As I sat in the coffee shop across from my partner and next to my son that Sunday afternoon something happened. As I sat there I looked over to the table next to us where 3 college students were chatting and goofing around. On the table in front of them sat a book, On the spine, it read “Gravity’s Rainbow – Thomas Pynchon”. It struck a note in me and I looked it up on Google. In reading the Wikipedia article about it I noticed the mention of Finnegan’s Wake by James Joyce. Some time ago someone had mentioned Finnegans Wake to me, as I have a small collection of “difficult books”.
I jumped up and said I’ll be right back. My partner and son looked at me surprised at my announcement. I exited the coffee shop and went across the street to the book store. I went to the information desk and asked the employee there if they had a copy of Finnegan’s Wake. She looked up at me and smiled, a slight twinkle of knowing in her eye. She typed something into the computer and then said, “we do have a copy I think” We then walked through the store chatting about difficult books like House of Leaves and Ship of Theseus. We found the one copy of Finnegan’s Wake and I bought it.
Exiting the book store I was ecstatic at finding the book I didn’t know I needed. Full of glee and giddiness I walked back across the street to the coffee shop. Showing my new book to my table mates with a huge smile on my face. They looked at me like I had lost my mind. I may have.
I was so proud of my purchase. Opening it like it was a finely wrapped Christmas present I was struck by its seemingly nonsensical array of verbiage. What is this I thought, it must make some sense? What if it doesn’t, is that OK? Am I missing something? None of that mattered, what mattered was that in buying the book something in me was triggered.
The train back home wasn’t due to leave for several hours. As we waited I read snippets of Joyce’s magnum opus, I thought and pondered and daydreamed. Finally, later in the day, we wandered to the train station. As it was a holiday weekend the train was rather full, the 3 of us were separated and we found seats.
As the train left the station I started thinking about the “difficult books” in my collection. Proud of my new addition to that subsection of my library. House of Leaves has captivated me for a while, its story woven directly into the catawampus typography that its story is presented in. Next to it on the shelf is “Ship of Theseus”, I have not read this tome yet. I intend to but just haven’t.
As I sat there I typed in “Ship of Theseus” into Google. Expecting to find the book, I was surprised to find something else. I found that the Wikipedia article for “Ship of Theseus” actually refers to a thought experiment that centers around the metaphysics of identity. What is this I thought, is this experiment based on the book or is it the other way around the book being based on the thought experiment?
Well, Plato and Heraclitus were certainly around before JJ Abrams, and 500 BC was a long time ago. So let’s attribute it to them.
If it is supposed that the famous ship sailed by the hero Theseus in a great battle was kept in a harbour as a museum piece, and as the years went by some of the wooden parts began to rot and were replaced by new ones; then, after a century or so, every part had been replaced. The question then is if the “restored” ship is still the same object as the original.
If it is then supposed that each of the removed pieces were stored in a warehouse, and after the century, technology developed to cure their rotting and enabled them to be put back together to make a ship, then the question is if this “reconstructed” ship is still the original ship. And if so, then the question also regards the restored ship in the harbour still being the original ship as well – Wikipedia
Reading this I dove straight down into the whirlpool of my own thought experiment. As I have gone through life I have changed considerably, replacing parts of myself with other parts over time. Leaving the old rotted parts of myself somewhere. What happened to the old me, what happened to the rotted parts of me? Am I still me or is it something other? Who am I now, what was I then? Is the old me the same as the new me or am I something else altogether?
So many questions, and no answers.
As I emerged from my suicidal morass, I was certainly not the same anymore. But what am I? What happened to the drug addict me? What happened to the alcoholic me? The me who wanted to end my own life? Did all of those pieces still exist in this thing I call me? Or was it something different?
One thing I learned in my “therapy” was to start asking more questions and forget trying to find answers. I took this and ran with it.
One precept that I hold onto is, that I am me and I am also you, just as you are you but you are also me. This is a crazy-making thought at first, but once I tried it on it fit well, like a fine suit tailored just for me. In a way it had really changed me, I try and treat others as I would treat myself and to act in a much more loving and kind way. Would I ever want you to take your own life? Never! How then could I take my own?
OK, I know a lot of this may not make any sense at all and I may have introduced so many things that it may be confusing. Let’s slow it down.
Let’s assume a few things:
- I am me
- I am you
- You are you
- You are me
- Time isn’t linear and instead, everything is happening all at once.
Suspend your disbelief for a while, Its gonna get crazier.
Taking the Ship of Theseus and examining it, I looked deeply into what it may mean. What if as I changed over time, as I replaced the rotted boards on my deck, I became something else? What then am I? Am I still me? Am I not me? Who is me?
Where did the old rotted boards go, and after replacing all of the rotted boards and stored them away, am I still me? And after replacing all the parts am I still what I was? And if you were to take all the old rotted pieces and reassemble them would there be another me?
What if as we change over time we leave imprints of us that still exist now? What if all those versions of me still exist and all that I encounter is actually me? This certainly fits into the idea that I am me and I am also you, just as you are you but you are also me.
If we overlay that with the idea that time isn’t linear and instead it is happening all at once. What do we end up with?
There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.-William Stafford
What if time has always been unfolded?