Come with me, if you will, on a little journey. An exercise. Close your eyes and envision yourself a passenger in an automobile that is driving on a highway through a pastoral countryside. You are occupying yourself by looking at the roadside scenery when you see two unremarkable houses set off from the highway a bit. The houses are fairly close together--at least closer than is typical in this region that is mostly dotted with intermittent farmhouses with their barns and other outbuildings. But what catches your eye is an old wooden barn set back behind the house on the left. The barn door has been left open and inside the large gaping door your eyes catch a fleeting glimpse of a larger rust-red box sitting on the ground just inside inside the barn. You only have a fraction of a second to take in this scene, but you are so captivated by the rusty red box that your mind captures it and begins to play with it. The box was definitely cube-shaped, definitely sitting on the ground just inside the barn. But it was remarkable. It had lines that were so smooth, so perfect, and a lucent sheen to its coloring as to make it seem almost out of place. It's rust-colored red was not colored due to rust, that was its color--its true color. And yet, the color, the surface of the cube that was colored rusty-red appeared to have no discernible texture--no glitches, no markings, no creases, no indentations or scratches. It was as if it was perfect. Perfectly smooth yet without dimension.
As you play with that rust-red cube in your head you are able to zoom in on it and still you can find no flaws, in fact, you cannot seem to find any seams--though the edges are perfectly discernible and perfectly lined. You are transfixed by the out-of-place anomaly of this box--by the fact that it did not seem to fit with the hues and textures of the rest of the scenery of the setting in which you had seen it. The box has an otherworldly feel to you. It haunts you. You are able to keep it in your mind, to manipulate and explore it over and over, for hours after the event of passing by its farm.
When you return to awareness of your surroundings, you find that you are seeing a completely different landscape as the car you are in is entering the outskirts of an urban area. The farm-scapes much less the box are far behind you. The question I must now ask you is: Where were YOU during the time that the car was putting distance between you and the farm? Were YOU in the car? Can you prove that you were in the car? Can you prove that you saw the box? Can you verify that the box in fact even exists? If you were to go back to that farm and find the box again and you got a better look at it and found out that it was nothing like the box you had played with in your mind, would it be the same box? Which box would be real? Would the box that you played with in your mind for minutes or more cease to exist? Would it be classified as "not real"? a figment of your imagination? Are perceptions of our mind--even imagined ones--not real? Who is to say that anything or everything that we see or sense is not imagined--for in fact everything that we give our attention to is perceived and manipulated in ways, through filters of language and individually unique experientially-influenced and independently created and manipulated categories?
You going through this exercise with me allowed yourself to journey within the mind, within the imagination, for a passage of some time, in which you were able, I surmise, to create images and perhaps other sensory inputs to accommodate my directives, my descriptives. Was that time and were those images real? And, if not, what was real during the time that passed while we occupied your attention on that activity? And, most importantly, where and who were YOU in the minutes that we used to focus on that exercise? Were you not the passenger in the car? The manipulator of the mysterious rust-red box? Was that not YOU? And, if you are able to admit that it was in fact YOU who was in that care--real or imagined--and who played around with that box--real or imagined--then who can prove that the real YOU wasn't really
there (wherever 'there' is or was)? Who is to say that your mental imaginings weren't taking you to places that are real--places that are just as real or physically unprovable as any other place in your collection of memories?
Who can prove that New York City's Twin Towers existed? I mean, who can provide physical evidence of the physical existence of the Twin Towers of the legendary 911 terrorist attacks? The answer is: No one! There is not one single person on the planet in this moment who can prove that the Twin Towers exist--or that they ever exist! You can show me a photograph, or google an article with photographic or videographic 'evidence' of the so-called Twin Towers, but these are merely representations, hearsay, they are
not the Twin Towers: they are only representations that claim to provide proof of the existence of the so-called Twin Towers; they are not the Twin Towers. I repeat: no one, no thing can prove to me the existence of a thing but that thing itself. And then a moment after I have left contact with that thing, the proof of the existence of that thing has left also. The only way to prove the existence of a thing is to be in sensual contact with that thing. Therefore, any thing or event that we claim has truth or that we claim exists can only be proved to exist, to have happened, if the audience to whom we are trying to share verifiable proof with is also in the presence of that thing or that event. Otherwise, that audience is taking on trust that the thing or event of which we speak exists or happened. The only proof I have that I was 12 years old is the fact that I am in a body at this time on the planet--a body that shows all of the signs of being older that 12 years old which therefore, would seem to indicate that I had a time as a 12-year old since the pattern that we most often see in what appears to be a one-directional continuum of biological life cycle has other humans, like me, passing through a 12th year while on their way from human birth to the middle age state and stage at which I presently appear. But this is not truly proof that I was once a 12 year old because the 12-year old is not there before you. Even things that I might possess which I can claim were possessions of the 12-year old that I claim to have once been are only associated with that 12-year old version of my self by hearsay--and, for me, by mental imagery, memory, 'stored' though fluid, unstable and malleable data of the imagination.
Take, for example, the memories you "share" with family or friends. If and when you were to each recount your memories of that event, of that time, or of that thing from your past, it is highly unlikely that you will each relate versions of the memory exactly as one another. In fact, it is almost certain that you will have stored, manipulated, remembered, and related the memory in a fashion that is quite different from the other people who claim to have been present at the original shared experience occasion of which you are speaking. Our independent ways of manipulating and accommodating information are unique and highly individualistic. Just as no two snowflakes, no two penises, no two sunsets or no two fingerprints can be the same, no two memories are the same.
My point here is that independent identity or selfhood denotes a certain requirement or responsibility of unique and independent perception and interpretation. While this independence would seem to also connote separation and even isolation, even this becomes difficult to prove. How can you prove separation and or isolation of something that is within the field of our personal sensory experience? If I can see, touch, taste, and hear you then how could you possibly be separate and how could you possibly feel or perceive distance and isolation? This comes from the same paradox that was exposed in our opening exercise: the body--the physical vehicle that we use for transport and filtration of the sensory information to which it is exposed--is not always the primary reference point for the activities and preoccupations of our Mind. This, then, brings my second visitation of the question, Who, then, are YOU? Are YOU your body or your mind? And if you wish to choose "both" as your response then I must tax you with the extrapolatory inclusion of all that which you perceive as YOU. If you are going to allow for that which we call your body into your definition of that which you own or possess, then how can you disclaim ownership of all that you perceive--especially since it is all ingested, digested, processed, manipulated, and stored according to how important and or relevant to your needs, wants, and interests? How can you separate this information that you have collected from the information that tells you that you have a body, that tells you that you have an imagination, that tells you that you have a house, friends, and possessions? How can you separate the stored memory of information of ideas and beliefs and values from the stored memory of information that you have of a physical self, of a physical world in which you live, of physical things that you use and discard? How can forms that you have converted to mentally storable images for your Mind to have access to be considered as real when you cannot prove that they exist outside of your mind? How can you lay claim to a definition of reality that only points to things and events that are outside you when your only reference to them is from within you--from a holographic world that you alone have access to and which you alone can manipulate? How can you relay words and stories of people, things, and events that you remember that you can neither prove really happened (Can anything or any event from the past be proved physically?).
The perspective of the You, the Observer
The body that you claim to be, that you use as a gathering and reference point, is an illusion. Your body, according to science, to the most forward thinking, recent research and mathematical theories of science, is not real--cannot be real--and yet we think it real. Despite all of the evidence that the tells you that the human body is but a single reference point from which you can choose to gather information--one of an infinite number of such points available to you at any and every given moment--we persist in thinking, believing, and constructing belief and values systems around this "home base island."
According to the facts of science we are made up of millions and billions and trillions of autonomous parts, individual entities all that are somehow willingly cooperating to present you with a usable vehicle--a body--for your Mind's travels and information gathering, experiments with manipulating the other seemingly autonomous and seemingly separate entities "outside" of your body. From a biological perspective, we are the conglomerate cooperative collective of cells who work together in organs and/or systems. From a chemical perspective we are an elaborately multi-layered and multi-systemed network of reactions and interactions between chemicals--a gelatinous soup of simple and complex molecules which are directed by protein overlords by way of their electro-chemical soldiers and messengers. From a physics perspective we are a mysteriously and inexplicably organized mini-universe of units of light that may or may not exist in a single location for a brief moment of time.
If this is true, how, then, are we able to function as human beings, with bodies of solid physical matter? How is it that we retain form, that we perceive ourselves to interact with and move within this veritable soup of light, physics, chemistry, and biology? How is it that our bodies of 20 X 10 24 units of light probabilities is visible much less feels solid? How is that this ocean of ever-changing, ever-shifting, light can present shape and form and movement and sensory information and interactability much less independent perspectives of consciousness?
The key, of course, is this thing we call consciousness, that point of perspective and infinite storage of information that we call the Mind, the conscious point of Self-identity, the source of identity, the Observer. Who then is the Observer, the Self? Is this point of reference made up of "stuff" of skin and bones, organs and cells, molecules and atoms, subatomic particles and photons of light. My answer would be, "No." I am none of that. My existence, my perspective, is not dependent on any of those Things. I can and do use them--as I use systems and my body, my emotions, my thoughts, but I do not need any thing in order to experience thought, dream, imagination, or a multi-directional flow of information. So, then, the question still has not been answered, what or who am I?