I wonder sometimes: am I the sum of my past, the simple aggregate bundle of sensations and experiences or memories and otherwise material or extended causes and effects I leave behind me (in time) like vapour trails? This Self I carry around as some interior burden or mirror of external expectations or normative cultural conventions is really quite hollow, insubstantial and in seeking any kind of certainty here, I only ever find doubt. It is a mystery – we endlessly recreate the grammars, narratives and assumptions concerning the unquestioned reality of this inner anchor and experiencing “I” but rarely notice that the substantive presence of this thing is only ever inferred, never comprehensively proven. It is quite probable that all that we are amounts to this complex act of introspection, a self-gravitational collapse of existential self-reference that only ever provides an inflected vector or inwards orientation without any such thing as final destination or closure.
Daedelus Kite 