The Brain as an Antenna: Why Consciousness Might Be Older Than You Think

If you were to ask a neuroscientist to locate "you" inside your brain, they would have a difficult time doing it. They could point to the amygdala for your fear, the hippocampus for your memory, and the prefrontal cortex for your decision-making. They could map the firing of neurons that occurs when you smell coffee or hear a loved one’s voice.

But the experience of those things? The "I" that sits behind your eyes and watches the movie of your life? That remains the greatest mystery in the neuroscience of spiritual experiences. It is often called "The Hard Problem" of consciousness.

For the longest time, I approached this problem like a Project Manager. I wanted a timeline. I wanted deliverables. I wanted rational explanations for the unexplained. I wanted the "factory model" of the brain to be true: the brain takes in data, processes it, and manufactures consciousness like a byproduct.

But I had a problem. I had a data point that broke the model.

I had a memory from when I was two months old. And it wasn't just a memory of a crib or a face. It was a memory of where I came from before I got here.

The Skeptic’s Argument: The House Under Construction

According to standard psychology, what I am about to tell you is impossible. This is often the first hurdle in any skeptic’s guide to spirituality: overcoming the established timeline of human development.

The concept is called Infantile Amnesia. The academic world has well-documented explanations for why most adults cannot recall moments from their lives before the age of three.

The theory is logical: think of a baby’s brain as a house under construction. The "Factory" view suggests that the neural structures needed for retaining autobiographical memories—specifically the hippocampus—simply aren't built yet in early life. Famous psychologists like Jean Piaget proposed that infants under 18 to 24 months lack symbolic representation. They cannot access the past because they don't have the "file format" to save the data yet.

In this view, a two-month-old is a biological organism reacting to stimuli. They have no "self-concept," no ability to mentally time travel, and certainly no complex internal monologue.

So, if the factory isn't built, there should be no product. There should be no "I."

The Glitch in the Machine

In the opening chapter of my upcoming book, Quiet All Along: A Skeptic’s Journey into the Unexplained, I invite the reader into a specific moment from my infancy where this model fell apart.

I was about two months old. But while my body was tiny and undeveloped, my mind was not.

I remember slipping back into the wholeness of the night sky in my mind—a well-known, boundless place where I remembered I had come from. It wasn't a vague feeling; it was a distinct sense of home. It was a place of total tranquility and safety.

According to science, a baby shouldn't have a concept of "infinity" or "home." And yet, I remember feeling a nameless, formless, and infinite self.

Even more impossible were the thoughts I was having. In that moment, I was experiencing anger, reason, and ego. I was analyzing my surroundings with the sharp, critical mind of an adult, despite having a brain that hadn't yet developed the capacity for language or logic.

I was in this body, but I was also somewhere else.

This creates a paradox that challenges the battle of logic vs faith in spirituality. If the brain creates consciousness, my experience is a biological glitch. It’s a hallucination. But what if the brain isn't a factory?

The Receiver Model: Physics and the Spiritual Realm

What if the brain is an antenna?

This is the question that moves us from the sterile lights of the laboratory to the deeper waters of philosophy. There is a theory, whispered by mystics and debated by quantum physicists, that consciousness is not local to the brain.

In this view, the brain acts as a reducing valve. Its job isn't to create the signal, but to tune into it.

This aligns with what Plato called Anamnesis, or "Recollection". He believed that the human essence implies an immortal soul that knows the "truth" before it ever enters a body. Learning, therefore, isn't about acquiring new software; it's about remembering the code you were born with.

If the brain is a receiver, then my experience at two months old wasn't a glitch. It was a moment where the signal came through before the radio was fully assembled. The valve was loose. The "I" was fully present, even if the biological vessel was still under construction.

This perspective opens the door to consciousness after death theories and suggests that what we call "death" might just be the destruction of the radio, not the signal itself.

Clues in the Data: Scientific Studies on Reincarnation

The skeptic in me demanded proof. I didn't just want spiritual awakening stories; I wanted data. If we are "receivers," surely there must be other cases of the signal arriving before the hardware is ready.

And there are. You just have to look in the files that mainstream science often marks "Ignore."

1. Prenatal Learning

We now know that the unborn child is an "aware, reacting human being" capable of an active emotional life. They can learn and remember specific sounds and vibrations while still in the womb through exposure learning. This suggests that the "blank slate" theory is fundamentally flawed.

2. The Children Who Remember

In my search for scientific evidence for the afterlife, I was drawn to the work of Dr. Ian Stevenson. He spent decades verifying cases of children who spontaneously remembered previous lives. These weren't just vague stories; they offered tangible evidence of carryover.

• The Pilot: James Leininger, a two-year-old, had nightmares of a plane crash and gave details of a WWII pilot named James Huston Jr., who died at Iwo Jima—details a toddler could not possibly know.

• The Hollywood Agent: Ryan Hammons, at age three, began recounting a life as a Hollywood agent who died four decades earlier. He provided 55 specific statements that were later corroborated by public records, including obscure details about his "former" family.

This data points to an "extraneurological record-keeping system". It suggests that memory and identity might reside in the signal, not just the machine. These aren't just ghost stories; they are documented anomalies that demand analytical spirituality to understand.

Bridging the Gap: Analytical Spirituality

So, do we have to choose? Do we have to be the Cold Skeptic or the Woo-Woo Believer?

I don't think so. I think the truth is a bridge.

The "Factory" model explains our biology. It explains why we need healthy brains to function in this world. But the "Antenna" model explains our humanity. It explains why a two-month-old can feel ancient rage. It explains evidence of near-death experiences (NDEs) where people report consciousness while clinically dead. It explains why, when we are quiet, we feel connected to something vast.

My memory of that day—and the specific, impossible event that triggered it—was the first thread in a tapestry I’ve spent my life weaving. It was the moment the veil shimmered and parted.

This is why I write books about skepticism and faith. Because you can value the scientific method and still admit that the universe is stranger than we can measure.

The book is the story of what happened when I finally stopped trying to cut that thread and started following it.

Read the Full Story My memory of the cosmos was triggered by a very specific, very human event involving a lie, a robe, and a voice that shouldn't have been there. It was a moment of investigating signs from the universe before I could even speak.

To read the full story of my impossible memory, check out Chapter 1 of my upcoming memoir, Quiet All Along: A Skeptic’s Journey into the Unexplained. It is one of the best spiritual memoir books for those who live in the uncomfortable, beautiful middle ground where science meets the soul.

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