Self-deconstruction by way of materialism


The so-called subject (The Voice that says “I think …”) is a chemical process. It’s not just that The Voice is chemicals. It’s worse than that. The Voice—aka you—is a chemical process.

That’s right—“you” don’t even exist as a substance-type thing. You are rather a way of movement. And the substrate that moves is also not a substance. It’s movement all the way down, and at no level is there anything that can be properly called a thing. If you look deeply into what you are you will find neither unity nor stasis at any level.

First tier hope: I am a moving thing

The thing that is moving is not a single big thing. Movement of one big thing would be comforting to The Voice because The Voice uses the subject–predicate form, where the referent of subject insists on being unitary. It would be nice if you were a solid unitary thing, a big hunk of Parmenidean rock, one of Lovecraft’s cyclopean monoliths—or perhaps an extra-large statue of Moloch being carried atop the NASA crawler-transporter.

And a mighty being did stand thereupon. Yea, a mammoth version of the most venerable Estes Rocket did stand thereupon.
And a mighty being did stand thereupon. Yea, a mammoth version of the most venerable Estes Rocket did stand thereupon.

One big thing moving would be majestic—the motion would be external to the thing whose unity remained grandly in tact.

The “thing” moving is actually a buzzing hive of little tiny things. Perhaps these things look like little people?

Second tier hope: I am a collection of cute moving things

False. The little things moving around aren’t even cute. You’re not comprised of a collection of kittens. But a bunch of little H.R. Giger monsters.

This is a living brain … a self. Undergoing an AVM (arteriovenous malformation) removal. An AVM is a blood-flow mistake: arterial and venous trunks meet directly, so that blood goes through them instead of through the richly dispersed (and high-resistance) capillaries, so that surrounding tissue starves and dies.
This is a living brain … a self. Undergoing an AVM (arteriovenous malformation) removal. An AVM is a blood-flow mistake: arterial and venous trunks meet directly, so that blood goes through them instead of through the richly dispersed (and high-resistance) capillaries, so that surrounding tissue starves and dies.

But perhaps ugly things moving around are sentient?

Third tier hope: I am a collection of ugly homunculi

False. The little monsters you are made of have no sentience of their own. If you made eye-contact with them they would not be aware of you. The little monsters are blind machines that are not self-possessed but merely the necessary consequences of rules. There are no unified intentional ghosts running them.

But at least these blind monsters are units that remain intact over time?

Fourth tier hope: I am a collection of ugly robots

False. The blind machines that make you up are not units, but bundles that are nothing over and above their parts. A biological “unit” is in fact a multiplicity of parts; its unity is only imputed. The reality of a heap is its parts, and these constantly combine, rearrange, and get replaced. The unit emerges from nothing through the congregation of parts, parts that converge from far and wide, parts that did not exist as “a” group until some stable or periodic movement allowed “it” to be present as a group-able swarm, whose only real unity is functional anyway. That is, the unity of a biological unity is only a unity for an observer.

But at least the atoms that comprise my heaps are units?

Fifth tier hope: I am a collection of discrete atoms

False. The atoms that make you up, which we today call particular elements, are not actually a-toms (uncuttable). Atoms are themselves convergence points of parts, parts that are lost and replaced.

But at least my subatomic parts are stuck together for a long time in stable configurations that ward-off everything expect massive incursions of sudden force (like neutrons attacking the strongly-held proton-neutron bundles).

So at least my subatomic constituents are stable?

Sixth tier hope: I am a collection of stable quarks and electrons

False. These parts are not even solid. Your subatomic ingredients pop in and out of space; or, space is actually a soft froth of quasi matter. And that is what the lingering cluster of you really is.

The so-called YOU is an evolving knot inside of and made up of the soft froth we falsely call “empty space.” You are an eddy that exists temporarily in the steam of passing matter—shedding, breathing, eating-drinking, shitting-pissing—due to the configuration of the blind robots that sustain it. You are a colony of cellular automata that are themselves open systems that are constantly replaced.

Many, changing, and automatic. As above, so below.