Thursday, May 2, 2019

tripping on recursion


I'm told I'm made up of cells. Trillions of them. What I call my body is essentially their planet. Some also say that there is nothing beyond the body. So the voice that I identify as mine, that tells me these things, must also spring from a physical entity. But if I'm made up of, and only of, trillions of these tiny, presumably intelligent, things and yet I believe that something called I exists, where does that reside?

Do the cells belong to me? Where is this me? So there must be an extra-biological entity- atma? What is the atma made of then? Is it the body-version of a higher, more subtler dimension and needs to wear this physical body to participate in this world? But 1. why would my atma (me?) need to be in this world? 2. if I'm the atma, why wouldn't I have that knowledge with any surety? Why would I be conjecturing? Also if my atma is wearing this body, then, wouldn't the atma also just be inhabited by a subtler, higher-dimensioned something that'd be using my atma as its body in that dimension?

On the other hand, if the body is everything, then what I call I is not something separated from the physical component of my existence but an (illusion of) intelligence born from the complexity created by the trillions of self-interested interactions? In this Dawkinsian reality, my genes want to propagate and are forever haggling and trading in this bizarre marketplace. I am the Invisible Hand.

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