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Waking, Dreaming, Being: Self and Consciousness in Neuroscience, Meditation, and Philosophy
A renowned philosopher of the mind, also known for his groundbreaking work on Buddhism and cognitive science, Evan Thompson combines the latest neuroscience research on sleep, dreaming, and meditation with Indian and Western philosophy of mind, casting new light on the self and its relation to the brain.
Thompson shows how the self is a changing process, not a static thing. When we are awake we identify with our body, but if we let our mind wander or daydream, we project a mentally imagined self into the remembered past or anticipated future. As we fall asleep, the impression of being a bounded self distinct from the world dissolves, but the self reappears in the dream state. If we have a lucid dream, we no longer identify only with the self within the dream. Our sense of self now includes our dreaming self, the "I" as dreamer. Finally, as we meditate--either in the waking state or in a lucid dream--we can observe whatever images or thoughts arise and how we tend to identify with them as "me." We can also experience sheer awareness itself, distinct from the changing contents that make up our image of the self.
Contemplative traditions say that we can learn to let go of the self, so that when we die we can witness its dissolution with equanimity. Thompson weaves together neuroscience, philosophy, and personal narrative to depict these transformations, adding uncommon depth to life's profound questions. Contemplative experience comes to illuminate scientific findings, and scientific evidence enriches the vast knowledge acquired by contemplatives.
Thompson shows how the self is a changing process, not a static thing. When we are awake we identify with our body, but if we let our mind wander or daydream, we project a mentally imagined self into the remembered past or anticipated future. As we fall asleep, the impression of being a bounded self distinct from the world dissolves, but the self reappears in the dream state. If we have a lucid dream, we no longer identify only with the self within the dream. Our sense of self now includes our dreaming self, the "I" as dreamer. Finally, as we meditate--either in the waking state or in a lucid dream--we can observe whatever images or thoughts arise and how we tend to identify with them as "me." We can also experience sheer awareness itself, distinct from the changing contents that make up our image of the self.
Contemplative traditions say that we can learn to let go of the self, so that when we die we can witness its dissolution with equanimity. Thompson weaves together neuroscience, philosophy, and personal narrative to depict these transformations, adding uncommon depth to life's profound questions. Contemplative experience comes to illuminate scientific findings, and scientific evidence enriches the vast knowledge acquired by contemplatives.
496 pages, Hardcover
First published September 30, 2014
273 people are currently reading
3531 people want to read
About the author
Evan Thompson
26 books131 followersEvan Thompson is a writer and professor of philosophy at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver. He works on the nature of the mind, the self, and human experience. His work combines cognitive science, philosophy of mind, phenomenology, and cross-cultural philosophy, especially Asian philosophical traditions. He is the author of Waking, Dreaming, Being: Self and Consciousness in Neuroscience, Meditation, and Philosophy (Columbia University Press, 2015); Mind in Life: Biology, Phenomenology, and the Sciences of Mind (Harvard University Press, 2007); and Colour Vision: A Study in Cognitive Science and the Philosophy of Perception (Routledge Press, 1995). He is the co-author, with Francisco J. Varela and Eleanor Rosch, of The Embodied Mind: Cognitive Science and Human Experience (MIT Press, 1991, revised edition 2016). Evan is an Elected Fellow of the Royal Society of Canada.
Evan received his A.B. from Amherst College in 1983 in Asian Studies and his Ph.D. in Philosophy from the University of Toronto in 1990. He was Professor of Philosophy at the University of Toronto from 2005 to 2013, and held a Canada Research Chair in Cognitive Science and the Embodied Mind at York University from 2002 to 2005. In 2014, he was the Numata Invited Visiting Professor at the Center for Buddhist Studies at the University of California, Berkeley. He has also held invited visiting appointments at the Faculty of Philosophy, Friedrich-Schiller-Universität Jena, the Ecole Polytechnique (Paris), the Center for Subjectivity Research at the University of Copenhagen, and the Department of Philosophy at the University of Colorado, Boulder.
In 2012 he co-directed, with Christian Coseru and Jay Garfield, the National Endowment for the Humanities Summer Institute on Investigating Consciousness: Buddhist and Contemporary Philosophical Perspectives, and he will again be co-director, with Coseru and Garfield, of the 2018 NEH Summer Institute on Self-Knowledge in Eastern and Western Philosophies.
Evan is currently serving as the Co-Chair of the Steering Council of the Mind and Life Institute and is a member of the Dialogue and Education Working Circle of the Kalein Centre in Nelson, British Columbia.
Evan received his A.B. from Amherst College in 1983 in Asian Studies and his Ph.D. in Philosophy from the University of Toronto in 1990. He was Professor of Philosophy at the University of Toronto from 2005 to 2013, and held a Canada Research Chair in Cognitive Science and the Embodied Mind at York University from 2002 to 2005. In 2014, he was the Numata Invited Visiting Professor at the Center for Buddhist Studies at the University of California, Berkeley. He has also held invited visiting appointments at the Faculty of Philosophy, Friedrich-Schiller-Universität Jena, the Ecole Polytechnique (Paris), the Center for Subjectivity Research at the University of Copenhagen, and the Department of Philosophy at the University of Colorado, Boulder.
In 2012 he co-directed, with Christian Coseru and Jay Garfield, the National Endowment for the Humanities Summer Institute on Investigating Consciousness: Buddhist and Contemporary Philosophical Perspectives, and he will again be co-director, with Coseru and Garfield, of the 2018 NEH Summer Institute on Self-Knowledge in Eastern and Western Philosophies.
Evan is currently serving as the Co-Chair of the Steering Council of the Mind and Life Institute and is a member of the Dialogue and Education Working Circle of the Kalein Centre in Nelson, British Columbia.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 62 reviews
January 1, 2019
This is one of the most unique and important books of our time (and maybe beyond our time). I discovered this book in a most unlikely place, it was recommended by Swami Sarvapriyananda. You would never think a Hindu Swami would recommend a book on Western neuroscience. But this is what makes Thompson's book different to the rest. Thompson himself was brought up on Eastern philosophy, especially Buddhism. But the link between Sarvapriyananda and Thompson is that in Waking, Dreaming, Being the organizing principle comes from the first recorded map of consciousness found in the ancient Indian texts known as the Upanishads. According to the Upanishads there are four states of consciousness. There are the common states of waking, dreaming, and dreamless sleep, and then there is the fourth states of pure awareness (turiya) which is found in the Mandukya Upanishad, arguably the most important Upanishad for that fact. This idea of pure awareness pervades Eastern thought, even Buddhism. Modern science, and most people in general, assume that consciousness has a biological origin, most likely in the brain. But contemplatives in the East have studied consciousness for thousands of years and believe that pure awareness is not located in our brain, it has no physical origins (what philosopher David Chalmers calls the "hard problem" of consciousness). This is where Thompson's experience as a Western philosopher and scientist along with his years of studying the great Eastern traditions are all beneficial. He goes into detail and makes a claim for both sides, is the idea of pure consciousness still a phenomenon of the brain or is it beyond the physical world. In the end, he offers some of the most unique research and insights on the subject of pure awareness in Eastern philosophy.
March 23, 2015
I'm always eager to read any book that combines Buddhism, science and philosophy. Love this stuff. Sections of Thompson's book are fascinating, insightful and truly enlightening. But the mind-numbing scientific data and uber-dense analytic language wore me down and became overwhelming and joy-killing. Too bad.
March 31, 2015
Really liked the book, although it wasn't always easy to read and I'm sure 10% of it whooshed right past me. Great mixture of Eastern religion/philosophy mixed with Western neuroscience and psychology. I really liked the discussions of normal waking consciousness compared to other forms of consciousness such as dreams or meditation. Good (not 100% positive) review in the NYT made me want to read this: http://www.nytimes.com/2014/12/21/boo...
Want to Read
July 13, 2015Intriguing reviews at NYT and NDPR:
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/12/21/boo...
http://ndpr.nd.edu/news/59378-waking-...
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/12/21/boo...
http://ndpr.nd.edu/news/59378-waking-...
April 29, 2019
A challenging read--but also an incredibly original and compelling approach to the question of consciousness and animal minds. There was a great review of this book in the New York Times, in which the reviewer remarked that, "More than evolution, more than inexhaustible arguments over God’s existence, the real fault line between science and religion runs through the nature of consciousness."
https://www.nytimes.com/2014/12/21/bo...
I am not sure this is true--since the scientists themselves find themselves in an explanatory gap which is unable to bridge "where" mind maps to the brain and what the mechanism is. That is why we have theories ranging from Christof Koch's IIT theory to neuro-nihilists like Dennett and Hoftstadter to those like Chalmers (and maybe the author of this book) who are tackling the issue in terms of energy fields and even to that of seeing consciousness as a fundamental emergent phenomenon like energy or time. Koch has even entertained via the lens of QM superstates. Many forms of Buddhism coincide with the neuro-nihilist view of the self as a mirage or illusion. Thompson, sympathetic to Indian and Tibetan contemplative traditions, does not go down this route and sees consciousness more as a process. Something that is real but more continuously emergent. He explores this notion by looking at what happens to our minds when we sleep and dream. This aspect of the book is absolutely fascinating. The chapters on death and enlightenment are quite moving. Highly recommend this one--most interesting read so far in 2019.
https://www.nytimes.com/2014/12/21/bo...
I am not sure this is true--since the scientists themselves find themselves in an explanatory gap which is unable to bridge "where" mind maps to the brain and what the mechanism is. That is why we have theories ranging from Christof Koch's IIT theory to neuro-nihilists like Dennett and Hoftstadter to those like Chalmers (and maybe the author of this book) who are tackling the issue in terms of energy fields and even to that of seeing consciousness as a fundamental emergent phenomenon like energy or time. Koch has even entertained via the lens of QM superstates. Many forms of Buddhism coincide with the neuro-nihilist view of the self as a mirage or illusion. Thompson, sympathetic to Indian and Tibetan contemplative traditions, does not go down this route and sees consciousness more as a process. Something that is real but more continuously emergent. He explores this notion by looking at what happens to our minds when we sleep and dream. This aspect of the book is absolutely fascinating. The chapters on death and enlightenment are quite moving. Highly recommend this one--most interesting read so far in 2019.
December 23, 2014
A curet's egg. While I thouroughly admired the ideas explored here, and the enormous scientific acumen of the author, I think that the task he's set himself - to add scientific weight to some of the key findings of Buddhist and Hindu thought - becomes near impossible at this level. To some extent Daniel Goleman did a better job in Destructive Emotions. His science is less exhaustive, perhaps, but his prose has more heart.
Read
June 9, 2017This promises to be a terrific reading experience but I have a compliant. The construction of this book by a major university press is dismal. I have encountered shoddy manufacture of scholarly books by other university presses. I paid a lot of money for this work. It is already on the verge of coming unglued. It would not last for long in university or public library. Harvard University Press has also manufactured shoddy hardback books. Their paper editions often are printed on shoddy paper.
March 26, 2024
Гарна книга із філософії свідомості. Томпсон робить спробу поєднати, звести у розмові буддійську філософію і західну науку. Щось із цього пасує, щось навіть резонує, а дещо залишається для мене непевним. Наприклад застосування медитації і теорія навколо конкретного застосування. Чи можемо ми створити умови філософської відкритої позиції, у якій досвід буде первісним, а пояснення завжди другорядним? Чи застосування буддійської медитації не веде одразу до аналізу під певним кутом і відповідних "забарвлених" висновків щодо природи свідомості? Це питання для мене наразі відкриті і відповіді у цій книзі немає.
Однак загалом є гарні кути зору, додаткові ідеї, які поєднують науку, філософію, буддизм і західну філософію. Можливо, за певних умов, ці розмови виведуть якусь нову породу концептуальної практики, де людина отримає голос власній буттєвості без словників (тобто винятково вербальний вираз).
Значний плюс книги у доступності стилю викладу. Професор Томпсон має дуже гарне відчуття живих слухачів, бо розмовляє людською мовою і шукає порозуміння.
Однак загалом є гарні кути зору, додаткові ідеї, які поєднують науку, філософію, буддизм і західну філософію. Можливо, за певних умов, ці розмови виведуть якусь нову породу концептуальної практики, де людина отримає голос власній буттєвості без словників (тобто винятково вербальний вираз).
Значний плюс книги у доступності стилю викладу. Професор Томпсон має дуже гарне відчуття живих слухачів, бо розмовляє людською мовою і шукає порозуміння.
March 30, 2021
I've known Evas Thompson from The Embodied Mind, which is a classic of cognitive science. I was quite excited to discover he had a new book. I wasn't quite sure what to expect, as the main title is quite vague.
But it is vague if you don't know what he is going to argue, the title does describe the book very accurately. It starts by exploring what consciousness is, mostly from the perspective of Indian Buddhist philosophy. He covers the analogy of consciousness being a "light" in its most basic nature. This is something I wrote a few years ago about, and I was happy to see (as usual) that what I wrote was already talked about thousands of years ago.
A lot of book remains into this Indian philosophy paradigm. The whole work can be seen as a conversation between eastern religion and cognitive science, which has its roots in The Embodied Mind. What I loved about it so much is that it covers both philosophy and science very well in a very coherent matter. Usually with the form of explaining how something is thought of in the traditional framework of Buddhism, and then discussing some scientific evidence that is relevant for that particular element. Usually confirming the Buddhist claims, but not always. For example, the first chapter covers Buddhist theories of attention and perception and then some science of attention and perception is covered.
What he is most interested in is the "ancient Indian map of consciousness", which includes 4 states: wakefulness, dreaming, deep/dreamless sleep, and pure awareness. The book guides through all those 4 states. Some of it that were related to consciousness and attention wasn't very new to me, but I completely loved when sleep was covered. You may not think that sleep is not very relevant to find the nature of consciousness. In fact, many have defined consciousness as the difference between wakefulness and sleep! But there is a lot to unpack.
And not only sleep, but dreaming is extensively covered too. And not only dreaming but lucid dreaming (when you can control your dreams). I was aware of the phenomenon, but I never read any science on it, but I was amazed at the connections that the author made in order to better understand what consciousness is.
While Indian and Tibetan traditions have used lucid dreaming for millennia for meditative purposes, we are only scratching the surface in the West. It was fascinating to read and although I took so much of the book, I couldn't get enough of it.
It also covers some questions more towards metaphysics and philosophy of mind. Does consciousness transcend the brain? What should we make out of near-death experiences? He has a relatively normal materialistic position, but it is nuanced and well crafted. This part wasn't super interesting to me as I've read on these topics extensively, and it also seemed a bit disjointed with the overall theme of the book. But I think it was included because he is trying to be in the middle between Buddhism and science, and he wants not only for science to learn from Buddhism but also Buddhism to learn from science and that requires revision of prevalent supernatural beliefs. Nevertheless, I did appreciate some new arguments and evidence that I wasn't familiar with.
My favourite chapter was the last one. The connection between Buddhism and science is increasingly popular, and many have been aware of it from books published about it. Yet, most of the time that connection is often reduced to: "Buddhism says there is no self, and science confirms it". This is incredibly simplistic, and this chapter covers that topic extensively.
He argues against what he calls "neuro-nihilism", the self isn't real if you think of the self as a "thing", which is not. Rather, the self is a process, and it's not an illusion. And this is coherent in some Buddhist philosophy such as “Middle Way” or Madhyamaka school. This was the most well-written account of the self I ever read, and the whole book is worth for this alone.
I also appreciated that the book had a heavy emphasis on the Dalai Lama's efforts to unite science and Buddhism. Even more so after recently reading the biography of Heinrich Harrer which was a teacher of the young Dalai Lama and beautifully captures his curiosity about his topics even as a child. A lot of material is covered on the work being done between Buddhism and science. Both from an academic and cultural perspective.
The book is full of gems, and it exceeded my already high expectations. If you're interested in cognitive science, philosophy of mind and Buddhism, this book is a must-read.
But it is vague if you don't know what he is going to argue, the title does describe the book very accurately. It starts by exploring what consciousness is, mostly from the perspective of Indian Buddhist philosophy. He covers the analogy of consciousness being a "light" in its most basic nature. This is something I wrote a few years ago about, and I was happy to see (as usual) that what I wrote was already talked about thousands of years ago.
A lot of book remains into this Indian philosophy paradigm. The whole work can be seen as a conversation between eastern religion and cognitive science, which has its roots in The Embodied Mind. What I loved about it so much is that it covers both philosophy and science very well in a very coherent matter. Usually with the form of explaining how something is thought of in the traditional framework of Buddhism, and then discussing some scientific evidence that is relevant for that particular element. Usually confirming the Buddhist claims, but not always. For example, the first chapter covers Buddhist theories of attention and perception and then some science of attention and perception is covered.
What he is most interested in is the "ancient Indian map of consciousness", which includes 4 states: wakefulness, dreaming, deep/dreamless sleep, and pure awareness. The book guides through all those 4 states. Some of it that were related to consciousness and attention wasn't very new to me, but I completely loved when sleep was covered. You may not think that sleep is not very relevant to find the nature of consciousness. In fact, many have defined consciousness as the difference between wakefulness and sleep! But there is a lot to unpack.
And not only sleep, but dreaming is extensively covered too. And not only dreaming but lucid dreaming (when you can control your dreams). I was aware of the phenomenon, but I never read any science on it, but I was amazed at the connections that the author made in order to better understand what consciousness is.
While Indian and Tibetan traditions have used lucid dreaming for millennia for meditative purposes, we are only scratching the surface in the West. It was fascinating to read and although I took so much of the book, I couldn't get enough of it.
It also covers some questions more towards metaphysics and philosophy of mind. Does consciousness transcend the brain? What should we make out of near-death experiences? He has a relatively normal materialistic position, but it is nuanced and well crafted. This part wasn't super interesting to me as I've read on these topics extensively, and it also seemed a bit disjointed with the overall theme of the book. But I think it was included because he is trying to be in the middle between Buddhism and science, and he wants not only for science to learn from Buddhism but also Buddhism to learn from science and that requires revision of prevalent supernatural beliefs. Nevertheless, I did appreciate some new arguments and evidence that I wasn't familiar with.
My favourite chapter was the last one. The connection between Buddhism and science is increasingly popular, and many have been aware of it from books published about it. Yet, most of the time that connection is often reduced to: "Buddhism says there is no self, and science confirms it". This is incredibly simplistic, and this chapter covers that topic extensively.
He argues against what he calls "neuro-nihilism", the self isn't real if you think of the self as a "thing", which is not. Rather, the self is a process, and it's not an illusion. And this is coherent in some Buddhist philosophy such as “Middle Way” or Madhyamaka school. This was the most well-written account of the self I ever read, and the whole book is worth for this alone.
I also appreciated that the book had a heavy emphasis on the Dalai Lama's efforts to unite science and Buddhism. Even more so after recently reading the biography of Heinrich Harrer which was a teacher of the young Dalai Lama and beautifully captures his curiosity about his topics even as a child. A lot of material is covered on the work being done between Buddhism and science. Both from an academic and cultural perspective.
The book is full of gems, and it exceeded my already high expectations. If you're interested in cognitive science, philosophy of mind and Buddhism, this book is a must-read.
September 6, 2022
There is no way I can meaningfully summarize all the insights I've gotten from this book and The Embodied Mind which Thomson coauthored. The best I can come up with is to say that these books have, finally and uniquely, provided me with perspectives on what I am, what the mind is, what experience is, what the world is and how they all relate to each other that makes sense to me. Makes sense in that these perspectives fit my intellectual understanding of science and psychology, my experience in daily life, my experiences in various meditative states and they appear to all fit together without any fatal contradictions that I have noticed.
Many other books I've read have dribbled insights on these topics, one or two drops per book, often wrapped in mystique to the degree that they were all but indecipherable. These two books are a stream of understandable reasoned explanations. That's not to say that understanding them is without its challenges though. How could revolutionizing ones perspective on these topics possibly not be challenging if taken seriously?
I very much doubt that I would have gotten as much out of this book had I not read The Embodied Mind first. I have not yet read Thomson's Mind in Life. I intend to do so ASAP. I suspect that book would also be better to read before this book but after The Embodied Mind.
Many other books I've read have dribbled insights on these topics, one or two drops per book, often wrapped in mystique to the degree that they were all but indecipherable. These two books are a stream of understandable reasoned explanations. That's not to say that understanding them is without its challenges though. How could revolutionizing ones perspective on these topics possibly not be challenging if taken seriously?
I very much doubt that I would have gotten as much out of this book had I not read The Embodied Mind first. I have not yet read Thomson's Mind in Life. I intend to do so ASAP. I suspect that book would also be better to read before this book but after The Embodied Mind.
September 25, 2016
Being someone who has had a lifelong interest in science and in buddhism, I was fascinated by this exploration of the meeting of neuroscience, philosophy, and meditative practices. The author covers such topics as awareness, dreaming (both lucid and non-lucid), sleep, out of body and near death experiences, and just what is the "self" without overly emphasizing science or buddhism. Not an "easy" read. Frequently dry and academic (there are 60+ pages of notes in the back of the book), but one book I feel that I got a lot out of.
March 28, 2016
An excellent book. A nice mix of personal experience & theory -Buddhist schools & developments in neuroscience.
It requires careful reading because of the fine distinctions drawn throughout, but well worth the effort.
Although Thompson carefully sets out the neuro-nihilist position (i.e. the self is an illusion created by the brain) which he refutes, it did help me to read some of the writings and watch video recordings by Sam Harris who is arguably the most well known neuro-nihilist.
It requires careful reading because of the fine distinctions drawn throughout, but well worth the effort.
Although Thompson carefully sets out the neuro-nihilist position (i.e. the self is an illusion created by the brain) which he refutes, it did help me to read some of the writings and watch video recordings by Sam Harris who is arguably the most well known neuro-nihilist.
June 10, 2024
This was a difficult book to read and as I got into the middle of the book, I became more and fascinated by the subject of consciousness. It’s an excellent companion for those exploring how to lead a joyful like. I plan to read some chapters again and make notes. There is a wealth of references that one can spend a lifetime.
February 24, 2015
Well-researched and packed with information, but I promise that you'll yawn a few times. The chapters begin with engaging stories, but the writing becomes far drier as the chapters go on.
March 24, 2017
Triangulating between Buddhism, neuroscience and phenomenology, Thompson offers a thought-provoking, challenging engagement with the fundamental question of whether there's any such thing as "the self." His point of departure is the ongoing conversation between the Dalai Lama and scientists researching the realtionship between brain and various states of consciousness. Thompson foregrounds the Dalai Lama's speculation that, although it would conflict with most traditional Buddhist teachings, it's possible that consciousness may be inextricably grounded in the material brain. Throughout, Thompson properly insists that western science needs to surrender a bit of its arrogance and take reports on "subjective" states of consciousness--especially those provided by Buddhist monks with long experience of meditation--seriously. He's also aware that there's a core group of neuroscientists--Richard Davidson at UW-Madison is probably the hub of the network--who are actively and productively working with multiple understandings of consciousness. Most of all, Thompson wants a true, open, honest, respectful dialog and Waking, Dreaming, Being is an important step towards it.
The title refers to the differences--all scientifically verifiable, but not transparent in significance--between the ways the brain and consciousness work during wakefulness, dreaming sleep, and deep dreamless sleep, which may or may not to point towards the existence of some sort of self that's not identifiable with the "I Me Mine" states of mind: a ground of being that underlies the other types of consciousness. He's very interesting when he discusses the reality and importance of "lucid dreams" in which the dreamer remains conscious in some form of what's happening in the dream. It's something I've experienced during decades of Jungian dreamwork, but I'd never made the sorts of connections Thompson suggests. I was absolutely fascinated to learn that sleep experimenters have been able to train lucid dreamers to communicate what they're dreaming with the "outside" world. It'll take a while for that to sink in.
The final chapter of the book advances the hypothesis that the self exists as process--Thompson calls it "I-making" rather than as essence, something external or transcendent you can point to. It's an idea that has many different phrasings and I'm basically inclined to accept it. But Thompson's conclusion was nonetheless slightly disappointing since he develops the argument almost entirely on a philosophical plane (albeit one that remains aware of the neuroscience and informed by Buddhist texts). I certainly didn't expect him to resolve all of the issues he introduced, but I did hope for a slightly more synthetic resolution.
That caveat aside, I'm extremely happy to have read this book. Thompson's very clear that a huge amount of research remains to be done and I'll be following the story as it unfolds.
The title refers to the differences--all scientifically verifiable, but not transparent in significance--between the ways the brain and consciousness work during wakefulness, dreaming sleep, and deep dreamless sleep, which may or may not to point towards the existence of some sort of self that's not identifiable with the "I Me Mine" states of mind: a ground of being that underlies the other types of consciousness. He's very interesting when he discusses the reality and importance of "lucid dreams" in which the dreamer remains conscious in some form of what's happening in the dream. It's something I've experienced during decades of Jungian dreamwork, but I'd never made the sorts of connections Thompson suggests. I was absolutely fascinated to learn that sleep experimenters have been able to train lucid dreamers to communicate what they're dreaming with the "outside" world. It'll take a while for that to sink in.
The final chapter of the book advances the hypothesis that the self exists as process--Thompson calls it "I-making" rather than as essence, something external or transcendent you can point to. It's an idea that has many different phrasings and I'm basically inclined to accept it. But Thompson's conclusion was nonetheless slightly disappointing since he develops the argument almost entirely on a philosophical plane (albeit one that remains aware of the neuroscience and informed by Buddhist texts). I certainly didn't expect him to resolve all of the issues he introduced, but I did hope for a slightly more synthetic resolution.
That caveat aside, I'm extremely happy to have read this book. Thompson's very clear that a huge amount of research remains to be done and I'll be following the story as it unfolds.
August 1, 2018
“In the Yogācāra model of the workings of consciousness, an individual mental stream that’s capable of conceiving of itself as a subject of experience does so by drawing on a subliminal repository of psychological information about itself while attending to its own mental states and preattentively experiencing itself as the conscious subject of this attentive activity.74 For example, suppose the thought, “I feel anxious,” arises in the mental stream. The thought comes about because there’s an implicit and involuntary propensity to experience certain situations as anxiety producing and certain body sensations as anxiety, attention is drawn to the elicited feeling of anxiety, and there’s a preattentive awareness of attending in this way. Yogācāra calls the subliminal repository of psychological propensities the “store consciousness” (ālayavijñāna), the attention to mental states “mental consciousness” (manovijñāna), and the preattentive awareness “mind” (manas). I’ll call them the mental repository, the inner mental awareness, and the preattentive mind. Whereas the inner mental awareness takes mental states—thoughts, emotions, and so on—as objects of attention, the preattentive mind provides the feeling of being a conscious subject. Given the presence of this feeling, whenever the inner mental awareness attends to a mental state, that state is experienced not as floating freely but as belonging to the mental stream. So, in our example, when mental attention is given to the feeling of anxiety, the anxiety appears not as belonging to no one but as belonging to the same mental stream as does the mental attention to it. In other words, from the inside perspective of the mental stream, the anxiety appears as “mine.” In this way, the preattentive mind functions as a base or support for the mental stream’s ability to attend to its own states (via the inner mental awareness) and to be aware of them precisely as its own—to feel that they are “mine.” At the same time, the mental repository—the store consciousness—functions as a long-term support for the preattentive mind. The mental repository contains all the habits, tendencies, and propensities of an individual being. Traditionally, it’s described as containing “seeds” or latent dispositions that eventually “sprout” or manifest in one’s mental life, given the right conditions. In modern terms, it can be described as a kind of data bank or repository of information belonging to an individual stream of consciousness, a “first-person mental file.”75 It ensures not only that there’s mental continuity across the gaps or breaks in ordinary consciousness but also that there’s mental continuity across the gaps or breaks resulting from certain deep meditative states known as “cessations.” In these states, any sense of being a conscious subject is said to disappear, and the body is sometimes said to enter a state of suspended animation.76 Indeed, the concept of the store consciousness was probably first introduced in order to account for the mental continuity across the gaps that cessations produce in the stream of consciousness.77 Although traditionally the store consciousness is said to carry on from one lifetime to the next, from a cognitive science perspective it makes sense to think of the concept of the store consciousness as pointing toward what today we know as the huge amount of cognitive and affective functioning going on in our bodies and brains beneath the surface and across the gaps of consciousness.78 We’re now ready to see how the self-designating error enters the story. The preattentive mind mistakenly designates the mental repository as a self by mistakenly attributing to the mental repository the role of being an “I” or ego that’s wholly present at each moment and that owns the mental stream.79 In reality, however, the mental repository is a subliminal data bank, not an ego, and it’s a constantly changing process, not a substantial thing. Hence the impression that there’s a self is a mental fabrication, and what the fabrication represents doesn’t exist. Since the preattentive mind is responsible for this error, the preattentive mind is also called the “afflicted mind” (kliṣ ṭa-manas). In its afflictive role, it doesn’t function merely as a mode of preattentive self-awareness; it functions also as the delusion that a substantially real self underwrites this mode of awareness. Consider again the thought, “I feel anxious.” This thought has a present-tense “I-Me-Mine” form and seems to refer to an inner self that has the feeling and accounts for the fact that the feeling feels like “mine.” “I-Me-Mine” thoughts can also take a self-projection form, such as “I am going to be so happy when I go on vacation,” “I can see myself at that meeting and I know it’s not going to go well,” “I remember being a shy and anxious kid,” and so on. Such thoughts seem to refer to one and the same inner self that existed in the past, exists now, and will exist in the future. According to Yogācāra, however, although the pronoun “I” in such thoughts seems to refer to or to designate a self, it doesn’t refer at all, for there’s no self to be its referent—no independent ego that was wholly present in the past, is wholly present now, and will be wholly present in the future. Such a self simply doesn’t exist; what exists is only the mental representation of such a self superimposed on changing mental and physical states. It follows that “I-Me-Mine” thoughts are never literally true, for there’s no self of which they could be true. Nevertheless, you habitually and involuntarily take yourself to be referring to your self when you think such thoughts. In this way, you’re caught in the grip of a deep and fundamental error. Although the enactive account of the self that I’m proposing is close in one way to the Yogācāra account, it also differs from it in another important way. Although I agree with Yogācāra that our sense of self or “I-Me-Mine” is mentally constructed, I don’t think it follows that there is no self or that the appearance of the self is nothing but an illusion. Although some illusions are constructions, not all constructions are illusions. The self is a case in point. To say that the sense of self is a mental construction—or rather that it’s a process under constant mental and bodily construction—doesn’t logically imply that there is no self or that the sense of self presents an illusion.80 As Jonardon Ganeri points out, the Yogācāra claim that the sense of self is an error doesn’t logically follow from the Yogācāra model of the stream of consciousness as dependent on a mental repository and as including both a preattentive awareness of itself and a mental capacity to bring attention to bear on its own states.81 Instead, we can take this model as contributing to an analysis of how the self—understood as a process and not a thing—comes to be constructed. Part of the issue here is whether, as some Buddhist and Western philosophers claim, thinking of a stream of consciousness as “mine” is an error, or in other words, whether experiencing the stream of consciousness from within as being “mine” is a delusion. I want to explain now why I think there’s a basic and natural sense of the “mineness” of experience that isn’t a delusion.82 Ordinarily, when you’re aware of a thought, emotion, perception, or sensation, you feel it as your own. For example, sitting in meditation, I suddenly realize I’ve been daydreaming about a planned yoga vacation in the Bahamas. I mentally note, “fantasizing,” and return my attention to the breath. Yet even though I note the fantasizing in an impersonal way—thinking, “fantasizing occurring,” instead of “I’m fantasizing”—there’s a basic way in which the fantasizing feels mine. I don’t mean in the way that the content of the fantasy feels mine when I inhabit the fantasy and identify myself with its main character. Nor do I mean in the way that it would feel were I to go on to identify with the fantasizing by thinking, “I always daydream when I try to meditate” or “I’m a great daydreamer but not a very good meditator.” Self-related processing proliferates in these thoughts, and meditation practice involves learning to notice how and when this happens, and how to disengage from it. What I mean by saying that the fantasizing feels mine is that it shows up as an event in my field of awareness and nowhere else. So too does the witnessing and the mental noting of both the fantasizing and the subsequent self-evaluation. All these mental events happen in this field of awareness here—the one that feels mine. This sense of mineness isn’t a function of where attention happens to be focused, for it’s more basic than selective attention. In particular, it can’t be based on introspectively attending to mental states or experiences and identifying them as mine. In order to identify something as mine, I need to recognize some characteristic property the thing has, know that the property pertains to me, and know that I’m the one identifying this property. But how do I know these things? In particular, how do I know that the act of identifying the mental state is my act of identification? If we say I know this because I can in turn introspectively identify this act, then we’re headed off on an infinite regress, because now I need to know that this second act of meta-identification is mine too.83 For example, suppose there’s some internal cognitive process that tags experiences with the self-referential label “mine” so that when I attend to an experience it feels like mine by virtue of my “reading” the label. This process will work only if I know that I’m the one reading the label. But if we say that the way I know that the reading of the label is my reading is by my reading another label that tells me the first reading is mine, then we’re facing a vicious infinite regress, because now I need to know that this second reading of this second label is also my reading, and so on. Similarly, for a mental state to seem mine when I attend to it, I need to be aware that I’m the one attending in this way and must already experience this awareness as mine. The upshot is that it can’t be right to say that what makes a mental state or experience appear as mine is that I attend to it and identify it as mine on the basis of some characteristic property or label. Rather, there must be a more basic, preattentive, and nonidentifying way that I experience the mental stream as mine.84 The preattentive mind in the Yogācāra account of consciousness plays precisely this role. For this reason, the preattentive mind can be described as a preattentive mode of self-awareness.”
“If the function of the term “I” isn’t to refer, then searching for a referent for the word, especially in the form of a thing or entity or substance, is misguided. It’s not the case that the job of the word “I” is to refer to a self and that the word fails because there is no self. Rather, the function of the term “I” is to enact a self. To think or say “I” is to engage in a self-individuating and self-appropriating form of I-making. One individuates oneself as a subject of experience and agent of action by laying claim to thoughts, emotions, and feelings—as well as commitments and social practices—and thereby enacts a self that is no different from the self-appropriating activity itself. Again, the self isn’t an object or thing; it’s a process—the process of “I-ing” or ongoing self-appropriating activity.89 Ganeri’s image is an enactive one—the self is a “whirlpool of self-appropriating action.”90 Candrakīrti belonged to the philosophical school of Madhyamaka founded by Nāgārjuna, and later Tibetan philosophers regarded him as one of the principal exponents of the subschool Prāsaṅgika Madhyamaka. His view of the self was different from the Yogācāra view;91 it is especially relevant to us today because it provides an important corrective to neuro-nihilism. Candrakīrti presents his view in the form of a commentary on Nāgārjuna’s chapter on the self—the text quoted at the beginning of this chapter—and he repeats Nāgārjuna’s basic argument: if the self independently exists, then it’s either really different from the mind-body aggregates or really the same as them, but since it’s neither, it doesn’t independently exist. On the one hand, if the self were really different from the five aggregates—form (registering), feeling (appraising), perception/cognition (stereotyping), inclination (readying), and consciousness (orienting or attending)—then it could be identified and described without reference to them, but it cannot be so identified and described. The self can be conceived of only in relation to the aggregates and as dependent on the aggregates. On the other hand, if the self were really the same as the aggregates, then the self and the aggregates would be conceived to have all the same attributes. But the self is conceived of and is experienced as one thing, whereas the aggregates are plural. Since the self can’t be conceived of in either of these two ways—as the same as or different from the aggregates—it can’t be a real entity, that is, an independently existent thing. But here’s the crucial point—Candrakīrti doesn’t conclude that there is no self. This would be to succumb to the nihilist extreme, which says that since the self has no independent existence, it has no existence at all. Instead, Candrakīrti concludes that the self is dependently arisen. In other words, the self exists dependent on causes and conditions, including especially how we mentally construct it and name it in language. Recall the Prāsaṅgika Madhyamaka idea that whatever is dependently arisen depends for its existence on a basis of designation, a designating cognition, and a term used to designate it. In the case of the self, the five aggregates are the basis of designation, the thought that projects “self” onto the aggregates is the designating cognition, and the pronoun “I” is the term used to designate it. Notice that this designation isn’t an ordinary referential one; it’s performative—it’s how the mind-body aggregates self-individuate as “I” and self-appropriate as “me” and “mine.” Since the self arises as a mental projection onto the mind-body aggregates, it’s not different from the mind-body aggregates in the sense of existing independently of them; it’s dependent on them as its basis. Yet the self isn’t the same as the mind-body aggregates, for it exists only in relation to the cognition that projects it, and what that cognition projects is the idea of a whole or unitary self, not an impersonal composite of mind-body processes. The self is like an image in a mirror. The image depends for its existence on the mirror—the mirror is the basis for the image—but the image isn’t one and the same thing as the mirror, nor is it made of the same stuff as the mirror, for as an image it exists only in relation to an observer. Notice that the mirror image, though observer-dependent, isn’t a subjective illusion. So too the self, though mind-dependent, isn’t a subjective illusion. Nevertheless, the way that the self appears does involve an illusion, even if it’s not the case that there is no self or that the appearance of the self is nothing but an illusion. The illusion—or delusion—is taking the self to have an independent existence, like taking the mirror image to be really in the mirror. Notice that the image as such isn’t an illusion; it’s the taking of the image to exist in the mirror that’s the illusion. Similarly, it’s not the appearance of the self as such that’s the illusion; it’s taking the self to exist independently that’s the illusion.92 Notice too that contrary to neuro-nihilism, the illusion isn’t that the self appears to be a self-substance. That view of the self is theoretical and doesn’t accurately describe our experience. The conception of the self as a substance isn’t a cognitive illusion; it’s a false belief that derives from philosophy (Descartes in the West and the Nyāya school in India), not from everyday experience. Neuro-nihilism mistakenly diagnoses our self-experience as being committed to a certain philosophical conception of the self and thereby overintellectualizes our experience. Candrakīrti, however, says that the fundamental illusion is that we take the self to exist by virtue of itself or by virtue of its own being, when in reality its existence is dependent. The illusion is cognitive and existential. Another important point is that undoing this illusion—through highly developed meditative concentration combined with acute analytical insight—doesn’t mean destroying the appearance of the self as independent; it means not being taken in by the appearance and believing that the self is independent. This ignorant and deep-seated belief, not the appearance of the self as such, habitually deludes us into thinking, feeling, and acting as if the self were independent.”
“If the function of the term “I” isn’t to refer, then searching for a referent for the word, especially in the form of a thing or entity or substance, is misguided. It’s not the case that the job of the word “I” is to refer to a self and that the word fails because there is no self. Rather, the function of the term “I” is to enact a self. To think or say “I” is to engage in a self-individuating and self-appropriating form of I-making. One individuates oneself as a subject of experience and agent of action by laying claim to thoughts, emotions, and feelings—as well as commitments and social practices—and thereby enacts a self that is no different from the self-appropriating activity itself. Again, the self isn’t an object or thing; it’s a process—the process of “I-ing” or ongoing self-appropriating activity.89 Ganeri’s image is an enactive one—the self is a “whirlpool of self-appropriating action.”90 Candrakīrti belonged to the philosophical school of Madhyamaka founded by Nāgārjuna, and later Tibetan philosophers regarded him as one of the principal exponents of the subschool Prāsaṅgika Madhyamaka. His view of the self was different from the Yogācāra view;91 it is especially relevant to us today because it provides an important corrective to neuro-nihilism. Candrakīrti presents his view in the form of a commentary on Nāgārjuna’s chapter on the self—the text quoted at the beginning of this chapter—and he repeats Nāgārjuna’s basic argument: if the self independently exists, then it’s either really different from the mind-body aggregates or really the same as them, but since it’s neither, it doesn’t independently exist. On the one hand, if the self were really different from the five aggregates—form (registering), feeling (appraising), perception/cognition (stereotyping), inclination (readying), and consciousness (orienting or attending)—then it could be identified and described without reference to them, but it cannot be so identified and described. The self can be conceived of only in relation to the aggregates and as dependent on the aggregates. On the other hand, if the self were really the same as the aggregates, then the self and the aggregates would be conceived to have all the same attributes. But the self is conceived of and is experienced as one thing, whereas the aggregates are plural. Since the self can’t be conceived of in either of these two ways—as the same as or different from the aggregates—it can’t be a real entity, that is, an independently existent thing. But here’s the crucial point—Candrakīrti doesn’t conclude that there is no self. This would be to succumb to the nihilist extreme, which says that since the self has no independent existence, it has no existence at all. Instead, Candrakīrti concludes that the self is dependently arisen. In other words, the self exists dependent on causes and conditions, including especially how we mentally construct it and name it in language. Recall the Prāsaṅgika Madhyamaka idea that whatever is dependently arisen depends for its existence on a basis of designation, a designating cognition, and a term used to designate it. In the case of the self, the five aggregates are the basis of designation, the thought that projects “self” onto the aggregates is the designating cognition, and the pronoun “I” is the term used to designate it. Notice that this designation isn’t an ordinary referential one; it’s performative—it’s how the mind-body aggregates self-individuate as “I” and self-appropriate as “me” and “mine.” Since the self arises as a mental projection onto the mind-body aggregates, it’s not different from the mind-body aggregates in the sense of existing independently of them; it’s dependent on them as its basis. Yet the self isn’t the same as the mind-body aggregates, for it exists only in relation to the cognition that projects it, and what that cognition projects is the idea of a whole or unitary self, not an impersonal composite of mind-body processes. The self is like an image in a mirror. The image depends for its existence on the mirror—the mirror is the basis for the image—but the image isn’t one and the same thing as the mirror, nor is it made of the same stuff as the mirror, for as an image it exists only in relation to an observer. Notice that the mirror image, though observer-dependent, isn’t a subjective illusion. So too the self, though mind-dependent, isn’t a subjective illusion. Nevertheless, the way that the self appears does involve an illusion, even if it’s not the case that there is no self or that the appearance of the self is nothing but an illusion. The illusion—or delusion—is taking the self to have an independent existence, like taking the mirror image to be really in the mirror. Notice that the image as such isn’t an illusion; it’s the taking of the image to exist in the mirror that’s the illusion. Similarly, it’s not the appearance of the self as such that’s the illusion; it’s taking the self to exist independently that’s the illusion.92 Notice too that contrary to neuro-nihilism, the illusion isn’t that the self appears to be a self-substance. That view of the self is theoretical and doesn’t accurately describe our experience. The conception of the self as a substance isn’t a cognitive illusion; it’s a false belief that derives from philosophy (Descartes in the West and the Nyāya school in India), not from everyday experience. Neuro-nihilism mistakenly diagnoses our self-experience as being committed to a certain philosophical conception of the self and thereby overintellectualizes our experience. Candrakīrti, however, says that the fundamental illusion is that we take the self to exist by virtue of itself or by virtue of its own being, when in reality its existence is dependent. The illusion is cognitive and existential. Another important point is that undoing this illusion—through highly developed meditative concentration combined with acute analytical insight—doesn’t mean destroying the appearance of the self as independent; it means not being taken in by the appearance and believing that the self is independent. This ignorant and deep-seated belief, not the appearance of the self as such, habitually deludes us into thinking, feeling, and acting as if the self were independent.”
March 22, 2026
This is a fine book by an extraordinary author whose literary followers have awaited a definitive statement of his views on consciousness since his participation in the important book on biological autopoiesis, The Embodied Mind (Varela, Thompson, & Rosch, 1991) and his recent neurophenomenology of biological systems, Mind in Life (2007). In the latter book, Thompson demonstrated the continuity of life and mind, whereas in this book, he uses neurophenomenology as well as erudite renditions of Buddhist philosophy and a good dash of personal experience to argue for the reality of altered states of consciousness, but also that these states are not distinct from the physical systems that subtend them. He must have touched a nerve, for Waking, Dreaming, Being continues to be read and widely discussed by the literate public.
This book has caused significant dismay among scientific materialists, and among those who believe mind or being transcends mere physicality, but also, notably, among some philosophical phenomenologists. The first are unhappy because Thompson takes his meditation experiences and the rigorous philosophy developed within Buddhism just as seriously as he does cognitive science or biology. The transcendentalists, including some Buddhists, are disappointed because Thompson stands with a statement from the Dalai Lama, whom he interviewed, that ‘even the subtlest “clear state of mind,” which manifests at the moment of death must have some kind of physical base’ (p. xxii). But while the Dalai Lama concluded his talk with Thompson with cheerful uncertainty, ‘Whether there is something independent or not, I don’t know’ (ibid.) – Thompson himself seems to side with materialism and proceeds on his fascinating exploration into varied conscious experiences looking but failing to find any that can withstand objective scrutiny of their transcendence of the
physical, especially cerebral, sphere. In this process, there is some question whether his phenomenological credentials are put aside as he appears to stand with objective proof as a final arbiter as opposed to knowledge based in personal experience.1
On this journey, Thompson produces a most reader-friendly book, laced with personal asides and conversations with other well-known figures. He writes both with clarity and vigour, demonstrating vast knowledge over many fields from neuroscience to arcane Buddhist and Indian yogic texts to current consciousness studies. Early on, he moves toward a definition of that most difficult of concepts, consciousness, by seeing it as making appearance possible and noting that those sorts of sciences that attempt to exclude consciousness from their purview could hardly proceed without it:
He defines consciousness in a way that embraces self-identity: ‘Consciousness is that which is luminous, knowing, and reflexive. Consciousness is that which makes manifest appearances, is able to apprehend them in one way or another, and in so doing is self-appearing and prereflectively self-aware’ (p. 18). The word ‘luminous’ indicates his background as a meditator since childhood in Tibetan awareness techniques.
What does he explore? First he goes through perceptual experiences, illusions, and states of consciousness achieved by meditators, including the state of quiescent awareness possible in deep dreamless sleep and the ‘fourth state’, called simply that, indicating that this is said to be void consciousness (no time, no substance, no objects, and no subject) identified metaphorically in Buddhism as ‘the clear light’. He admits that there is no scientific proof, as yet, of such states and that such proof may be impossible to obtain, but he notes that there is no evidence of anyone attaining such a state (or non-state) without having a physical substrate. He makes no claim to such attainment himself, but, toward the end, suggests such realizations may be the result of stilling the brain via meditation into a state of pure subjectivity without objective content. The Dalai Lama himself seems to admit that, though he believes many advanced meditators have attained the clear light, he himself has no personal knowledge of it.
Thompson goes on to explore the dreaming state in some detail, sharing his own experiences of dream insight and lucid dreaming. He investigates so-called out of body experiences (OBEs), including his own, again concluding that such experiences likely are made of intuition, imagination and dream images – noting there is no proof of the body literally being transcended. At this point, the reader begins to wonder if Thompson is being serious or ironic since his own OBE as a child provided him with insights he could have gained no other way. Much to the disappointment of true believers, Thompson also dismisses the near-death experience (NDE) as nothing more than the active imagination released when parts of the brain are left dysfunctional from heart failure, chemical ingestion, or other accidents, none of which have been proven to happen with an inactive brain or from a perceptual point beyond the body. He does not doubt, however, that the many reports reflect actual experiences, illusory or not.
His most compelling chapter asks ‘What Happens When We Die?’ He begins by honouring the ineffability of the experience of death by questioning the scientific perspective on it: ‘Yet even if we set aside the issue of whether science gives us good reason to believe that death entails the complete cessation of all consciousness, this conception is totally inadequate because it says nothing about the experience of dying’ (p. 275). He notes that Tibetan Buddhism, on the other hand, has built a vast literature around this very transition, from the moment of death to seeking and finding new physical embodiment in another incarnation.
However, those who have trained themselves to recognize the luminosity of the ‘fourth state’, that is, the pure awareness in the clear light, will not be reborn but transcend into the All, according to this view. Thompson, perhaps surprisingly, writes, ‘I’m very skeptical of this way of thinking’ (p. 287). He notes that any such post-mortem experience is impossible to report without a living body, leaving the theory based on inference or conjecture, in the process casting doubt on the reports of those who claim to have recovered memories of lives previously lived.
He follows this up with an investigation into the deaths of realized meditators whose bodies reportedly did not begin to decay immediately, often remaining unsullied for days or even weeks. Scientific investigation into these reports continues, but Thompson, for the time being, dutifully accepts the skeptical responses of forensic scientists that bodies often resist corruption in the right environmental circumstances. Again, the reader wonders if Thompson is actually toeing the line of scientific skepticism or if he is being ironic, for in at least some of these cases, the corpse of the realized meditator was in southern India, hot and humid and perfect for rot. If these reports are proven to be true, it may be an indication that something more than observable physical life is afoot. But, finally: ‘It can also help us remember that only the dying can teach us something about death, and what we’re called upon to do is to bear witness to their experience’ (p. 318). This is a truly phenomenological perspective.
In his final chapter, he explores the contentious area regarding the self. Influenced by Buddhist thought, he seeks a middle way between what he terms the ‘neuro-nihilism’ of certain scientists and philosophers who deny there is a self (for they see no brain function that could support it) and the intuitive self-reification of others who regard the self as a substantial entity existing basically unchanged along with the body. Based on the ideas of the sixth-century Buddhist philosopher, Candrakīrti, Thompson sees the self as dependently arising or, more precisely, dependently co-arising from a juncture of causes. It begins with a self-specifying system at the cellular level. At this point, he ties self-making back to the body and denies that consciousness is merely an information processing system, ‘for consciousness depends fundamentally on specific kinds of electrochemical processes, that is, on a specific kind of biological hardware’ (p. 343). This becomes the basis by steps of the enactive self, ‘a full-fledged I-making system’ (p. 344).
He acknowledges social self-making (the narrative self of phenomenology), and he uses the extensive research of Tomasello (1999) to show that joint attention helps draw forth a mirror identity, the sense of self as seen by others. If he had read more recent work from Tomasello (2014), he would have seen Tomasello now supports the deeper social entanglement of joint intentionality, which hints at an actual sense of group identity that then makes individual self-identity possible. Beyond all this, however, Thompson, as an experienced meditator, must then deal with the claim that many advanced yogis have transcended the illusion of self and ‘the body is said to have entered a state of suspended animation’ (p. 357). With the enactive self and the socially constructed self-concept, this should be no surprise, for ‘if the self is a construction, then we should expect that it could be dismantled, even while some of its constituent processes – such as bare sentience or phenomenal consciousness – remain present’ (p. 362). For Thompson, enlightenment is not self-extinguishment. ‘Rather it consists in wisdom that includes not being taken in by the appearance of self as having independent existence while that appearance is nonetheless still there and performing its important I-making function’ (p. 366)
Overall, the position apparently taken Thompson on the matter of consciousness might be called luminescent physicalism. This is not the cold objective materialism favoured by many in the sciences that assumes that life, experience and consciousness randomly evolved out of material interactions. Here the only physical world that can be known is one in which life is already present, and, for Thompson, life is coterminous with mind – when one is present so is the other. One of the implications of this is that those sciences that attempt to explain away the activities of living organisms as driven only by the evolutionary imperatives of survival and reproduction have to make room for individual intentions and perhaps even teleological purpose in nature. At the same time, it is no use speculating about the material universe before life appeared, for, from a phenomenological perspective, such would be an impossibility; there is no form to existence, no presence without consciousness.
Finally, it must be said that summarizing Thompson’s position in consciousness studies does not do this book justice. It is a big book, but one written in a manner meant to reach a wide, non-specialist audience. Thompson explores a veritable kaleidoscope of real and possible experiences, most of which are familiar enough to entertain; experiences that – agree with his conclusions or not – engage us in a way that academic writing rarely achieves.
1 Michel Bitbol (2015), a philosopher of science and phenomenologist, writes positively of Thompson’s book but takes issue with his leap into objectivity over the limitations of a purely phenomenological perspective, which would have left his conclusions more open.
References
Bitbol, M. (2015), ‘When “altered” states become fundamental’. The Journal of Mind and Behavior, 36, 101-112.
Thompson, E. (2007), Mind in Life: Biology, phenomenology, and the sciences of mind (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press).
Tomasello, M. (1999), The Cultural Origins of Human Cognition (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press).
Tomasello, M. (2014), A Natural History of Human Thinking(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press).
Varela, F. J., Thompson, E., & Rosch, E. (1991), The Embodied Mind: Cognitive science and human experience (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press).
This book has caused significant dismay among scientific materialists, and among those who believe mind or being transcends mere physicality, but also, notably, among some philosophical phenomenologists. The first are unhappy because Thompson takes his meditation experiences and the rigorous philosophy developed within Buddhism just as seriously as he does cognitive science or biology. The transcendentalists, including some Buddhists, are disappointed because Thompson stands with a statement from the Dalai Lama, whom he interviewed, that ‘even the subtlest “clear state of mind,” which manifests at the moment of death must have some kind of physical base’ (p. xxii). But while the Dalai Lama concluded his talk with Thompson with cheerful uncertainty, ‘Whether there is something independent or not, I don’t know’ (ibid.) – Thompson himself seems to side with materialism and proceeds on his fascinating exploration into varied conscious experiences looking but failing to find any that can withstand objective scrutiny of their transcendence of the
physical, especially cerebral, sphere. In this process, there is some question whether his phenomenological credentials are put aside as he appears to stand with objective proof as a final arbiter as opposed to knowledge based in personal experience.1
On this journey, Thompson produces a most reader-friendly book, laced with personal asides and conversations with other well-known figures. He writes both with clarity and vigour, demonstrating vast knowledge over many fields from neuroscience to arcane Buddhist and Indian yogic texts to current consciousness studies. Early on, he moves toward a definition of that most difficult of concepts, consciousness, by seeing it as making appearance possible and noting that those sorts of sciences that attempt to exclude consciousness from their purview could hardly proceed without it:
Without consciousness, the world can’t appear to perception, the past can’t appear to memory, and the future can’t appear to hope or anticipation. The point extends to science: without consciousness there’s no appearance of the microscopic world through electron microscopes, no appearance of distant stars through telescopes, and no appearance of the brain through magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) scanners. Simply put, without consciousness there’s no observation, and without observation there are no data. (p. 14)
He defines consciousness in a way that embraces self-identity: ‘Consciousness is that which is luminous, knowing, and reflexive. Consciousness is that which makes manifest appearances, is able to apprehend them in one way or another, and in so doing is self-appearing and prereflectively self-aware’ (p. 18). The word ‘luminous’ indicates his background as a meditator since childhood in Tibetan awareness techniques.
What does he explore? First he goes through perceptual experiences, illusions, and states of consciousness achieved by meditators, including the state of quiescent awareness possible in deep dreamless sleep and the ‘fourth state’, called simply that, indicating that this is said to be void consciousness (no time, no substance, no objects, and no subject) identified metaphorically in Buddhism as ‘the clear light’. He admits that there is no scientific proof, as yet, of such states and that such proof may be impossible to obtain, but he notes that there is no evidence of anyone attaining such a state (or non-state) without having a physical substrate. He makes no claim to such attainment himself, but, toward the end, suggests such realizations may be the result of stilling the brain via meditation into a state of pure subjectivity without objective content. The Dalai Lama himself seems to admit that, though he believes many advanced meditators have attained the clear light, he himself has no personal knowledge of it.
Thompson goes on to explore the dreaming state in some detail, sharing his own experiences of dream insight and lucid dreaming. He investigates so-called out of body experiences (OBEs), including his own, again concluding that such experiences likely are made of intuition, imagination and dream images – noting there is no proof of the body literally being transcended. At this point, the reader begins to wonder if Thompson is being serious or ironic since his own OBE as a child provided him with insights he could have gained no other way. Much to the disappointment of true believers, Thompson also dismisses the near-death experience (NDE) as nothing more than the active imagination released when parts of the brain are left dysfunctional from heart failure, chemical ingestion, or other accidents, none of which have been proven to happen with an inactive brain or from a perceptual point beyond the body. He does not doubt, however, that the many reports reflect actual experiences, illusory or not.
His most compelling chapter asks ‘What Happens When We Die?’ He begins by honouring the ineffability of the experience of death by questioning the scientific perspective on it: ‘Yet even if we set aside the issue of whether science gives us good reason to believe that death entails the complete cessation of all consciousness, this conception is totally inadequate because it says nothing about the experience of dying’ (p. 275). He notes that Tibetan Buddhism, on the other hand, has built a vast literature around this very transition, from the moment of death to seeking and finding new physical embodiment in another incarnation.
However, those who have trained themselves to recognize the luminosity of the ‘fourth state’, that is, the pure awareness in the clear light, will not be reborn but transcend into the All, according to this view. Thompson, perhaps surprisingly, writes, ‘I’m very skeptical of this way of thinking’ (p. 287). He notes that any such post-mortem experience is impossible to report without a living body, leaving the theory based on inference or conjecture, in the process casting doubt on the reports of those who claim to have recovered memories of lives previously lived.
He follows this up with an investigation into the deaths of realized meditators whose bodies reportedly did not begin to decay immediately, often remaining unsullied for days or even weeks. Scientific investigation into these reports continues, but Thompson, for the time being, dutifully accepts the skeptical responses of forensic scientists that bodies often resist corruption in the right environmental circumstances. Again, the reader wonders if Thompson is actually toeing the line of scientific skepticism or if he is being ironic, for in at least some of these cases, the corpse of the realized meditator was in southern India, hot and humid and perfect for rot. If these reports are proven to be true, it may be an indication that something more than observable physical life is afoot. But, finally: ‘It can also help us remember that only the dying can teach us something about death, and what we’re called upon to do is to bear witness to their experience’ (p. 318). This is a truly phenomenological perspective.
In his final chapter, he explores the contentious area regarding the self. Influenced by Buddhist thought, he seeks a middle way between what he terms the ‘neuro-nihilism’ of certain scientists and philosophers who deny there is a self (for they see no brain function that could support it) and the intuitive self-reification of others who regard the self as a substantial entity existing basically unchanged along with the body. Based on the ideas of the sixth-century Buddhist philosopher, Candrakīrti, Thompson sees the self as dependently arising or, more precisely, dependently co-arising from a juncture of causes. It begins with a self-specifying system at the cellular level. At this point, he ties self-making back to the body and denies that consciousness is merely an information processing system, ‘for consciousness depends fundamentally on specific kinds of electrochemical processes, that is, on a specific kind of biological hardware’ (p. 343). This becomes the basis by steps of the enactive self, ‘a full-fledged I-making system’ (p. 344).
He acknowledges social self-making (the narrative self of phenomenology), and he uses the extensive research of Tomasello (1999) to show that joint attention helps draw forth a mirror identity, the sense of self as seen by others. If he had read more recent work from Tomasello (2014), he would have seen Tomasello now supports the deeper social entanglement of joint intentionality, which hints at an actual sense of group identity that then makes individual self-identity possible. Beyond all this, however, Thompson, as an experienced meditator, must then deal with the claim that many advanced yogis have transcended the illusion of self and ‘the body is said to have entered a state of suspended animation’ (p. 357). With the enactive self and the socially constructed self-concept, this should be no surprise, for ‘if the self is a construction, then we should expect that it could be dismantled, even while some of its constituent processes – such as bare sentience or phenomenal consciousness – remain present’ (p. 362). For Thompson, enlightenment is not self-extinguishment. ‘Rather it consists in wisdom that includes not being taken in by the appearance of self as having independent existence while that appearance is nonetheless still there and performing its important I-making function’ (p. 366)
Overall, the position apparently taken Thompson on the matter of consciousness might be called luminescent physicalism. This is not the cold objective materialism favoured by many in the sciences that assumes that life, experience and consciousness randomly evolved out of material interactions. Here the only physical world that can be known is one in which life is already present, and, for Thompson, life is coterminous with mind – when one is present so is the other. One of the implications of this is that those sciences that attempt to explain away the activities of living organisms as driven only by the evolutionary imperatives of survival and reproduction have to make room for individual intentions and perhaps even teleological purpose in nature. At the same time, it is no use speculating about the material universe before life appeared, for, from a phenomenological perspective, such would be an impossibility; there is no form to existence, no presence without consciousness.
Finally, it must be said that summarizing Thompson’s position in consciousness studies does not do this book justice. It is a big book, but one written in a manner meant to reach a wide, non-specialist audience. Thompson explores a veritable kaleidoscope of real and possible experiences, most of which are familiar enough to entertain; experiences that – agree with his conclusions or not – engage us in a way that academic writing rarely achieves.
1 Michel Bitbol (2015), a philosopher of science and phenomenologist, writes positively of Thompson’s book but takes issue with his leap into objectivity over the limitations of a purely phenomenological perspective, which would have left his conclusions more open.
References
Bitbol, M. (2015), ‘When “altered” states become fundamental’. The Journal of Mind and Behavior, 36, 101-112.
Thompson, E. (2007), Mind in Life: Biology, phenomenology, and the sciences of mind (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press).
Tomasello, M. (1999), The Cultural Origins of Human Cognition (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press).
Tomasello, M. (2014), A Natural History of Human Thinking(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press).
Varela, F. J., Thompson, E., & Rosch, E. (1991), The Embodied Mind: Cognitive science and human experience (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press).
July 12, 2025
Most of the book is a report, with detailed information from experiments performed during the different stages of consciousness. That makes it a much dryer read than anticipated. I actually thought of quitting but was very interested in the last two chapters, so I kept going.
I like the structure of it (makes total sense), and the fact that Evan Thompson provides his own opinion following a factual analysis. He is skeptical but extremely well informed. I just wished the book was more about the ideas and not so much about hard data reporting.
The last chapter on The Self is extraordinary. One of the best accounts on the topic I have ever read. Less reporting data and more sharing of interesting ideas, leading to perfectly supported conclusions. That said, it has little or nothing to do with the sequential order of the consciousness stages presented in the previous chapters. It’s a small book on its own.
I like the structure of it (makes total sense), and the fact that Evan Thompson provides his own opinion following a factual analysis. He is skeptical but extremely well informed. I just wished the book was more about the ideas and not so much about hard data reporting.
The last chapter on The Self is extraordinary. One of the best accounts on the topic I have ever read. Less reporting data and more sharing of interesting ideas, leading to perfectly supported conclusions. That said, it has little or nothing to do with the sequential order of the consciousness stages presented in the previous chapters. It’s a small book on its own.
February 21, 2020
This is an exceptional book. It deftly weaves together Eastern and Western philosophy with neuroscience to explore the nature of the self, mind, and consciousness. It covers areas such as out-of-body and near-death experiences with rigour rarely found in other works. It also discusses how waking, dreaming, and lucid dreaming states can be used in contemplative practice to probe the nature of awareness, attention, and "self-making" (discussed at length in the final chapter).
It's a challenging read at times, mainly because of the many topics covered, but Thompson's writing is very lucid and clear. He truly wants the readers to understand complex concepts or his rebuttal of some, in his view, mistaken assumptions about the nature of the self or experiential states (such as OBEs and NDEs). Highly recommended for anyone interested in the philosophy and science of the mind.
It's a challenging read at times, mainly because of the many topics covered, but Thompson's writing is very lucid and clear. He truly wants the readers to understand complex concepts or his rebuttal of some, in his view, mistaken assumptions about the nature of the self or experiential states (such as OBEs and NDEs). Highly recommended for anyone interested in the philosophy and science of the mind.
June 3, 2018
Evan’s books are always long, detailed, and challenging. This one helped me to get a better feel for the relationship between his preferred form of enactivism and his approach to neurophenomenology. I can’t say that I agree with him on everything here, but I’ve found many of the ideas from this book continuing to work their way through my thinking. Even more, it’s one of the first books that has helped me to see why consciousness studies is worth pursuing! I definitely recommend this book to anyone who’s interested in the philosophy of cognitive science, and who’s open to learning from traditions outside of Western Europe and contemporary North America.
April 28, 2015
A thorough investigation regarding consciousness & the 'self' in neuroscience, religion & philosophy. A well argued thesis, which purports that the 'self' is neither an illusion or delusion rather a continuous process that is subject to change. This book has a wealth of information. A well-researched book.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 26, 2019
An incredibly packed and multidisciplinary read that, drawing heavily from Eastern tradition and philosophy, reminds us to not discount the value of phenomenal experience in understanding consciousness and the self. Enjoyed it thoroughly, especially the chapter on lucid dreaming and the illusion of self.
January 19, 2021
011921: Second reading. Still hold this as the go-to book that guides the reader through the various states of consciousness. Will continue to use this as a reference and will likely revisit again in full.
112519: Superb book that will be revisited throughout my lifetime. (Planning to add a deeper review after a reread)
112519: Superb book that will be revisited throughout my lifetime. (Planning to add a deeper review after a reread)
April 25, 2024
Gift/recommendation from brother Dennis. A difficult (technical academic/scientific language) read, but interesting effort to blend neuroscience, phenomenology, and Buddhism/meditation to look at the notions of self and consciousness, and the waking-dreaming states.
April 23, 2017
Don't waste the time reading this.
July 4, 2021
Review to come...
August 11, 2018
This is another extremely well-made Lewis unfolding of the facts below the surface, this time of weather information. One reviewer here bewilderingly complains that Lewis "politicizes" the account. Now, the thesis of the piece is that the Trump administration is systematically closing down public access to government information that has always been available to the public; reporting facts you wish were not true about a political situation and making reasonable sense out of them is not "politicizing."
Another reviewer complains that the piece is unfair to the Accuweather CEO whom Trump nominated to be the director of NOAA because he (the reviewer) knows the nominee personally and he's a great guy. The unfair part seems to be the factual material indicating that the nominee has worked long and hard in Washington to get laws restricting public access to government weather data so that Accuweather (and other commercial outfits) can use it and sell it themselves. This reviewer also says that almost everything Lewis says about meteorology is wrong -- I doubt if this claim is true. Michael Lewis is one of the most meticulous high-profile reporters we have right now, and that's saying something because of how meticulous most reporters are. I would like to see evidence of this reviewer's claim presented by, say, a National Weather Service scientist.
A year and a half into the moral mess we're in, it still takes me by surprise when supporters of the present administration get indignant about factual accuracy. Especially when the accuracy they're calling for is inaccurate. It is ironic beyond comprehension. Lewis is basically just telling us what's been happening. He makes precious few value judgments. What gets everybody hopped up, either way, is that the facts of what's been happening all point in the same unavoidably ugly, and dangerous direction. "Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away," to quote a SF writer who if alive in 2016-18 would be saying I told you so.
Another reviewer complains that the piece is unfair to the Accuweather CEO whom Trump nominated to be the director of NOAA because he (the reviewer) knows the nominee personally and he's a great guy. The unfair part seems to be the factual material indicating that the nominee has worked long and hard in Washington to get laws restricting public access to government weather data so that Accuweather (and other commercial outfits) can use it and sell it themselves. This reviewer also says that almost everything Lewis says about meteorology is wrong -- I doubt if this claim is true. Michael Lewis is one of the most meticulous high-profile reporters we have right now, and that's saying something because of how meticulous most reporters are. I would like to see evidence of this reviewer's claim presented by, say, a National Weather Service scientist.
A year and a half into the moral mess we're in, it still takes me by surprise when supporters of the present administration get indignant about factual accuracy. Especially when the accuracy they're calling for is inaccurate. It is ironic beyond comprehension. Lewis is basically just telling us what's been happening. He makes precious few value judgments. What gets everybody hopped up, either way, is that the facts of what's been happening all point in the same unavoidably ugly, and dangerous direction. "Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away," to quote a SF writer who if alive in 2016-18 would be saying I told you so.
March 2, 2018
What is consciousness? Are we conscious when we sleep? Is lucid dreaming an extraordinary “pure awareness”? Why is it some of the most beautiful moments are with-in moments when we forget ourselves; when we forget our ego, and sense of self. Has our sense of self always just been an illusion? Evan Thompson gives an alternative to the Buddhist idea of no self, saying “our sense of self is not an illusion but rather a process”. This seemed to be the most important theme he wanted to share from this book. Reading and understanding what he meant is another story and will be a personal endeavor for those who wish to try. Along with tautologies of the ego he gave analyses on lucid dreaming. These sections take you into different dream worlds, where you will learn about dream yoga, and contemplate whether you are conscious even when you are not lucid dreaming. Is your dream self the same as your awake self? Evan tries to answer questions that aren’t really answerable, and all while using the scientific method. This approach can be barely tolerable as a reader, slightly humorous (because it can be ridiculous), but highly intriguing as a seeker of truth. He shared peer reviewed research to support the questions and answers given, along with sharing many Eastern religious thoughts. I loved the book. I loved his philosophical quandaries and his thoughtful theories. I felt he gave a non biased approach to his search. I dug it.
April 30, 2022
The book is a general mix of eastern philosophy and meditations with western neuroscience and psychology, and that is what makes this book a unique and interesting one. Evan Thompson has done a great job researching to write this book. We can see the writer's knowledge and research on different topics not only in philosophy and meditations but also in the scientific study of neuroscience and psychology. Although the book is easy to read, there are places where the readers find themselves getting stuck and not understanding what the writer is actually trying to prove. This also seems a special book for the writer as he gives the reader the personal touch time and often, especially while starting the chapters where he reports what he has encountered in his life which smoothly matches the big question that the writer is going to tackle next.
April 4, 2023
Contemplative Neurophenomenology. This whole big book was worth reading just to learn that one phrase. Contemplative Neurophenomenology. Cool stuff. Basically it’s just a quicker way of saying Philosophy of Mind Informed By Meditation Practices and Data-Driven Neuroscience. #EvanThompson organizes #WakingDreamingBeing after the Upanishads, which is rad. Overall his treatment is very academic, very “in the following chapter I will show X by way of A, B, and C.” He is always empirical, whether he’s examining the claims of ancient texts or wading into the highly subjective terrain of lucid dreaming and near-death experiences. At the same time, his writing is snappy and anecdotal and always manages to remain totally open to questions current science cannot comment on. I was expecting to love the two chapters on dreaming the most (which were in fact wild and will definitely end up in my Art & Science of Dreaming syllabus) but in the end, it was his chapter on Dying that left me rocked. There’s a guided meditation in there he learned from Joan Halifax. Whoa.
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