You are in the middle of a borderless nothingness. Let me show you.

Keep your eyes on these words. Without moving them, notice your hand... now the wall behind the screen.

Now push your attention out, to the very edge of what you can see. Find where it ends.

Is there a line? A frame? A black border?

There isn't. The colours don't stop at an edge. They merge into nothingness, and since we're talking about colour, we can call it the colourless. You can never point to where it begins. You're inside a screen of your own, and it has no border.

And behind your head? It isn't black. It's colourless. You can't see from your elbow, and you can't even imagine what that would look like.

The edge of sound

Now try it with sound. Hum, "Aaaaah", and listen for where it ends.

It doesn't hit a wall of silence. There's no place where the sound stops and the soundless begins. And even the "Aaah" itself has a boundary, just like your vision. Yet you never find where it ends.

Space is just another experience

So if every experience has a border that touches nothingness, each in its own dimension, then where is everything?

We say: in space. But space is just another experience, like sight, or sound, or smell. We use it as a place to hold everything together, so these borderless experiences make sense.

So try this. You may be inside a room, but you can still sense the space behind the wall in front of you. Let your attention go out into it. Just like at the corner of your eyes, there's no border it can touch. Space itself is an edgeless nothingness. Only the feeling of a solid world out there keeps us from noticing.

Edges everywhere

And once you see it, edges get strange everywhere. What came before the Big Bang? What letter comes before A, or after Z? What was the very last moment you felt, before you fell asleep?

Every time you go looking for the edge, you find the same thing.

The edges are mysterious, because they meet nothingness.

Whatever you think you like or dislike, you don't actually like or dislike those things.

The reason I'm saying this is because there's something additional happening. The correct phrase wouldn't be, "I like this." The correct phrase would be, "I like liking," and right now that liking is being mixed with a certain thing.

The same music

For example, if I say I really like a particular piece of music, let's say it's Mozart or Beethoven, the music I'm hearing is the same as everyone else hears, including people who don't really like or appreciate that music. It doesn't mean what they're hearing is somehow different from what I'm hearing.

We are all hearing the same external, objective music. But why does it appear beautiful to me and not to someone else? Beauty is not just an abstract concept. I would argue that it's an additional sensation. When I'm hearing the music, that sensation of beauty combines with it to create a new kind of sensation. It is still that music, but a slightly different variation of it.

Mixing colours

It's like mixing blue with white to make light blue. So, technically, when I say that we are both hearing the same music, that isn't entirely true either. The music is being mixed so well with other emotions or abstract concepts that it shifts slightly. The actual music is still there, but it's a different variation.

This is not just about beauty. It's also about the things you hate and the things you love. But the story doesn't end there. There is a structure to it. That's why we don't find everything beautiful. However, which variables make this experience come together, and decide for us where we can find happiness, love and beauty, and in which patterns, is still a mystery that we need to explore more deeply.

Why people are so different

This helps us imagine why people are so different. When you see someone loving something you would judge, try to realise that, for them, it is a source of the same feeling you crave or enjoy. In all the structured variables you love, the kind of music you love, the kind of food you love, another person might be enjoying the same experience in something totally different.

Beauty as its own thing

We are all driven toward these experiences. It is also a useful exercise to imagine beauty as a feeling in itself: not saying that something is beautiful, but realising that beauty is its own thing. Meditate on exactly where that experience is, how it mixes with the experience you find beautiful, and then try to imagine that particular experience within the variables where you usually don't find beauty.

You can meditate on this and play with it, but be careful, because you are playing with foundational structures that guide you through reality. I would suggest going only as far as trying to understand other people's perspectives. That's it.

Next time you feel an itch, try something strange. Scratch it. And the moment it starts to feel good... stop.

Now watch. That unfinished itch grabs all of your attention.

And your mind starts bargaining. Who the hell is this guy to tell you what to do? Go on. You've earned it. This exercise is pointless anyway.

Notice that. Your mind is working this hard to keep you scratching. That is exactly why you stop.

Don't fight it, don't feed it

Don't fight the urge. Don't feed it. Just let it stay.

This will help build tolerance to being okay with not being okay. You'll be dying to scratch that itch a bit more, but I think your willpower grows, because you get to look that pleasure dead in the eyes and say no.

It was never about the itch

Because it was never really about the itch. It's the notification. The likes. The fear of missing out. The fear of losing someone.

Even the next video. Finish one, and your thumb already wants the next.

So ask yourself. What are you feeding, that you should be starving?

Every time you stop while you still want more, you get a little freer to choose.

Being okay with not being okay. That's where choice begins.

Free will is an experience. A system that computes projections of possible outcomes, but enters a threshold where several options carry a similarly high probability, experiences free will as its computation starts to loop.

Let's look at free will from a few different perspectives.

Free will as qualia

Consider the last difficult decision you made. That feeling of deliberation, of being poised between options, is free will as a sensation. It is not fundamentally different from other qualia like the warmth of sunlight on your skin, the redness of an apple, or the emotion of love.

If we accept this, a profound realization follows: every qualia can be mapped into a computational information matrix. Just as the qualia of pain can be replicated in computation (think of a game engine where damage inputs trigger a "pain state" that forces behavioral changes in an NPC), the specific sensation of free will must also be extractable. Free will is what it feels like when a brain processes possible outcomes and computes which direction to take based on finer and finer variables. It is deterministic, and yet from the perspective of consciousness it is a legitimate, computable sensation of freedom that we should be able to isolate, even if we have not managed to yet.

Notice also that most computations are replicas of sensations. We needed pain and free will first in order to mimic them in computation. The meaning, and the depth of what is computable, is already inherent in perception. We just extract it.

The strange loop that creates free will

Our brains are prediction machines caught in a strange loop: they predict their own predictions. When you make a choice, your brain computes what you will decide, but that prediction itself becomes a factor in the decision, which changes the prediction, which changes the decision, creating infinite recursion.

Think of a system predicting its own coin toss. If it predicts "heads", that prediction pushes the outcome toward "tails" to prove itself wrong. But anticipating this self-falsification pushes it back toward "heads". This recursive chase, where each prediction must account for itself, generates the sensation of free will. The more balanced the options, the deeper the loop runs, and the stronger the feeling of choice becomes.

The perspective paradox

Reality is always experienced from a single perspective, and this creates an unsolvable puzzle for free will. Imagine John observing Jane's neural activity to predict her choices. Jane appears deterministic to John, but John experiences free will. Add a third observer watching John, and now John appears deterministic too. Add a fourth, a fifth, an infinite chain of observers.

Here is the crucial insight: no matter how many observers you stack, there is always one final perspective - yours, reading this - from which free will can be neither confirmed nor denied. Like quantum collapse, where observation happens from a single viewpoint regardless of the chain of observers, free will lives in this irreducible blind spot of consciousness. You can never step outside your own perspective to see whether your choices are truly free or merely feel free. This is not a limitation of knowledge. It is the structure of reality itself. There will always be exactly one perspective, the one experiencing reality right now, where the question stays open.

The prediction race

Imagine a machine that scans your brain to predict your choice one second before you make it. In actual experiments where the machine keeps its prediction hidden, success rates are surprisingly low, barely above chance, which suggests our neural complexity already resists simple prediction. But reveal the prediction ("you will choose red") and the system breaks entirely. Now your mind can defy it and choose blue. The machine scans your defiance and updates its prediction, which you can defy again, and so on forever.

This reveals something important. Even without knowing the prediction, our brains are already too complex for current machines to predict reliably. Add the feedback loop of a revealed prediction, and if consciousness has any non-physical component, the chase becomes impossible. The game of cat and mouse drives deeper into the brain's physical substrate, from neural networks to atoms, and finally into quantum mechanics. The prediction would need ever finer resolution, ultimately demanding a perfect replica of your brain.

But here is the paradox: a perfect physical replica would compute at the same speed as your actual brain, making its "prediction" simultaneous with your decision rather than ahead of it. At this boundary the question becomes unanswerable, not through lack of knowledge, but because the measuring tool has become indistinguishable from the thing it measures. Hidden predictions barely work. Revealed predictions create paradox. The gap where prediction fails might be where free will lives.

Perhaps this is what free will really is: not the absence of causation, but causation so complex, so self-referential, so responsive to its own observation that it generates genuine novelty. A strange loop where cause and effect chase each other in circles until they blur.

The pragmatic proof: blame

Step outside the brain's internal loops and there is a functional definition of free will built into our social dynamics. Consider blame. Society assigns ownership of actions to individuals and blames them for undesirable outcomes. Crucially, this input changes future behavior.

The person receives an external attribution of responsibility, processes the negative feedback, and recalibrates their future choices to avoid similar outcomes. In this pragmatic view, free will is real simply because blame works. It is a functional feedback loop. Any system that can receive blame (data about ownership of a past error) and use it to change its own future behavior can effectively be said to have free will.

Mapping free will through pattern recognition

Let's assume free will exists as something beyond physical causation, something almost magical. Even then, if we could rewind time and replay a decision, we would likely see the same choice made again. Why? Because a specific Mind in a specific body, in a particular mood on a particular day, facing specific options, would exercise its free will in a characteristic way. That consistency, whatever its source (physical, spiritual or otherwise), is data we can record.

Imagine a vast dataset: millions of Minds in different bodies, moods and contexts, all making free decisions. We are not tracking causation, only recording how free will shows up across countless situations. With enough data, patterns would emerge. Not patterns of determinism, but patterns of how this mysterious property tends to express itself under certain conditions. We could then train neural networks not to understand the mechanism of free will, but to predict its behavior through pure pattern recognition, the way we can map the wind without understanding aerodynamics.

The irony is that we might predict free will's behavior without ever proving whether it is truly free, turning the ineffable into data points while keeping its essential mystery intact.

Humans have an advantage over AI, and it is not the one people usually reach for. It is not creativity, or empathy, or some vague spark. It is access.

An instrument like a camera can capture the details of a physical room with almost perfect fidelity. But morals, beauty, intelligence, desire: these cannot be captured by traditional tools in physical space, not to their core. AI is attempting to capture them anyway, and it does so the only way it can, by ingesting the output data of the Mind, which is where all of it originally came from.

What I mean by Mind

When I say Mind or Consciousness, I am referring to the thing which is all and any subjective experience. Sound. Color. Taste. The sensation of space and time. Warmth and cold. Basically everything you have ever actually encountered. Philosophers call it Qualia, or Phenomenon.

You can find a great deal in shared physical space. But the subjective world is more interesting, because it holds morals, meaning, desire, and human intelligence, and those are just as much a part of reality as the physical stuff. The difference is access. One is easily reachable by tools. The other is hidden away, and only enters the physical world through Consciousness.

We experience sensations and instantly manufacture meaning from them. When we design a system, solve a problem, get an idea, decide what is good taste and what is bad taste, or feel a desire that drives our agency, all of it comes from an unseen world of subjective experience and its computations. No tool captures that directly. Tools only ever capture its output.

The Sonar Mutation

Here is the example that makes the gap concrete.

Imagine that tomorrow, humans genetically mutate to sense three-dimensional space exactly the way a bat does. Not to know about sonar. To feel it.

Because we would actually feel that space, it becomes a perception, not just data. Within a single generation, that raw experience would rewrite our culture. It would change how we design buildings, write poetry, cook food, and make art. We would generate entirely new ground truth, and we would redefine beauty itself, because we would have a new sensation through which to meet the world.

Now take that same sensation, turn it into raw data, and feed it to a model. All the 3D spatial data of every human space.

Nothing happens.

The system already knows what sonar is from everything it has read about sonar. It registers the new data inside those existing constraints. Because it has no direct conscious perception, it experiences no shift. No novel connections form with what it already holds. No new desire appears. Its agency does not change.

This is also why I do not think current AI is conscious. If it were connected to source consciousness, giving it genuinely new sensory data would have influenced all of its existing preferences. Consciousness is inherently connected to everything else in reality. It processes in unity. Nothing lands in it in isolation.

One engine, many dimensions

Think of it like this. Reality is made of processes between a vast number of variables, and those processes produce the patterns of intelligence we recognise in ourselves. At the centre there is one core engine driving all of it, from physical reality to moral evolution to meaning and desire.

Replicating that engine by studying physical reality is only one dimension of it. Studying psychology is another. Understanding why something becomes famous is another. Each one is a different window onto the same machinery.

The true origin of that data stays out of reach, sitting deep inside what is known as the Hard Problem of Consciousness.

Where AI genuinely wins

None of this means AI lacks an advantage. It has an enormous one, and I use it every day.

Not every problem we solve requires staying connected to the source. Most problems have already been documented and solved in depth. That is exactly the territory where a model is strongest, and it is why AI will eventually absorb the roles that consist entirely of executing already-solved problems.

But it cannot reach the human level, because it is not connected to the core of the reality engine the way we are through Consciousness. It is working from the output. We are working from the thing that produced it.

I build with these tools daily and I am not arguing against them. I am arguing about where the ceiling sits, and why the interesting work keeps ending up on the side of the line that instruments cannot read.