Consciousness Redux: What Is It Like to Be a Bee?; December 2008/January 2009; Scientific American Mind; by Christof Koch; 2 Page(s)

We take the magical gift of consciousness for granted. From the time I awaken until I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, I am flooded with conscious sensations. And contrary to assertions made by philosophers, novelists and other literati, by and large this stream of consciousness does not relate to quiet self-reflection and introspective thoughts. No, most of it is filled with raw sensations.

Two weeks ago a friend and I climbed a sea cliff above the Pacific surf at Malibu, Calif. When I am on the sharp end of the rope, my inner critic¿that voice in my head reminding me of deadlines, worries and my inadequacies¿is gone, is silent. My mind is all out there¿conscious of the exact orientation, shape and texture of the rock, looking for tiny indentations where I can get purchase for my fingers and toes, always aware of how high I am above the last bolt. One moment I am exquisitely aware of my feet on all too smooth rock, reaching upward with my left hand for a handhold. The next I am airborne, my right hand bloody, my right rib cage aching. After catching my breath and shouting to my anxious belayer that I¿m okay, I am filled with adrenaline for having survived yet another fall, can¿t contain my enthusiasm, and scream.