Monday, March 14, 2016

Boggled By Consciousness by A.S. Washington

Lately, or for most of my life, I've been asking a question that everyone else has probably asked. "What's the purpose of my life/life itself."

It's the question with an easy answer for those who have found their purpose, but for those who have not, it remains ever elusive.

I've found my purpose in life, and I've also found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with (I love you Jade). My purpose is to write novels and hopefully one day become acclaimed by fiction critics and other novelists. If I make a couple more bucks or a couple million bucks that'd be cool, but I'd do it for free. And oh my wife to be, I can't wait to marry her.

So it would seem that all is covered and all is well, and for the most part it is.

However, the belief in, the existence of, and the horrors ever present on the Earth about this guy/gal/guy-gal called God (or whatever else he/she might be called) continues to create a multitude of questions that I can and can't answer. It all depends on the day. It all depends on my mood. It all depends on what did or didn't happen recently.

The conundrum of the great beyond, of space and time, of heaven and hell, and of the destiny of man got me thinking about something. That something was consciousness.

I am aware like any of you who is taking the time to read my rambling - that I exist. I have thoughts and the ability to pose these primordial questions. To wonder if my consciousness existed in some other plain of existence I can't remember that I may or may not ever see again. Or, if it is the result of the simple, but ever complex hard-wiring of my brain.

Scientific advancement has started to theorize heavily on consciousness, but even the best and brightest minds can't put their finger on it. So many questions are begged when I think about consciousness. Here are a few:

Why am I here now in this time as opposed to any other?

Why was I born to my particular set of parents?

If my parents had waited a couple of days to do the naked tango, or say maybe a month, would the child they had produced still have been me?

If they didn't, and stopped having children after my brother was born, or if my mom had some injury that destroyed her ovaries, would I have never been born, or would I have been born to some other couple?

There are a million other questions that have circulated in my mind over the past couple of days. Consciousness keeps God real in my mind, because it is again something that science can't fully explain. Don't you wonder, as I do, "when does a baby become aware that they are here and present, that they are them?" Maybe you do, and maybe you don't.

Science explains so much and attempts to explain what it can not. Religious doctrine explains so much, but has so many contradictions and unfilled holes. We are forced on both accounts to accept what we see, feel, hear, taste, and ultimately we have the right, even under the worse circumstance of restrictions, to believe what it is that we would like to.

We still can't talk to the dead, so no one knows exactly what happens after we die other than the decay and rot of the body that was once us that eventually turns to dust.

But science says that we are all a big mass of energy and energy according to the law of conservation of energy states that, "Energy can neither be created nor destroyed; rather, it transforms from one to another." Which makes me beg again - where do "I, me, this person that is unique and different from everyone else go when I do. Where did I come from. What source of energy did my consciousness spring from?" Religions gives us the soul, and thus we exists forever, or at least until the almighty one decides that we've not believed well enough.

I guess every questions breeds another question. Help me out, tell me what you think. I'm still boggled and I might die boggled. But at least we can try to put a finger on it together.

Until next write...

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