A weird thing about the current moment is how much of ourselves exist outside the boundaries of our own flesh.
#
For instance, I was reviewing some notes just now and was struck to discover that, for the first time, a piece of my canonical thinking belongs principally somewhere else. In this case, a reference to evergreenness linked, not to internal notes, but to a SN post.
#
Then I thought: in some ways, this has always been going on. The artists who make up stories or create art about Superman can't make use of those Superman art or stories, even if they represent the most intense expressions of their identity over the course of years. The actor who we all think of as Wolverine can't lay claim to Wolverine; nor can the creator of the idea of Wolverine: each has relinquished themselves, repeatedly, to the world.
I have a number of patents, signed over as a matter of course to my employer as part of the employment contract. And so for the code and the text I wrote while employed in those various places. Some foundational thoughts, the products of untold hours of rumination, are not mine to give or to use, and nobody thinks this is weird.
I started wondering about exactly how and when we can be considered to be 'sovereign' of ourselves. What such an idea would even mean.
#
This fugue reminded me of some more recent expression of the idea, where people create an AI avatar of a loved one who survives their death. Here's an example that I haven't watched; here's a gut-wrenching Black Mirror episode that I have.
But that's science fiction, even if it doesn't seem so far away. A real example that I read about, but whose source was removed from twitter for some reason [1], is a guy who used to play some kind of multiplayer driving game with his girlfriend. Then his girlfriend died. Then when he played the game afterward, now on solo mode, he discovered that her driving behavior was rendered into an NPC car.
So the guy had this strange experience of being with the phantom of his dead girlfriend, spending time together the way they had used to. It made me shiver.
#
The larger idea for me here is the idea of the exoself, a kind of instantiation of yourself that extends beyond the boundaries of your own flesh. In certain circles they talk about this as being a 'centaur' -- as a collective entity, where you incorporate elements of the environment into yourself and become something greater as a result. This is an idea that Heidegger made famous seventy years ago, in incomprehensible gibberish language: how do our tools make us into other kinds of Beings? [2]
It makes me think, hard, about what I want, and what we (collectively) should aspire to with the idea of social media. What kind of Beings are we becoming when we instantiate parts of ourselves in this way? Where we reliquish parts of ourselves to the world, and absorb parts of others?
What could emerge from this mode of interaction that would affirm life, that would make us bigger and nobler, instead of stupider and pettier?
#
[1] If anyone can find a reference to this I'd be grateful.
[2] Please don't nitpick me on this one.
evergreen beings
must have a different perceptual system than do we, their constituents. Which means: