I awoke in the middle of the night last night with another
of my occasional crises of personal identity.
In the past, I have awoken with a temporary amnesia affecting all
knowledge of myself and the location in which I am sleeping. These experiences only last several seconds,
but they are highly impactful. Last
night’s occurrence was somewhat different.
The information regarding my history and present disposition were
readily available to me, only I didn’t feel an ownership of them. I felt
like there was this well-defined set of details that I was supposed to step
into, like a harness fixed to a plow.
And the details were mostly negative: problems, challenges, mistakes,
etc. And responsibilities. I have a daughter whose requirements overshadow
every waking moment of my life, and most of the moments of my near future.
This crisis passed in much the same way as the others have;
that is to say, it didn’t last too long.
But the lingering questions are as pervasive as ever. What is identity? What is self?
It seems like there must be some sort of supernatural element to our
nature, a soul if you will, otherwise our entire Human world, social structure,
history, everything is all built on a collective memory of the species. Our past deeds, crimes and accomplishments, jobs,
our addresses, our names and family members, they all persist only because we
remember them. And memory itself is not
well understood, except of course for the fact that it is unreliable.
So this morning I put on my Harness, made my lunch and my
daughter’s lunch, kissed her goodbye, and headed out the door for work. For what I remember to be my workplace. As far as I can tell, they recognize me here.
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