« on: January 09, 2013, 05:10:51 am »
It may have been hubris, but I attempted to tread the path of enlightment. My objective was simple, cleanse myself from the outside noise to discover the real "me", and from that, see how far could I take myself mentally.
My epiphanies, which, despite being small and far-between, were greatly treasured by me, led me to this point:
I don't know to which point I am still myself. Can I truly have an identity if I am formed of the background noise that surrounds me?
Can I still call myself a individual after acknowledging that every piece of me is not something I produced, but rather some junk I picked along the way and assimilated?
I tried to see where my mind stops and where the preconceived notions begins, but how can I be sure my observational abilities aren't affected?
I tried to see myself as an art project, like an sculpture, a book, integrating the parts that I fancied into myself, shaping thus my body, mind and life towards an aesthetic notion that pleased me.
(Did this make me an automaton? Was I one all along?)
When I saw things objectively, I could only see emptiness. And while acknowledging this emptiness, decided to create a reason for myself, a reason that, while subjective and abstract, was truly mine.
However, to which extent my thoughts are mine? Is my identity just a response to the stimulus that once surrounded me?
The answer that rings true is yes, and this realization demands more thinking.
Perhaps the buddhists were right all along, and our true identity is nothing, just emptiness. And the true path of enlightment is just the denial of the "self".
While the idea of a philosophy that denies the "self" sends shivers down my spines, even now I can recognize the this way of thinking did not come from me, but Nietzsche and his discourse about religions/philosophies that denied life.
I could say that I am simply my body, and the chemical reactions that occur in it, but my mind hasn't become what it is by the development of my body.
My body is but a mirror, my experiences the light, and my mind the reflection. This reflection interacted with itself, warping the light, but it does not change from where the light has come.
My identity is, therefore, a simple illusion.
Can I truly accept such existence one with free will?
If my mind interacts sufficiently with itself, would it be able to escape the influence of my past, and become something created by itself?
Is it possible to one's mind produce it's own, extending the metaphor, light?
Can one attain such a state?
Indeed, this demands more thinking.