Your Actual Age is Today
Greetings and salutations continually new friends,
Are you feeling not yourself lately? There might be a good reason for that. Let's start with the "Ship of Theseus," a thought experiment that dates to 500 BC and was discussed by Plato and Heraclitus and plenty of arguing philosophers since. The Athenians preserved the ship that Theseus sailed home from Crete after winning a great battle and, over the course of a century, replaced all the rotting wood with new planks. Eventually, someone pointed out that most of the wood was new, in fact, pretty much ALL the wood was new. So, is the ship still the ship of Theseus? Or is it no longer his ship since all the original wood is gone? Furthermore, imagine someone saved all the rotten wood, figured out how to refortify the fibers of the decaying boards and then reassembled the pieces. Which is the ship of Theseus?
There is a company in California named Singer Vehicle Design that will accept your Porsche 911, made between 1989 and 1994, into their facility to customize and remanufacture the car. They can, and do, remake nearly every nut, bolt, stitch, glass, fender, switch, computer chip, paint finish, light, plastic bit, door pull, and every tiny, niggly bit of motor metal in the name of "restoration". These cars are resto-mods, modified to be better than the original factory version in every way. They are faster, lighter, grippier, sleeker, lower, shinier, sound better, cost more, are more personal, and are as sexy as bespoke machinery can possibly be. They even smell nicer, with only the finest matched leather hides slathering every interior surface, as well as quilted into the back wall of the engine compartment. Can't have your engine feeling left out. Their motto is "Everything matters," and truly, they will customize to the depth of the client's pocketbook. Want carbon fiber body panels with nickel plated mirrors? Done. Bring a photo of your dog and they will paint the car to match. These are engineers married to artists and their love of the craft and the machine are unparalleled. But is it a Porsche? The badge on the rump says Singer. But crack open their website and right on page one is the statement, "This is a Porsche 911, not a 'Singer 911'". Ship of Theseus, old German sports car, testimonial to the god/devil is in the details?
Speaking of specifics, the founder of the Singer firm, Rob Dickinson, was formerly a rock musician. Come to think of it, some bands such as Yes, Ratt, Thin Lizzy, Blood, Sweat and Tears are all bands containing none of the founding members of the original band. Is Yes still Yes, or No, or Pretty Much, or Maybe, Sort of? But one can see how in the modern litigious universe, the rights of ownership, of identity, can suddenly pivot on an ancient metaphysical conundrum.
Now, back to the original question. All the cells in your body replace themselves continuously. An article I read suggested 7 years as the average age of cells in our bodies and a bit of homework reveals heart cells can live 40 years, skeletal muscle cells live 15 years, liver cells about a year and red blood cells around 100 days. Your body merrily makes a teaspoon of fresh cerebrospinal fluid every 12 minutes to bathe your brain so you can read this. Divide your age by 7 and this is roughly how many times the planks of your ship have been replaced. So, who exactly is you? It's a subtly different question than "Who are you?" Let's assume all your cells have been replaced at least once, are you the person who was you before? Are you the man your wife married? Or vice versa? Nope, not anymore.
Based on this physical reality, one smacks into the concept of "self". If all your brain cells, the stuff you think is you thinking about stuff, are refreshed, then the continuity of your sense of self is physically a total illusion. Ok, fine. Then the self is a construct, literally, of memories (which, it's worth pointing out, are not actually "things") which are continually being recreated on a cellular matrix continually being recreated. Let that sink in for a moment.
How are you feeling now? An unavoidable conclusion, it seems, should be the recognition that who we are is subject to change. ALL THE TIME. We are living chemistry sets. We exist because a supernova blew up billions of years ago releasing the elemental componentry -- carbon, hydrogen, iron, calcium, oxygen, etc. -- that swirled about and magically made bodies with a self-aware noggin on top. What we perpetuate as ME is nowhere written in stone in any conceivable sense. Your past is ancient history, with only the life and meaning you select. Resto-mod, my friends. No reason not to. Get lighter, faster, sleeker... at least in your minds. Rehearse the stories you choose. Pick the greatest hits and make that you. By the way, it's free.
So, not feeling yourself? Of course not. Identity is by its fundamental nature ephemeral, and a counterpoint to the flesh of our arms and the seeming permanence of those freckles...
Where does art enter this discussion? Art is an anchor, nailing down headlong experience into repeatable moments of perception. See this sparkle on the wall? Yeah, that one right THERE. Come back tomorrow and it's still there. Play that funky music again and you feel that funk all over again. Magic. AND, endlessly textured. My light sculpture is different all the time based on the light sailing through the room at 186,000 miles a second. The metal is the constant. The light is the funky dance and your eyes and brains the filter, the lips of the kiss, the neural firings reminding you of the best parts of living. I make and sell anchors made of light waves. Best job ever.
And I am I, and you are you, at least for the moment. Eventually, we go back to the supernova debris... So, we are we together, again.
Rock steady.
Stay in touch.
Buy big art.
B Mac
