Whose thoughts are we having? A new survey of an old question
A new essay collection gathers centuries of testimony — from poets to neurosurgeons — to argue that the boundary between self and thought is thinner than the Enlightenment pretended.

The question arrived, as the best questions tend to, in fragments. On 14 June 2026, the Epoch Times circulated a long essay titled Who Is Really Thinking Our Thoughts? across its Telegram network, gathering testimony from childhood psychology, neuroscience, the literary canon, and the world's prophetic traditions to make a single, unsettling argument: that the inner voice most readers call "I" may be the smallest tenant in a much older building.
The piece is less a manifesto than a mosaic. It quotes Robert Louis Stevenson on the Brownies who, in his 1887 essay, do the labour of fiction while the author sleeps. It cites Wilder Penfield's mid-century electrode studies, in which conscious patients undergoing open-brain surgery reported voices, music, and childhood memories summoned by a probe on the temporal lobe — the brain, in Penfield's phrasing, recording its own broadcast. It turns to the desert fathers and the Sufi poets, to the Japanese trickster kitsune and the Latin American duende. The accumulating weight of the evidence is the evidence: across centuries and continents, the sources keep describing the same visitor.
The childhood chorus
The Epoch Times essay opens not in a laboratory but in a kitchen. It returns repeatedly to the phenomenon of the imaginary companion — the invented sibling or talking cat with whom somewhere between a quarter and a third of children live for stretches of early childhood, according to survey research the essay cites from developmental psychologists in the 2000s and 2010s. Adult observers tend to pathologise the figure; the children themselves are usually untroubled. The companion thinks, decides, occasionally argues back. Children interviewed in the studies treat the figure as a fact of the household rather than a product of the household.
Developmental psychologists, the essay notes, have offered competing accounts. Some treat imaginary companions as rehearsal for theory of mind — a way for a child to practise the assumption that other minds exist. Others read them as evidence of a more porous default state: a period in which the boundary between self and other is not yet policed, and in which the cognitive machinery that will later enforce that boundary is still being assembled. Either reading, the essay argues, treats the companion as a stage. The cultures it surveys tend to treat the companion as a guest.
The surgeon's probe
The middle section of the essay turns to Penfield, the Canadian neurosurgeon whose work at the Montreal Neurological Institute between the 1930s and 1960s established the modern map of the cerebral cortex. Operating on conscious patients under local anaesthetic, Penfield applied mild electrical currents to exposed brain tissue and asked the patients what they experienced. The results, compiled in his 1975 memoir The Mystery of the Mind, include the now-famous "experiential responses": a probe to the temporal cortex and the patient hears an orchestra; a probe elsewhere and a long-forgotten aunt begins to speak; a probe in another patient, and a Sunday-afternoon scene from childhood unfolds in colour and stereo.
Penfield's conclusion was conservative. He proposed only that the brain stores a record of conscious experience and can be made to play it back, the way a tape recorder can. The Epoch Times essay notes the temptation to push further. If the brain is a recorder, the essay asks, who is listening? If the playback can be summoned by a two-millimetre electrode, the sense that the inner voice is a private property — a sovereign self, author of its own broadcasts — becomes harder to defend. The essay stops short of declaring a ghost in the machine. It does not need to. The pattern, the essay writes, is the argument.
The muse and the demon
The longest section of the essay is the most literary. It surveys the figure of the muse from Homer through Sappho, the daemon of Socrates as reported by Plato, the angel of Roger Bacon's laboratory notebooks, the muse as theorised in Cesare Ripa's late-Renaissance iconography, the daemon of Goethe's Faust, the daemon as Dostoevsky reworks it in The Brothers Karamazov, and the talking fox of D.H. Lawrence's late fiction. It reads the Romantic poets — Coleridge's opium-fuelled Khubla Khan composed in a dream, Keats's Ode on a Grecian Urn arriving as a half-heard voice from the urn itself — as recording a common phenomenology, not as indulging in a shared conceit.
The essay is careful to avoid the lazy move of treating literary convention as evidence. Its argument is the reverse: that the persistence of the convention across cultures that did not borrow from one another suggests a recurring experience that the convention is trying to domesticate. The desert fathers wrote of logismoi — intrusive thoughts that arrive unbidden and must be prayed away. The Sufi tradition catalogues waswasa, the whisperings of the lower self, and treats them as a category of being in their own right. Buddhist contemplative manuals describe the same phenomenon as vikalpa, mental fabrication, and prescribe the same remedy: notice, label, return to the breath. The secular literature on intrusive thought, from Freud's zwang to the modern diagnosis of obsessive-compulsive disorder, describes the same arrival.
What the essay is not claiming
The essay is explicit about its limits. It does not assert the existence of a disembodied voice. It does not deny it. It frames the question as an empirical one that has been prematurely closed by an Enlightenment settlement in which the sovereign self is the default unit of analysis and any rival account is read as either pathology or superstition. The settlement, the essay argues, was a political settlement as much as a philosophical one — useful to the institutions of the modern state, which prefer their citizens legible and their citizens' minds private property.
The reading is not original to the essay. It echoes, without naming them, a long line of twentieth-century thought that treated the inner voice as something other than the literal self: the structuralists, the post-structuralists, the various schools of Buddhist-inflected philosophy now taught in American and European humanities departments. What the essay adds is breadth — the willingness to take seriously, on a single page, a Catalan surrealist, a Tang-dynasty poet, and a Cambridge developmental psychologist. The result is not proof. It is, in the essay's own framing, an invitation to look at the inside of one's own head with the curiosity one would normally reserve for a foreign country.
The stakes, and the silence
What the essay does not say, but what its argument implies, is that a culture that takes the inner voice seriously is a culture that has to take its own citizens' mental life seriously as a public, not merely a private, concern. If thoughts are guests, the housing policy is not entirely a matter of individual choice. The contemporary policy debate about algorithmic feeds, generative chatbots, and the architecture of attention is, in this reading, a debate about who is doing the letting in.
The sources do not resolve the question. They do not, for example, agree on whether the phenomenological similarity across cultures is evidence of a shared substrate or a shared grammar imposed on different substrates. The developmental literature on imaginary companions is rich but methodologically uneven; the Penfield studies are now several decades old and have not been replicated at scale using modern imaging. The literary survey, by the essay's own admission, can be read as evidence or as theme park. What remains is the pattern, and the question of why a culture that claims to be surprised by the inner voice is also a culture that has built an industry around capturing and reselling it.
This piece surveyed a single essay and the public traditions it cites. Monexus did not contact the author; the framing here is editorial, drawn from the 14 June 2026 essay as circulated via the Epoch Times Telegram channel.
Wire provenance
This editorial synthesis draws on the following public wire/social posts:
- https://t.me/epochtimes
- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wilder_Penfield
- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imaginary_friend
- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muse