Have you ever wondered what happens when your body comes to the end of its viability as a living organism? Have you ever wondered what you are? How often? How many times did you answer, ‘I’m a Human’? I did, so many times I stopped asking. Until an extreme experience, beyond my control, changed almost everything I thought I knew. I now think, ‘Yes, here and now, I am human’ – that is, the body currently carrying me around is human; and one part of me is an operator of the gross corporeal part – the body. So what is ‘me’, the ‘I’, asking the question? Is it a function of the body? Or the operator? There definitely seems to be two conjoined parts making my human condition, one which is here, and another part which is not here – it’s somewhere else. If all humans are built from the same two parts, do we all have the same thoughts?
Are all human bodies, vessels, for something else?
When I fall asleep at night, my body lies there, parked in a safe place. But the non-physical part of me goes off on its own, and when it comes back, I often have the feeling it has been away for far longer than the seven or eight hours the body it occupies has been parked. The body is rested and often healed, ready for another day doing what the driver asks it to do. Is this the nature of all life? Accumulating experiences through which we learn and grow? Into what?
We know the Universe has more to it than the cleverest humans can determine, measure and see, because they tell us it has dark matter – approximately 27%, and dark energy – approximately 68%; these are properties beyond the frequency we inhabit which is approximately 5% of the totality of the Universe. If part of the human is not part of the body, is it in the 95% of the Universe we can’t determine, measure and see? I believe there’s a very good chance it is.
I am a symbiont. Why wasn’t I taught this in school?