Are we really who we think we are?
The Greek hero Theseus returned from Crete with new planks on his ship. It turns out that, while Theseus was away, he replaced bits and pieces of his ship all along. The philosopher Plutarch wondered, after hearing this, whether or not it would be the same ship if in fact every piece of that ship was replaced.
In other words, if that were the case, is it the same ship or a completely different ship?
Turning to myself, I know that I am a completely different person than I was when I was in my early 20s. Again different in my late 20s to early 30s. And I think my last major shift in personality and temperament came in my mid-30s. That’s my mental state.
Physiologically, there’s the old adage is that every single one of our cells are replaced every 10 years.
It turns out not to be entirely true, as some brain cells are always ever the same. But even if that is the case, the question remains: how much of us can be replaced so that we are still who we think we are? If 99.87% of us is wholly different than the person we were 10 years ago, are we the same person?
I say this as I look down on my swollen leg. It has the ACL of a dead man now. That fact is neither scary or sad to me, just interesting.
Said it before that Sleepy Logan and Younger Logan have both screwed and helped me in my life.
Met someone recently who proudly said that she was the exact same person with the exact same beliefs she had in her late 30s as she did in her teens.
Me: There are those that would say that you’ve wasted the last 20-some odd years of your life, then. You’ve learned nothing from those versions of yourself.
She: Would you say that?
Me: I would say that the 18-year old you should not hold hostage the destiny of a 38 year-old adult. But I’m here to drink and really, what do I know?
Because, maybe it’s just a cop-out. It’s a way for me not to take responsibility for being a truly terrible person in my possible pasts.
Him: …two weeks, in the Bronx.
Me: I can’t do it. Not with my leg.
It turns out that if you live an eat-what-you-kill life and can’t physically get out the door to do work, your clients get disappointed. Disappointed clients are never good.
Turned down my third gig already this month.
Worried that this injury will be far more costly than I first imagined.
Posting my follow-up to 10 Tips on how to write a good Match, OK Cupid, or POF dating profile: Part 1 on Friday after noon.
You’ll like it, I think.
Location: a chair, finally
Music: really want to go out, I really want to go outside
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.