The Hard Problem of Consciousness Looks Different From Inside Shamanic Practice

Philosophers call it 'the hard problem of consciousness': How does subjective experience arise from objective physical processes? How do you get the felt quality of seeing red from neurons firing? Why is there 'something it's like' to be conscious rather than everything just happening in the dark?

Consciousness from the inside

This is considered one of the most difficult problems in philosophy. Decades of debate, countless papers, no consensus solution.

But here's something I've noticed: the hard problem looks very different depending on where you're standing when you look at it.

From the outside, as a philosopher or neuroscientist studying consciousness as an object of investigation, it seems genuinely hard, perhaps impossible to solve.

From the inside, as someone who regularly works with altered states of consciousness through shamanic practice, it looks less like an intractable puzzle and more like a category error.

Let me explain what I mean.

What the Hard Problem Actually Is

First, let me be precise about the philosophical problem, because it's often confused with easier questions.

The Easy Problems (relatively speaking):

• How does the brain process information?

• How do we distinguish between different sensory inputs?

• How do cognitive systems integrate information?

• How does attention work?

• How do we report on our mental states?

  
  

These are called 'easy' not because they're simple (they're enormously complex), but because they're the kinds of problems science knows how to approach. They're questions about mechanisms, functions, and information processing.

The Hard Problem: Why is there subjective experience at all? Why doesn't all this information processing just happen without anyone experiencing it?

Philosopher David Chalmers crystallised this: You could imagine a being that functions exactly like a human: processes information, responds to stimuli, reports on internal states, but has no inner experience. A 'philosophical zombie'.

The hard problem is: What makes us not zombies? What explains the presence of subjective experience?

The Explanatory Gap: No matter how thoroughly we understand the neural correlates of consciousness, or which brain processes correspond to which experiences, we never seem to bridge the gap between objective description and subjective experience.

You can describe all the physical processes involved in seeing red. But you've never explained what red is in the experiential sense. There's always this gap.

The Standard Approaches (And Why They Don't Satisfy)

Philosophers and scientists have proposed various solutions:

Materialism/Physicalism: Consciousness is just what certain physical processes are like from the inside. There's no gap to explain. Experience just is certain brain states.

Problem: This feels like it's denying the problem rather than solving it. It doesn't explain why physical processes should have an experiential character.

Functionalism: Consciousness is defined by what it does. It's about functional relationships and information processing.

Problem: But you could have all the same functions without experience. Why add experience on top?

Emergentism: Consciousness emerges from complex physical systems in ways we can't currently explain.

Problem: 'Emergence' here is just a placeholder for 'we don't know how this works'. It's giving a name to the mystery, not solving it.

Panpsychism: Consciousness is fundamental. Even elementary particles have some form of proto-experience.

Problem: The 'combination problem' exists. How do micro-experiences of particles combine into the unified consciousness we experience?

Idealism: Consciousness is fundamental, and matter is what consciousness looks like from certain perspectives.

Problem: Seems to contradict our scientific understanding of the physical world existing independently of observers.

Each approach has sophisticated defenders. None fully satisfies. The hard problem remains hard.

What Changes in Altered States

Now here's where shamanic practice becomes relevant.

In ordinary waking consciousness, I experience the hard problem as hard. I'm this subject, observing objects out there. My consciousness seems to be a private, inner realm separated from the external physical world.

The gap between subjective and objective feels real and unbridgeable.

But in shamanic journey, in deep altered states, this subject-object structure breaks down in specific, repeatable ways.

The Boundary Becomes Porous

In journey, the clear distinction between 'in here' (my consciousness) and 'out there' (external reality) becomes less rigid.

I encounter spirits, beings, entities. Are they aspects of my own psyche projected outward? Are they autonomous consciousnesses I'm connecting with? The question starts to feel wrongly framed.

It's not that I can't distinguish self from other. But the boundary isn't as absolute as it seems in ordinary consciousness. There's a sense of interpenetration, of consciousness extending beyond the skin.

Consciousness Seems Primary, Not Derivative

In ordinary consciousness, it feels like my awareness is produced by my brain, consciousness as a byproduct of physical processes.

In shamanic states, this relationship reverses phenomenologically. Consciousness feels primary, fundamental. Matter and form seem more like temporary organisations of consciousness rather than consciousness being an emergent property of matter.

I don't mean this as a metaphysical claim (though it might be). I mean it as a description of the phenomenology: what it feels like.

The Unity-Multiplicity Paradox

One of the puzzles about consciousness is how we have both unity (I'm a single unified subject) and multiplicity (I have multiple simultaneous experiences, such as seeing, hearing, thinking, feeling).

In journey, I sometimes experience consciousness as simultaneously one and many in ways that ordinary consciousness doesn't access.

I'm having an experience. But 'I' doesn't feel like a unified subject separate from the experience. It feels more like consciousness taking a particular form, with the self-sense being part of the content of consciousness rather than its container.

This is hard to articulate (ineffability is a feature of mystical states). But the phenomenology suggests that the unity-multiplicity puzzle might dissolve at certain levels of awareness.

Information Seems Non-Local

The hard problem assumes consciousness is localised in brains, in specific physical locations. But in shamanic practice, I regularly encounter consciousness that seems non-local.

I receive information about situations happening elsewhere. I communicate with entities that don't seem to be located in physical space. I access knowledge that seems to transcend individual minds.

This doesn't prove consciousness is non-local. But it provides experiential data suggesting that the localisation assumption might be wrong.

Time Becomes Fluid

Part of what makes consciousness hard to explain is its temporal structure, the flow of experience, the unity of consciousness across time, memory, anticipation.

In altered states, time loses its ordinary structure. Past, present, and future interpenetrate. Consciousness doesn't feel like a stream flowing forward. It feels more like a space that can be navigated.

This suggests the temporal structure we take as fundamental to consciousness might be a feature of ordinary waking states, not consciousness itself.

What This Suggests About the Problem

From inside shamanic practice, here's what the hard problem looks like:

It's an artifact of ordinary consciousness trying to understand itself.

The subject-object split, the localisation of consciousness in brains, the temporal flow, the apparent derivation of mind from matter might all be features of how ordinary waking consciousness structures experience, not fundamental truths about consciousness.

When you access other modes of consciousness, and shamanic practice is precisely about accessing other modes, the problem looks different. The explanatory gap feels less unbridgeable because the assumptions creating the gap become visible as assumptions.

It's like asking, "How does the screen produce the movie?"

If you think the screen is generating the images, you have a hard problem: How does flat cloth create depth, movement, story?

But if you realise the screen is displaying something projected onto it, the problem dissolves. The question was wrongly framed.

Maybe consciousness isn't produced by brains. Maybe brains are structures that allow consciousness (which is already present) to manifest in particular forms, to interface with physical reality in specific ways.

This is essentially the transmission theory of consciousness versus the production theory.

Shamanic experience supports the transmission model phenomenologically.

The problem assumes consciousness is fundamentally private and subjective.

But what if that's not quite right? What if ordinary consciousness is more like looking through a narrow aperture, and what we call 'subjective experience' is a constrained, localised mode of something more fundamental?

In shamanic states, consciousness feels less like a private inner theatre and more like a field or space that individual subjects participate in differently.

If this is closer to truth, then the hard problem is asking the wrong question. It's not 'How does objective process produce subjective experience?' but 'How does consciousness organise itself into apparently separate subjects and objects?'

The Phenomenological Evidence

I want to be careful here. I'm not claiming shamanic experiences prove anything about metaphysics. But they do provide phenomenological data - careful descriptions of what consciousness is like under different conditions.

What I've repeatedly observed:

Consistency across practitioners: Many people report similar phenomenology in shamanic states: dissolution of subject-object boundaries, sense of consciousness as primary, non-local awareness.

Reproducibility: These aren't random hallucinations. The same practices produce similar states repeatedly. There's structure and pattern.

Pragmatic value: The insights from these states prove useful. Healing happens. Information gained proves accurate. This suggests the states are revealing something real, not just producing pleasant confusion.

Coherence with philosophical alternatives: The phenomenology of shamanic states supports certain philosophical positions (idealism, panpsychism, dual-aspect theory) over others (eliminative materialism, strong reductionism).

Cross-cultural patterns: Indigenous traditions worldwide have developed practices for accessing these states. The consistency across cultures suggests something real is being accessed, not just cultural constructions.

Where This Leaves the Hard Problem

So is the hard problem solved by shamanic practice? No.

But it's reframed in potentially productive ways:

From: 'How does matter produce consciousness?'

To: 'How does consciousness organise itself into subjects and objects, brains and experiences, inner and outer?'

From: 'Why is there subjective experience at all?'

To: 'Why does consciousness take the particular constrained form we experience in ordinary waking states?'

From: 'How do you bridge the explanatory gap?'

To: 'What if the gap is an artifact of the particular mode of consciousness asking the question?'

These aren't easier questions necessarily. But they're different questions. And the difference matters.

The Neuroscience Doesn't Contradict This

Some will object: "But we know consciousness depends on the brain. Damage the brain, consciousness changes. This proves brains produce consciousness."

Not quite. It proves consciousness as we ordinarily experience it depends on brains. But correlation isn't causation, even in neuroscience.

The transmission model predicts the same observations:

If brains are receivers/transmitters of consciousness rather than producers, you'd still expect:

• Brain damage to alter consciousness

• Brain states to correlate with conscious states

• Neural activity to be necessary for ordinary consciousness

  
  

The difference is in what happens to consciousness when the brain stops functioning. Production theory says it disappears. Transmission theory says it continues but is no longer interfaced with physical reality in that particular way.

We can't distinguish between these empirically (at least not easily). But shamanic experience, near-death experiences, and other phenomena provide data consistent with the transmission model.

What I Actually Believe (Tentatively)

Based on years of shamanic practice combined with philosophical training:

Consciousness is likely fundamental rather than emergent. The phenomenology of altered states consistently suggests consciousness is primary, not derivative.

The subject-object split is real but not absolute. In ordinary consciousness, the distinction is sharp. In other modes, it's more fluid. Both might be valid perspectives on something more complex.

Brains might be more like tuning devices than generating devices. They tune consciousness to particular frequencies, constrain it into particular forms, allow it to interface with physical reality, but they might not create it.

The hard problem might be hard because we're using the wrong framework. From inside the materialist paradigm assuming consciousness is produced by matter, it's genuinely intractable. From other frameworks, it looks different.

Phenomenology matters. First-person investigations of consciousness through contemplative and shamanic practices provide data that third-person neuroscience alone can't access.

The Methodological Point

Here's what I want philosophers and neuroscientists to consider:

You're studying consciousness using only one mode of consciousness: ordinary waking awareness.

It's like trying to understand water by only examining ice. You'll get some things right, but you're missing crucial information about its nature.

Altered states aren't distortions - they're data.

Yes, altered states involve changes in brain function. But that doesn't make them less valid as modes of awareness. They might reveal aspects of consciousness that ordinary states obscure.

We need a contemplative neuroscience.

First-person investigations of consciousness through meditation, shamanic practice, and other methods should be integrated with third-person neuroscience.

Not by accepting all experiential claims uncritically. But by treating skilled practitioners as expert witnesses about consciousness, the way we treat expert physicists as witnesses about particles.

Practical Implications

If shamanic phenomenology is revealing something real about consciousness:

Consciousness research should include altered states systematically. Not just studying the neuroscience of altered states, but learning from what those states reveal phenomenologically.

The mind-body problem needs reframing. Maybe it's not about how body produces mind, but about the relationship between different organisational levels of consciousness.

Death might not be what we think. If consciousness isn't produced by brains, then brain death might be more like a transmitter going offline than consciousness ceasing to exist.

Healing has more dimensions. If consciousness is fundamental and non-local, then healing might work through mechanisms science hasn't recognised - not magic, but interactions at levels we don't understand.

Ethics expand. If consciousness is more pervasive and less localised than we think, our moral circle might need to expand in ways we haven't imagined.

The Invitation

I'm not claiming to have solved the hard problem. I'm suggesting that looking at it from inside shamanic practice reveals assumptions in how the problem is framed.

Maybe consciousness isn't as hard to understand as we think: we're just asking the wrong questions, using the wrong tools, limiting ourselves to one mode of consciousness to understand consciousness itself.

To philosophers: Consider that the hard problem might look different from modes of consciousness you haven't accessed. First-person investigation through altered states might be relevant to understanding consciousness, not just distraction.

To neuroscientists: The phenomenology of altered states provides data about consciousness that brain scans alone won't capture. Partner with contemplative practitioners who've spent thousands of hours investigating consciousness directly.

To shamanic practitioners: Your experiences matter philosophically. You're not just having interesting subjective states; you're gathering phenomenological data about the nature of consciousness that academic philosophy needs.

To everyone: Maybe consciousness is less mysterious than it seems when we stop assuming it's produced by matter and start investigating what it actually is through direct experience.

Living the Question

I practice shamanism regularly. I journey to non-ordinary reality. I work with spirits and altered states. And the hard problem that seems intractable from the outside feels less daunting from the inside.

Not because I have the answer. But because the question changes.

When you've experienced consciousness as fluid, non-local, primary; when you've felt the subject-object boundary dissolve and reform; when you've accessed modes of awareness that don't fit the materialist framework, the hard problem starts to look like an artifact of limited perspective.

Maybe consciousness isn't hard to understand. Maybe ordinary consciousness is just hard to transcend.

And that's a different problem entirely: one that shamanic practice has been addressing for thousands of years.

I'm Kathy Postelle Rixon, researcher at Cambridge studying plasma physics, Chair of The Philosophical Society: Oxford, and shamanic practitioner who experiences consciousness from multiple perspectives. The hard problem looks different from where I stand. If you're interested in exploring consciousness beyond ordinary awareness, reach out at kathy@magicinharmony.com or visit www.magicinharmony.com.

How do you think about consciousness? Has direct experience of altered states changed your philosophical understanding? I'd genuinely love to hear your perspective.