, but now tens of millions of people do, especially since the pandemic, there are a lot more meditators than there were, is how strange our minds are and how little volition is involved, and that we think we’re calling the shots as conscious human beings. But to a remarkable extent, we’re not. And where that material is coming from, we can call it the unconscious. We don’t. We don’t really know. But it’s a less. It’s just much less. It’s just defamiliarized. I mean, you’re just estranged from your own mental processes and this whole idea that great meditation exercise, will look in your brain for who’s thinking those thoughts, who’s feeling those feelings, and you won’t find anybody. Talk to me about a state of mind that has come up briefly in our conversation already that I think is between unconscious and goal directed, which is the wandering mind. I think we have come to diminish its role. Oh, yeah, I think so. So what is it and what do we know about it. Well, the wandering mind exactly is just what’s happening when you’re bored. That’s the precondition, in a way, for a wandering mind. It’s like I’ve got nothing to do. There’s no task here. I’m just killing time, and suddenly we’re off and daydreaming or mind wandering. There are very similar things. I forget how clean it distinguishes them. But she does. She thinks it’s a really important part of life that we haven’t studied because it’s not productive, and that all the work in psychology goes into productive areas of thought. I think that’s changing now. You have people studying and emotions that are not necessarily productive but are is very useful. So she just thinks this is a space of creativity and that a lot of creative thinking comes out of mind wandering and daydreaming. And it’s something novelists do all the time. I mean, they get pretty good at daydreaming and she says, we’ve lost this. The space of our interiority for this kind of thinking is diminished because of our distractions, our technological distractions. I want to challenge not that she believes this, but this idea that it’s a non-productive form of I think it. Oh, I think it is very productive. It’s just how are you. How are you defining productivity? I would say the biggest barrier for me and productivity, true productivity, which is the ability to do better with the same amount of resources that you already have is that I don’t spend enough time with my mind wandering. Yeah and it is routine that the absolutely most creatively important times I will spend. I thought I was taking a break Yeah, I thought I was doing something else. I was taking a walk. I wasn’t just driving my mind further into the ground, flicking through web pages when I was already too tired to absorb information. Then all of a sudden I’ll have the insight or I’ll realize where I should call this person. And I don’t know where it comes from, but it’s those moments of insight, epiphany, creative leap that comes into my spotlight that the spotlight gets in the way because of those blinders. And I think when you’re daydreaming or mind wandering, the blinders are kind of opened up and you’re taking in information from more places. No, she argues that it’s just the belief that this is unproductive thought because nobody wants mind wandering workers. The capitalists want us to be, spotlight consciousness. And she gave the example she gave is like, right now, my job is to grade blue-book exams, and that’s what I should be doing. But my real life project is making sense of my life and having a fulfilling life. And I would be better off taking a walk or mind wandering. So there’s a tension. There’s a tension there between what the economy considers productive thought and what emotionally is productive thought or creativity now, or what the economy should consider productive thought. If it were smarter. It just you can’t quantify the hour to hour level. One of the most interesting mind states for me is a mind state I functionally only have when I am reading something on paper without screen distractions around me, which is it becomes my mind becomes highly associational, and I’ll be reading and then I’ll look up and I’ll have ideas. They’re often not about the book at all. It’s like the book itself is a scaffolding of a certain kind of attention. But I’m aware and I’m awake, and so I’m noticing other things. It is by far my most creative state. Do you have a pencil or a pen in your hand? Yeah, yeah. And it is achieved more easily on airplanes than anywhere else because then you really don’t have distractions. But it can happen at a coffee shop. But it won’t happen if I’m looking at a screen. And so it’s made me think about how if we wanted humans to be more productive, more creative, more. I think a lot of our received beliefs about this are really wrong. We’d want to put people more in touch with their bodies. We’d want to teach them how to find the states of open association and mind wandering. You want to put yourself in the way of inspiration more often, because it’s not controllable in the way we wish it were. Completely agree. Kalina edited this book, "The Oxford Companion to Spontaneous Thought", and there is a history of spontaneous thought that looked at how incredibly creative people, composers, novelists, how they spent their days and they only work like four or five hours. They spend a lot of time in unstructured, wandering, walking. And we all know there’s a connection between creative thinking and walking. You’re much more likely to break through if you’re stuck in your writing or whatever else you’re doing. If you get up from the desk and take a walk instead of just like worrying that problem. So there, I mean, yeah, we could reorganize our lives in a way. But the one thing we do know is how our phones, our social media are bringing down that viewpoint, keeping us from looking up, keeping us from making associations because there’s no time for association. You’re just scrolling and something else comes in and you’re getting another little hit. And so we’ve shrunken that space and it is a space of creativity. And there’s no reason we can’t reclaim it, but we have a lot of trouble doing it because algorithms are really sophisticated and they know how our minds work. When are you most creative? Walking I would say it’s where I walk a lot. I work, I walk in the Berkeley Hills and although even then I have to say, half the time I fill my head. I have my AirPods on. I’m listening to a novel or a podcast, listening to you when I could be. Let’s not be too hasty in diminishing the importance of informational input here Yeah, no, it is important. But anyway. And I have to remember to take out the AirPods and listen to what’s going on. And we haven’t talked about time in nature, but that’s I think, a very hygienic space for consciousness is being off of all media, of all kinds. As the book evolves, you start widening to less and less goal oriented theories of consciousness. And one thing that is happening throughout the book that you’re very attentive to is, first, the number of scientists of consciousness, scientists of the mind who are now dabbling in various forms of psychedelics Yeah, that was a surprise to me. And two. Well, you’ve part of the reason it’s happening, so it shouldn’t be that surprising. Well, there’s and there’s a selection bias. People know they can talk to me about their trips. Yeah it’s quite a role you’ve created for yourself in public life, and to the way that is upending their theories I mean, you have a number of scientists who come in and out through the book who are saying, well, I thought this and then I had this experience, and I think it’s really interesting, the felt experience of truth on something that people who up until that moment would only accept what they could prove and were reducing everything to the provable Yeah like they know they ingested a chemical. And yet what that felt like was. So they’re not willing to dismiss. And so authoritative Yeah and you’re alluding to Christof Koch, who is a very prominent consciousness researcher. He was there at the beginning when he and Francis Crick began on this quest to understand consciousness in the late 80s, early 90s. And he’s an exemplary scientist in that he’s changed his mind in profound ways several times. That doesn’t. I find that doesn’t usually happen among scientists. The saying that science changes one funeral at a time. Not in his case. He went to Brazil and had an ayahuasca, a series of ayahuasca experiences. Now, this is the prototypical brain guy, right. He ran the Allen Brain Institute in Seattle. He’s been messing around with neurons and electrodes for years and years and years, and assumed that the source of consciousness was going to be in the brain. He has this experience of mind at large. This is a term that comes from Aldous Huxley in the doors of perception, that consciousness was outside of his brain. And I challenged him on it and I said, well, there’s a drug experience. And he would not take that as disproof or even reason for skepticism. And he used as an example, a famous thought experiment. You have this brilliant woman who is the world’s expert on color, up on vision and she knows everything there is to know about cones and rods and how the whole system works. But she lives in a completely black and white world. She steps out one day and has the experience of color. What has she learned. What has been added to her stock of knowledge. And he said, I was like Mary. And I had had this vision. And who. And nobody could convince me when I went back in the box of scientific materialism that it hadn’t happened. It had happened. It was as sure as I have been of anything in my life. And now he’s exploring idealism. What is idealism? Idealism is the philosophy is a universal field, and that consciousness precedes matter. We automatically assume that matter is primary. Everything can be reduced to matter and energy, and they can be reduced to each other. Idealism is no, no, no. You got to start with consciousness. Matter comes second. The argument for it is or the argument against materialism is that as we’ve been saying, the thing, there’s nothing with more certainty than consciousness. It’s the thing, directly. Everything else is inferred you see through consciousness. So why is it that we privilege the thing we infer rather than the thing we know? Why do we privilege matter as the ultimate source of everything? I was like, now, maybe a smarter person than me knows there’s a logical fallacy there, I don’t know. I don’t see where it is. So the idealism theory is related to this idea. You bring it up in the book. I think you’re the first person who I’d ever heard about this from. The mind may be like an antenna Yeah, or a radio receiver or a radio receiver. It’s not generating the consciousness. It is receiving some kind of signal and then interpreting it. And in the same way that if you break a TV, it’s not going to work. It’s not going to work. But that doesn’t mean the waves that it was absorbing are gone Yeah and you won’t. You shouldn’t look in the TV set for the weatherman. I mean, and that’s kind of what we’re doing, but it’s channeling this information from the universe and that that’s why the brain is involved in a critical way. And if you damage the brain, you damage consciousness or anesthetize the brain or whatever. But it’s involved in a different way. And the evidence kind of works the same either way, whether you say the brain generates consciousness or channels consciousness. It’s hard to make a case that one is better than the other. We just assume that the generating consciousness is how it works. And we just kind of stipulate this. The term scientists use is that the brain, that consciousness is an emergent property of the brain, which sounds really scientific. But if you press, it’s just abracadabra. It really. It doesn’t really explain anything. What is the difference between idealism and panpsychism? Panpsychism is the idea that every little bit, every particle has a quantum of consciousness, of psyche. And that in the same way, 200 years ago, we added electromagnetism to the stock of what reality consists of material reality consists of we should add psyche. It’s another thing. So in a way, it’s a new materialism or it’s materialism was something added to it. It’s a big price to pay for your theory that you’re adding something completely new to the stock of reality, but it solves the problem of where consciousness comes from. It comes from everywhere. It’s just it was already here. So these ideas are they I mean, when I first learned about them, I thought, these are crazy. But then you realize that the materialism is kind of hit a wall with consciousness studies and that there is this gap that we can’t seem to cross from a very good theory like workspace theory to well, wait a minute. When you say you’re broadcasting to the whole brain, who’s receiving that broadcast? And then you have other people saying, well, consciousness is just an illusion, but an illusion is a conscious experience. So what about the subject? And that’s where everybody starts waving their hands. What level of plausibility do you assigned to that? To what? I guess either, but I think I’m thinking of a more novel brain as radio receiver. I have to say, I don’t know. It’s weird to spend five years on a book and come to an answer like that. But as I said at one point, this is a book where you may know less at the end than you do at the beginning, but you’ll know a lot of other things. It’s a very fun tour. I told you at the beginning of this I’d give you my theory of the book tour. Towards the end of our conversation, when we sat down around how to change your mind, your book I told you that I thought that was a book about the mind posing as a book about psychedelics. And I think this is a book about psychedelics posing as a book about the mind because and not to do violence to it. Both were actually about their subject. But it is striking to me how often in this book it’s not just Koch There’s the scientist who is building, I think, a robot trying to make consciousness, and then does, I think 5-MeO-DMT and realizes everything is love. There’s your mushrooms. There’s a lot of people who note offhandedly that they are. There seems to be something here that it has caused a larger ontological shock than I think, a stylized description of well, you ingested a chemical. Of course you had a chemical experience would naturally. It’s a totally unsatisfying explanation Yeah, well, I think that the interest in psychedelics is partly an interest in taking back our consciousness and exploring it, because one of the things that happens, the day you do a psychedelic is not a day. You’re looking at your phone. It’s a day that you’ve put a fence around if you’re doing it right and not just walking around the streets of Manhattan tripping, but you’re doing it with some intention, and you reclaim your mind for a period of time, and you explore it. And this idea of expanding consciousness. There’s a line in Aldous Huxley that I’ve always really liked. He believed in this transmission theory of consciousness, which he got from Henri Bergson, who really was the person who first put that forward. Was that in normal times, our brains admit only the trickle We need to get through the day to be productive, to do what we need to do. But there’s so much more. And what he said psychedelics did is open what he called the reducing valve so that more consciousness got in. What was that consciousness to him, it was the mind at large. But I find it’s also sensory information. Bodily information. I mean, sometimes trips are incredibly somatic and they’re all about the body and other times they’re about visual material. But it’s ours. It’s mine. Although some people go to a divine place about it. And so I’m just out there starting to talk about And I’m like, I’m curious that people are so interested in consciousness. Like, I didn’t expect this when I started on this book Really Yeah. No, I didn’t, and it seemed a very academic topic. And I think two things have changed that. One is the fact that I think we feel our consciousnesses are just full of bullshit right now. And there’s so much stuff we don’t want to be thinking about that we’re thinking about. And you take phones away from kids, and they’re actually grateful. Even once they get over the shock of living without a phone for a day or while they’re in school, because our consciousness is under pressure from everyday life, capitalism and the need to succeed financially. We happen to have a president who intrudes on our consciousness for a lot more of the day than any of us have had experience before with previous presidents. So I think there’s some desire to get back to some more sovereignty around our consciousness. And psychedelics are part of that, too. And there is also that is I say in the book where we’re entering a Copernican moment of possible redefinition of what it means to be human. On the one hand, we have all these animals and even plants that turn out to be conscious. What we used to think was our special thing. And on the other side, we have these machines that are going to be smarter than we are. And some people think they’ll be conscious, but whether they can or not, we’re going to think they’re conscious and act on that basis. Which raises all sorts of problems. So who are we exactly if we’re not the smartest, most conscious being? And are we more like the animals who can feel and die and suffer, or are we more like the thinking machines who speak our language. You talk about consciousness as a reducing valve, as a filtering mechanism of sensory experience. And we’ve talked a little bit about the wider, more lantern like consciousness of children, whom we. I wonder how different the experience of being conscious in advanced modernity with a smartphone and a task list, and we are really training ourselves to narrow down to be successful in the economy. We have structured and much of the Western, not only Western world at this point, we have altered what it means to be human. And I wonder how much you’ve made the experience of consciousness increasingly unsatisfying by can overtrain any muscle. And what we are doing staring in a narrowed way at a computer. I mean, there’s all this great neuroscience on networks between wide gaze and narrow gaze, which I really feel when I look out over a mountain range. And when I look at my phone, you can feel we have narrowed how it feels to be human being. We have. But it’s not too late. I mean, tell me about your consciousness, sovereignty, ideas as you’re moving in here into consciousness hygiene. Well, I’ve thought a lot about how can we protect this space and one of the things I’ve been talking a lot about protecting our consciousness and what a precious space of interiority we have. And it’s this place of mental freedom. But I realized for some people going there, it doesn’t feel good that these are people who ruminate a lot. And I’m prone to a lot of rumination, which is very circular thinking, often not productive. It keeps you focused on something, but not in a way that’s making progress. Usually it’s a spiral. Maybe so, but also realizing you can take some control over your consciousness and that we need to do more to defend it. And meditation is one great way and as challenging as it can be. You feel like, here’s my mind, I’m with my mind. It might be painful. It might not be. But no one is telling me what to think. I’m not. We spend so much time thinking the thoughts of other people, the rants of other people and the obsessions of other people. Meditation is, I think, a really interesting way to put a fence around your consciousness. You put down your phone, you still have a pad because you’re just trying to get rid of those to do things. But when it’s working really well, there’s great pleasure in watching the show go by and the things I wasn’t expecting to think about suddenly and imagery and all this kind of stuff. I do have an internal life, contrary to what that guy said. So sure you do. Michael, we believe you for sure. You’re not just a zombie here. No Something you said a minute ago pinged for me, which is often people actually don’t like being put in a room with their consciousness. There’s a famous old quote I don’t have the speaker in memory, but it says huge amount of the world’s problems come from man’s inability to sit-in a room by himself. Yeah, I remember I was in a period of meditation a couple of years back, and I was trying to meditate a lot because a lot was happening in my life. And I felt like I was just getting more and more upset. And I remember talking to Will Kabat-Zinn, who’s a great meditation teacher in the Bay Area who we both know. And he said to me something I’ve never forgotten. He said, oh, so you’re not enjoying the process of insight. And I actually think this is part of actually a lot of things to say. Nothing of our president, who I think is cannot sit-in a room alone with himself, cannot sit-in a room alone with himself, I think without a constant distraction and ego reinforcement actually speaks to a complicated relationship he has with his own consciousness. It is sometimes actually quite hard to be there by yourself. And when you make space for it and I mean people go on meditative retreat often have very difficult times. It can be, and I think usually is very profound and but you are often going through struggle. One of the great lies about meditation is that it’s peaceful. In fact, it’s often very agitating Yeah, it’s much more peaceful to distract yourself. Or peaceful may not be the word I’m looking for there, but we distract ourselves away from the internal agitation. We spend a lot of time anesthetizing ourselves, and there’s a kind of boredom that I think is generative that we don’t experience anymore because we have all these amazing ways to fill that space. But that space was productive in its unproductive way. And we’ve given that up. So that’s a space of consciousness too, that we could easily reclaim. I think psychedelics are one way to take control of your consciousness. I mean, that’s probably not the right verb because there’s so much that’s uncontrolled, but it’s all you. And I think that’s one of the reasons that there’s so much interest in it right now. You’re blocking out a lot during a psychedelic experience as you go inside. So those are the kind of things I think we need to think in terms of hygiene for this great gift we have. And what does hygiene mean here. Hygiene towards what. Keep it from being polluted. Keep it clean. Keep it, keep it. Keep your consciousness from letting others dictate its contents basically. Is that a question of consciousness or of attention. Well, they’re very closely related. And I think attention not the same. They’re not. Well, I think attention is a subset of consciousness. So attention is part of it. Attachment is another part of it though. Attachment yeah. Emotional attachments. That’s a big part of consciousness too. And that’s now having won our attention. Now the companies are now going for our attachments with chatbots. I’ve just met people who are increasingly working on attentional liberation movements, the friends of attention being a good example of this. It just came out with a new book. And I’ve met people creating schools on this. And there isn’t an interesting way burbling around a kind of sense that a attentional freedom is an increasingly political and structural question. I think we see it fairly clearly with our kids, but I think we know it with ourselves, too, and it’s very hard to think about how to create a coherent politics around it and activism around it. And also nothing is more fundamental, including to how politics works than what kind of attention you’re cultivating in a society Yeah, absolutely. Attention is a collective resources I think is an under is a underplayed frame for this attention is a collective capacity that is being exhausted by people like Trump. By certain ways, the media and algorithmic media works, and a society with a more irritable, distracted, and diminished capacity for attention is going to be politically different than a society with a healthier form of oh, it’s going to be easier to manipulate. Definitely it’s going to be angrier. It’s going to be angrier. I mean, the more we allow these kind of intrusions on our consciousness or exploitation of our attention. I mean, I think they’re very similar things. The less it’s a space of freedom and you give up the space of freedom and you’re thinking other people’s thoughts and you’re much more vulnerable to manipulation. And if you really nurture your own mind and your own sense of consciousness, you’re much less likely to fall for lies. You’re much more likely to think independently. How? you know. How do you think independently when you’re scrolling? You react, but you’re not setting the agenda. You’re letting an algorithm set the agenda. I think we’re vulnerable to the kind of politics that you’re talking about. But it is the nature of capitalism to intrude on more and more of our lives, more and more of our time. There was an interview with the president of Netflix who was explaining, in regard to competition over an acquisition or something like, we’re not competing with other streaming services. We’re competing with your dream time Yeah, this is Reed Hastings years ago, who said our primary competitor is sleep Yeah, yeah. It’s one the more dystopic things I’ve heard a CEO say. I know it really is. And they are competing with the part of our consciousness that wants to think its own thoughts. Because there’s more money to be made if we think their thoughts. I particularly loved the coda, the final chapter. You go spend time with Joan Halifax. A great teacher, Zen teacher. And she has a line in there that coming as it does at the end of this very heady book, she says that she has divested herself from all meaning. Yeah and you go to talk to her, and she basically sends you to a cave and puts off talking to you. Tell me a bit about that experience, and also what you took from that extremely zen form of teaching that you. Well, exactly that you were gifted Yeah I mean, it was kind of an experiential koan. I mean I’m not going to. I should have known she’s zen teacher, that she would be allergic to concepts and interpretation and everything I wanted to do. It was like, duh. So I wanted to see her. I had met her once or twice before. I had a lot of admiration for her. We’d been on a panel together because she had a lot of experience with psychedelics. She was married to Stan Groff and administered huge doses of LSD to the dying back in the 70s. It’s such a wild project. I know it really is, although many people have been helped by this. I mean, it’s one of the better applications of psychedelics, I think, is helping people with terminal cancer. But anyway, I was working on the self chapter at the time and there’s this Buddhist idea that the self is an illusion, which I’ve struggled with in various ways. I understand how it’s true, but yet self seems to be still working in my life and I wanted to talk to her about that. And she had described her retreat center, which is called Upaya. It’s in Santa Fe as a factory for the deconstruction of selves. It’s like, oh, that sounds interesting. I should go get deconstructed. And so that’s why I went and I got there and I spent a couple days with adepts and the monks and but then she said, I think we should go up to the retreat. And she said, we’ll go up there and you’ll stay in the cave. And I’m the cave. That’s like, not my kind of thing. I’m not a camper. And she said, don’t worry, it’s a five star cave. So we get there and then after this 25 mile dirt road, and then there’s another half mile hike out to the cave, and there’s no electricity and there’s no running water. And she somebody dug into this hillside, these caves, and with a glass door on one side overlooking this meadow. And there I was for the next three or four days, and she kept ducking my interviews. And at one point, she said, I’ve divested a meaning. shit, this is not good for the journalist conducting interviews. But she wanted me to have an experience instead. And I did, and it was really profound a meditation retreat that you were describing. It is almost a psychedelic experience. When you’re alone with yourself and the borders of self attenuate, they become more porous. You realize the extent to which our identity as selves is a social identity, and it’s reinforced by everybody we talk to because they’re treating us like a self. So we must be a self. But if you’re absolutely alone in the middle of nowhere and you have no access to media, it softens. And then I was meditating for hours at a time, and it was very interesting because life became like a meditation. In fact, I had more profound meditations, doing chores chopping wood and sweeping out my little cave than I did when I was sitting on the platform. And it was a really profound experience. And it shifted my thinking about consciousness in this way. I had gotten caught in this frame, very Western, very male of problem, solution, hard problem of consciousness, solution. And I had trained my attention. I had narrowed, right. I had a focus on that question for five years of really struggling to understand this. And I suddenly realized, well, there is the problem of attention, but there’s also the fact of it, and the fact of it is so marvelous and so astonishing and mysterious. And why aren’t I paying more attention to that? Why aren’t I being more present? One night, I woke up in the middle of the night to go out to pee. And there is. It’s a new moon, and there’s no light pollution at all. And the stars. This vault of stars is more numerous and more gorgeous than it’s ever been. But it’s not out there. It’s reaching all the way down to me here that we occupy the same space, the same intergalactic blanket. And it was such all my kind of learned ways of looking at the starry sky. We all have these predictions. The brain is a prediction machine. All the concepts and the frames just went away. And it was just kind of like me stars space. And this is not such an unusual experience, but it made me, it shifted my thinking from solving a problem to being within a. You talked earlier about the way this book has a quality of you read it and maybe less, but it adds wonder. And it made me think as I was going through different theories, integrated information processing or whatever it’s called Yeah how sad I’d be if any of them were true. If you could prove to me that global workspace theory was the truth of consciousness, if you could prove to me consciousness evolved. And all the things I think are a byproduct of an evolutionary process for reducing uncertainty, I would hate it. Well, it’s funny. This is a lesson I learned not just from Joan, but from my wife, who’s an artist, Judith. And she was lecturing me about not knowing has its own power. And of course, it is a zen idea to cultivate the don’t know mind. And she’s right. It does have a power. And that not knowing opens you in a way that knowing closes you down. And that we’re very frustrated with not knowing. But it is the state. It is our existential predicament about many, many things and getting comfortable with it. I mean, it was a long way to go for me to get comfortable with it, but getting comfortable with it. Yes, more or more wonder in the face of mystery. I think that’s a place to end. Always our final question what are three books you would recommend to the audience. Three books for you. Well, a book that was really influential in the writing of this book is a book called "The Blind Spot" It’s by a philosopher, Evan Thompson, and two physicists, Adam Frank and Marcelo Gleiser. It’s a critique of Western science, and it makes a very powerful case that the blind spot of the physical sciences is inability to deal with lived And so for science, read is a certain frequency and read to them is an illusion because it’s constructed in the brain, but they’re pointing out that humans who experience red as a fact of nature any other fact of nature, and you got to deal with it. So how does science deal with lived experience. It’s a fantastic book. Another book that was as I was working on the stream of consciousness is a stream-of-consciousness novel by Lucy Ellmann called "Ducks, Newburyport" It’s 1,000 pages, one sentence. And that sounds I know that sounds really daunting and I’m not going to pick that up. You can open it anywhere you want, read 10 pages, you can listen to the audiobook, you can fall asleep, pick it up again. It’s still there. It’s like this pool you can enter. And it’s all the thoughts of this middle class, middle aged woman who lives in Ohio, who has a home baking business. And it’s everything going on in her head, including scrolling on her phone. But you have to infer that because there’s no orient, nothing to orient you. But anyway, it’s great fun and really funny and a brilliant book. Lastly, there was a book about conscience. There were several books on consciousness I liked, but the one I want to recommend is "Being You" by Anil Seth. He’s an English neuroscientist, and it’s a book about the self, and he treats the self as a perception. And he’s one of the great explainers of consciousness and mental phenomenon in general. His TED Talk about reality is as a controlled hallucination has been one of the most popular ever. And he discusses that here too. But it’s a really good primer on consciousness with specific attention to the self. So those would be my three. Michael Pollan, thank you very much.