Essence of the Experience

 

Invariants

In phenomenology (see here), invariants are the essential characteristics of phenomena — those aspects that remain unchanged even when the experience is observed from different viewpoints. They are the fundamental elements that make a particular experience what it is, rather than something else.

For these invariants to become apparent to consciousness, the phenomenon must be examined from multiple perspectives. This movement is known as eidetic variation.

By imaginatively varying the appearances of a phenomenon, we attempt to reduce the experience to that which is irreducible — its essence (eidos, from the Greek εἶδος). This is the gesture of eidetic reduction.

Let us take a simple example: what does it mean to experience a triangle? A triangle may be scalene, isosceles, or equilateral; it may be large or small, colored or monochrome; it may be drawn on paper, cut from fabric, projected on a screen, and oriented in different directions in space.

Despite all these possible variations, what remains constant in the perceptual experience of a triangle?

The essence of a triangle lies in the fact that it is a figure with three sides and three internal angles, all lying in the same plane. Each side is connected to two vertices, forming a closed shape.

Kamizsa Triangle

Even in the absence of a fully drawn triangle — as in the case of optical illusions, such as the Kanizsa Triangle — we may still have the experience of a triangle.

In fact, we perceive two distinct triangles: one composed of visible edge fragments, and another — more striking — a white triangle that appears to float above the figure, suggested only by the corners formed by the black “pac-man” shapes. This second triangle has no real contours, yet it is still perceived as a coherent form, despite being entirely illusory.

In Husserl's phenomenology, this principle appears in the idea of partial givenness and horizons of expectation: when we perceive an object, we do not capture it in its immediate entirety, but instead anticipate its other facets based on past experience. 

We see only fragments of its edges, but the brain completes the figure by drawing on prior experience and statistical regularities. 

As Lisa Feldman Barrett (2017) puts it, perception is not merely a reaction to sensory input — it is a process of active prediction. The brain uses past encounters to anticipate what is most likely present, even when the visual information is incomplete.

The same applies to a circle: its essence lies in the property that all points along its edge are equidistant from the center. This characteristic defines it as a circle and allows us to recognize it regardless of changes in size, color, texture, or material.

It is precisely this movement — the identification of what does not change — that phenomenology proposes as a path to understanding phenomena.

The focus is not on the empirical contents of experience themselves, but on the structures that make it possible for such contents to appear as they do.

This principle applies not only to visual forms or geometric objects, but also to complex experiences such as emotions. For example: what remains constant in what we usually call "anger"? (for a description of anger)

To investigate this question more deeply, we can employ imaginative variations, exploring the different contexts in which anger manifests.

What kinds of stimuli tend to trigger it? What thoughts arise in these moments? What bodily sensations accompany it? What action tendencies emerge? How is it expressed — in the voice, the face, gestures, posture, or behavior? And how do these aspects change depending on the context?

Many different situations/stimuli can provoke anger. We might then ask: is there something in them that remains constant — something that, beyond their specific contents, characterizes all as experiences of anger?

Various thoughts may accompany the emotion: judgments, frustrated expectations, memories, moral evaluations. But is there a type of thought that appears in every episode of anger?

In the body, anger may come with muscle tension, increased temperature, faster heart rate, pressure in the head, sweating. Among these sensations, is there an invariant?

Anger can be expressed in radically different ways — silently or through shouting, through physical or verbal attacks, or even with a mere glance. And yet, we still recognize all of these as expressions of the same emotion. Could there be an essential expression?

It is also common for attempts at regulation to arise alongside anger: holding back, distracting oneself, controlling breathing. We can then try to distinguish regulatory processes from those belonging to the emotion itself.

Even when trying to suppress it, I may still feel it. What remains in this experience that continues to be recognized as anger?

By performing such variations, we can attempt to identify what remains constant. If something does persist across all cases, might it be considered the essence of anger?

But what if this core element is also present in other emotions? Or even in experiences that are not emotionally charged at all? Would it still be anger?

This doubt opens space for another possibility: what if what we call anger does not have a single, constant essence?

For authors such as psychologist Lisa Feldman Barrett (2017), emotions have no universal essences. They are situated constructions, shaped by interoceptive processes, cultural contexts, and learned concepts. 

In this view, it would not be possible to identify the essence of anger — because it would not exist as such — in any of its components: stimuli, context, evaluations, neurophysiological activations, bodily responses, expressions, impulses, behaviors, or interpretations.

For other theorists, however, it may still be possible to locate the essence of emotions in one or more of these elements.

Conclusion

The search for invariants in phenomena invites a more careful and less hurried gaze upon experience. By investigating what remains amid the diversity of appearances, phenomenology proposes a method for accessing the structures that support the way we experience the world — whether in perceiving a triangle, a circle, or in feeling something as complex as anger. 

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One final observation that came to mind regarding the experience of a triangle, depending on the context in which it appears:

The triangular shape, especially when pointing to the right, is often associated with actions like “starting,” “moving forward,” or “progressing.” 

This stems from a cultural and perceptual sedimentation that links certain shapes to specific functions or meanings. For example:

►As an arrow: the triangle points in a direction, suggesting movement, orientation, or focus. It guides the gaze or indicates a path.

►As a play button: it directly evokes the experience of beginning something — music, video, motion. Many people associate this symbol almost automatically with the act of starting.

What’s most intriguing, however, is that depending on the context and one’s attentional state, this simple shape can evoke different meanings, as well as distinct bodily or affective dispositions. It can feel more static or more dynamic, more symbolic or more functional.

Have you ever noticed whether these different interpretations of a triangle change how it feels in your body? Does it seem to invite different kinds of action depending on how it is perceived?

This is an intriguing phenomenon worth exploring — especially when examining the interplay between perception, meaning, and bodily disposition.

Reference

Barrett, L. F. (2017). How emotions are made: The secret life of the brain. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.

Check here how I described the flow of sensations involved in emotions in general.

Check out these posts to understand the phenomenological approach used in providing these descriptions of experience: 1) What is Phenomenology; 2) Naturalization of Phenomenology; 3) Micro-Phenomenology; 4) Intersubjective Validation; 5) Embodied Cognition; 6) 4E