not the stuff we are made of


When I was eight I asked my mother why my brain couldn’t understand itself- “I” was a blank to my self, yet I could understand the external world. I’m twenty six, and still wondering. Answers anyone? Cognitive Science is endlessly intriguing…

The fundamental question has always been who we are. What is the “I” we refer to as our “self?” People often separate our minds from our bodies- our soul from the corporeal…but what is the soul if not the sum of our consciousness- that which exists in our very cells? What makes a thing a being? What makes you you and me me? How about this for an answer:

“Matter flows from place to place, and momentarily comes together to be you. Whatever you are therefore, you are not the stuff you of which you are made…”
-Richard Dawkins

We are, in essence, at every point in time- a confluence of numerous possibilities- never to be repeated- a rare, magical moment in the universe at any given time. Never are we the same, yet we continue to retain our “self” through this seamless aberration called life.

I always wonder why some people can see more magic in the world than others- why isn’t it more obvious to everyone how mind-blowing this existence really is?

Yes, yes, Quantum Mechanics helped explain a lot, but more importantly the field has made us stretch our imaginations with a little more abandon- and demonstrates the improbability that plagues what seems mundane.

The sorcery is delightful, and delight must be shared. Wherever this road may lead, I walk it seeking something beautiful…and hopefully sprinkle some of the magic along the way.

Where are the rest of you who seek something beautiful and won’t settle for anything less?


  1. Ishi:
    Your questions remind me of this poem by William Blake – Auguries of Innocence

    To see a world in a grain of sand,
    And a heaven in a wild flower,
    Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
    And eternity in an hour.

    the rest of the poem can be found here:
    Your post is great.

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