Something I think about sometimes: when we experience the world outside of ourselves, we take on, at least temporarily an image of it within ourselves. Through my eyes, I perceive the screen in front of me, but my picture of it seems to be a part of me.
I’ll probably forget this image (though through writing about it, I’ll be able to bring it partly back), but other things stay with us, become more permanent parts of us. So much of us is built up of partial copies of what we’ve perceived: language, morals, etc., along with all our knowledge learned from others.
And when we learn how to do something, that alters us too. We learn how to use some new program, even just the map of the office, and that knowhow is woven right into us. We perceive the knowledge as something distinct, but where else is it but within us?
I think about this, and then I think, what is I want to be a part of me? Horrible things? Useless things? Or beautiful, helpful things?
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