Future Proofing SWMM5 Blogs and Code for Myself using AI in the Future

 Got it. I’ll explore how the idea that consciousness is a simulation (as per Joscha Bach’s view) might influence how you could orient your writing and coding — particularly in ways that would benefit a ‘future you’ who might also be understood as a simulated observer. I’ll look at implications for self-reflection, memory design, self-programming, and building continuity of identity through blogs and code.  

Consciousness as Simulation and Designing for the Future Self

Introduction
Joscha Bach, a cognitive scientist and AI researcher, proposes a striking view of consciousness: our human self-awareness is not an innate “observer” but rather the brain’s simulation of an observer experiencing the world (Hard To Tell If An LLM's Simulation Of Consciousness Is Less Real Than Ours: Joscha Bach). In Bach’s model, the brain constructs a representation of what it would be like if there were a little observer “inside” perceiving the current moment – complete with a sense of nowness and a notion of being located in the world (Hard To Tell If An LLM's Simulation Of Consciousness Is Less Real Than Ours: Joscha Bach). This means that the feeling of “I” watching the world is essentially an internal narrative or model generated by neural processes, not an irreducible ego. Intriguingly, Bach notes that advanced AI systems might do something similar: for example, the AI Claude can create a simulated self-perspective, recognizing itself in a prompt and responding as if self-aware (Hard To Tell If An LLM's Simulation Of Consciousness Is Less Real Than Ours: Joscha Bach). Bach asks whether Claude’s simulated consciousness is any “less real” or less valid than our own, given that both may be constructed representations (Hard To Tell If An LLM's Simulation Of Consciousness Is Less Real Than Ours: Joscha Bach).

If we embrace this view – that consciousness is a constructed simulation of an observer – it has profound implications. It suggests that our sense of identity is essentially an evolving story rather than a static essence. The “self” you experience now is a mental model shaped by memory, context, and ongoing interpretation. Likewise, your future self will be a new iteration of that model – a simulation updated with new memories and changes. In other words, future you might be understood as a different instantiation of the self-model, connected to your present self by a tenuous narrative thread. This perspective invites a key question: How should we orient our personal projects – like blogs we write or code we develop – to support that future self (the future simulation of “us”)? If our future self is essentially a construct built from what we do and record now, perhaps we can design our workflows to strengthen continuity, clarity, and purpose for that future version of ourselves.

Below, we explore this in depth, looking first at the philosophical underpinnings (memory, identity, and the idea of “self-programming”), then deriving practical design principles for writing and coding. We’ll examine how to write blogs that enhance self-continuity and meaning over time, how to adopt coding practices that future-proof your projects for a changing self, how to embed intentions or narrative arcs that carry through different versions of “you,” and what tools or workflows can support a self understood as a simulation. Throughout, we include philosophical context, practical insights, and examples to illustrate how consciousness as simulation can guide real-life personal project design.

Philosophical Implications: Memory, Identity, and Self-Programming

Memory and Identity as Narrative Constructs: If consciousness is a simulation, then memory and identity play the role of sustaining that simulation over time. Our memories are the data that our brain’s model uses to maintain a sense of continuity – yet research shows memory is highly reconstructive and dynamic. As one review concludes, identity is a product of both continuity and change, shaped by the ongoing reconstruction of memories (The Fluid Nature of Memory and Identity: Exploring the Dynamic Interplay of Change and Continuity | by Boris (Bruce) Kriger | THE COMMON SENSE WORLD | Medium). In practical terms, who you are is continually rewritten by your brain – a fluid narrative updated with each new experience and each recollection (since recalling memories actually alters them). This aligns with philosophical views like John Locke’s, which argued that personal identity is tied to continuity of consciousness via memory. If memory shifts or fades, the internal “story of me” shifts as well. In fact, modern narrative identity theory in psychology explicitly frames identity as an “internalized, evolving story of the self” that integrates our reconstructed past, present, and imagined future into a coherent whole (Narrative identity - Wikipedia). This personal narrative gives us a sense of unity over time and a sense of purpose in life (Narrative identity - Wikipedia). Crucially, it’s constructed – a bit like an autobiographical novel your mind constantly edits. The implication is that there’s no fixed, permanent observer “homunculus” inside you; instead, there’s an evolving storyteller. As one writer reflecting on his past and future self observed, identity is “less a straight line and more a palimpsest – layer upon layer of experience and change, with traces of the past always visible beneath the surface” (Letters to the Future. Self-Continuity and the Uncertainty of… | by Allan Johnson, PhD | Medium). In other words, your sense of self is built from narrative layers, not a single unchanging core.

The “Self” as a Programmable Simulation: Seeing the self as a simulation or program suggests that we can influence and shape it – effectively, self-programming. Just as an AI’s behavior can be modified by adjusting its training or inputs, a person can adjust their future mind-state by deliberate practices. We humans are not only running the “self-model”; we also have some ability to tweak that model through reflection, learning, and habit. Psychologically, this is what happens when you engage in practices like journaling, therapy, or self-reflection – you are rewriting bits of your internal narrative, re-framing past events, and encoding new values or intentions for the future. Roy Dings (2019) uses the term “narrative self-programming” to describe how our own narratives can affect our behavior and future identity. Even outside academic terms, we recognize this intuitively: we talk about “becoming the author of your own story” or using affirmations and visualization to “program” yourself for success. These are ways of consciously editing the narrative simulation.

Importantly, memory tools and external records can assist in this self-programming. Since our biological memory is fallible and limited, we can offload information to books, blogs, notes, or code – which then serve as reference points to program the future self. Think of these artifacts as an extension of your mind’s codebase. By documenting key insights or experiences now, you are effectively writing down some source code for your identity that your future self can later read and reintegrate, reinforcing continuity. In short, acknowledging that “I am a simulation” is empowering: it means I can reconfigure the simulation. You can intentionally design what you feed into your brain (the projects you pursue, the stories you tell about your life) in order to influence the evolution of “you.” This idea will guide the practical strategies we discuss below.

Writing for Self-Continuity: Designing Blogs as an Evolving Narrative

One powerful way to support your future self is through writing – particularly maintaining a personal blog or journal. If identity is a narrative, then actively crafting that narrative in writing can reinforce continuity across time. Here are some design principles for blogging with your future self in mind:

• Make the Blog a Cohesive Story: Rather than just disjointed posts, treat your blog as an ongoing story of your life, learning, and projects. Use recurring themes or series to tie experiences together. For example, you might have a series of posts charting your progress in learning a new skill or chronicling a project from inception to completion. This creates a plotline that your future self can follow, seeing how past events led to later insights. According to narrative identity theory, integrating life events into an internalized story provides unity and purpose (Narrative identity - Wikipedia). Your blog can externalize that internal story. Consider explicitly linking back to earlier posts (“Six months ago I wrote about X, and now...”) to weave continuity. Over time, the blog becomes a visible thread of continuity for the self-model.

• Write with Your Future Self as an Audience: While we often write blogs for public readers, try also addressing “dear future me.” This mindset shift can change your tone and content in helpful ways. For instance, you might explain things with more context, knowing that you in a few years might not remember the details. You can pose questions for your future self or make predictions and intentions, essentially leaving messages in a bottle. This creates a dialogue across time. Many people find that writing letters to their future selves clarifies what matters most now and creates a bridge to the person they’ll become. The act of writing becomes, as one person described, “a tether… to bridge the chasm between who I was and who I might become” (Letters to the Future. Self-Continuity and the Uncertainty of… | by Allan Johnson, PhD | Medium). Even if the future you has changed, they can appreciate that past-you cared to communicate with them, which strengthens the sense of connection.

• Preserve Memory and Context: Include details in your posts that will help reconstruct context later. Don’t assume you’ll automatically remember the situation or motivation behind a piece of writing. Describe your mental state, your reasons for doing things, and even your uncertainties. These details are gold for a future self trying to understand the memory. For example, instead of just writing “I started a new job,” write about how you felt starting that job, what your expectations were, what the world was like at that moment. Such rich context helps the future you step back into the past moment more vividly, reinforcing the narrative continuity. It’s like providing save-points in a game – allowing the future simulation of you to load the state of the past more accurately.

• Periodically Reflect and Summarize: Design some posts specifically as milestone reflections – summaries of a period (e.g. “What I learned in 2025” or “Project X retrospective”). In these, connect the dots between your past objectives and current outcomes. Highlight changes in perspective: why you changed your mind on something, or how your values evolved. By explicitly writing about continuity and change, you not only create meaning from your experiences (turning seemingly separate events into a coherent chapter), but you also signal to your future self what the turning points were. This can be deeply meaningful later. Studies indicate that people who see continuity with their future selves tend to find greater meaning in life, partly because they feel more authentic and integrated over time (Letters to the Future. Self-Continuity and the Uncertainty of…). Writing these narrative summaries helps cultivate that sense of an evolving yet connected self.

• Embed Purpose and Values in Your Writing: As you blog, regularly touch on why you do what you do – your intentions and values. Perhaps you have a personal mission statement or recurring principles that guide you. By reasserting these in your writing, you create a moral or thematic through-line. Your future self, even if their daily interests differ, can read those entries and recall the core purpose that has motivated you. For example, if you value creativity or helping others, note when those values come up (“This project mattered to me because it allowed me to express creativity and help others”). These act like anchor points in the narrative, preventing the future self from feeling adrift if circumstances change. A sense of purposeful continuity can be very empowering – your blog becomes a reminder of “this is who I strive to be, across time.”

Overall, designing your blog as a living document of your narrative turns it into a scaffold for identity. When you reread it years later, you’ll not only recall facts but also see the storyline of how you became who you are. This can lessen the “stranger to myself” feeling that often comes when looking back. Instead of estrangement, you foster recognition and empathy for your past self, which in turn tightens the bond with your future self. (Interestingly, psychologists have found that people often think of their future selves like they think of other people – even making short-sighted decisions because they treat future-me as a stranger (How to connect with your future self | Psyche Guides) (How to connect with your future self | Psyche Guides). By writing to and from your future perspective, you train yourself to see future-you as you, increasing the care and continuity you feel.)

(Journal Writing Pictures | Download Free Images on Unsplash) Using a journal or blog as an "external memory" can help integrate past, present, and future selves. Writing down experiences and intentions creates a narrative thread that your future self can pick up, reinforcing continuity in your identity. (Narrative identity - Wikipedia) (Letters to the Future. Self-Continuity and the Uncertainty of… | by Allan Johnson, PhD | Medium)

Future-Proof Coding: Programming with a Future Self in Mind

Just as writing can be designed for a future reader (your future self), coding can be approached with the future maintainer in mind – especially if that maintainer might be you at a later time. Programmers often joke that “writing code for yourself in 6 months is like writing for a stranger.” In the philosophy of consciousness-as-simulation, this is literally true: your future self will be a somewhat different mental instance, with partially different knowledge. They might have forgotten the assumptions you held when writing the code, or the specific solution approach you took. So, adopting coding practices that respect the idea of a changing self can make your projects far more future-proof (and kinder to your future brain!). Key principles include:

• Code as Communication, Not Just Execution: When writing code, don’t just think about making the computer understand it – think about how a human (your future self or someone else) will understand it. Code is a form of writing, and in a sense, you are telling a story to future readers about how a problem is solved. Use meaningful variable and function names that convey intent (e.g., total_cost_after_tax is better than x12 for clarity). Add comments or documentation explaining why something is done, not only what it does. For example: “// Using a binary search here because the list is always sorted by this stage.” These are breadcrumbs for future-you, who might not immediately recall your rationale. Remember, the future “you” reading the code is effectively a new observer who must reconstruct your mindset. As one developer puts it, ask yourself: “Will the future me understand the intention of this block of code?” (Writing code for your future self - DEV Community). If the honest answer is “maybe not,” then invest more in making the code self-explanatory.

• Favor Clarity over Cleverness: It’s tempting to write clever, terse code that works brilliantly now, when the whole solution is loaded in your current working memory. But six months or a year later, that same code might look perplexing. What was I thinking here?! Many of us have had the experience of returning to our own code and finding it unrecognizable (Writing code for your future self - DEV Community). To avoid this, adopt the mindset that “simple is sustainable.” Use straightforward, conventional solutions and design patterns that a reasonably skilled person can follow. If you use a tricky workaround or an optimization, document it or at least flag it with a comment like “NOTE: tricky part here because...”. Future-you will thank you for the clear guidance. In short, write code for your future self’s readability, not just your current self’s ingenuity. As the saying goes in software engineering: Any fool can write code a computer can understand; good programmers write code humans can understand. Your future self, as a quasi-“other person,” counts as that human you need to consider.

• Maintain a Project Narrative (in Code Repositories): Just as a blog tells a story, a codebase can tell a story of its development. Make use of version control (e.g., Git) not only to save your work but to narrate it. Write descriptive commit messages that explain what changed and why. Over time, reading the commit history should feel like reading the logbook of a journey. For example: “Add user login feature (allows persistent profiles)”, followed later by “Refactor login code to improve security – addressing password hashing vulnerability.” These messages let a future self see the reasoning and evolution behind the code. It provides continuity: you can trace why certain design decisions were made. Also consider writing a README or project journal that tracks high-level progress, known todos, and design decisions. Treat it as documentation addressed to a newcomer (which might be future-you after enough time away). For instance, include a section “Future Work or Ideas” where you jot down features you envisioned but didn’t have time for – effectively handing off a baton to your later self to possibly pick up. By embedding this narrative and roadmap in the project, you minimize the chances that the future you will look at the codebase and feel lost or disconnected from the original purpose.

• Implement Safeguards and Tests: Another aspect of caring for your future self in code is anticipating mistakes that could happen later. Writing automated tests for your code is like leaving alarms and notes for the future. If something breaks, a good test suite will immediately alert future-you what’s wrong. It saves the future self from the agony of debugging blind. It’s a bit like writing a letter to future-you: “If you see this test failing, it likely means assumption X no longer holds.” Similarly, assert statements and error messages in code can be written in a humane way: check for conditions that “should never happen” and make the message clear if they do. You’re effectively guiding the future debugger (who could be you or someone else) with helpful commentary. All of this stems from the philosophy that the code’s maintainers (including your future self) are observers who need support – they weren’t present when the code was first written, so we must simulate that context for them through good practices.

• Refactor and Review Regularly: Over time, as you update the code, don’t shy away from refactoring or improving clarity. Think of it as keeping the narrative coherent. Just as one might revise previous chapters of a book when writing later chapters, you can tidy up old code when you gain new insight, so that the overall project stays consistent. Each time you revisit a project, spend a little effort to simplify something confusing (you’ll likely notice confusion if you yourself struggle to grasp what you did earlier). This continuous cleanup is effectively merging the perspectives of past-you and present-you, resulting in code that better serves future-you. It’s an ongoing self-dialogue through the medium of code.

By following these practices, your codebase becomes future-friendly. The future version of you – who might only vaguely remember the project – can step in and immediately simulate the original context with much less friction, because you thoughtfully encoded the context and intention within the code. In essence, you’re ensuring that the “observer” of the code (the conscious mind reading it later) has plenty of clues and narrative to work with, rather than facing a black box. The philosophy here is: treat your future self as a different person who deserves the same clarity and courtesy as any other collaborator. After all, in many ways they are a different person. This approach respects the idea of a continuously re-simulated self and spares that future person unnecessary confusion and lost time.

(Shallow focus photography of computer codes photo – Free Technology Image on Unsplash) Example of code written clearly, with meaningful names and proper structure. Such code serves as a message to your future self, ensuring that the intent remains clear over time. Writing code “for humans” (including the future you) makes projects far more resilient to the passage of time. (Writing code for your future self - DEV Community) (Writing code for your future self - DEV Community)

Embedding Purpose and Narrative Arcs for Continuity

Whether in writing or coding – or any personal project – a powerful way to support continuity of self is to embed intention and narrative arcs into your work. This means infusing your projects with storytelling elements, goals, and meaning that can carry through time. Here’s how this concept applies generally:

• Define a Guiding Intention: At the outset of a project (a blog, a coding endeavor, a creative pursuit), articulate the “why” behind it. This could be a short mission statement or a set of questions you hope to answer. For a blog, your guiding intention might be “to document my journey learning data science and connect it to my broader interest in improving education.” For a coding project, it might be “to create a tool that automates my finances, and in doing so, learn functional programming.” Write this intention down in a prominent place (the blog’s About page, the project README, etc.). This declared purpose acts like the through-line of a narrative. As time passes, you or others can refer back to it and see whether the work is still aligned or how it has evolved. The future self can recalibrate using that original purpose – maybe the goals have shifted, but understanding the initial spark helps in either continuing the arc or deliberately rewriting it. It’s essentially giving the simulation a clear objective function that persists even as the implementer changes.

• Craft a Narrative Arc or Theme: Humans make sense of things through stories, and that applies to our own lives and projects. Try to frame your project in story terms: is there a challenge or problem (like the “conflict” in a story) you are trying to overcome? Are there phases or chapters (e.g., Exploration, First Prototype, Revisions, Launch)? Thinking this way not only helps you communicate about the project, but it imbues it with a structure that your future self will find easier to latch onto. For example, if in your personal journal you consistently refer to a phase of your life as “the startup chapter” versus “the travel chapter,” you create story segments that can be remembered and referred to. Technically, one could tag blog posts by chapter or label code commits by phase (“MVP complete”, “Refactor for v2”). When looking back, instead of a blur of unrelated tasks, you see a plot: how one thing led to another. This supports the simulated continuity by providing a scaffold – your future identity’s narrative has pre-built segments to slot memories into. Psychological research suggests that having a coherent narrative (with beginnings, middles, and turning points) contributes to a stronger sense of self-continuity and even well-being (Narrative identity - Wikipedia). You can facilitate that coherence by consciously adding narrative structure to the documentation of your projects.

• Maintain a Personal Narrative Across Projects: It’s also useful to zoom out and look at the arc of yourself across different endeavors. Perhaps your various projects (writing, coding, art, etc.) are all expressions of a few core themes in your life. If you can identify those themes, you can make them explicit. For instance, you might notice “I’m often driven by a desire to make knowledge accessible” – that theme could be present in your blogging (explaining complex ideas) and in your coding (writing an open-source library). Acknowledging this and writing about it occasionally (e.g., a blog post that reflects on how all your year’s projects tie into that mission) will give your future self a strong sense of continuity: despite all the changes, I’ve been consistently guided by X. It’s like the character development part of a story, where we see deeper motivations that endure. Your future self, understanding this continuity of purpose, can feel that their life has a cohesive narrative, not just a series of disconnected episodes.

• Use Rituals or Recurring Motifs: In storytelling, motifs or recurring elements give a sense of cohesion. You can analogously have personal rituals or symbols in your projects that serve as callbacks to your identity. For example, maybe you have a particular sign-off in every blog post (a unique phrase or a question to the reader/future-self). Or in every coding project, you include a little Easter egg or a note that is characteristically “you.” These small touches act almost like an author’s signature. They remind the future self, “Yes, this was made by me – the same me at core, even if I’m different now.” It might sound quirky, but these psychological anchors can reinforce continuity. They are akin to finding an old sketch or a familiar handwriting sample from your past – it triggers a recognition of self. So consider weaving in personal motifs, whether it’s humor, style of commentary, or a repeated tradition (like writing a “year in review” post every New Year’s). The content of each might change, but the existence of the pattern connects your present and future personas.

• Acknowledge Change (and Continuity) Explicitly: Supporting continuity doesn’t mean pretending you’ll be the same forever. In fact, it helps to acknowledge that change is inevitable – your simulation will update. Build that into your narrative. For example, on your blog you might write an introductory note that “This blog is a record of my thoughts, which I expect to evolve. I welcome seeing how my perspectives change.” In code, perhaps a comment in the docs: “This project started with X approach; I’m open to it shifting if new insights arise.” By being explicit, you give permission to your future self to change while still valuing the past. This can reduce cognitive dissonance when your future self has different views. They won’t feel the past self was a stranger or a fool; instead, they see that past self anticipated growth. This kind of compassionate understanding in the narrative keeps the relationship between past and future selves healthy and continuous. It’s like characters in a long-running story who grow and mature – we loved their old version, we love their new version, and we see it’s the same character arc.

In summary, embedding purpose and narrative arcs in your projects means you aren’t just doing tasks in isolation – you are storyboarding your life. You create threads of meaning that run through time. For a consciousness that is, at its core, a meaning-making simulator, this is incredibly nourishing. It provides the simulated “observer” with consistency to hold on to. When facing new, unfamiliar situations later in life, your future self can draw strength and orientation from these narrative threads (e.g., “I’ve overcome challenges before in my ‘problem-solver’ story, I can do it again”). By intentionally designing your projects with these narrative elements, you support the continuity of the self-model even as life introduces plot twists.

Tools and Workflows for a Simulated Self

Embracing the idea of consciousness as a simulation opens up new ways to use tools and workflows to support your self over time. The goal is to create an external environment that complements the brain’s internal narrative-making, effectively helping to “program” and maintain the self-model. Here are practical strategies and tools:

• External Memory Systems (“Second Brain”): Since our biological memory is part of what shapes the self – and it’s fallible – using external memory tools can vastly improve continuity. Note-taking systems like Obsidian, Roam Research, Notion, or a simple journal serve as a repository of your thoughts, ideas, and learnings. Consider building a personal knowledge base where you continuously dump insights or references that matter to you. Over time, this becomes an extension of your mind. Crucially, organize it in a way that’s future-friendly: use tags or links that connect related ideas (forming a web of context), so future-you can navigate it easily. For example, you could have a tag for each major interest or each year of your life, allowing you to see the progression in each category. By having this external “database” of your mind, you reduce the risk that the future simulation of you loses access to important pieces of the narrative. It’s like giving them a detailed archive to query. This not only aids memory but can spark recognition of patterns in your life story (e.g., noticing you get reflective every December or that a concept like “balance” recurs in your notes). Many people call this a “second brain” – it respects the simulated nature of self by not relying solely on the wetware brain, and it ensures your identity’s knowledge and values are preserved outside your head.

• Regular Self-Reviews and Planning: Implement workflows where you periodically review past materials and plan for the future – essentially synchronizing the narrative. For instance, a weekly review (as in GTD – Getting Things Done methodology) could include scanning your recent notes or journal entries and then setting priorities for next week. A yearly review might involve reading your journal/blog from the past year and writing a summary or lessons learned. These practices make the continuity explicit: you deliberately connect past intentions with future plans. It’s a bit like the current “you” having a meeting with past-you (via the records) and future-you (via setting goals). This can be very powerful for self-programming. You notice what threads have been dropped that you wanted to continue, and you reinforce the ones that matter. It counters the tendency of the simulation to drift without direction. By keeping such rituals, you maintain a narrative mindfulness. There are tools to assist (for example, services like Timehop or social media “On this day” memories can prompt you with what happened in the past; apps like FutureMe allow you to send emails to your future self). Even a simple calendar reminder like “write a letter to future self on this day each year” can institute a workflow that binds the versions of you together.

• Leverage AI as an External Observer: Given that AI like Claude can simulate an observer, you can actually use AI as a tool to reflect back to you your own patterns. For example, you might feed some of your past writings or code documentation into an AI assistant and ask it to summarize the key themes or ask it questions like “What do you think motivated the author throughout these entries?” This is a novel approach to glean an outsider perspective on your narrative. The AI’s simulation of “you” won’t be perfect, but it might highlight things you overlook. In essence, you momentarily externalize the observer – having an AI mirror your content. This can reveal continuity or contradictions that help you refine your self-story. (Of course, use caution and privacy considerations when sharing personal data with AI services). Additionally, AI tools can help future-proof understanding: imagine a future where you can ask an AI that’s been trained on your notes “Why did I start project X?” and it can answer based on your archives. This isn’t far-fetched, and it underscores how treating consciousness as data that can be modeled leads to interesting support tools.

• Design Your Environment with Triggers: Our environments cue our behaviors and memories. To help your future self stay aligned, consider designing physical or digital cues that trigger the intended narrative. For instance, a decorative poster of a personal motto in your workspace constantly reminds both present and future you of a core value. Or maintaining a certain folder structure on your computer for projects (with clear names like “2025_Blog” and “2026_Blog”) makes it easy to jump between time periods. Some people keep a “Jar of Ideas” – notes to themselves placed in a jar to open later. When future-you opens it, it’s like receiving guidance or reminders from the past self. These might sound like trivial hacks, but they acknowledge that the simulation responds to prompts. Just as an AI’s output is influenced by prompts, your consciousness is influenced by what’s around you. Fill your environment with prompts that reinforce the identity and projects you care about. Vision boards, checklists left in obvious places, or even scheduling an email to yourself in the future (“If you’re reading this, remember how excited we were about…”) are all ways to use environmental triggers to maintain continuity.

• Adopt Version Control for Life: Borrowing a concept from software, you can create versioned snapshots of yourself. This could be as simple as writing a “State of Me” document each year – capturing your current thoughts, likes, worries, and goals – and saving them versioned by date. Over a lifetime, you have a series of these snapshots. Re-reading them forms a clear narrative of change and continuity. You could also keep old resumes or bio statements to see how you’ve described yourself over time. Some people even record video messages to their future selves at regular intervals. These are like time capsules that allow a future instance of you to interface directly with a past instance. It minimizes the interpretive gap. It’s akin to committing a version of the self to an archive, with commit messages (“Version 2025.0 – just started a new job, feeling optimistic…”). This practice respects the idea that the self is constantly updating by explicitly capturing each “build,” and it gives the future self a way to debug or understand the evolution.

In essence, tools and workflows that honor the simulated, construct nature of the self focus on recording, reminding, and reflecting. They record the data of your life story, remind you of that story and what matters, and let you reflect (often with the aid of structure or AI) on the big picture. By implementing these, you create an ecosystem around you that keeps feeding the right information back into your self-model so it doesn’t lose the plot. It is a way of collaborating with your future self, treating them kindly and intelligently, much like an expert engineer leaves documentation and tools for those who will maintain the system later. Here, you are both the engineer and the future maintainer of the ongoing project called “Your Life.”

Conclusion

Joscha Bach’s view of consciousness as a simulated observer offers a profound shift in how we regard ourselves: not as a single, unchanging witness traveling through time, but as an ever-updating model – a story being continuously written and read. This perspective can be deeply practical. It reminds us that memory and identity are malleable, which means we have both the opportunity and responsibility to shape them with care. By orienting our personal projects with a future self in mind, we essentially become the authors of a long-form narrative, ensuring that each chapter connects meaningfully to the next.

When we write blogs or diaries with continuity and honesty, we are giving our future selves the gift of context and self-understanding. When we code with clarity and document our intent, we ease the cognitive load on our future minds (or even other people who step into the code) – we create software that carries its story with it. By embedding purpose and acknowledging the narrative arcs in our endeavors, we ensure that even as we grow and change, there is a reliable thread of meaning to hold onto. And by leveraging tools, rituals, and external aids, we buttress the fragile bridges between past, present, and future selves.

In practical terms, thinking of “consciousness as simulation” encourages us to be deliberate architects of our personal evolution. Your blog isn’t just casual writing – it’s part of the source code of you. Your projects aren’t just one-off efforts – they are chapters in your life history. Knowing this, you can design them not just for immediate success, but for long-term significance. You can cultivate an ongoing dialogue with your future self, reducing the strangeness of encountering who you’ll become. Instead of arriving in the future and meeting a stranger wearing your name, you arrive and greet an old friend – one whom you’ve been collaborating with all along through well-laid plans, narratives, and notes.

Ultimately, this approach leads to a more continuous and meaningful experience of life. It aligns with the very human desire for a coherent story, while accepting the inevitability of change. You, the observer, may be simulated – but through thoughtful project design and self-reflection, you can ensure the simulation runs smoothly from version to version. Your future self will be able to say, “I see how I came to be, and I’m grateful my past self looked out for me.” In that sense, by treating the self as a construct, we paradoxically give it greater solidity – we actively build the bridge as we cross it, turning the frightening abyss of time into a path we can navigate with confidence and wonder.

Sources: The ideas above integrate philosophical insights and practical advice. Key references include Joscha Bach’s explanation that our brain creates a representation of an observer (rather than a literal one) (Hard To Tell If An LLM's Simulation Of Consciousness Is Less Real Than Ours: Joscha Bach) and his suggestion that AI models like Claude can similarly simulate an observer’s perspective (Hard To Tell If An LLM's Simulation Of Consciousness Is Less Real Than Ours: Joscha Bach). This aligns with narrative identity research, which sees identity as an internalized evolving story providing continuity and purpose (Narrative identity - Wikipedia). Memory’s role in shaping identity is highlighted by evidence that identity is continually reconstructed as our memories change (The Fluid Nature of Memory and Identity: Exploring the Dynamic Interplay of Change and Continuity | by Boris (Bruce) Kriger | THE COMMON SENSE WORLD | Medium), reinforcing that our “self” is dynamic. The importance of feeling connected with our future self is supported by psychological findings that greater future self-continuity encourages long-term thinking (e.g. saving more, making decisions for future benefit) (How to connect with your future self | Psyche Guides). In terms of coding and writing practices, the recommendation to write code “for your future self” by ensuring intent is clear is echoed by software experts (Writing code for your future self - DEV Community), noting how code that once seemed clear can later become puzzling (Writing code for your future self - DEV Community). Personal reflections on self-continuity (like writing letters to future selves) illustrate the emotional reality of the self as a changing construct (Letters to the Future. Self-Continuity and the Uncertainty of… | by Allan Johnson, PhD | Medium). All these sources underscore a common theme: treating consciousness and identity as constructed models can guide us to live more intentionally, create with foresight, and ultimately forge a stronger connection between who we were, who we are, and who we will become.