Consciousness vs Mind: Finding the Witness Beyond Your Thoughts
When the Mind Refuses to Let Go
There were days—weeks, honestly—when my mind felt like my entire world. Thoughts darted and argued, memories replayed, old triggers surfaced, and suddenly even meditation became just another place to perform or escape. I couldn’t tell where I ended and my thinking began. I craved something quieter, maybe freer, but “letting go of thoughts” sounded like just another demand I’d fail.
That’s when I first encountered the difference between consciousness and mind. Someone told me: “Your mind is not who you are. The real you is the awareness behind those thoughts.” At first, it sounded either mystical or impossible. But a part of me felt relief—maybe I wasn’t broken at all; maybe it’s normal that the mind is sometimes restless, fearful, or loud.
I remember pausing, almost out of desperation, to wonder: What is consciousness, really?Learning more about what consciousness is didn't end the noise, but it gave me a gentler lens to view the whole experience—with less blame, more curiosity.
The Moment I Touched the Witness
It didn’t happen all at once. One quiet afternoon, after days of inner turmoil, I sat down determined not to fix my thinking, but just to notice. At first, my mind kept chattering: lists, regrets, what-if spirals. But suddenly, I sensed a tiny gap—a gentle awareness noticing the thoughts, not merging with them. It was subtle, not an escape from pain but a kind of softening. If ‘witness consciousness’ has a taste, that was my first sip. Something in me simply observed—without fixing, judging, or turning away.
I only glimpsed it for a minute or so before the old patterns swept me up again. But that brief experience changed something fundamental: I understood, at least for a moment, that my awareness isn’t limited to my mind. I could almost feel the edges of a deeper space—one the yogic texts sometimes call the ‘turiya’ state, or the Fourth, the background in which all mind states come and go. If you're curious about how traditions conceptualize these states and levels of consciousness unfold, it can be both wonder and solace.
You Are Not Your Thoughts—But You Don’t Have to Be Free of Them
It’s easy to read a phrase like “you are not your thoughts” and assume you should now float above all your pain, or that you’re failing if your mind is noisy or disturbed. That’s not how it’s been for me. Witnessing doesn’t mean bypassing, or never getting triggered. For me, it’s the gentle art of noticing: Here is a thought. Here is a wave of fear. And here is something else—wordless, spacious, quietly present.
The heart of non-duality, or advaita, is this recognition—not needing to split yourself into parts, but tuning gently to the awareness that holds them all. If this resonates, you might enjoy diving into non-duality explained to see how this thread weaves through philosophy and practice.
If you’ve ever tried to “stop thinking,” you know it rarely works. Instead, you might experiment with simply sitting with yourself, noticing the endless stream of mind, but inviting even a few seconds of stepping back into awareness. If that feels impossible or overwhelming, it’s okay. You don’t have to get anywhere new. Even doubting is something you can notice—sometimes that’s witness consciousness all on its own. And if you're looking for a softer reminder, you are not your thoughts is an idea with surprising depth.
The Body’s Signals and the Challenge of Presence
Some days, my body becomes the loudest part of my mind—tension in the chest, a sense of shrinking or flooding, memories held as sensation. When the invitation to observe feels too much or too intense, I remind myself that there is no rush. Feeling the body can be the doorway to consciousness, but it can just as easily be a place where old wounds stir. You get to choose if you linger, if you move, if today is a day for presence or a day for rest. Witness consciousness does not push.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m missing the point, thinking presence means focusing harder. There’s a meaningful distinction between awareness and attention—one is soft, expansive, and welcoming, the other sharper and more specific. I’ve learned I can let my awareness gently hold my whole experience, without needing to zero in or tense against anything.
Research in contemplative science now recognizes that practices around awareness—whether called mindfulness, open monitoring, or self-inquiry—don’t erase our thoughts. Instead, they gently help us disidentify, allowing us to see thoughts as passing events, not as orders or identities. This space can feel subtle but, for those of us who carry long histories or trauma, even the faintest taste of this witnessing is a gift. Philosophical traditions like advaita vedanta name this the prior wholeness beneath all mental movement.
Resting in the Turiya State—If Only For a Moment
You don’t have to sustain witness consciousness all day. Some traditions speak of ‘turiya,’ that deep, aware presence under waking, dreaming, and even deep sleep—yet for many of us, it’s just a glimmer, a remembered pause between storms. Even a second of noticing ‘I am aware’ is enough. The observer self concept can be a comfort when the mind wants to drag us everywhere. You are not a problem to fix. You are the one who notices, however briefly, and that is more than enough.
May you know that your thoughts, wild and messy as they are, cannot erase the deeper consciousness you already are. May you offer yourself the smallest kindness—to notice what is here, to rest if you need, and to remember: you are not your mind, and you do not need to be free of it entirely to belong to your own deepest self.