THE TINKER'S BACKPACK (A Philosophical New Year's Tale)

Who are you? Who am I? Who are we?

Yes, we all have our legal identification; we are registered somewhere, the tax office monitors our accounts, and "the cloud" seems to know a lot about us—our escapades, adventures, and wanderings.

Well, it seems we are perfectly identified!

But all those data (name, address, profession, income, likes, dislikes, hobbies, plans, desires, memories, etc.) are not "us". Not even Dr. Frankenstein, assembling all those intricate details and experiences, could construct the "SELF" that, essentially, we are.

Because all those things—and many more—are merely our business card, the facade we present to others (and even to ourselves!). But they are not the "essence" of our "SELF."

Perhaps that's because, in reality, there is no such thing as an "essence of the SELF."

Or maybe it's simply that, even now, after two and a half millennia, we still don’t know how to identify it.

Indeed, this is a topic that ancient Greek philosophers, from the times of Socrates, Heraclitus, Parmenides, and Plato, had already explored.

And also, contemporary thinkers like Sartre, the existentialist, or Karl R. Popper, the critical rationalist.

I began pondering this question this morning while getting ready in front of the mirror.

At first, I was struck by the image of myself and thought, "Well, that’s ME."

But then, thinking a bit deeper, I realized that image couldn’t be ME, because it was a symmetrical image of me; for instance, when I raised my right hand, the image raised its left, and it also had the part in its hair on the opposite side. So, although it resembled me greatly, it was obviously not ME.

But—it occurred to me—if my true SELF cannot be confined to mere appearance, what could the essence of that SELF be?

If I stripped off my clothing, the mirror would still reflect the appearance of my SELF, which, besides being symmetrical, still wouldn’t capture my true essence.

There had to be something more. Something deeper.

I decided to forget about the mirror and think about myself: What if, instead of garments, I shed something more "mine"? For example, what would happen if I lost a limb?

I would still be ME, obviously, though somewhat diminished, yet with the same essence of my authentic SELF.

And if I lost all my limbs—except my vital organs, of course?

I would still be ME; certainly disassembled, but essentially the same as if I were whole.

So, where does the essence of the SELF reside?

"Ah, in the mind, of course!" Thoughts, experiences, memories, plans…

The "mind" is the essence!

And there I was, all pleased with my discovery, thinking about writing an article on the subject to publish, when I saw him, looking at me with a mocking air.

Not the SELF in the mirror. That one merely reflected the symmetry of my gestures and antics in celebration of my "discovery."

I saw Descartes, sitting on a bookshelf, holding a hefty tome of philosophy in his hands and seemingly quite attentive to the faces and gestures with which I underscored the progress of my reasoning process.

At first, I started at the unexpected sight; then, I calmed down upon noting his harmless appearance, and finally, I grew worried about the disapproving expression with which he seemed to greet all my internal discourse.

It was as if he were reading my thoughts and was not too fond of the ideas I was enthusiastically cooking up.

He pointed to something in the book as he said in a condescending tone:

"Read here. And spare us the conjectures."

"I think, therefore I am," I read aloud. "But that’s what you said!"

"In the 17th century," he patiently replied. "It seems you haven’t learned much since then. At least, you haven’t."

I stared at him, dumbfounded (I think with my mouth open). Seeing my silence, he continued explaining.

"That means thinking is not the first thing."

"What?" I exclaimed, surprised. "But that’s what we humans do."

"Yes, but it’s not the first thing. One can think whatever one wants: logical things and nonsense; even imagine that one’s thought is an inner voice, sincere or deceitful; or think one is dreaming. But what one thinks is not what defines one; it is not one’s ESSENCE."

I think I opened my mouth even wider because the wise man widened his eyes further and went on to explain:

"The essential thing is to EXIST, as the existentialists would gladly explain if you read them. Before thinking, we must BE, we must exist. If we don’t exist, we don’t think. Once we exist, we can think whatever comes to mind. Do you understand?"

After considering it for a moment, I shook my head. I felt more confused than at the beginning.

"Look," Descartes continued, summoning his patience, "it’s as if we carry a backpack in which we store thoughts, memories, plans, feelings, beliefs, etc. The backpack is not us. It only serves to make the journey of life easier—or harder—depending on what we put into it."

"Ah!" I exclaimed. "That means..."

"That we are not bound to always be the same SELF."

"How so?" I asked.

"In reality, we are what we DO, not what we think we are. One can think they are a coward, but if they begin to act bravely, they are behaving like a different SELF, even though they remain the same PERSON (not the same 'coward') as always."

"And the 'winner' is not a winner because they were born that way," I said, "but if they stop striving…"

"...they will most likely start behaving like a failing SELF. But that wouldn’t be a condemnation, just a temporary state."

Descartes must have made a sudden movement because, suddenly, the entire bookshelf came crashing down with a loud clatter.

Well, actually, it was the alarm clock urging me to start the morning.

When I entered the bathroom to freshen up, I saw my reflection in the mirror. Symmetrical, as always, faithfully mirroring my gestures. But I knew full well that it wasn’t ME.

Then, while shaving, I started thinking about the difficulties and challenges I would face throughout the day. But I remembered the backpack and thought to myself:

"I have worries, I have fears, but I am NOT my fears; I am NOT my worries."

Then, it occurred to me to imagine what new model of SELF I would like to choose for the day.

I could choose from infinite possibilities. And yes, it was a bit daunting, but I was thrilled to begin the exploration.

After all, it was the only important thing I had to do on the journey of life: retrace wrong paths and set out on more direct routes toward completing the work.

And my work—the meaning of my life—would be the way to bring my true SELF to reality.

So, I finished getting ready, thought about it for a moment... and took the first step.

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Dear reader, I wish you a Happy New Year and a prosperous FIRST STEP.