Consciousness as the ground of reality
On soul, perception and the (non-) locality of Love
Introduction
Consciousness is one of the most mysterious and at the same time most fundamental dimensions of our existence. Although we function daily from a certain degree of awareness — perceiving, feeling, thinking, remembering — the question of what consciousness actually is remains one of the most unanswered in science. Neuroscience, quantum physics, phenomenology and philosophy of mind each offer their own approaches, yet none arrive at a single, definitive explanation.
In traditional neuroscience, consciousness is often viewed as an emergent phenomenon; a product of neuronal activity in the brain. Within this framework, subjective experience arises when certain neural networks fire in specific ways, as described by the so-called Global Workspace Theory, in which consciousness is understood as a dynamic workspace that makes information accessible to other cognitive systems. Yet this approach has its limits. The so-called hard problem of consciousness — the question of why physical processes give rise to subjective experience at all — remains unresolved. We know that brain activity correlates with consciousness, but we still do not understand why or how.
Other perspectives look beyond the brain. In quantum physics, certain interpretations suggest that consciousness may not be a by-product of matter, but a fundamental property of the universe itself. Think of the work of physicists such as Roger Penrose and Stuart Hameroff, who with their Orch-OR theory speculate that consciousness arises from quantum processes in microtubules within neurons — a hypothesis that blurs the boundary between physics and philosophy and invites further reflection on the nature of reality.
There are also non-dualistic thinkers and scientists, among them Bernardo Kastrup, Rupert Spira, and Anil Seth, who question the primacy of matter and instead regard consciousness as the foundational field of experience: cause rather than consequence. In this view, consciousness is not an internal state sealed within an isolated brain, but a relational, contextual and possibly even non-local phenomenon — something that does not reside anywhere, but manifests within the relationship between perceiver, perceived and world.
For me, this inquiry is not a purely intellectual exercise. It touches on my lived experience, on those moments when consciousness is not confined to the thoughts in my head but extends into my body, the surrounding space and the presence of the other. On the experience that love and consciousness draw near to one another in intensity and openness. On the intuition that what I call I does not end at the borders of my skin, but is embedded in a far larger field of relation, resonance and meaning.
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In this essay, I wish to explore what it means to understand consciousness not as something enclosed within the individual, but as the ground of reality; a field in which perception, temporality, love and self-experience converge. Drawing on psychological models, neurological research, quantum theory and philosophical traditions, I will attempt to unravel the layers of consciousness — not to reach a final conclusion, but to make space for a deeper understanding of what it means to be aware.
Consciousness and perception — Between brain, body and world
For a long time, perception was thought to be a linear process: the senses capture information, which the brain then processes into a representation of the external world. In this classical view, the brain functions as a kind of central processing unit that reconstructs reality through input and output. But in recent decades, that image has shifted. Neuroscientists and philosophers increasingly describe perception as an active, embodied and situational process in which the brain is not a passive receiver but a predictive organ: one that constantly generates hypotheses about what is happening within and around the body.
The models of predictive processing and active inference propose that the brain continuously predicts the sensory input it expects to receive and compares those predictions with the actual input. When the prediction does not match the perception, a prediction error arises, which the system tries to minimize. This process is cyclical, self-correcting and deeply intertwined with movement, attention and affective processes. In this view, consciousness does not arise as a reaction, but as an attunement, a process aimed at maximizing precision in the relationship between expectation and perception.
These insights align closely with the idea of embodied cognition: the understanding that cognition does not reside solely in the brain, but is embedded in the entire body and its environment. What we perceive is shaped not only by sensory input but also by our bodily state, our movements, our emotional tone and the relational context we are part of. Consciousness, then, is not located inside, but emerges in the interplay between inside and outside. As phenomenology expressed decades earlier: the world does not appear to us as an objective given, but as lived experience; subjective, contextual and infused with meaning.
Maurice Merleau-Ponty, one of the central figures in phenomenology, described the body not as an object we have, but as the center of experience through which the world reveals itself to us. Our perception is always situated: rooted in a bodily perspective, charged with intention, desire and memory. What we see, feel, or hear is never neutral. It's always already colored by our being-in-the-world — by the way consciousness directs itself toward the other.
In practice, this means that consciousness cannot be isolated. It is relational. What we consciously experience arises in dialogue with what we encounter — and with how we encounter it. A gaze, a touch, a thought, none of these are one-way actions, but reciprocal movements through which meaning is born.
This perspective also opens a different view on love. When love is experienced as deep contact, as recognition or as a form of resonance, it's not merely a feeling arising within us, but a mode of perception in which the other truly appears. Love then becomes a quality of attention, a kind of consciousness in which the boundary between self and other momentarily dissolves — without those boundaries disappearing. It is an attunement, not a fusion.
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Non-Locality, Quantum Coherence and the limits of the brain
Within classical neuroscience, the brain is regarded as the central organ of consciousness. Brain activity correlates with subjective experience and damage to specific regions leads to changes in personality, memory or perception. Yet, an increasing number of observations challenge this closed model. Near-death experiences, shared dreams, spontaneous recollections of past lives or the sudden knowing of things beyond sensory reach, for a long time, such phenomena were dismissed as unscientific or anecdotal. But interest is growing in explanatory models that reach beyond the classical brain paradigm.
Quantum physics offers an alternative language here. In the world of elementary particles, other laws apply than in classical physics. One of the most fascinating principles is that of non-locality: the fact that two particles can share information instantaneously across great distances, without any observable mediation. This phenomenon, known as quantum entanglement, has inspired speculation about a fundamental interconnectedness in nature that transcends both space and time.
Some researchers, such as Stuart Hameroff and Roger Penrose, have applied these insights to consciousness. Their Orchestrated Objective Reduction theory (Orch-OR) proposes that consciousness does not result from electrical activity in neurons, but arises from quantum processes within the microtubules; structures inside neurons that were long considered merely supportive. These processes, they suggest, could be responsible for the integration of information, the sense of unity and even the subjective quality of experience.
Although this theory remains controversial and lacks conclusive empirical proof, it raises a profound question:
Is consciousness a product of the brain — or is the brain a receiver, an interface between the body and an underlying field of consciousness not bound by space or time?
There are also parallels with the concepts of quantum coherence and quantum fields, where not individual particles but entire systems exist in a state of collective alignment. If consciousness operates according to such principles, it could explain why certain experiences — such as deep meditation, mystical unity experiences or sudden insights — feel as though they do not originate within, but arise from a greater whole.
Scientists like Dean Radin and Rupert Sheldrake have conducted empirical studies on so-called psi phenomena such as telepathy, precognition and morphic fields. While their work is met with skepticism within mainstream science, they are gradually collecting data that supports the idea that consciousness may not be localized and that forms of interaction exist which cannot be explained within classical materialism.
In my own experience — during moments of loss, love, deep stillness or intense presence — I have felt as though my consciousness did not end at the borders of my body. As if perception was not an action but an attunement to something already there. As if my mind temporarily merged with a larger field in which time condensed and space dissolved. Such moments cannot be proven, yet they cannot be ignored either. They form the inner counter-evidence to every theory that reduces consciousness to a local brain process.
What this evokes is not dogma, but wonder. The possibility that consciousness extends beyond the boundaries of the brain opens not only philosophical, but also ethical questions. For if everything is connected to everything else, then every act, every thought, every perception contributes to the greater whole in which we live.
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Love as a coherent frequency
When we no longer view consciousness solely as a neural product, but as a field in which perception, experience and meaning arise, our understanding of love also changes. Instead of a feeling that happens to emerge within the brain, love can be understood as a form of attunement — a specific frequency within the field of consciousness where inner coherence coincides with relational openness.
In neurocardiology, it has been shown that the heart generates its own electromagnetic field that is many times stronger than that of the brain. Researchers at the HeartMath Institute discovered that feelings of love, gratitude and compassion bring the heart rhythm into a state of coherence: a rhythmic, flowing pattern associated with reduced stress, improved immunity and increased cognitive clarity. This physiological coherence is not only felt internally but is also measurable externally — and may influence the surrounding environment through the electromagnetic field.
Love, then, is not an inner state within the body but a resonance between bodies, between consciousnesses. Like two string instruments tuning to each other without physical contact, love seems to behave as a form of entrainment; an aligning vibration through which hearts, brains and bodies synchronize. This synchronization has been observed not only between lovers, but also between mothers and their infants, between therapists and clients, and even within social groups sharing a collective state of attention or intention.
This attunement is not only physiological or neurological but existential as well. In love, boundaries become permeable. The other no longer appears as an object, but as a living presence in which our own being is reflected. Philosophers such as Martin Buber and Emmanuel Levinas have pointed to this ethical dimension: the Other is not a concept but a call — a presence that summons us to responsibility, responsiveness and inner presence.
Jung introduced the concept of synchronicity to describe meaningful coincidences that are not causally explainable but deeply resonate with the inner state of the observer. Such events suggest the existence of an underlying field in which psyche and matter are intertwined — a Unus Mundus, a “one world” where inner and outer reality mirror one another. Love seems to be the state in which these resonances most readily occur, as if consciousness, when attuned through love, becomes more receptive to signals from that deeper field.
From this perspective, love is not a random emotion but an ordered movement within chaos; a force that makes not only the experience of connection possible, but also the experience of meaning. In love, perception and meaning coincide: we not only see the other, but feel that the encounter itself signifies something. In that sense, love is a form of knowing — not rational comprehension, but a felt understanding of how everything is interwoven.
Conclusion — Consciousness as the ground of a connected reality
Consciousness is not a possession. Not a sealed-off domain or mechanism that begins at birth and ends at death. The evidence — scientific as well as existential — continues to mount: consciousness appears to be more field than function, more ground than by-product. It permeates, connects, carries — rather than arises in isolation.
From neuroscience we learn that perception is not passive but actively predictive, embodied and relational. From quantum physics grows the insight that information exchange can occur without mediation through time and space. From research on heart coherence and interpersonal synchronization, we see that connectedness is not only a poetic notion but a biological and measurable reality. And from depth psychology and phenomenology speaks the living body, the Other, and experience itself — not as derivatives of neural patterns, but as direct routes to meaning.
What if consciousness is not an isolated phenomenon, but a sustaining principle?
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What if, in our most vulnerable and lucid moments, we are not so much thinking beings as beings inhabited by consciousness? And what if love, in that context, is not an emotion that passes, but a gateway to another kind of knowing — one that does not explain, but connects?
In a world where objectivity is often equated with truth and subjectivity with noise, this vision offers another compass. Not a rejection of science, but its deepening. Not a dismissal of reason, but a remembrance of the felt, embodied and relational knowing that precedes all theory; a knowing that does not make statements about the world, but attunes itself to its movements.
The soul, in this context, need not be understood in religious terms. It's the conscious center of resonance, the unique form through which the field folds itself around a human experience. And love? It is not romantic, but revolutionary — because it reminds us, against all systems, of a reality that need not be broken to come into bloom.
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When we understand consciousness as the ground of reality, each moment becomes a potential crossing point — between body and mind, between self and other, between the visible and the unseen. It asks for slowing down. For attention. And for a radically different stance toward knowledge, truth and connection.
We do not need to solve the mystery of consciousness. We only need to take it seriously and practice not standing above it, but being part of it.
