Are we our bodies?
Last week, I tuned into a thought-provoking podcast that shares its name with a question that's been lingering in my mind: Are we our bodies? This question has led me down a rabbit hole of introspection. What aspects of us exist beyond our physical form? Are our beliefs, our mental constructs, not part of our bodies?
Consider this: when we walk, is it our belief in the solidity of the floor that propels us forward, or is it simply our bodies' innate knowledge of how to move? The same could be said for laughing or crying - these are actions we don't consciously think about, we just do.
Why does this matter? For me, it serves as a poignant reminder of our mortality, of the fleeting nature of our existence. If we are indeed our bodies, and our bodies are destined to decay, then it underscores the importance of cherishing each day.
But what if we are more than our bodies? What if there's a part of us that exists independently, a disembodied essence? This idea quickly becomes complex. I remember a conversation with the priest who was preparing me for my first communion:
"Wait, wait.. so when we die, our body dies and our spirit goes to heaven?" I asked.
"Only if you've behaved correctly," he replied.
This gave me pause. "Okay, so other people who behaved are in heaven, right?"
"Yes."
"But if they have no bodies because they stayed here, how would I recognize my grandpa? Does his spirit also have a body? Like a spirit body? Will my grandpa still have his mustache? Do they have razors for spirit bodies?"
The priest rolled his eyes. "I don't know, Hector. Stop asking questions. Go home."
In more secular terms, this concept somewhat mirrors our interactions through digital tools. Am I the content I produce? What about the content others produce? Or the content that is generated by something I generated?
The advent of GenAI tools has been exhilarating, democratizing capabilities that were once the domain of Hollywood studios, large corporations, or highly skilled freelancers. I used Wonder Studio for the video above.
Observing that disco robot as it leaps on the sand, its feet basking in the warmth of the bonfire, I'm transported back to that conversation with my priest. Only this time, I find myself in both roles - I am both the curious young boy and the weary priest. I'm driven by an insatiable curiosity that urges me to seek knowledge, yet simultaneously, I'm overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the questions I'm wrestling with.
Let’s go.