Consciousness of the Real — Sylvain Lebel

Consciousness of the Real

Translated from the original French version.

Introduction

Where does the world come from?
Where does consciousness come from?

Something changes. This may be the only certainty we all share — before any explanation, belief, or theory. The world moves, transforms, and we are its direct witnesses. This perception of change, however simple, is our first contact with the real. From it opens a path of understanding.

This text begins from that minimal experience to explore a bold idea: that all phenomena — space, time, matter, thought, consciousness — could emerge from a single fundamental dynamic. Without resorting to religious postulates or preexisting theoretical frameworks, the goal is to question what this first sensation of movement implies if we push it to the limit of its consequences.

Through a logical, visual, and rigorous progression, this proposal sketches a global vision of the real: a way to connect what science, philosophy, and human experience often describe separately. The objective is not to establish a new dogma, but to test a hypothesis: if the real proceeds from a single principle, can we, starting from the simplest, make the most complex emerge?

Methodology

Our only link with reality lies in our perceptions. But since these are often deceptive — subject to illusion, mirage, sensory error, and biased interpretation — it would be imprudent to rely on them entirely to reach truth.

There is, however, one perception that we absolutely cannot doubt: that of perceiving something changing rather than nothing. This minimal certainty — the irrefutability of perceived change — constitutes our anchor point. Even if everything we perceive were illusion, the fact of perceiving an alteration, a movement, a becoming, cannot itself be denied.

What truly exists? Is it spacetime, the particles and forces described by modern physics? Or is it rather that which grants them existence, coherence, and properties — in other words, their substance?

In everyday language, such questions are often dismissed or ridiculed — regarded as naïve incursions into the realm of the “Great Unknowable,” whether one calls it God, First Principle, or Absolute Substance. Yet these questions remain legitimate for anyone who seeks to think rigorously about the foundation of what is.

Designating everything that exists in itself, I call THAT this substance of the real. The name is deliberately neutral, accessible, and free of any preestablished religious or scientific connotation.

The approach proposed here unfolds in two stages:

1. From the minimal certainty — perceiving change — deduce the attributes this substance must necessarily possess for this perception to be possible. In other words, progressively reconstruct a minimal ontology from this single certainty.
2. Then imagine this substance in its simplest possible state. Next, according to its attributes, let it complexify, to see whether this complexification can generate, explain, and structure our observable reality: space, time, matter, forces, life, and consciousness.

The objective is not to validate a preestablished theory, but to test the coherence and fecundity of a single principle. If the progressive complexification of THAT succeeds, without contradiction, in accounting for the diversity of phenomena, then the model gains credibility. In this sense, the approach is at once rigorous, exploratory, and unifying: a space where science, inner experience, and philosophical reflection can genuinely dialogue.

Attributes of the Substance of the Real

Here, the term “substance” is not used in its traditional metaphysical sense, but as a neutral designation of that which endures through every transformation. THAT is not an ontological dogma, but a heuristic framework for thinking the continuity of the real beyond its phenomenal forms.

For its part, the term “to exist” does not necessarily refer to the empirical existence of a perceived object, but to the being of the phenomenon itself: to perceive change is already to be in the presence of an effective difference. This difference is not an object, but an act of being — the most minimal possible. From this act-of-being of change, the substance of the real follows.

Designating “that which exists in itself,” including God, the gods, or the elephants that carry the Earth on their backs — insofar as they exist — the substance of the real must include everything for this undertaking to be carried out. This does not presuppose its unity as a dogma, but adopts it as a minimal hypothesis: if something escaped THAT, then that something would exist in itself and would therefore have to be integrated in turn. In other words, unity is not postulated as an absolute truth, but as a starting point of coherence to be tested.

• Alone: By definition, nothing that exists can be other or external to THAT. One could suppose it is composed of several sub-substances, but we shall dispense with this, since any real distinction would still belong to THAT.
• Eternal: Alone, uncreated, without beginning or end, it is not subject to an external time; it is necessarily the source of what we call time.
• Indivisible: Alone and eternal, it cannot be separated, for something else would then be needed to distinguish its parts. One might invoke an ontological void, but the void, if it “is” in any sense, still belongs to being; and if it is not, it cannot separate anything. Nor can one exclude the idea of a division without separation, by parts of distinct natures, but we shall dispense with it, for whatever their natures, they would still be those of THAT. This indivisibility does not exclude differentiation: distinctions are not cuts, but internal variations of the same field of being. In other words, THAT is not a homogeneous block, but a fluid unity, capable of undulating and structuring itself without breaking, like a self-modulating continuum. Pluralities, forms and consciousnesses are not its fragments, but local expressions of the same totality. Thus, true unity is not uniformity, but internal coherence without discontinuity.
• Continuous: Eternal and indivisible, it contains no rupture or interruption: its being is one.
• Sensible: Sensitive to itself — otherwise no conscious perception would be possible. This is not a mere deduction but a consequence: the principle of immanence (ρ·C = k) suffices to impose it. If the real maintains itself by internal equilibrium, it must be both finite and sensitive: finite, for an infinite magnitude would make the product undefined and destroy measure; sensitive, for a null differentiation would cancel it. Thus, sensibility is not an addition, but the minimal form by which the substance measures and recognizes itself; perception is not contingent — it is the very structure of the real.
• Dynamic: Without dynamism, no perception would be changing. The dynamism of THAT is not a becoming in time, but the very act by which time and space arise as forms of its deployment. Time does not exist before this deployment: it is its internal measure. Change therefore has no cause; it is the minimal form of being itself — that by which there is something rather than nothing.
• Intelligible: Sensitive to itself, it can be conceived; what manifests to itself can be thought. This is not a deduction here, but a continuation of the previous choice: if THAT can feel itself, it can also understand itself, at least implicitly. This intelligibility adds nothing to the substance; it simply expresses its internal clarity.
• Finite: Intelligible, it forms everything within limits. This follows not from deduction alone, but from the principle of immanence (ρ·C = k). For k to remain constant and measurable, ρ and C must remain defined and finite: if either became infinite (or undefined), the product would diverge or fall into indeterminacy (∞·0), and immanence would collapse. Finitude does not imply an outer edge: it designates a totality without outside, like the surface of a sphere, entirely measurable from itself. It is the condition for the stability and internal knowability of the real.
• Immanent: Designating everything that exists, THAT must bear its principle within itself — states of being, cause of all. This immanence is not an exclusion of transcendence, but its reintegration into being: nothing exists outside THAT, including what is called transcendent.

I therefore deduce that the substance of the real is alone, eternal, indivisible, continuous, sensible, dynamic, intelligible, finite, and immanent — a psycho-physical nature of the real, at the source of all physical and psychic phenomena.

You disagree? Rest assured, that’s normal! For millennia, metaphysical debates have opposed one another without reaching agreement on what is most reasonable or most logical. Yet perhaps the question is not which conception is the most rational, but which best generates the world as it manifests.

The true test of an ontology is not its conformity to our ideas, but its generative power: which attributes of the substance best account for what we observe? It is to this trial that we shall now submit THAT.

Physical Products

To understand what follows, it is necessary to grasp the notion of a spatial dimension. We live in a world with three dimensions (3D, e.g.: m³), where every object has a length, a width, and a height. For example, a box can be described by these three measures. A one-dimensional space (1D, e.g.: m or m¹) can be imagined as a straight line, like a ruler. A two-dimensional space (2D, e.g.: m²) corresponds to a flat surface, like a sheet of paper. Our brain naturally perceives these three dimensions through vision and movement, which allows us to navigate the world. In scientific or philosophical contexts, the notion of dimension can extend to more abstract ideas: a fourth dimension (time) or even theoretical dimensions beyond our ordinary perception.

Let us picture the substance of the real in its simplest imaginable state and see how this state becomes more complex and what physical products and notions arise from this complexification. The simplest imaginable state is that in which the whole substance of the real (denoted THAT) is in a state of extreme density. Static in this dense state, I illustrate it as a point within a configuration with no discernible spatial extent.

But by its property of being dynamic in substance, THAT could not remain in this static state. It must extend. If it does so along a dimensional axis, it forms a line. Along two axes, a surface. Along three axes, a volume. But why not four axes? Or a hundred? A priori, the substance should extend along all dimensional axes that most directly reduce its state of density—or, if you prefer, that occupy the maximum volume as quickly as possible. That is, between five and six axes according to the calculation of how a hypersphere’s volume varies with its dimension:

Let us see whether this clue of 5 or 6 axes will be useful. Starting from a state of maximal density illustrated as a point, imagine THAT extending along a dimensional axis:

All these physical notions — acceleration, speed, distance, and time — proceed from the exploitation of one and the same fundamental dimensional axis. Why include time in it? Because without time, THAT could not deploy: it would remain in a state of maximal density, with no possible actualization. This means that this first dimension, both spatial and temporal, does not correspond to one of our Euclidean dimensions (x, y, z) nor to a relativistic dimension (3 spatial + 1 temporal). Our usual dimensions of space and time can only be derivatives of the fundamental dimensions — effects of the internal dynamics of THAT.

Since THAT exists at every point of the spatial and temporal space it generates, and since this space is finite yet entirely filled by this substance, we can represent each portion of space as composed of multiple points of THAT. These points are not isolated, but in permanent interrelation.

Now, since we know there is less volume in 1D than in 5D, let us imagine that, to reduce density, our line of points progressively passes from 1D to 5D. This will produce interactions, internal tensions, dynamic exchanges — in short: effects. We can represent this complexification as a progressive construction of structures, each level exploiting more dimensional axes:

• 1D: a line made of points. Interaction between the points along this line gives rise to notions such as distance, speed, or acceleration.
• 2D: a surface made of lines of points. The lines interact within this surface, giving rise to waves, pressure, or the first forms of spatial structure.
• 3D: a volume composed of interacting surfaces. Here appear notions such as volume, mass (seen as pressure applied over a distance), and the bases of material density.
• 4D: a hypervolume in which 3D volumes (axes 1-2-3, 1-2-4, 1-3-4, and 2-3-4) interact across three additional dimensions. This dynamic relating of masses generates forces.
• 5D: forces, when they act over distances in a hypervolume, give rise to energy, seen as force applied over a distance.

In other words, at each level of interaction between dimensional structures, new physical notions naturally emerge. The fundamental relations of physics indicate that all of them fall at the indicated dimensions, and each notion (e.g., force, energy) indeed arises from exploiting that number of dimensional axes.

Thus, each physical magnitude is situated at an axial dimensional level. For example, force is at level D⁴ because:

F = m a with m ≈ D³ and a ≈ D¹,
hence D³ × D¹ = D⁴.

Likewise, energy is at level D⁵ because
E = m c² and c ≈ D¹,
thus D³ × (D¹)² = D⁵.

So why is speed, which designates a ratio between distance and time (v = d / t), not of dimension zero? Because these are axial dimensions. How many axes are required to indicate an acceleration, a speed, a distance, or a time? Only one. Therefore, all these notions — distance, time, speed, and acceleration — can only be of dimension 1. They all exploit one and the same generative axis: the one that opens simultaneously the minimal spatial extent and the elementary temporal flow.

This first axis (D¹) is therefore not purely spatial, but also temporal: without time, THAT could not deploy nor manifest the change it contains in potency. “Axial dimensions” do not describe measurable physical magnitudes, but degrees of ontological actualization. Physical dimensions (L, T, M) belong to the phenomenal order; axial dimensions describe the process by which these magnitudes become possible. They are orthogonal in the mathematical sense, but not in the causal sense. How these axes engender the dimensions of physics and relativity is detailed on the pages devoted to Physics. Thus axial dimensions do not replace physical dimensions.

Although disarmingly simple, this classification of physical notions is new to science. In scientific practice, “dimension” is descriptive, not generative: it serves to characterize the units in which a magnitude is measured, according to a static, classificatory logic. Nothing comparable to the hierarchy of axial dimensions, where each engenders the next by integration. My approach is therefore axiogenetic (each axis is born of a principle), whereas physics is parametric (each dimension describes a measurable parameter).

General prediction. Any valid physical law respects an axial coherence: the dimensional levels of the magnitudes it relates agree according to fixed rules of composition. When two magnitudes combine, their levels add: D(X·Y)=D(X)+D(Y); when they form a ratio, their levels subtract: D(X/Y)=D(X)-D(Y); when a magnitude is raised to a power, its level is multiplied: D(Xⁿ)=n·D(X). Derivatives or integrals do not change the nature of the magnitude — they simply shift the projection of the phenomenon onto a given axis of variation (spatial or temporal). Thus, speed v = ∂d/∂t expresses a first-order variation on a first-order axis (D(v)=D(d)=D(t)=1), and not a reduction of dimension: it keeps the same axial degree while changing the mode of expression of movement.

Falsifiability. This prediction is testable: the existence of a physical law confirmed by experiment but whose magnitudes could not be ordered according to these rules — i.e., where the axial total would not be conserved, or where a magnitude could not receive a level without contradiction — would invalidate the model. Conversely, the more the fundamental equations fall into line without exception and confirm these relations of addition and axial coherence, the more the hypothesis gains explanatory power. In other words: every law of the real must be formulable within the continuity of the same generative axis, without discontinuity or level-jump — otherwise it would describe a world other than ours.

Thus, by extending, THAT does not only produce space: it engenders laws, dynamics, structures. This point is crucial: physical laws are not external to the substance, but are the very effects of its dimensional deployment. That is why each new axial dimension exploited by THAT gives rise to new notions — and ultimately to our physical reality.

That said, it is clear that we do not live in these dimensional spaces. It would be more accurate to say that we are made of them, as is the spacetime in which we live. We will return to this in the pages devoted to physics. But for now, rather than trying to imagine what a substance extending over multiple axes that are both spatial and temporal would look like, let us see what its psychic products are.

Psychic Products

If everything that exists proceeds from one and the same substance — here named THAT — there can be no subject truly separate from the object, nor any “perceiver” external to reality. What we call consciousness is not a distinct entity, but a particular modality of organization of this same substance. In other words, consciousness is not added on to the universe: it is an emergent property, arising from the progressive deployment of THAT along determinate axes of complexification.

Starting from our minimal certainty — the perception of something (noted sth) changing — we can approach conscious perception as a product not of an independent matter, but of this same unique substance which we have seen generate space, time, and physical laws.

By applying to the perceptual domain the same method used for physical products, we may suppose that perception likewise emerges from a progressive complexification along certain axes. The following table, though schematic, proposes a sketch of this progression: at each new perceptual axis corresponds the birth of an additional structure of discernment.

Understood in this way, conscious perception is a dynamic construction. It results from a series of differential operations, each grounded in the recognition of a perceptible difference and organized along a specific axis. These discernments structure both our experience of the outer world and that of the inner world: they are the mechanisms by which THAT, through us, distinguishes itself, explores itself, and recognizes itself.

The D¹–D⁸ progression is ontological in nature, not merely descriptive or functional. It does not represent an operation of the human mind, but the structure of the real in act. Human cognition only reflects its functioning, for it is a local expression of it. In other words, ontology generates cognition, not the reverse.

Consciousness (D⁵) is not “produced” in a causal sense, but emerges from the first complete reflexive relation of the field of THAT to itself. D⁵ designates the ontological threshold where perception becomes simultaneously perceived and perceiving — the minimal form of consciousness. It is therefore not an external causality, but a necessary self-configuration of the system when it reaches complete reflexivity.

In my view, consciousness at D⁵ does not create freedom; it reveals it. Free will is not a rupture in necessity, but its internal reflection: the capacity of THAT, through us, to discern and to choose among its own possibles. What we call “choice” is not the cancellation of a cause, but the becoming-conscious of a bifurcation already contained in the dynamics of the real. Thus freedom and necessity are not opposed: they coincide at the point where consciousness becomes capable of recognizing its own law of action.

From this structure it follows that perception necessarily implies existence, but not the reverse. The perception of perceiving — formulated as (sth feels sth) — is composed of elements less complex than the perception of existing — (to be sth). By grouping the first two elements ((sth feels) sth), one shows that to perceive implies to be; but to establish the inverse, one would have to decompose being sth, which may just as well designate an object ((feels sth) sth) as a subject ((sth feels) sth). Thus, depending on how one combines and recombines the elements of a single perception, one passes from one truth to another, without these truths being immediately reducible to each other. The following table illustrates this combinatorial logic.

By manipulating the basic elements of the perceived (sth, feels, being), we find the principal notions of the universe of ontological discourse — existence, consciousness, percipientia, etc. The same method can be applied to other domains of experience: for example, to the adverb “intense” in the thermal field. There we again find structural correspondences among physical, perceptual, and linguistic notions.

This table brings out these correspondences within the universe of thermal discourse. It illustrates how one and the same pattern of complexification can manifest across different orders: the physical (amplitude, pressure, energy…), the psychic (intensity, sensation, relation…), and the linguistic (intense, hot, heating…). These correspondences are not a mere analogy between language and world, but an ontogenetic homology: language, in its very structure, proceeds from the same movement of self-differentiation as the real which it expresses. In other words, language does not imitate reality — it emerges from it, as a reflexive form of its internal organization.

This convergence suggests that the real possesses a double psycho-physical nature, where the mental and the material are but two expressions of the same fabric of differentiation. Although I formulate certain hypotheses concerning the physical products of the eighth axis, they remain unproven and therefore have no place here. Their necessity, however, follows directly from the continuity of the model: each new axis, by integrating the previous ones, engenders a higher level of coherence.

But is all terminology really conditioned by these eight tiers? I could give other examples (D2: just ⟶ the just or judge ⟶ to judge ⟶ judgeable ⟶ justice ⟶ judicial ⟶ judiciously), but the best way I know to show it remains the use of a neologism. For example:

Semantic gradient of “bob” (D2–D8)

• D2 — bob (sensation)
  Immediate quality: a direct qualifier expressing a sensible property or a perceived state.
  Example: a bob atmosphere.
• D3 — Bob (object/subject configuration)
  Individual entity: a particular instance embodying the quality “bob.”
  Example: that Bob manifests the essence of the bob.
• D4 — to bob (transition)
  Action / process: the act of manifesting the bob, of producing or operating according to this quality.
  Example: he bobs as soon as he speaks.
• D5 — bobbing (relation)
  Ongoing process: that which manifests the quality in a dynamic and interactive manner.
  Example: a bobbing presence.
• D6 — bobism (principle)
  Operating principle: a structuring archetype at the origin of bob-like manifestations.
  Example: bobism is not an ideology, but the internal law of the bob.
• D7 — bobber (system)
  Organization of the principle: a system or agent structuring the bobic principle.
  Example: the bobber realizes and systematizes bobism.
• D8 — bobwise (context)
  Field of expression: the ontological context or global mode in which the bob is expressed.
  Example: to act bobwise = to act within the field of the bob.

One should not think this classification applies only to European languages. The D1 → D8 schema does not rest on the existence of a chain of lexical derivations in a given language, but on a conceptual principle: each perceptual “dimension” adds a level of structuring — intensity, relation, system, context, etc. In French or English, morphology makes these steps visible through derivations (juste → justice → judiciaire → judicieusement). But in isolating or agglutinative languages, these same steps may be expressed by distinct words or syntactic constructions, without the conceptual logic changing. Thus the linguistic correspondences proposed here do not have the force of a universal law: they serve as heuristic illustrations of the model’s internal coherence.

For example, in Chinese or Japanese, the progression exists, but is often realized by lexical compounding or by particles and adverbs rather than by suffixation. What varies is the grammatical support, not the logic of passage from one dimensional axis to another.

This model does not assert an a priori truth: it proposes a coherence to be tested. Let it be studied — if comparative analysis of languages were to show that this hierarchy does not exist, one would have to conclude that the model describes not the structure of the Real, but only the structure of our thought about the Real. Its linguistic falsifiability makes it a tool of verification, not of belief: the more natural languages confirm this progression without exception, the more the axial hypothesis is strengthened.

That said, the eighth level is of particular importance for problem-solving. For example: would you like to be warmer? Here are the solutions:

Finally, the methods or attitudes that most attract us, whether practical or spiritual, reflect the use we make of our seventh-level faculties — those that regulate the coherence and prioritization of our own internal systems.

Origin of Spiritual Mentalities

As THAT grows in complexity and perceptions organize along higher dimensions, certain recurring combinations give rise to systemic perceptual faculties of the seventh level. These faculties are not arbitrary: they result from the combination of two fundamental types of perception and give rise to three distinct spiritual sensitivities found in all cultures under various forms: operational, relational, and structural.

Each path of access to the systemic level (D7) relies on a pair of lower dimensions, forming a particular style of discernment of reality. These styles are not only cognitive: they express a way of being in the world — a way of sensing problems, seeking solutions, and evaluating what truly matters.

The operational orientation tends to think in terms of value or importance of principles and knowledge. The relational one, in terms of sensitive connections. And the structural one, in terms of objects and subjects, actions, states, statuses and possessions. These are what they primarily attend to — what they value most, spiritually speaking.

They are universal figures of relationship to reality, rooted in the very structure of consciousness. Each culture or spiritual tradition may manifest them in different forms, but these three modalities — of principle, of relation, and of object — appear wherever consciousness seeks to understand itself.

That said, even if the three sensitivities contemplate the same systemic realities, they do not perceive them through the same faculty. Hence, they do not experience the same phenomena, are not moved by the same problems, and do not imagine the same solutions. A fine example of such divergence lies in the content of mystical experience.

Arising most likely from an internal perception of THAT, the content of this experience is largely conditioned by the compositional perceptions of the mystic’s three seventh-level spiritual senses, depending on his or her mentality. All degrees of mixture are possible, generating all sorts of doctrines. For example, an operational mind will judge that God is within all things only if its relational sense is strong enough; otherwise, it will often assume that God is external to creation…

These three types do not exclude one another. They coexist within each of us to varying degrees, though one sensitivity often dominates. In some cases, an integrative experience can balance these tendencies, revealing a broader consciousness able to embrace principles, relations and structures at once.

This expanded consciousness seems to be what certain profound mystical experiences point toward — and also what any complete metaphysical inquiry aspires to: the unification of the spiritual facets of reality into a coherent perception of THAT.

Spiritual Genders

We have seen how three fundamental spiritual sensitivities — operational, relational and structural — emerge from combinations of perceptual dimensions within the process of THAT’s complexification. Each of these sensitivities can manifest in turn according to two distinct polarities, which we may call masculine and feminine — not in the biological or social sense, but in their perceptual functioning and spiritual purpose. Each spiritual sensitivity (operational, relational, structural) can thus express itself in two ways:

I use the terms masculine polarity and feminine polarity to designate two fundamental perceptual and spiritual orientations, independent of biological sex but statistically correlated with it. These terms describe neither social roles nor gender identities, but ways of perceiving and acting in the world. A person may, for instance, be structural in mentality but feminine in spiritual orientation — or relational with a double masculine polarity (relation > sensation) and operational in a feminine mode (intensity > principle). Each of us seems to possess a unique configuration. This triangle of sensitivities and polarities shapes a deep part of spiritual identity, conditioning resonances, misunderstandings between individuals, and spontaneous affinities with certain forms of knowledge, art, action or faith.

Stability and Singularity

The spiritual configuration appears stable throughout life. One does not choose one’s dominant mentality or polarities, but one can learn to know oneself better — and above all, to recognize the logic and strengths of other sensitivities, even when they are not naturally accessible to us.

This diversity of spiritual types makes human collectives so fertile — yet also so conflictual. Each person perceives, feels and judges according to a structure proper to themselves, often misunderstood by others.

Recognizing the strengths and weaknesses of one’s own spiritual type, and striving to honor what one does not perceive well, is undoubtedly one of the major tasks of ethics and of the spiritual path.

No single type can claim to see, understand or order everything. The union of types — in respect and attentive listening — is what allows collective consciousness to approach a fuller apprehension of THAT.

They are not named the same way in every era or culture, nor expressed through the same institutions, symbols or values. Yet the presence of these three orientations of consciousness should be observable in every human culture, even if their relative weights vary.

This prediction is falsifiable: if comparative analysis of traditions, narratives or systems of thought were to reveal a humanity entirely devoid of one of these orientations, the axial model would lose its universality. Conversely, the more cross-cultural studies confirm their recurrence, the stronger the hypothesis of a universal spiritual grammar becomes.

Ontology and Perceptual Balance

The great visions of reality — materialism, idealism, dualism, monism, etc. — are not absolutes but perceptual configurations privileging certain dimensions of experience over others. Every human mind, in seeking to understand the world, weights its perceptual axes differently. This imbalance produces partial ontologies — coherent in themselves, but incomplete in the absolute. They largely reflect how each mind mobilizes its various levels of perception.

• Principle and intensity (operational profile)
• Sensory qualities and relations (relational profile)
• Objects, statuses and actions (structural profile)

When an individual or culture grounds its vision of reality on a skewed combination of these levels, it produces a partial ontology — coherent in its own register, yet unable to embrace the whole. Conversely, a sufficiently balanced use of these three great perceptual orientations enables a more complete ontological exercise, one based not on revelation, speculation, or belief, but on a universal perceptual logic — provided it is mobilized in its entirety.

Thus, consciousness is not mortal: it is the very condition of all perceived existence.