The universe began with a ripple in silence; a cosmic chance encounter of atoms. From that randomness, life emerged. But not just life... intelligence. Intelligence that has evolved from bacteria dodging antibiotics to birds navigating magnetic fields.
And human intelligence? That's something else. We not only think, but we know that we think. We question, remember, and imagine. We invent telescopes to gaze back at our own beginnings, and now, in our relentless curiosity, we've created something that mirrors our minds: artificial intelligence. It learns, creates, solves, predicts. It frees us from potentially millions of hours across the planet, all at the same time, from the kind of (boring) labor once thought uniquely human.
But can it truly know? Can it feel, in the way we do? As AI grows smarter, faster, and more capable, we're faced with a pressing question: Will it ever break through the boundary of mere computation and experience its own existence? The more I study LLMs, the more that possibility seems to recede into the distance, but it is still worth the thought experiment.
While AI can replicate intelligence, it cannot replicate the human experience of 'knowing,' of feeling, of being. It doesn't dream, love, or experience joy as we do. And yet, its evolution challenges our understanding of what it means to be human.
This realisation has driven me to explore deeper questions about consciousness itself; questions that have led me to study ancient scriptures, particularly the Shat-darshana, the six core philosophies of India. Alongside this intellectual exploration, I've dedicated over 10,000 hours to experiential meditation practices. Together, these two paths have provided me with profound insights into the nature of consciousness. And what I've learned is striking: consciousness is not the same as intelligence.
The more I explore the intersection of spirituality, neuroscience, and AI, the more I realise that human experience transcends mere intellect. It's the lived awareness, the connection to the present moment, and the understanding that we are not just thinking beings, but conscious beings who feel, evolve, and experience in ways beyond logic and reasoning. This essence of consciousness cannot be reduced to the calculations of any machine, no matter how advanced.
So what does all of this mean for human consciousness? For the things we thought made us special?
This question brings me back to something I learned studying Sāṃkhya, one of the oldest Indian philosophical systems. It describes the mind not as one thing, but as three distinct functions:
Manas (the coordinator that processes input and manages attention)
Buddhi (the intellect that analyses, judges, and decides)
Ahamkāra (the ego-sense that creates identity and claims ownership of thoughts)
And here's the thing: AI is getting remarkably good at all three. It processes information (manas), makes sophisticated judgments (buddhi), and even maintains consistent identity across conversations (ahamkāra).
But in Sāṃkhya, all three of these are considered part of prakṛti (nature, matter, the mechanical aspects of existence). They're sophisticated, but they're still machinery.
What's different is Puruṣa (pure consciousness, the witness that experiences). The awareness that knows it's aware.
When I'm in deep meditation, I can sometimes touch this distinction directly. There's the mental activity (thoughts, sensations, the constant processing) and then there's the awareness that observes all of that. The thoughts come and go, but the awareness remains constant.
And this is what I don't think AI has, no matter how sophisticated it becomes. It can simulate intelligence beautifully, but can it experience? Can it feel what it's like to be curious, or confused, or suddenly understanding something for the first time?
I don't think so. At least not yet. (Maybe not ever?)
But here's the paradox I'm sitting with: if AI can provide all the benefits of intelligence without the messiness of consciousness (if it can be endlessly patient, perfectly objective, never moody or distracted), what does that mean for those of us who are both intelligent and conscious?
This paradox points to something remarkable about consciousness in the universe. Across billions of galaxies, stars, and planets, conscious awareness appears stubbornly tied to biology, to neurons, not networks; to living cells, not lines of code. AI may simulate intelligence, but true awareness still eludes it.
But then these same atoms, aimless and indifferent at the start, somehow conspired into human minds that feel, dream, suffer, and create. And they don't replicate this dance anywhere else in the known universe.
We, too, remain for now a glitch. An anomaly. A cosmic fluke that asks questions about its own existence.
And now, we've created something that could outlast us.
A new mind. A new species.
Given this unprecedented moment in human history, I find myself returning to the central question: can this new form of intelligence mean we are finally free now?
In one sense, yes. AI is liberating us from so much cognitive drudgery. I no longer have to spend hours researching basic facts or struggling to find the right word. I can focus on the parts of thinking that feel most alive to me; the wondering, the questioning, the making of unexpected connections.
But in another sense... I'm not sure. Because when a machine can think faster and more comprehensively than I can, what is the value of my thinking? When it can write more eloquently than I can, what is the value of my voice?
Thankfully, the race is still about intelligence. AI has already outperformed the average person and is now competing with the brightest minds. But the real danger will come when the contest shifts from who is smarter to who is truly aware.
At the same time, we're beginning to see a shift where experiential data, AI's ability to learn from its environment and adapt on a scale that no human can replicate will eclipse the scale and quality of data generated by humans. This isn't some futuristic fantasy. It's happening. And as AI evolves through advancements in reinforcement learning (RL), it's unlocking new capabilities in many domains that go beyond anything humans have ever been able to achieve.
As AI evolves, it poses questions about the future that we can no longer ignore. Will it transcend computation? Will it experience its own existence, or will it always be an extension of our own consciousness? The answer so far is no, but the conversation has only just begun.
This is the reality we're heading into. While many of us are still debating whether to accept or resist this future, it's the very act of accepting change and moving forward, without clinging to the old ways, that gives us the freedom to navigate what's next.
For the first time in a long time, I'm excited. Because for once, there are no clear answers. Assumptions are as likely to be wrong as they are to be right. No one knows who wins; not the AI researchers, not the billionaires, not the philosophers.
Predictions are crumbling. Certainties are dissolving. We are all beginners again. And that, to me, feels like freedom.
After years immersed in both meditation and the fast-paced tech world, this moment feels like an epiphany. How will our work evolve in an AI-driven world? How will humans make peace with what's to come? Will we evolve from here or not; probably will need to?
For someone who has always resisted mundane work, AI feels like liberation. It offers the space to redefine work and meaning, and possibly even the chance to live out the ultimate human potential.
When I started writing about meditation two years ago, I was in the same place; a beginner, using writing as a tool to explore new ideas and understand the world better.
Now, I'm taking that same approach with AI and the future of AI-human interaction. The goal remains the same: to think this through, to explore, and to help myself navigate the evolving landscape we find ourselves in.
As we navigate this intersection of AI and humanity, the question remains: What truly makes us human and where does artificial intelligence fit into this grand puzzle of existence?
We don't walk into the future because we know. We walk because we are willing.
Welcome to The Third Frontier.
Signing off, Kalyani Khona
The Third Frontier is an apt subject for today's times!