What makes us, us. I have pondered over this notion frequently time to time. While I saw the shades of colours in my infancy , have they become distorted over age like the black hair turned to grey. Have they become corrupted by my evilish nature. What have I done, have I ridiculed my divinity. How many countless beautiful memories have I buried in my head and lost in the corners of some darkened place. What makes me twitch, urge to find the deeper meaning of life.
What was life for me, for the days I can’t recollect my memory. What has my hippocampus done. Am I a slave to my mind merely living under the illusion that I have been controlling it, all this while. What has my amygdala done. Registering my emotions without my knowledge and reminding me subconsciously all the time. What would life feel like to experience everything for the first time forever. A blessing or a curse ? What gives my dorsolateral prefrontal cortex to take decisions on my behalf? Does it really take decisions on my behalf and execute or am I under the facade of controlling my mind. Why am I only defined in life by what decisions my left hemisphere of the brain takes. Things, I can never fathom yet intrigue and subsequently annoy me.
What really happens inside my head? What does consciousness mean to me ? Could consciousness be like a storm raging in my brain. The intuitive feeling we have of an executive “I” that sits in a control room of our brain, scanning the screens of senses, prioritizing and pushing the buttons of my muscles could be an illusion? Do I choose my loved one or does the mind do it for me by releasing oxytocin in buckets. It’s true, I guess, love is an addiction. So if my mirror neurons simultaneously learn to receive and categorize empathy and mimicry, does the lack of it make me anti social or in extreme cases sociopath? Well?
This innate curiosity to know about life and its meaning has been continuing since ages furthermore we have learned it through the pages of the ancient scriptures of different religions or be it through spirituality as a whole or through the works of Nietzsche, Plato, Aristotle, or through the poems of Rumi or through those vivid art pieces that disturb the comforted and comfort the disturbed. No matter what road we choose, the destination is the same. As Sigmund Freud rightly stated, whatever we do springs out of two motives; the need to feel important and the sexual desire. As psychologist John Kihlstrom himself admits, “More than Einstein or Watson and Crick, more than Hitler or Lenin, Roosevelt or Kennedy, more than Picasso, Eliot, or Stravinsky, more than the Beatles or Bob Dylan, Sigmund Freud’s influence on modern culture has been profound and long-lasting.”
My point is , come what may, we humans struggle to exceed in our fields in the hopes of leaving a legacy behind , to leave a thought for the future visionaries to implement and all of this arose from these two questions : Why are we here and what should we do while we are here?