Consciousness, memory and familiarity

Imagine, if you will, being deprived of sight, hearing, the sensations of smell and taste, and all feeling. And yet you remain conscious. What would you be conscious of? (I'm assuming for he sake of this thought-experiment no state of distress or discomfort). 

Without sensory inputs from the present, all that would be left would be mental processes. You could pass the time trying to solve long-multiplication problems; but more likely, you'd drift off into memories of the past. And the ones you'd feel happiest with dwelling on would be pleasant memories.

 Imagine, being in this state, setting off on a virtual walk or ride along a familiar route. [I used to do this as a child while bored in church, during the sermon. I'd visualise the journey from home to Oxshott Common, a regular weekend family haunt, summoning up the spirit of place at each stretch of road, each junction along the way.] I'd do this while lying in bed ill (see this experience from 2018).

The memories of qualia experienced would resurface. What do I mean by that? Moments of simple joy.

This morning, I went out into the garden with Felusia the cat; the sun was shining in a sky dotted with small clouds propelled by a cooling wind; we stood on the recently mowed lawn, she was looking around, attentive, observant - then suddenly she looked up at me, I looked at her - a second's eye contact but a moment of knowledge, a moment that will remain in my memory. Nothing special, yet very special. The pure act of being aware of being, shared with another sentient creature.

I speculate that we take with us on physical death conscious memories of such qualia. Not memories of moments of pride or elation or anger or hatred or shame or embarrassment - moments coloured and flavoured by the ego; rather from our physical bodies leave the best memories, familiar places, feelings of peace and universal understanding.

Such moments from my pre-physical past return to me every now and then - sometimes once or twice a day, sometimes less often, but they are there - and they have been there all my life, familiar in feeling, recognisable, yet faint. Intimations of immortality, a thread of consciousness, ego-free, which connects past, present and future.

They are glimpses, flashes, intangible; they're not present 24/7 nor can I draw on them at will. They require a sensitivity to detect; and just as some scientific instruments are more sensitive than others, so some people are more sensitive to this phenomenon than others. Historians - even lay people with a strong interest in a given time and place in history - I would argue, feel the pull, even though they might not recognise it, or give it any conscious thought. Just something there, like a smell in the attic or an old, familiar tune.

If you are looking for an afterlife in which you are you, taking yourself beyond the grave - then this all sounds disappointing. Its not 'strong' enough. If you believe that bodily death snuffs out consciousness forever, then this probably sounds like some wishy-washy fairy tale, some form of cognitive dissonance that can be explained away rationally. For me, it's a phenomenon that I shall spend the rest of my life trying to understand.

This time two years ago:
Classic Volgas, London and Warsaw

This time three years ago:
Memory and Me
[picking up on the same thread as in this post!]

This time four years ago:
Sticks, carrots and nudge - a proposal

This time six years ago:
London vs. Warsaw pt 2: the demographic aspects