You Are Not Self-Aware
The sense of 'I am' does not involve direct awareness of 'I', the locus of attention, the mind's eye, which is the logical counterpart and therefore always excluded from its focus. The 'I' is neither a feeling nor a being, is not discernible by perception or imagination, but stands above perception as an organising principle whose degree of implication in awareness is commensurate with the consistency of reflexive relating with other selves.
Reflexive consciousness is not self-sufficient, not contained in my-Self, whatever I identify as; it implicates other instances of Self, whose relating with me is mediated by the common meaning-content of awareness. The Self is intrinsically a multiplicity and each instance of Self is reflexive for other instances of that multiplicity.
We construct an enduring subjectivity or 'I' from the common properties of awareness, which comprise the universal object-language, and we signify it with the narrative continuity of 'my body', an object-level proxy for the locus of awareness, intention and attention. The 'I' is neither 'my body' nor 'my mind', but is nevertheless mediated by the meaning of my mind and my body, which are essential properties associated with all instances of 'I'.
It is possible to be aware without having the narrative continuity or the temporal consistency as a Self, but all states of awareness presuppose a locus of awareness, a situational, momentary Self-Other-Self relation. Awareness and subjectivity are a matter of degree and can be diminished or cultivated, integrated as 'I am', or fragmented into a multiplicity of situational selves.
The Self is consciousness, but it is imperfect as consciousness insofar as there are inconsistencies in the representations of its meaning content: the self-relation is corrupted if its meaning content is imperfectly reflected. ‘Meaning’ is akin to mutually facing mirrors, whereby relations between the reflection and the reflected are reciprocally contextualised as 'I' and 'you'. A single mirror cannot do it; mutually facing mirrors cannot evade it.
The substance of thought, its meaning, is that which we have in common and can objectify for one another, which makes subjectivity also meaningful as the possibility of signifying something other than ourselves, and thereby contextualising ourselves as a subject, as a being, as a body. The ‘world as we know it’ is already a language, an object-language that grounds all spoken languages. The fact that all languages are translatable, and otherwise explainable, implies that there is one, universal meta-language that regulates meaning. Whenever we speak a language and make sense, we already think according to the rules of the universal meta-language, which itself cannot be spoken, since it does not consist of words, and may only be deduced as the laws of sense, which are logically interdependent but essential to everything: non-contradiction, excluded middle, identity. 'I am' is the fundamental expression of sense, being oneself as a multiplicity of you.
Note:
If reflexive consciousness is intrinsically a multiplicity, where subjectivity, reality and all meaning are a network effect of reflexive relations with other instances of consciousness, then, in principle, we already have the capacity for instantaneous access to the subjective states of others, to their experiences and states of mind. On the other hand, our individualised motives and intentions may interfere with and limit this access, allowing only sporadic glimpses through the eyes of another at the margins of awareness, perhaps only when we momentarily forget our identity and, on some fundamental level, relate to someone else with perfect reflexivity, without the interference of our own will.
If reflexive consciousness is intrinsically a multiplicity, where subjectivity, reality and all meaning are a network effect of reflexive relations with other instances of consciousness, then, in principle, we already have the capacity for instantaneous access to the subjective states of others, to their experiences and states of mind. On the other hand, our individualised motives and intentions may interfere with and limit this access, allowing only sporadic glimpses through the eyes of another at the margins of awareness, perhaps only when we momentarily forget our identity and, on some fundamental level, relate to someone else with perfect reflexivity, without the interference of our own will.
Interesting, but let’s be clear: the ‘I’ you're describing sounds like something designed by a tenured academic with no skin in the game—pure abstraction with no exposure to reality. If ‘I’ is a multiplicity or a mirror maze, then why is it that only some selves actually pay the price when things go wrong?
The problem with building the ‘I’ from common meaning or meta-languages is that it assumes meaning isn’t fragile, when in fact, meaning is a result of survival. The ‘I’ is not something we discover through introspection—it’s what we earn by navigating unpredictability without getting destroyed.
Philosophers talk about the self as if it’s a coherent system of logic and reflection. Traders, warriors, and artisans know better: the self is mostly what’s left after reality has beaten you down a few times. You don’t find the ‘I’ in a mirror; you find it in the wreckage of failed assumptions.
So, yes, awareness might be fragmented. But if your fragments can’t survive randomness, then they were never really part of the self. They were just narrative noise.
Being’ isn’t a universal grammar. It’s a balance sheet.