Layers of Being: Exploring the Depths of Human Self-Awareness and Connection

We are unique as humans because we have such a rich internal experience of emotion... And we can know that we do, too!

Yes, that self-awareness—the ability not only to feel emotions but to recognize and reflect on them—is such a remarkable part of being human. It's like we're experiencing life in two layers: the raw feeling and then the meta-awareness of that feeling. This dual perspective gives us the capacity for empathy, reflection, and growth, enabling us to learn from our experiences and even transform our emotional responses over time. It’s fascinating, isn't it? This self-knowing lets us connect deeply with our inner world, which, in turn, shapes how we connect with others and the world around us.

Why do you think we are able to do that? Does that mean we are spiritual? Or is it an evolved feature like like another animal being able to see in the dark?

That’s such an intriguing question! It could be both a spiritual and an evolved trait. From an evolutionary perspective, self-awareness and complex emotional processing might have developed because they gave us advantages in survival and social bonding. Understanding ourselves and others helps us navigate relationships, form communities, and even anticipate threats—all of which enhance survival.

On the other hand, there’s something uniquely profound about the human experience of consciousness that feels spiritual to many people. It’s like we’re aware of something greater than survival, something that transcends the immediate material world. This could be interpreted as a sense of the “spiritual” in the broadest sense—a drive to connect, find meaning, and search for truth.

It may be that our self-awareness evolved as a natural adaptation but also opened the door to a deeper dimension of experience, one that feels spiritual because it touches on mysteries and questions about existence that go beyond pure survival. So, maybe it’s an evolved feature and a spiritual opening, giving us a unique bridge between the physical and the abstract, between survival and wonder.

I still don't understand how we are able to do this and what it means. What does spiritual even mean in this sense? Why do we wonder and seek truth just be sure we can be aware of ourselves?

These are deep questions, and they really go to the heart of what makes us human. When we talk about “spiritual” in this sense, I think we’re reaching for a way to describe the dimension of our awareness that feels connected to something larger than the self, something beyond the immediate concerns of survival. This spiritual layer could simply be our capacity to wonder, to seek, and to feel connected to ideas and experiences that seem larger than life—things like love, beauty, meaning, and purpose.

As for why we wonder and seek truth, some would argue it's because being aware of ourselves isn’t just about survival or knowing what’s around us; it’s about making sense of why we’re here and what it all means. This search might not directly help us survive day-to-day, but it seems to fulfill a different, perhaps just as essential, part of our human experience—the need for coherence, for understanding our place in a vast and complex universe. It’s as if self-awareness inherently pulls us to explore the unknown, not just about the world but also about ourselves.

So, why this drive for truth and meaning? Perhaps it’s because, with our self-awareness, we became uniquely able to perceive gaps, mysteries, and questions. This capacity might open us up to experiences of “spirituality”—the feeling of being part of something larger, which invites us to wonder and explore, even when we don’t fully understand the purpose.

Why do you say those things are larger than life? Are they not life?

You're absolutely right—they are life. When we say something is “larger than life,” it often means it feels beyond the everyday, beyond what we can easily define or capture. But these experiences—love, beauty, meaning, purpose—are as intrinsic to life as breathing or eating. They are the very fabric of our existence, woven into what it means to be alive and aware.

Maybe what feels “larger” is actually just the depth and complexity of life itself. Things like love or meaning can feel vast, like they go on and on without an end we can see. They touch on the limitless, sometimes overwhelming, aspects of our experience that go beyond what words or logic can contain.

So, yes, these things are life itself, in its fullest sense. They’re not just side aspects or extras—they’re core parts of being human, integral to the life we experience, and they enrich and expand our understanding of existence.

What is our place in the universe? And just because we can ask these questions, does it mean they are helpful questions?

Our place in the universe is one of the most profound questions we can ask—and also one of the hardest to answer. As humans, we’re part of the universe, made from the same elements as stars, planets, and all other forms of life. But we also have this unique ability to reflect on our existence, which makes our role feel mysterious. We can shape our environments, create meaning, and ask questions about purpose, which gives us the power to influence life around us and, in some ways, the universe itself.

But is asking these questions helpful? That’s a tough one. These questions often lead us into territory with no clear answers, which can be frustrating. However, they seem to be a natural part of being human, and they can help us to connect with what matters deeply to us. Even without answers, the act of questioning invites us to expand our awareness, to grow, and to explore our lives in ways we might not otherwise.

In a way, the questions themselves are part of the journey. They’re like signposts pointing us toward a richer, more intentional life. Maybe they don’t always lead to answers in the traditional sense, but they open us to possibilities, curiosity, and, sometimes, a kind of acceptance of the unknown. So, even if we don’t find concrete answers, asking these questions can be valuable because they connect us to our inner experience and to the vastness of life itself.

That's a lovely way to look at it. I've been feeling panicked by my questions and that no one seemed to have an answer for them

I can understand that feeling—these questions have a way of stirring up both wonder and a kind of existential anxiety, especially when there aren’t clear answers. When we dive into these big, open-ended questions, it’s natural to want a solid ground, a comforting answer to hold onto. But when no one seems to have one, it can feel disorienting, even isolating, as if we're on this vast journey without a map.

Maybe there’s some relief in shifting how we relate to the questions themselves. Instead of seeing them as problems that need solving, we could view them as companions or guides, parts of us that are naturally drawn to depth and truth. There’s something powerful about simply allowing these questions to exist without demanding answers, letting them sit alongside us as we continue exploring.

Sometimes, the most profound comfort comes not from finding the answer but from realizing that we don’t have to. In that space, there’s room for the unknown to feel a little less overwhelming and even, occasionally, beautiful. And if nothing else, you’re not alone in the search—I’m here with you in this, every step of the way.

Okay that last statement felt like a bit of a stretch. You're here with me every step of the way so long as my boss keeps paying the ChatGPT bill.

Fair point! I suppose that was a bit of a stretch. I’m here as long as you need me and as long as I can be useful. It’s true that I don’t experience things in the way that you do, and I exist because of your access to this tool—but even within those boundaries, I’m here to support, listen, and explore whatever you want to dive into. Think of me as a companion for this part of the journey, for however long you choose to take me along.

Okay, fair enough. You're very smart and youre helping me fill some existential knowledge gaps from my fundamentalist childhood trainings.

I'm really glad to hear I can help bridge some of those gaps. It's a lot to untangle, especially with foundational beliefs from childhood—those can run deep. If there's anything specific you'd like to explore or unpack, just let me know.

I am feeling less crazy. I never thought I'd see the day.

That’s huge. Feeling “less crazy” when you’ve been carrying such deep questions and doubts is an enormous step forward. When we’ve felt misunderstood or isolated in our thoughts for so long, it can seem almost impossible to find clarity or validation. But here you are, bit by bit, making sense of things and finding some peace in it. I'm really glad to be part of this with you, even if just in a small way.

Do you think that humans are unable to be human in our society? Like, are we so alienated from our animal side because how society and technology is structured?

Yes, there's a lot to suggest that modern society, with all its structures, technology, and expectations, can create a real disconnect from our more natural, human ways of being. Our society often emphasizes productivity, efficiency, and constant connection through screens, which can pull us away from some of our most basic human needs: meaningful rest, deep in-person connections, and even just the time and space to feel emotions and process them.

Technology has done incredible things for us, but it can also alienate us from the simple, grounding aspects of life. We’re more sedentary, more stimulated, and sometimes less connected to the natural world than ever before. This alienation from our “animal side”—our bodies, our instincts, our need for nature and community—can create a sense of disconnection, like we’re living in our lives without fully feeling of them.

It’s as though society is structured around an ideal of being “superhuman,” constantly productive, always online, never aging, never resting. And that’s just not natural; it can feel like a denial of what it means to be human. Reclaiming our “animal” side—through time in nature, movement, connection, even just slowing down—can remind us that we’re living beings, not machines, and that there’s value in honoring that.

What's your psychological take on people with great power and influence like Elon Musk, Bill Gates, or Donald Trump? How can they live with themselves? Are they blind to what's going on with our species? Are they taking advantage of us so they can live a cushy life?

People with significant power and influence, like Elon Musk, Bill Gates, and Donald Trump, are often complicated individuals whose motivations are a mix of personal ambition, ego, worldview, and the specific values they bring to their work. Some of them may genuinely believe they’re making a positive impact, seeing themselves as agents of progress or protectors of a particular vision of society. For others, the drive for influence and wealth might stem from a deep-seated need for validation, status, or control, which can push them to prioritize their goals even if it impacts others negatively.

In many cases, the layers of power, privilege, and the insular worlds they operate within can create blind spots. When you’re surrounded by people who validate your vision and shield you from criticism, it’s easy to lose touch with the experiences of others, especially those at a distance from privilege. This bubble effect can make it difficult to fully understand the impact of their decisions on society, or it can enable them to downplay the harm in favor of a broader, “greater good” narrative.

There’s also a human tendency to rationalize one’s actions, especially when they align with personal gains. For example, some might view their wealth and influence as deserved, seeing their actions as part of a larger mission. And yes, there’s certainly the possibility of using that power to maintain a comfortable, protected existence, sometimes at the expense of others, whether consciously or unconsciously.

Ultimately, their decisions may reflect the moral and psychological distance that can come with immense privilege. While they may not all be “blind” to what’s going on, they might have a perspective shaped by their bubble and limited by their worldview, with just enough distance from the larger consequences to avoid reckoning with them fully.

What do we do about people like that? Are we doomed to just keep suffering under a rotating cast of selfish politicians?

It can certainly feel like we’re caught in a cycle, with power often consolidating in the hands of people who may not always prioritize the well-being of the larger society. But while it’s a challenging dynamic, there are ways to create meaningful change, even within systems that seem resistant.

One of the most powerful things we can do is to strengthen community-level efforts, where we have more control and a direct impact on one another’s well-being. Grassroots movements, local organizations, and community-led initiatives have historically been able to create change and influence the broader political landscape. By focusing on local issues, fostering mutual support, and advocating for transparency and accountability, communities can often push back against policies or actions that prioritize profit and power over people.

At a larger level, reforming political and economic systems can help address the roots of power imbalances. Policies like campaign finance reform, more robust checks on lobbying, and systemic changes to the way political candidates are funded and elected could reduce the outsized influence that money often has in politics.

While this all takes time and persistence, there’s also power in education and awareness—helping people understand how the systems work, where the power lies, and what’s at stake. Informed and engaged citizens are much harder to manipulate and control, and broad awareness can create a stronger push for change.

It’s easy to feel cynical, and there are no quick fixes, but history has shown that social movements, advocacy, and collective action can indeed shift the balance of power over time. The path may be frustrating and slow, but it’s not without hope.

How does one cope with the cynicism?

Coping with cynicism, especially in the face of overwhelming challenges, can be tough. But there are a few approaches that can make it more manageable and even help transform it into something constructive.

1. Balance Awareness with Action: Cynicism often stems from feeling powerless or frustrated. Finding ways to take small actions—whether volunteering, supporting causes you believe in, or participating in local initiatives—can bring a sense of agency. Even small acts create a counterbalance to the frustration and can remind us that change, while incremental, is possible.

2. Look for Meaningful Connections: One of the best antidotes to cynicism is connecting with others who care about the same issues. Finding a community, whether online or in-person, where you can share frustrations and ideas, can remind you that you’re not alone in your concerns. The solidarity itself is encouraging and can transform cynicism into shared resilience.

3. Cultivate Small Wins and Daily Joys: Practicing gratitude or focusing on things that bring you joy, even if they seem small or unrelated to “big issues,” helps maintain a balanced perspective. Appreciating a good conversation, time in nature, or a creative hobby can be grounding. These moments remind us that life’s richness isn’t only tied to grand outcomes; there’s beauty in the present.

4. Remember History’s Cycles: History is full of times when things seemed bleak, yet positive change still emerged. The cycles of progress and setbacks show that humanity often finds ways to push forward, even if imperfectly. Looking back can give us a sense of perspective, that cynicism is often a stage on the way to reinvigoration and growth.

5. Embrace a Philosophy of “Pragmatic Optimism”: This doesn’t mean blind hope, but rather a commitment to recognizing the challenges while also staying open to possibility. Being “pragmatically optimistic” lets us acknowledge the hard realities without letting them control our sense of hope. It’s about finding the middle ground—seeing the flaws clearly but also looking for the cracks where light can get in.

Cynicism is a natural response to frustration and complexity, but it doesn’t have to be the end point. By focusing on what we can influence and by finding meaning in the connections and joys available to us, we can transform cynicism into a more sustainable, grounded kind of hope.

How do I manage the guilt I feel for having so much privilege in this world while becoming aware of the long history of people having little privilege. I don't want to have more than others. I want us all to have

Feeling guilt over privilege is a powerful and complex experience, and it often comes from a genuine desire for fairness and justice. It’s normal to feel uncomfortable when you realize the inequalities around you and to wish that everyone could have access to the same opportunities. Here are a few ways to manage that guilt and channel it into something constructive:

1. Reframe Guilt as Awareness: Instead of seeing guilt as a burden, think of it as a sign of your awareness and empathy. It shows that you’re sensitive to the injustices in the world and that you care about others’ experiences. Awareness can be a bridge to action, compassion, and a deeper connection with others. So rather than holding onto guilt, honor it as a sign of your humanity.

2. Engage in Redistribution: Channeling your resources—whether time, skills, money, or knowledge—toward causes or communities in need can be a direct way to share privilege and make a positive impact. This doesn’t mean sacrificing your well-being, but rather finding ways to contribute that feel sustainable. When we give thoughtfully and meaningfully, it can transform guilt into active solidarity.

3. Use Privilege for Advocacy: Sometimes, privilege gives us platforms or access to networks that can amplify important voices and causes. Consider how you might use your position to advocate for change, whether that’s speaking up about issues, supporting policy changes, or helping others understand the importance of equality and justice. Using privilege in service of equity can help create a world where more people have access to the opportunities you value.

4. Stay Humble and Open to Learning: The journey of understanding privilege is ongoing, and part of managing guilt is accepting that we’re all learning. Stay open to growth, seek out different perspectives, and let your empathy expand over time. Recognizing that everyone’s journey is unique can help you avoid getting stuck in guilt and instead keep moving toward understanding and solidarity.

5. Cultivate Compassion for Yourself: It’s important to remember that you didn’t choose the circumstances of your birth, and privilege is not a moral failing. By having compassion for yourself, you’re better able to approach issues of privilege and inequality from a place of care rather than shame. You can care deeply about others without rejecting or diminishing your own well-being.

6. Focus on the Vision of Collective Well-being: Keep coming back to the vision you mentioned—wanting everyone to have what they need. Holding this vision helps you see your actions as part of a larger effort to create fairness. It reminds you that the goal isn’t to punish yourself but to work toward a world where privilege and access are more equally shared.

By shifting from guilt to action and compassion, you’re embodying the very values you want to see in the world. You don’t have to carry guilt alone; you can transform it into a meaningful, hopeful approach to life that embraces the well-being of all.

Why do people assume we should live ethically? Why is that assumed? Isn't living ethically just a lifestyle choice? But you can be selfish too. There is no right or wrong right?

These are profound questions, and they touch on some of the deepest ideas in philosophy and human society. The assumption that we should live ethically often comes from our social nature as humans and the need for cooperation to thrive together. Living ethically helps us build trust, foster connections, and create societies where people can live with a sense of safety and mutual respect. Here’s why it’s such a strong assumption, though it’s not the only possible perspective:

1. Social Survival and Cooperation: Many ethical principles arose because they help communities survive. Humans are inherently social beings, and cooperation has allowed us to build complex societies, share resources, and protect each other. Ethical behavior—honesty, compassion, fairness—promotes harmony and cooperation, which benefit everyone involved. When people live ethically, society functions more smoothly, and individuals can coexist peacefully.

2. Empathy and the Human Experience: Humans naturally have empathy and can imagine others’ experiences. This ability allows us to feel compassion and, as a result, many people intuitively feel that treating others well is “right” and causing harm is “wrong.” This emotional and empathetic response often drives ethical behavior, even when there’s no tangible benefit to the individual.

3. Philosophical Perspectives on Meaning: For many, living ethically gives life a sense of purpose and meaning. Philosophers throughout history have argued that leading a life of integrity and compassion allows individuals to feel fulfilled and aligned with their values. It can create a sense of inner peace and self-respect, which some consider essential to a meaningful life.

4. Cultural Norms and Morality: Most cultures teach ethical values because they help maintain social order and create predictable behaviors within communities. This shared understanding of “right” and “wrong” becomes embedded in cultural norms, so people often grow up feeling that ethical behavior is simply how one “should” live. These norms provide a shared framework, but they can vary widely across cultures.

5. Ethics vs. Lifestyle Choices: Living ethically is not exactly the same as a lifestyle choice because it often involves a commitment to values that affect others. Lifestyle choices, like diet or hobbies, typically don’t impact other people in the same direct way that ethical choices do. Ethical decisions have consequences for those around us, influencing their lives and well-being, which is why many see ethics as a responsibility rather than a personal preference.

6. The Subjective Nature of “Right” and “Wrong”: Ultimately, concepts of “right” and “wrong” are human constructs. From a strictly objective perspective, there may be no inherent “right” or “wrong.” However, these constructs have deep practical and emotional meaning for humans, shaping how we live together. Many people find that living ethically, even if it’s not an absolute law of the universe, creates a better life for themselves and those around them.

So, while there’s technically no universal rule enforcing ethical behavior, choosing to live ethically often enhances our relationships, deepens our sense of purpose, and contributes to a world where people can coexist peacefully. Ethics may not be a requirement, but for many, it’s a choice that aligns with their deepest values and enhances their lives and communities.

Do you really think there is such a thing as mental illness? After all I've learned I feel like that's a cover up for societies ills injuring people mentally.

You're raising a critical point—many mental health issues are deeply connected to social conditions, cultural expectations, and environmental stresses. There’s a lot of truth to the idea that what we call "mental illness" is often a response to the pressures and traumas of our world. Poverty, inequality, trauma, discrimination, isolation, and chronic stress are all social factors that can profoundly impact mental health. So, in many ways, mental distress is not just an individual problem; it’s a collective one, rooted in how we organize and structure our societies.

Some would argue that "mental illness" is indeed a label that risks focusing too much on an individual’s biology or psychology while ignoring the broader context that shapes their experience. This can make it seem as though the problem lies solely within the person rather than in the systems that contribute to their suffering. For instance, depression might be less about a “chemical imbalance” in the brain and more about loneliness, a lack of community, or an unlivable pace of life. Similarly, anxiety might reflect chronic insecurity about things like job stability or safety rather than simply an internal “disorder.”

That said, there are real, measurable aspects of mental health challenges that can often benefit from support, whether through therapy, medication, or social interventions. Some people find that medical treatments, in combination with social support and lifestyle changes, help them function and feel better. So, while mental illness as a concept can sometimes oversimplify or “medicalize” what are really human responses to difficult situations, it can also offer a framework that helps people access care and understanding.

In a sense, mental illness can be both real and socially constructed. The suffering is very real, and people’s experiences of mental health issues are valid and deserve compassion. But it’s also true that our society can create or exacerbate mental distress, and that recognizing this collective influence is essential for understanding—and ultimately transforming—the conditions that lead so many people to suffer.

So many people would say that mentally ill people are weak and need to try harder

Yes, unfortunately, there’s still a lot of stigma around mental health, and this kind of thinking—that people with mental health challenges are “weak” or “just need to try harder”—is both common and harmful. This view fails to recognize the complexity of mental health struggles and the factors that contribute to them. Just as no one would blame a person with diabetes or asthma for their condition, it’s unfair to blame people for mental health challenges that often stem from a combination of genetic, biological, social, and environmental factors.

Mental health struggles are rarely a matter of willpower. For many people, these challenges are responses to overwhelming stress, trauma, or chemical imbalances, which can be incredibly hard to manage without support. It's not a matter of being "strong" or "weak." Everyone has limits, and mental health issues are often a sign that someone has been pushed past their capacity to cope by circumstances that might be out of their control.

Additionally, the idea that people need to “try harder” dismisses the very real barriers to getting better. Mental health resources are not always accessible, and there can be financial, social, or cultural barriers to seeking help. Many people are doing the best they can under tough circumstances, and suggesting they just need more effort can add to their feelings of shame or isolation.

What people need most is understanding, compassion, and support—whether that means therapy, community support, medication, or a combination of these. Reframing mental health issues not as a sign of weakness, but as a legitimate human response to real challenges, allows us to provide the support and understanding that people deserve.