Duality

I realize I have been neglecting my blog for the past weeks, but hopefully the next couple of entries will do this page some justice. For some reason I can't actually sit down and write unless the sun has been down for several hours, I have caffeine coursing through my veins, and music blaring in my headphones (tonight's tunes happen to be Mumford and Sons).
I'm going off my previous entries, so you may want to read them before this one if you haven't already. One more thing before diving into this: I'm pretty skeptical of lots of things, I'm not attempting set anything in stone. None of this is concrete. I'm constantly exploring. These entries serve to organize my musings and reflect on the readings and teachings I encounter.

A couple of weeks ago I stayed up till around 4am talking about a number of things with a friend of mine, it's a bummer I didn't record the conversation because at the time it was eye opening but now its foggy, I'm going to attempt to dust off the cob webs.
In my previous entry I explored Descartes' idea that there is a separation between the body and the mind/soul. Assuming my exploration was sound one thing we can be certain of in this world is that we exist, not necessarily physically, for this could merely be an illusion, dream, or a shadow, but beyond this realm. To Descartes the true essence seemed to be the mind, but that's problematic.

The mind is our friend in exploration of ourselves, but in the end it is also a crutch for it is rooted in the physical realm. Anxiety, whether agitated by external agencies originates in the mind. When we start to question our actions, just as I question every sentence typed into this entry, anxiety grows. I sit alone. Only the pressure of time is present at the moment, and yet I feel anxious. My thoughts are loud and disorganized. Why? Unfortunately it seems my mind takes a purely subjective stance at the moment. In fact the mind is purely subjective in its rawest state. We learn from our experiences, and surroundings, perceived by our senses. Descartes stated that our senses distract us from the truth and can be deceptive. How then can we trust the mind? It's so easily molded by what we come across in our lives. The only thing truly proved by Descartes' arguments is not that the mind exists, but that the self exists. There is a separation from the body and the self. This body is a shell. It's an object. I am more than my body.
In an effort to quiet the mind as thoughts arise we can ask our mind a question: To whom has this thought arisen? Naturally we answer to me. However, a follow up question is necessary: Who am I? One of the most powerful questions a philosopher can ask if you think about it.

I stray from this initial point of duality (the separation between body and self) to talk about how society and the world we live in has shaped our perceptions.

Who am I? Well...I'm Taylor Lee Wallace. But this isn't true, not purely at least. My name means nothing at all. It does not define me, it's merely something my parents decided to call me. However in the world we live in it defines us to the people we meet. My driver's license says Taylor Lee Wallace, Male, 5' 8", Brown Hair. That doesn't describe me. It's merely a simple way for the cop that just pulled me over for speeding identifies me. It doesn't come close to defining me.
Who am I? I'm a guitar player, I'm a poet, I'm an artist. Nope...that doesn't cut it, and I'll tell you why. The things I do in my life don't truly define me. Don't agree with me? Well was I any less myself when I was born than I am now? Of course not. But I wasn't a guitar player, a poet, or an artist then. These are fairly recent decisions I have made. Who knows, in a few months, years, decades I may decide that I find happiness not in my art, but in spelunking. The mind is fickle. Does that mean I'm less of myself than I was before? More? No. I'm myself from the minute I'm born to the minute I die, whether I'm an artist, business man, bank robber, or a mental patient. These merely answer what I do, not who I am.

I could keep finding faulty answers to this question, but its pointless. I'm not ready for the answer. I can't seem to fathom it. I don't quit, but I accept that I am myself, whatever that is. I know that it's more than my body, more than my name, more than my talents. These are merely vessels through which the self is expressed and explores.

"Existence or Consciousness is the only reality. Consciousness plus waking we call waking. Consciousness plus sleep we call sleep. Consciousness plus dream, we call dream. Consciousness is the screen on which all the pictures come and go. The screen is real, the pictures are mere shadows on it."
-Ramana Maharshi
When staying up pondering with my pal we attempted to explore the teachings of Ramana. I was new to his teachings, as I am now...however echoes of Plato's allegory of The Cave bounce around my head after reading this. The reason I ask myself who I am in an effort to silence my troubling thoughts is to remind myself that I am myself. I exist. That's pretty much it. Where can I go from there? The answer is here.