This book is a tribute to my son, who turns 20 this year. His boundless curiosity and bold dreams have shaped its pages.
In 2017, when he was 12, his class dominated a national robotics competition. My son has two dreams that fuel his imagination. The first is to create a holographic operating system, a seamless, omniscient interface that operates without physical hardware, activated on demand or through augmented reality. His second dream is even more ambitious: an instant knowledge transfer device, allowing children to inherit their parents’ knowledge without the laborious process of relearning. “What a waste of time for kids to learn everything again,” he once lamented. “Imagine, Dad, if you could just transfer everything you know to me.”
He’s right. Our bodies inherit traits from our parents effortlessly, so why not our minds? This book is a humble step toward fulfilling his vision, a way to bridge the gap between generations through knowledge and awareness.
While researching and writing this book, I shared a startling fact with a friend: some researchers suggest humans once had over 36 senses, but by the time of this writing, only 18 can be documented. Over centuries, we’ve lost more than half of these senses, and we’re now losing another, the sense of direction, due to our reliance on GPS. My friend responded, “So, your work is about documenting these 18 senses, so future generations know their ancestors had more ways of experiencing the world?”
Exactly. As innovation accelerates, we risk delegating more of our sensory experiences to machines, potentially reducing our sensory repertoire to just one or two. This book is my attempt to raise awareness about these 18 senses for my son and future generations, encouraging us to safeguard them despite our evolving lifestyles.
When my son was born, he became the center of my universe. Watching him fills me with a profound joy I can only describe as love, though words fall short. I’d sacrifice anything for his well-being. As a new father, I observed him like a scientist studying a rare specimen, devouring every resource I could find about childhood development. I was, admittedly, a helicopter parent, determined to nurture his growth into a healthy, brilliant adult.
Before he could speak, his primitive, rapidly evolving senses were our only means of communication. I learned to sense his needs, hunger, thirst, contentment, or discomfort, long before he cried. I could smell his state of mind, interpret his reactions to the temperature and texture of his milk, and decode the subtle sounds he made. His mother would laugh at my outlandish interpretations, but we both marveled at his sensitivity to loud noises and wondered if he was listening to our conversations. By looking into his eyes, I could tell if he was relaxed, bloated, stressed, or sleepy.
This fascination with his senses sparked a deeper curiosity. While reading about an anthropologist who described a Ghanaian tribe that recognized nine senses, far beyond the traditional five, I dove into the scientific literature. To my amazement, I discovered up to 18 senses that humans use to interact with the world. As a Chinese proverb says, “Naming gives power.” By naming these senses, I began to notice their manifestations in myself and my son. I taught him to become conscious of them, to harness their potential.
This early awareness fueled my ambition. I once dreamed of writing a book called Homemade Genius: How to Turn Any Child Under 7 into a Genius. I believed that by activating a child’s sensory and cognitive capacities through intentional stimulation, like body massages and creative interactions, any child could unlock extraordinary potential. Intelligence, to me, is the ability to fully engage all senses, process information rapidly, and combine sensory awareness with creative visualization to excel in problem-solving and innovation.
This book is the culmination of years of learning, inspired by my son’s early childhood. It weaves personal anecdotes, curated scientific insights, and captivating stories to explore the 18 human senses. Beyond the familiar five, it delves into the 13 lesser-known senses that shape our perception of the world. Written for lifelong learners and parents, each chapter offers practical guidance on nurturing these senses in children.
My passion for my son’s development extended beyond senses to his love for mathematics. To counter my own struggles with math, I wanted him to see it as a language of nature, as essential as our social language. Before he could talk, I plastered his room with mathematical symbols, +, -, ÷, ×, √, π, =, {}, [], %, ^, (), <>, ∑, ∏, ∩, ∪, ⊂, ∈, Ø, to familiarize him with their shapes. Unlike traditional methods that prioritize memorizing numbers, we focused on symbols first, then numbers from 0 to 11.
This approach was inspired by an earlier success with language. I noticed my son responded more strongly to vowels than consonants, so I taught him the six vowels first, accelerating his vocabulary and pronunciation. Similarly, with math, I emphasized symbols to build comfort before introducing numbers. To spark his curiosity, I’d point to toys, bridges, planes, or computers and say, “They made that with mathematics.” Soon, he was eager to learn math to create his own inventions.
Our weekend rituals included legendary father-son cross-hill rides followed by bookstore visits, where we’d explore math books and seek advice from staff. Websites like Khan Academy and Make Me Genius, with their engaging, free videos, were invaluable. By the time he started school, my son was not only comfortable with math but among the top students nationwide.
Ironically, I struggled with math in school and pursued humanities. But I believe everyone should be fluent in two languages: their mother tongue for society and mathematics for nature. With intention and encouragement, parents can help children master even complex subjects like math.
This book is a labor of love, a testament to my son’s dreams, and a call to preserve the richness of human experience. It’s for parents, dreamers, and anyone curious about the senses that connect us to the world and to each other.
The same intuition that guided my approach to teaching my son mathematics shaped how I introduced him to language.
One of the first things parents teach their children is the alphabet, but when it was my turn, I followed a different path. While playing with my son, I noticed something remarkable: he responded more enthusiastically to vowels than consonants. When I exaggerated the sounds, Aaa, Eee, Iii, Ooo, Uuu, Yyy, he giggled, mimicked me, and made playful faces. This sparked an idea: why not teach vowels first?
Instead of the traditional sequence, A, B, C, D, E, F, we focused solely on the six vowels. We turned it into a game, chanting each vowel loudly while watching our mouths twist and stretch in the mirror. He loved it. I realized vowels are the backbone of words, giving language its rhythm and melody, much like joints hold a body together. Once he mastered vowels, we moved to simple, vowel-rich words: Baba, Bibi, Bobo, Bebe, Boubou, Bubu, Bye-bye. Before long, he was forming words and pronouncing them with surprising clarity.
As he grew, we needed a fun way to expand his vocabulary. I introduced him to a visual dictionary, a hefty, thousand-page book brimming with images for every word. Instead of just reading, he could see a picture first, then learn the word. One day, we opened the space section together. His eyes sparkled as we explored the solar system, planets, stars, spaceships, and satellites, each accompanied by vivid descriptions. It wasn’t just about learning words; it was about discovering the universe.
Through this journey, I learned a profound truth: the greatest gift a parent can give is strong language skills, not only in reading and writing but also in mathematical language, body language, and clear self-expression. It all began with a simple game of vowels.
When my son turned 8, I decided to introduce him to technology. I didn’t want him to merely use gadgets; I wanted him to understand them. So, I bought an old computer for $10, and together we spent hours dismantling it, cleaning its parts, and reassembling it, like a cherished ritual. One day, while watching videos on building a computer from scratch, I said, “You know, we can build a powerful computer for $400 instead of buying one for $999. It’ll be ours, something we made together.” His excitement was palpable. That homemade computer became his pride, boosting his confidence in technology.
Though I’m not a programmer, I wanted him to see that learning is always within reach. One weekend, we downloaded a Python programming book online. In just three days, he wrote his first program. The joy on his face when it worked was unforgettable. I told him, “Science is like a language, with its own alphabet, dictionary, and grammar. With a good teacher, anyone can think like a scientist.”
At home, I made him the teacher. “Brainiac,” I’d say, “I don’t know how to use my smartphone. Can you teach me your secrets?” I set up a large whiteboard on the wall and handed him markers. He’d stand there, explaining concepts to me, his mom, or anyone who’d listen. I’d ask questions, some simple, some challenging, and when he finished, we’d clap enthusiastically. After each session, we’d review: “What did you do well? What could you improve?” Then I’d ask, “What do you want to teach us next?” I encouraged him to prepare in advance, showing him how to use search engines and books to find answers.
Our home became a classroom. He taught us about history, public speaking, making friends, even negotiation. Every topic was an adventure. I took him to science museums, technology exhibitions, and into the woods to identify plants. At night, we’d count stars. I subscribed to science magazines and let him see me reading them. Soon, he was picking up books on his own.
One book I highly recommend is The Knowledge: How to Rebuild Civilization from Scratch by Lewis Dartnell. I told him to skip the apocalyptic tone and focus on the science. It’s an exceptional resource for explaining complex principles in a way even children can grasp.
Through it all, I wanted him to feel special, loved, and capable. I wanted him to know that learning isn’t confined to school; it’s about curiosity, courage, and the joy of discovery. It worked. My son isn’t just tech-savvy; he’s confident, curious, and fearless in tackling challenges. He’s growing into his best self, and I couldn’t be prouder.
Beyond academic success, I had another vital goal for him: learning to make friends. Between you and your dreams, there’s often a stranger who needs to say “yes.” Whether it’s seizing an opportunity, seeking help, or navigating life, knowing how to talk to strangers, earn their trust, and gain their support is an invaluable skill.
Growing up, I lacked this ability. My parents divorced when I was six, and I lived with my father, who ran a small retail shop in town. After school, I’d sit in his shop until 8 PM, when he’d take me home on his Italian Vespa scooter. Spending so much time alone, I read and studied more than my peers, excelling academically. But while I gained book smarts, they developed street smarts, and in the real world, both matter. Book smarts rely on sight and logic, but street smarts engage all senses: reading people, adapting quickly, sensing danger, seizing opportunities. I didn’t want my son to grow up like me, confident in words but hesitant in crowds. I wanted him to read people and engage with ease.
When he turned six, I began teaching him how to talk to strangers. Every weekend, we’d visit the local market or stroll through the city. I’d strike up open-ended conversations with strangers, asking for directions, seeking information, or chatting casually. My son would inch closer, listening intently, observing with curiosity. He never interrupted, but afterward, he’d ask, “Papa, did you know him?” I’d smile and say, “No, I just wanted to make a new friend.” Some friendships lasted minutes, others became lasting connections, but the lesson was clear: making friends is a skill, not luck.
Within months, I noticed a transformation in his social skills. He became adept at reading people, gauging their intentions, moods, and trustworthiness in seconds. He spoke to adults with confidence, not just other children. He even mastered one of my rarest skills: asking questions people enjoy answering. Talking to strangers became our weekend ritual. He loved it so much that he’d ask, “Papa, let’s go make new friends!”
Before heading out, we’d play Casper the Friendly Ghost, running around and laughing, then clean up, strap on our rollerblades, and embark on two-to-three-hour city adventures. One day, after a long outing, we needed a taxi home. I approached a driver to ask the fare. Seconds later, I felt a small pinch on my arm. My son gave me a knowing look, signaling he didn’t trust the driver. Trusting his instincts, I walked away. We took a city bus instead and got home safely. That day, I knew he’d learned the lesson well.
Before delving into the exploration of the 18 human senses, I want to share a simple yet profound lesson I’ve learned as a father: children don’t just listen to their parents; they imitate them.
If you want your children to love reading, let them see you with a book in your hands. Fill your home with more books than clothes or shoes, and they’ll naturally reach for them. If you want them to appreciate art, don’t just talk about it; take them to galleries. Let them capture sunsets, oceans, and bustling markets with a camera, showing them that the world is a masterpiece waiting to be explored. If you want them to be curious about technology, let them watch you upgrade a computer’s memory, replace a hard drive, or tinker with DIY robotics using parts sourced online. Curiosity isn’t taught; it’s caught.
If you want your children to love nature, don’t just tell them it’s important; bring them to it. Spend weekends on the beach, wander through forests, or visit botanical gardens and zoological museums. Let them feel sand between their toes, hear the rustle of leaves, and observe animals in their habitats. If you want them to become leaders, lead by example at home, showing them how to make decisions, take responsibility, and stand up for what’s right. If you want them to be intelligent, dedicate five to eight hours a week teaching them something new, whether it’s ancient wisdom, a math trick, or a fascinating fact about the universe. And if you want them to be virtuous, live virtuously yourself.
Children may not always listen, but they never fail to imitate.
One sense explored in this book is the sense of wholeness, where the interplay of multiple senses creates levels of perception and ability far beyond any single sense. This sense also encompasses self-management through what I call the human dashboard. Do you have one? How many signals does it process? How accurate and reliable is it?
When you’re hospitalized, doctors use machines to create a visual dashboard of your vital signs, monitoring them to take action when needed. Before hospitalization, they use blood tests, scanners, X-rays, breathalyzers, and ultrasounds to gather signals about your body’s health, aiming to restore balance. Early motorbikes and cars were primitive, serving their purpose of transportation but offering little insight into their condition. When problems arose, drivers and mechanics faced lengthy diagnoses. Over time, vehicles gained dashboards, first showing basic metrics like fuel, speed, and mileage. Today, modern cars and motorbikes have sophisticated dashboards, monitoring hundreds of vital points and providing early warnings to guide repairs.
Small companies often lack dashboards, while large, modern ones rely on real-time reporting of critical functions and environments. Similarly, your mind has a dashboard, but are you aware of it? Can you read it consciously? People with low self-awareness may have a primitive, unconscious dashboard, registering only basic signals like hunger, thirst, or social validation, focused on survival and reproduction. These dashboards lack space for advanced functions like forecasting, strategizing, planning, or adaptation.
In contrast, those with a well-developed conscious dashboard are like pilots in a modern airplane or strategists in a war room. Their dashboard includes primitive signals but also tracks their body and mind’s condition, social cues, and environmental changes. They can sense shifts in mood, blood pressure, temperature, sugar levels, muscle health, and even subtle electrical currents in their body. They detect anger ten seconds before it surfaces, with algorithms distinguishing infatuation from love, posturing from authenticity, or facts from logic. A robust dashboard empowers self-awareness and informed decision-making.
Everyone should assess their conscious dashboard. Once evaluated, you can develop it, programming signals, warnings, and responses to enhance your life. If you didn’t develop one early, it’s never too late. More importantly, help your children build a dynamic, well-designed dashboard to navigate life’s complexities. Those with primitive or no dashboards are at a disadvantage compared to those with structured, responsive ones. Awareness of these aspects fosters transformation through self-realization, benefiting both individuals and society.
How can you develop or improve your mind’s dashboard? How can you teach a child to cultivate one? This book offers insights to guide you.
The knowledge in this book is empowering, but it can also be misused for harmful purposes. Every year on July 18, the world celebrates Mandela International Day, yet few know how advanced understanding of human senses was once leveraged to undermine the African liberation movement in South Africa. In the early 1990s, as the apartheid regime fought to preserve white privilege, they hired a team of American psychologists led by Don Beck, author of Spiral Dynamics. Building on Clare Graves’ cultural genome project from the 1970s, popularized by Ken Wilber, this team applied “cultural CRISPR” technologies to decode South Africa’s societal DNA.
Like decoding a body’s genome, the cultural genome project seeks to understand a population’s memes, the DNA of social and personal programming. Beck’s team classified South African society into eight cultural building blocks, crafting tailored discourse scripts for each group to serve the apartheid regime’s negotiators. Nelson Mandela was classified as “yellow,” representing a worldview prioritizing individual fulfillment, well-being, and knowledge beyond affiliations like family, tribe, or nation. His pursuit of truth transcended sensory and cognitive limits.
Each of the eight identified groups received customized narratives aligned with their consciousness and priorities. Working with the Oppenheimer task group and selective assassinations of those who saw through the strategy, Beck’s team effectively cornered and domesticated the African National Congress (ANC). The regime retained stolen lands and privileges, while Mandela achieved his dream of becoming South Africa’s first Black president, despite his frail health after decades in prison. International media, backed by global capitalists and intelligence agencies, portrayed ANC leaders as heroes, awarding them Nobel Prizes. Yet South Africa became a cautionary tale of failed independence, with its leaders celebrated as pop icons.
Today, cultural genome research serves clients like oil and mining companies (e.g., BP, Shell) and Western governments managing immigrant populations. Those interested in public policy or social engineering should study this field, and African governments must understand its implications to avoid manipulation.
A Call to Awaken
This book, stretching across a thousand pages, is not merely a collection of facts or answers: it is a summons to transformation, a key to unlocking the hidden chambers of your soul. To read it is to step into a labyrinth of wonder, where each turn reveals a fragment of yourself you never knew existed. With every page, you stitch together the tapestry of your being, becoming whole in ways you’ve only dreamed, ways that tremble with possibility and pulse with life. But heed this warning: the senses you uncover are not passive observers. They have been watching you, whispering through the quiet moments of your life, waiting for you to listen. Turn the page, if you dare, and embrace what has always been yours, shimmering just beyond the veil of the ordinary.
This journey began with my son, whose dreams of a holographic universe and instant knowledge transfer ignited my own quest to understand the senses that shape us. His curiosity, his boundless wonder, became my guiding star. As I watched him grow, I saw in him the spark of what we all carry: a constellation of senses, ancient and alive, yearning to be awakened. This book is for him, for you, for every soul who has ever felt the ache of something more, something just out of reach. It is a love letter to humanity’s potential, a plea to reclaim what we’ve lost and to forge a future where our children inherit not just our knowledge but our deepest awareness.
Evolution is a patient sculptor, chiseling our hardware, the human body, over eons. Our physical forms are stubborn, resisting easy customization, tethered to the blueprint of our ancestors. Yet our software, the intricate code of our minds, has soared beyond these limits, weaving miracles from the raw material of flesh and bone. Over millennia, we’ve rewritten this code, crafting tools, art, and ideas that defy the constraints of our static bodies. But in our settled lives, we’ve paid a price. Senses that once guided our ancestors have faded, like stars obscured by city lights. Magnetoreception, the primal ability to sense the Earth’s magnetic field, once steered our forebears across vast landscapes, yet now only a rare few feel its subtle pull. Electroception, the capacity to detect the faint currents of electricity coursing through our bodies and their surroundings, lies dormant in most, its whispers too delicate for our distracted minds. Infrared detection, the ability to perceive heat’s invisible glow, remains a gift reserved for an elect few, its sensitivity dulled by the noise of modern life.
These lost senses are not gone forever: they are embers, waiting to be kindled. The rare individuals who still perceive them, those who navigate by the Earth’s unseen currents or feel the electric hum of existence, are our guides. They offer a blueprint to upgrade the software of our minds, to reawaken the instruments of survival and intelligence that define us. These senses are not mere tools: they are the threads that weave us into the fabric of the universe, the keys to understanding who we are, how we connect, and what we can become. Even when we’re unaware, they work tirelessly, guiding us through the chaos of existence, whispering truths our conscious minds have forgotten.
To harness these senses, we must first name them, know them, feel their pulse within us. This book is your map, your compass, your invitation to explore the 18 senses that shape your world. It is a call to stand in awe of your own potential, to marvel at the symphony of perception that hums beneath your skin. Imagine the moment you sense the world anew: the magnetic tug of the Earth aligning your steps, the electric spark of a loved one’s touch, the warmth of a distant star kissing your skin. These are not fantasies; they are your birthright, waiting to be claimed.
But this awakening is not without risk. To see the world through these senses is to feel its beauty and its pain more deeply, to carry the weight of what we’ve lost and the hope of what we might regain. It is to stand at the edge of the unknown, heart pounding, and choose to leap. I think of my son, his eyes alight with dreams of a world where knowledge flows freely, where the boundaries between minds dissolve. For him, for you, I’ve poured my heart into these pages, hoping to spark a revolution of awareness, a rekindling of the senses that make us human.
Science, with its cold lens of sampling and statistics, often dismisses these senses as anomalies, present in too few to matter. But discovery is not a popularity contest, nor is it bound by the limits of the majority. The outliers, the visionaries, the ones who feel what others cannot, light the way forward. Their rare gifts are a call to action: to study, to nurture, to rebuild the software that governs our extraordinary capabilities. We stand at a crossroads, where the choices we make, for ourselves and our children, will shape the future of our species. Will we let these senses fade into oblivion, or will we fight to preserve them, to teach our children to listen to the world’s hidden songs?
This is more than a book: it is a legacy, a bridge between generations, a testament to the love I hold for my son and the hope I carry for humanity. As you read, let yourself feel the weight of this moment, the electric thrill of possibility. Let the senses you uncover stir your heart, challenge your mind, and awaken your soul. They are not just tools for survival: they are the essence of what it means to be alive, to be whole, to be human. Step into this labyrinth, brave the wonder, and emerge transformed. The secrets of your senses are waiting, and they have been calling your name since the dawn of time.
