Mindfulness and deep thoughts

I’ve been chewing on this lately—really dwelling on it. What does a healthy, or even just a "normal," ratio between these two things look like?

Awareness, I suspect, ought to be a state free from judgment, strain, or the constant urge to draw conclusions—just pure experience. Thinking, on the other hand, should ideally be the process that actually facilitates that.

But what is the actual purpose of thinking? Is there a point to it? Would we all be fundamentally happier if we could just *be*—you know, existing purely through awareness, guided by sensation and direct experience rather than mental gymnastics? To me, thinking often feels like nothing more than a byproduct of negative experiences. Sure, it can be useful if applied creatively, but is that really how we were meant to organize our entire world?

Think about a newborn. They just exist, happy and curious, exploring everything. Then we step in and interrupt that flow, forcing them toward specific goals and reasons. We’ve all said it at some point—how much better life was when we didn't have a care in the world or a single nagging thought in our heads. Why do we even need this cognitive overhead? If we assume that individual happiness is the ultimate goal, then I fail to see why we need any of this. All this formalized knowledge... it doesn't seem to serve the human spirit. You're hungry, you eat; you're tired, you sleep; you feel desire, you follow it. Isn't that how we're wired? Just following our basic needs seems like the only path to contentment, yet today everyone is just sprinting toward some hollow, superficial prize.

Samuel Harris10 said:I’ve been chewing on this lately—really dwelling on it. What does a healthy, or even just a "normal," ratio between these two things look like?

Awareness, I suspect, ought to be a state free from judgment, strain, or the constant urge to draw conclusions—just pure experience. Thinking, on the other hand, should ideally be the process that actually facilitates that.

But what is the actual purpose of thinking? Is there a point to it? Would we all be fundamentally happier if we could just *be*—you know, existing purely through awareness, guided by sensation and direct experience rather than mental gymnastics? To me, thinking often feels like nothing more than a byproduct of negative experiences. Sure, it can be useful if applied creatively, but is that really how we were meant to organize our entire world?

Think about a newborn. They just exist, happy and curious, exploring everything. Then we step in and interrupt that flow, forcing them toward specific goals and reasons. We’ve all said it at some point—how much better life was when we didn't have a care in the world or a single nagging thought in our heads. Why do we even need this cognitive overhead? If we assume that individual happiness is the ultimate goal, then I fail to see why we need any of this. All this formalized knowledge... it doesn't seem to serve the human spirit. You're hungry, you eat; you're tired, you sleep; you feel desire, you follow it. Isn't that how we're wired? Just following our basic needs seems like the only path to contentment, yet today everyone is just sprinting toward some hollow, superficial prize.

Well, you're doing it, aren't you?
I mean, what, are you expecting a gold medal for it?

Just take a look at the topics being discussed on this forum alone...

Claustrophobia—though, honestly, humans weren't even designed to be cramped up in some tiny shed—we were meant to wander through forests and along coastlines, just free to roam.
Then there’s the search for one's true calling, or how to actually stand out from the crowd—which, let's face it, is often just a reaction to a society that tries to tell you you're worthless unless you fit a certain mold, leaving you in constant conflict with who you actually are.
And don't get me started on adulthood and emotional immaturity—how people aren't really given the breathing room to just be themselves, but instead have these rigid expectations forced upon them, which inevitably leads to that internal tug-of-war.

Et cetera, et cetera.

Balance is everything—seriously, it’s the golden rule for just about anything in life, including this. You have to stay mindful if you actually want to notice what's happening right in front of your face, which, let's be honest, most people fail at miserably. If you can't see clearly, you can't think straight. The real trick—and it's not easy—is learning how to just... stop. Like, hit the pause button on your racing thoughts mid-sentence so you can drop into this state of heightened awareness and actual relaxation. But here's the kicker: you also have to learn how to snap back out of it. You can't just float in the clouds forever; you need to come back down, look at your current mess of a situation, and figure out your next move. Honestly, even those annoying little daily errands or the grind of a nine-to-five at an office in Chicago could be the perfect training ground for this stuff.

Samuel Harris10 said:I’ve been chewing on this lately—really dwelling on it. What does a healthy, or even just a "normal," ratio between these two things look like?

Awareness, I suspect, ought to be a state free from judgment, strain, or the constant urge to draw conclusions—just pure experience. Thinking, on the other hand, should ideally be the process that actually facilitates that.

But what is the actual purpose of thinking? Is there a point to it? Would we all be fundamentally happier if we could just *be*—you know, existing purely through awareness, guided by sensation and direct experience rather than mental gymnastics? To me, thinking often feels like nothing more than a byproduct of negative experiences. Sure, it can be useful if applied creatively, but is that really how we were meant to organize our entire world?

Think about a newborn. They just exist, happy and curious, exploring everything. Then we step in and interrupt that flow, forcing them toward specific goals and reasons. We’ve all said it at some point—how much better life was when we didn't have a care in the world or a single nagging thought in our heads. Why do we even need this cognitive overhead? If we assume that individual happiness is the ultimate goal, then I fail to see why we need any of this. All this formalized knowledge... it doesn't seem to serve the human spirit. You're hungry, you eat; you're tired, you sleep; you feel desire, you follow it. Isn't that how we're wired? Just following our basic needs seems like the only path to contentment, yet today everyone is just sprinting toward some hollow, superficial prize.

To be aware of something simply means recognizing its existence. That’s it. It doesn't imply whether that thing is good or bad, right or wrong; it just acknowledges that it exists.

Thinking about that thing then "carves out" your character—essentially, assigning attributes to what you are aware of defines who you are as a person.

What kind of ratio are you looking for? You should be aware of everything, and you should think about everything too, but with the strict limitation that your thinking doesn't turn into an obsession. You need to reach a conclusion; thinking needs to have a goal.

Take money, for example. You're aware it exists and that everyone around you is chasing it for goods and services, but you're equally aware that the world would spin just fine without it. It isn't an absolute necessity in the same way air, water, food, soil, or sunlight are.

Through thinking, you find the balance—you need money, but not at any cost. You set your own terms.

What is the actual role or purpose of thinking? Would people be happier if they could just "be"—meaning, existing purely through awareness, guided by feelings and experiences rather than thought?

Insight. Knowledge. The product or fruit of the two. Progress. Evolution. That is, in a nutshell, the purpose of thinking.

And what is happiness? Is happiness strictly following a biological program—being born, reproducing as much as possible, eating whatever you can catch, and dying?

Or is happiness something else entirely for you? Happiness is whatever you choose it to be.

For me, happiness is my work, which isn't really a "job" but a lifestyle that simultaneously funds that very life. It includes a family that supports me and whom I support, enough material stability to function normally in the modern world—meaning a place to live, a house with some land, a vehicle, tools, access to information, and maybe even a vacation spot, though even my house is in a great enough location to serve as a summer retreat while still being connected to civilization.

When a baby is born, it just "is." It's happy, it explores. Then we step in, interrupt that, and direct them toward certain things and reasons. We all love saying how great life was when we were young and had neither worries nor a lick of sense. Why do we even need this? If we assume happiness is the ultimate goal for every individual, I don't see why we need all this. I don't see how all this formalized knowledge actually benefits a person.

Because if everyone thought like that, we wouldn't exist. Formalized knowledge built our civilization, our communication, our art, our infrastructure, and allowed us to understand the cosmos and the world around us. That's why you need to interrupt "being."
You have to view yourself as a gear or a brick helping to keep the building standing—that is, keeping civilization alive. That requires sacrifice, of various kinds. You have to be useful to society for civilization to endure. You need to be a contributing factor, not a parasite, because parasites tear civilizations down.

So you eat, you sleep, you feel good, you satisfy your urges—isn't that just how we're wired? Isn't the whole point to follow our instincts if we want any semblance of happiness? Nowadays, everyone is just sprinting after empty status symbols.

Humans weren't "created" that way; we evolved from those exact creatures you're talking about.
But look where those creatures ended up. They’re beneath you. You step on them, they don't step on you. Believe me, if you weren't crushing them—starting with viruses and bacteria—they’d be wiping us out without a second thought for "peaceful coexistence."

Life is a struggle, and you need to accept that. If you don't put in the work, you won't survive. Living purely by those principles you mentioned—just chasing pleasure—leads straight to ruin. It's not about hedonism; it's about structure and sacrifice. The only real question is what you're willing to sacrifice for, and whether those goals are actually worth the cost.

Take me, for example. I have zero interest in wasting my time moving piles of paperwork or shifting data from one folder to another on a computer. My goal isn't to be some Wall Street banker hoarding digital numbers in a vault or a checking account. To me, that's a complete waste of time. It contributes nothing to the world and offers no tribute to civilization.

Then again... without banks and money, the world wouldn't be half as developed as it is. Money built the modern world, for better or worse. Personally, I think it's done more good than harm. Without it, we wouldn't have reached this level of population density, nor would we be dealing with the specific mess we deal with today.

The bottom line is that you have to decide for yourself what your objective is and which goals are worth spending your life on.

Someone once said—maybe it was the Dalai Lama or someone similar—“Be the change you wish to see in the world.” That’s the gist of it. Don't sit around waiting for other people to build the world you want; go out and build it yourself.

To do that, you need a clear vision. You need a purpose worth sacrificing your life for. You have to relentlessly demonstrate that vision to the people around you, and once they start believing in it too, it becomes a reality.

If you watch a documentary on Elon Musk (the guy behind PayPal, SolarCity, SpaceX, Tesla... there's plenty more where that came from), you'll see exactly how that works in practice.

You don't necessarily have to be a genius (though he clearly is), but you do need an unwavering, crystal-clear stance and a vision. Everything else tends to fall into place naturally, provided you don't lose sight of the blueprint.

As for me, hedonism is a massive waste of time. Chasing money and fame is the same thing—it's just squandering the only truly precious resource we have: time.

That’s an interesting perspective—not that mine is necessarily the definitive truth (I’m really just thinking out loud here, posing questions rather than making grand proclamations, mostly to see how everyone else processes things), nor is yours, but I’ll build on a few points you made.

You mentioned that contemplation defines who we are and carves out our character—that through thought, one must arrive at specific answers and goals. Personally, I don't quite buy that. It's emotions that truly define us. We explore, we experience, we live through things, but those raw feelings are what actually tell us the story—whether something is painful, beautiful, ugly, or if it makes us happy, miserable, or sad. You can't simply use logic to override what your heart feels...

In my view, a human being essentially just wants to be happy in the moment; that’s the singular purpose. To achieve that, there are certain needs that have to be met. If you’re hungry, you either have to head out to hunt or go to a job to earn enough to buy something arguably unnecessary.

Then there’s this whole argument about how without thought, we wouldn't have civilization, communication, and so on. But why would a person even need any of that? Do you honestly think you'd be any less "you," or any less happy, if you had been born before civilization in some cave? Your "job" today is to find happiness, sure, but back then, you’d have had a different way to reach the same end. All roads, even today, eventually lead to the same place.

Think about it—why is the opposite sex attractive, and why is sex pleasurable? Because if we relied solely on reason, nobody would bother reproducing. Civilization doesn't survive because people logically decided to ensure the species continues; it survives because it feels good. If anything, human reason only gave us birth control, which is why birth rates are dropping.

You also suggested that humans have evolved relative to the past. I'd argue humans are born exactly the same; it's just the environment they grow up in that changes. If you had been dropped into some primitive tribe, would you be any less yourself? We really ought to distinguish our true selves and our core needs from the external pressures imposed upon us by society.

If banks and money didn't exist, things wouldn't be quite this great, so I'm not sure what point you're trying to make there. Banks are just entities that take money from people looking to save and pass it along to those looking to borrow—their role in this specific debate is negligible. Besides, money is merely a medium of exchange, not an end in itself. What actually enables us is labor. Everything is fundamentally the same as it was ages ago; the only difference is that nowadays, instead of stitching fig leaves together for clothing or foraging for fruit, we perform tasks for a larger group of people, and they, in turn, provide for us.

As for these "visionaries," I don't care to get into a separate debate about them here, nor do they particularly fascinate me. If someone manages to find happiness through their work, more power to them. Behind all the noise, it always comes down to basic, primal needs rather than some grand social responsibility.

Look, emotions just end up masking who you actually are. You only really break free from your fears once you stop letting those feelings call the shots. That doesn’t mean you turn into some cold, unfeeling robot—it just means you stop chasing that cheap daily dopamine hit like some adrenaline junkie looking for their next fix. It's about being intentional rather than just reacting to every impulse.

Getting a reward for an experience is all about how it hits your emotions, but if you actually sit down and use your head to analyze what you did, you can figure out if it was actually a good move or not. Take cheating, for example. Right after you pull it off, you might feel like you’re on top of the world—pumped, happy, maybe even a little bit of a rush. But once the adrenaline dies down and you actually use your brain, you realize the downsides far outweigh the perks. If you conclude that being honest provides a better quality of life and is just a more logical way to exist, then you’ve actually made some progress as a person. That's real growth.

People driven by nothing but raw emotion are easily humanity's biggest liability. It’s a fundamental flaw. Emotions act like a direct line to our worst impulses—greed, the desperate need for power, jealousy, envy. Once you let feelings take the wheel, logic just gets tossed out the window.

Honestly, I think I’d be a lot less happy if I had been born before civilization took hold. Having the luxury of comparison changes everything; I can actually look at both sides of the coin. Nowadays, I have the agency to choose. I can opt for a stripped-back, simple life—the kind where nobody bothers you and you just exist—or I can lean into the complexities of modern society. My happiness today is defined by that choice. Back then, it wasn't about preference; it was just about survival. Life was objectively more stressful and unpredictable back then, whereas now, my contentment is a matter of deciding which path I want to walk.

Back then, life was basically just a constant, exhausting search for the next meal. Sex wasn't some romantic thing you planned; it only happened during the spring rut or maybe in the summer when food was actually plentiful and survival wasn't the only thing on your mind. It was pretty much the only entertainment available. And honestly? I’d bet anything it didn't last more than thirty seconds.

Character is what defines a person, but our environment plays a massive role in shaping our genes and our physical makeup. You aren't born the same person whether you're living in the middle of Manhattan or deep in the wilderness. If I had been born into a primitive tribe, I wouldn't be "me"—or rather, I’d be a much less developed version of myself. Civilization provided me with the power of choice, self-awareness, specialized knowledge, and the actual capacity for evolution. Sure, if I were part of a small tribe, evolution would still happen, but it would plateau at a very basic level. People living in those settings might have a much deeper understanding of local flora and fauna than I ever will, but that's about it. True evolutionary progress requires knowing how to manipulate the world around you. And let's be honest: who uses the tools and resources around them better than someone living in modern society?

Let’s be real: tribal societies practice a pretty pathetic, primitive form of resource management. Sure, technically speaking, they are eco-friendly and sustainable, but let's not kid ourselves—it has almost nothing to do with actual evolutionary progress.

I’m not saying we "civilized" folks are inherently better than some primitive tribe—honestly, looking at how we act, it’s probably the other way around. But we do have a massive leg up when it comes to where we're headed evolutionarily. It all comes down to the sheer volume of accumulated knowledge and data we can actually build upon.

It really comes down to a basic choice: do you want to be some civilized, greedy jerk, or do you want to actually use everything modern society has handed you to become a better person? We live in an era where we can leverage all this collective intelligence—everything we’ve picked up in school, through the internet, or even just on the job—to practice selflessness and focus on spiritual growth. You have access to the sum of human knowledge at your fingertips; you can either use that to hoard more for yourself or use it to evolve and actually give something back to the world.

Money basically organized the world and paved the way for peace. Think about it: before currency existed, everything came down to trading land or people. If you wanted something, you had to hand over territory or trade a daughter, work yourself into the ground, or swap out ten slaves just to get by. Once money was invented, that whole barbaric cycle broke. You could finally acquire what you needed without having to sacrifice your family or your soul to settle a debt.
Money has made trading so much easier because we can basically conjure it up whenever we need to. Sure, the government keeps a tight leash on it, but at least we aren't out there bartering animal pelts or livestock just to get things done. We don't have to spend our lives digging through the dirt for gold nuggets or silver veins just to have a medium of exchange. It’s a massive upgrade from the old ways.

I’m all for swapping currency for a direct service-for-service barter system, but let's not pretend money isn't responsible for the "evolution" we’ve experienced. It gave us the ability to establish formal governments, standardized laws, and—most importantly—professionalized police forces and militaries that actually answer to the public rather than just following the whims of a local warlord. Before money became the standard, power was much more personal. You had individual rulers or tyrants who couldn't be questioned, and armies were basically just private muscle for whoever held the biggest sword. Money changed the game. It allowed organized civilizations to scale up and eventually outpace everyone else. We didn't just conquer the world through brute force; we rose to dominance because our systems were objectively more efficient and advanced than any old-school feudal setup could ever dream of being. Performance wins.

Look, at the end of the day, you’re the one in the driver's seat of your own life. You’ve got the entire world sitting right there at your fingertips, and honestly, how you choose to play that hand is entirely on you. Technology and information aren't inherently evil tools; they're just tools. It’s the person behind the screen—the one deciding to weaponize that knowledge against everyone else around them—who’s actually the problem.

Money and banks aren't inherently evil. It’s more about the psychological addiction driving certain people—it hits them like a drug, forcing them to chase that high every single day without ever hitting the pause button.
They just haven't quite grasped where the line is between being reasonable and actually making a decent living. They have no clue what they actually need out of life or what their end goal should be. It’s really that simple.

Logic is what elevates you, not raw emotion. Character is built through reasoning, whereas emotions tend to lead straight to distorted perspectives and deviant behavior.

I have a completely different take on all of this—but fine, let’s go with it. Perhaps this can serve as a sort of message to my future self. It reminds me of that old TV editor who appeared as a guest forty years ago to record his views and life philosophies, only to sit down recently—now forty years older—to debate those very same ideas with his younger self. Long story short, he couldn't find much common ground; he mostly just looked back at that naive kid and thought, "What an idiot." :/

In that same vein, I suspect we might still be a bit too young to grasp any definitive answers. It feels as though it takes either the weight of old age or perhaps a serious bout of illness to finally allow someone to set their ego aside—to actually see things for what they are and recognize what truly matters.

I’m basically trying to stay ahead of the curve here. My goal is to hold the exact same position today that I’ll be holding forty years from now. It’s not about being stubborn or refusing to admit when I'm wrong; it's just about being right from the jump so I don't waste any damn time proving it later.
Yeah, I’ve actually been chewing on that same thought for a while now.
Honestly, I’m already looking back at my past self in certain situations and seeing nothing but a naive fool. It’s not exactly a comforting blueprint for how I'm going to handle things moving forward.

edit:
Haha, I just went back and reread my last post, and I’ve already spotted a mistake. If I’m tripping up this early, imagine how bad things are going to look forty years from now.
Look, sex probably wasn't their only outlet for entertainment. If we’re talking about people living in a tribal society, they had plenty of other ways to pass the time—think campfire dances, flutes, drums, dancers, herbalism, chamomile, all that stuff. It likely wasn't all bad for them; they probably had a decent time. Maybe I didn't phrase my previous point very well, though. For me personally, that kind of thing isn't exactly the pinnacle of fun. Honestly? It sounds pretty boring. That just isn't my idea of a good time.

"Who uses the things around them to their advantage better than a civilized human being?"

Humans. Because at the end of the day, we're looking for a collective win.

And honestly, I have a feeling your whole "denying emotions" stance might shift eventually; you can be stubbornly right about something if it actually works for you.
I didn't deny thinking—because when it isn't *just* thinking, there’s a lot more going on under the hood. Or maybe I am wrong just so I can be right? And what do emotions or whatever else even matter when you're already doing so well on your own? 🙂

Since humans are constantly striving to provide answers and there's some actual logic to build upon...

What exactly do you mean by denying emotions?

No, it’s more that emotions define who you aren't. You only truly free yourself from fear once you let go of those emotional compulsions. That doesn't imply being a sociopath; rather, it means you stop acting just to chase that daily "hit," much like those extreme thrill-seekers.

To put it this way: a Wall Street banker hungers for money because he’s actually chasing a fix of power, success, and that dopamine rush his brain gets from knowing he just took a chunk out of someone else's pocket to pad his own firm's bottom line.

Or take an extreme big-wave surfer. He’s obsessed with the next drop down some untouched swell because every massive jump triggers a hormonal surge and a sense of ecstasy. But since the high wears off, he needs a bigger wave every single time just to feel the same thing. At the end of the day, he's just a slave to his hormones.

The average person gets their fix by gossiping about the neighbors, playing the stock market, or feeling like they "beat the system" by snagging a deal at a department store while everyone else paid full price. It's why people scramble toward any "Sale" sign like headless chickens, completely blind to the fact that those discounts are often just traps set by clever retailers.

It goes on and on. People are driven by impulse, which is why the world is such a mess. If we were guided by reason—by actually practicing critical thinking and considering how our actions impact the world around us—things would be a lot better for everyone.

You should only give in to your emotions when you're certain that what you're doing won't cause lasting, irreversible harm to others or the environment.

Neuromuscular blockade—or NMT, if you’re into the shorthand—is such a fascinating corner of anesthesia. It’s one of those things that feels like pure science fiction when you really stop to think about how we manage muscle relaxation during surgery, isn't it? It’s all about that delicate balance between keeping a patient perfectly still for the surgeon and making sure they can breathe just fine on their own once everything is wrapped up. It reminds me a bit of trying to tune a high-end guitar; you want the tension just right so the strings don't snap, but if it's too loose, you aren't getting any music out of it. In the OR, if you miss that sweet spot with your neuromuscular blockers, things can get complicated fast—either the patient moves at the wrong moment (not ideal!) or they stay "paralyzed" longer than they should, which adds a lot of extra stress to the recovery process. It’s a constant dance of monitoring and adjustment. kaže:
How do you feel about that whole "emotional invalidation" thing—you know, when people just straight-up deny what someone else is feeling?

Nah, I don't know—I honestly think emotions just end up masking who you really are. It’s like trying to see the true shape of a sculpture through a thick layer of dust; you can't actually see the work underneath until you wipe it all away. To me, it's only when you finally let go of those emotional attachments that you truly find freedom from fear. It's a bit like clearing out a cluttered garage—once the junk is gone, you can actually breathe in the space again. It’s not like you’re being cold or heartless—it’s more like... well, it’s just different. Don't get caught up in chasing that daily "hit"—you know, like those extreme types who can't function without their immediate fix.

Let me try to break this down—it’s kind of like how some people get hooked on high-stakes gambling or that rush you get from hitting a massive sales goal at a place like Goldman Sachs. A banker isn't just chasing a paycheck; they're actually hungry for that specific brand of power. It's all about that hit of dopamine you get in your brain when you realize you've effectively squeezed someone else for every cent they have—just to pad the bank's bottom line and, by extension, their own ego. It’s less about the money itself and more about the thrill of the win.

It’s kind of like that one extreme snowboarder you see on those Red Bull specials—the guy who’s always hunting for the next untouched peak just to feel something. He’s basically chasing this massive chemical high every time he drops in, looking for that specific rush of hormones that hits his system during a jump. But here’s the thing—it’s a bit of a losing game, isn't it? Every time he repeats an old stunt or tries to recapture that same legendary run, the adrenaline hit gets smaller and smaller. It’s like trying to recreate the magic of your first car—eventually, the novelty just fades. At a certain point, he isn't really making conscious choices anymore; he's just being driven by his own biology—essentially a slave to his own hormone levels.

The average guy gets the same kind of rush from sleeping with the neighbor, snagging a stock on a whim, or feeling like he totally "beat" the retailer by outsmarting everyone else who paid full price—it’s that same hit of dopamine, really. It’s that sense of having pulled one over on the system. Because of that, the second people see those little ticker symbols flashing on a screen, they start scrambling—honestly, they run around like headless chickens. They don't realize that behind those flashy letters, there's often a trap waiting to be sprung, carefully disguised by clever marketers as some "once-in-a-lifetime" deal.

I mean, honestly—people are just driven by raw emotion, and that’s pretty much why the world is such a mess right now. If everyone actually operated based on logic—you know, the kind of actual reasoning you get from constantly pausing to think about what you're doing and being genuinely aware of how those actions ripple out into the world around them—well, things would be a whole lot better for all of us. It's like we're all just reacting without ever hitting the brakes to consider the consequences.

I honestly feel like you just have to let those emotions run wild—you know, really give them free rein—but only when you’re absolutely certain that what you’re doing isn't going to hurt anyone else or mess up the environment in some permanent, long-term way. It's kind of like... well, think of it like letting off steam from a pressure cooker—it's necessary to prevent a blowup, but you wouldn't want to blast the lid off if there were people standing right in the kitchen, right? You just need that moment where you can be fully expressive without leaving a trail of wreckage behind you.

👍

Science News recently dropped this fascinating idea that there might be a whole different state of consciousness out there for people undergoing surgery—sort of like a hidden layer we haven't fully mapped yet. It’s wild to think about, really. You go under, everything goes dark, and we just assume it's a simple "off" switch, but it turns out things are much more nuanced than that. According to Jaideep Pandit, who presented some pretty compelling stuff at the American Society of Anesthesiologists Annual Meeting, there's a possibility that what we perceive as unconsciousness isn't just a void. It's almost like being in a deep, dreamless sleep that doesn't quite follow the usual rules of biology. He was speaking alongside Ian F. Russell from Mayo Clinic, whose findings were featured in the September 12 issue of Anesthesiology. It reminds me a bit of how we used to think about the ocean—just a flat surface until we realized there are entire ecosystems and currents moving miles beneath the waves that we can't see from the shore. We thought anesthesia was just a flatline of awareness, but maybe it's more like a complex, quiet frequency we just didn't have the right equipment to tune into until now. It makes you wonder what else is happening in those quiet moments when we aren't "home."
Science News reports that there might be an entirely different state of consciousness out there for people undergoing surgery—something we don't fully grasp yet. It’s one of those things that sounds like science fiction until you realize how little we actually know about what happens when someone is under. There was this study involving Bahar Gholipour that really makes you stop and think—it’s almost like looking at a map where half the territory is still just blank space.
About 17 hours ago...
So, I was reading this piece from Science News about how we might actually be missing a whole layer of what goes on in the brain during surgery—it’s pretty wild to think about. One specialist, Jaideep Pandit, is suggesting there might be this "third state" of consciousness out there. Basically, instead of just being totally under or fully awake, patients could potentially be in this middle ground where they can actually follow a command if you ask them to, yet they don't feel any of the pain or the actual procedure happening. It's like that weird headspace you get when you're so deep into a movie or a book that the world around you just kind of fades away, except here, it's happening while someone is literally operating on you. It really makes you wonder how much we still have left to figure out regarding how the mind handles being "unplugged."

When anesthesia is administered correctly—and let’s face it, most of the time it is—you don't really expect people to be waking up mid-procedure. It's one of those things you just assume is a given. But, according to some recent research, there might be this strange middle ground we haven't fully mapped out yet. Experts are suggesting that there could be a specific state of mind where a patient isn't exactly "awake," but they aren't totally under either—sort of like being caught in that weird limbo between dreaming and being wide awake.

So, I was reading this fascinating bit from Science News about how we might actually be missing an entire layer of human awareness—apparently, there could be this "third state" of consciousness that happens during medical procedures. It sounds wild, but Jaideep Pandit, an anesthesiologist from Harvard University, brought up this theory during his talk this past Thursday at the American Society of Anesthesiologists Annual Meeting. The idea is that patients might enter a headspace where they can still follow basic instructions or commands, yet they aren't actually feeling any of the pain or discomfort from the surgery itself. It’s like being awake and responsive, but completely detached from the physical sensation—kind of like being in that weird, dreamless limbo you hit during a long drive when you realize you don't remember the last ten miles. Truly mind-bending stuff.

Jaideep Pandit actually calls this phenomenon "dysanaesthesia." Apparently, the proof lies in a recent study where researchers took 34 surgical patients and put them under anesthesia—but with a bit of a twist. They kept the patients' entire bodies paralyzed, save for their forearms. This allowed the patients to wiggle their fingers whenever they were given a command, essentially acting as a way to signal whether they were actually conscious or feeling pain while the surgery was underway.

So, I was reading this fascinating piece from Science News about how we might not fully understand the depths of consciousness during surgery. It turns out there’s this potentially whole new state of awareness that patients could be experiencing while they're supposedly out cold. According to a study led by Ian F. Russell of Mayo Clinic—which just hit the pages of Anesthesiology on Sept. 12—about a third of the people in the study actually moved their fingers when prompted. This happened even though they appeared to be under a perfectly adequate dose of anesthesia... which is honestly kind of wild to think about, isn't it? It makes you wonder where that line between being "under" and being "aware" actually sits.

"The truly wild part—and I mean really fascinating—is that they didn't even move their fingers unless someone specifically asked them to. There wasn't any spontaneous reaction during the surgery, which suggests they probably aren't feeling any pain at all," noted Jaideep Pandit, who actually penned an editorial regarding the study.

Usually, when someone is rolled into the OR for surgery, the medical team is right there, hovering—monitoring everything and pumping in more anesthetic whenever they need to. The whole idea is pretty straightforward: just make sure the patient stays deep enough under so they don't feel a thing. But here’s the kicker—there’s actually a massive debate going on about whether the tech we use to "measure" that level of unconsciousness is even all that reliable. It's like trying to judge how much sleep someone is getting based solely on how still they're lying; you think you have a handle on it, but the reality might be a bit more complex than the sensors suggest.

"The thing is, we lack a definitive model for what consciousness actually is," Jaideep Pandit noted. "And without that blueprint, trying to build a monitor to track it is like trying to map a territory you haven't even discovered yet." [10 Things You Didn't Know About the Brain]

The whole study—looking at 34 different patients—was essentially an attempt to figure out if people are truly "under" when the standard monitors used in American operating rooms say they are. To test this, the researchers basically isolated the patients' arms from the rest of their bodies—which were being hit with the usual muscle relaxants—by temporarily cutting off the blood flow to those limbs. That way, if a patient was still somewhat awake, they’d actually have the physical ability to move their arm.

When a patient actually followed a doctor's order and moved their hand, the medical team treated it as a clear signal that consciousness was present, so they'd bump up the dose of anesthesia.

But here's where it gets interesting—Pandit suggests these folks weren't exactly "conscious" in the traditional sense. Since they only moved when specifically told to, rather than just reacting naturally or spontaneously, he thinks their mental state was something else entirely. It wasn't quite the waking world, but it wasn't total darkness either.

This concept of a "third state" might finally explain why the numbers on surgical awareness are so wildly inconsistent. If you look at past surveys where people are asked point-blank if they remember being awake, you get about 1 in 500 people saying yes. But then you look at a recent national survey in the US where people weren't prompted—they just volunteered the information—and the rate drops to 1 in 15,000. And when it comes to actual pain or distress? That’s down to a tiny 1 in 45,000.

When you look at those numbers side-by-side, it points toward a strange middle ground—a state where patients might be aware of what's happening but don't feel the need to mention it. It's almost like it's a neutral experience for them. They might perceive their surroundings, sure, but since there isn't any pain involved, there's no reason for them to be alarmed or even bother bringing it up.

Pandit thinks this theory could eventually change how we build anesthesia monitors. Even though this "dysanaesthesia" state doesn't seem to cause any harm, it might be a warning sign—a precursor to that scary, unpleasant awareness that both doctors and patients want to stay far away from.

"At the end of the day, it's a hypothesis for future research," he explained. "It's something we can dig into more deeply and design specific experiments to see if this state truly exists."
http://www.nbcnews.com/health/strang...nts-4B11217250