I think more than is probably good for me. I think about conciousness, time and the nature of reality along with a whole bunch of other things. My current wondering is whether or not I can put into words my thoughts on what it is that makes me me. For what it's worth, I'm guessing the answer is no.
As an old person, I have a long and rich history of being me.
- First there was baby me,
- then child me,
- teenager me,
- 20's me (that guy! Ha, what a hoot),
- 30's me,
- more recent me,
- there's right now me,
- tomorrow me,
- Monday morning me (man, I feel for that guy)
- future me.
Of all those people, "right now me" is the guy I feel closest to. Having said that, I'd probably be prepared to put "right now me" to some small difficulty for tomorrow me, or even a probably future me. Looking back though, I barely remember baby me and I can certainly empathise more with people at work or my family than I can child me - which seems a little strange. Especially when you think that past me actually happened! My memories of past me are surely what go to create "right now me", future me, however, is just a figment of my imagination.
Past me
My brain makes sense of who, what and where I am from my memories. In a simple example, I can follow my train of thought in this blog because I remember why I wanted to write it, I remember sitting down with a cup of tea at my desk - causality is complete. It's easy to understand what happens when that breaks down too - when you walk into a room and forget what is was you went in for. Obviously, my relationship with me goes back further than that, I sat down at my desk to write this blog post with a cup of tea, milk and no sugar, because 30's Ant decided to stop taking sugar in his tea. In a less trivial and slightly more esoteric example, the way I deal with my colleagues at work is different to that of other people. It's different to the way 20's and 30's me did. But there's a fading silver thread that connects us - showing the evolution through time of right now me.
None of those past me's exist in anywhere but my memory and my memory is faulty. I know this because other people's rambling stories about 20's me don't really gel with the handsome young rake I recall. Also - science says it's so - well, the Atlantic anyway. So, I've interpreted my life differently to others and my memories aren't super faithful captures of reality. They are more of an artists impression of stills from the life of me. So, these faulty impressions are what keep me seeing my life as a joined up journey from birth to death. It's not having the same body (as I'm replacing it, bit by bit, over the years of my life). It's certainly not reality. It's just a series of memories which create a complete, unbroken narrative.
Broken narrative
When I wake up in the morning and recall going to bed that night, there has been a definite break in the flow of the narrative. Your internal memories just stop, then start again 8 hours later. If, during your sleep you were cloned, I think most of us would naturally agree that the person who woke up next day in your bed would be you. The person that woke up in the cloning room wouldn't.
Who would the person waking up in the cloning room be? They would wake up in a strange room with all of your memories, right up to going to bed that night.
I think the answer becomes a little less obvious if you now imagine the Star Trek transporter. This device would disassemble people in one location and then reassemble them in another. Is the newly materialised person you? If the answer is yes, then the only reason it can really be you is if the definition of you is your memories.
Now me
It is easy to imagine seeing an unbroken narrative in action when you are at work interacting with a colleague and one moment has to follow another in a sensible order. Even though time has past it's easy to believe that "start of the conversation" you is the same person as "end of the conversation" you. But she isn't, "start of the conversation" you is dead, consigned to the foot notes of history. You can't go back to her and get her to change the course of the conversation.
If we follow this logic, every attempt we make to define "now me" becomes, in the very moment of cognition, "past me". "Now me" seems to exist in an almost impossibly thin fragment of time, by the time we have recognised that something is happening to "now me" it's a memory.
Future me
This is thus the only guy who can really be relied on to get anything done. So he's also the guy we have to protect and care for. Imagine you are told you will be given £20 and a punch in the face. If you could assign each of those to a particular you, I'm guessing most people would assign punch to past you and the money to present you for future you to make use of? How much strain "now you" will take on to make things easier for "future you" seems to vary greatly. I find it quite an interesting concept and way to think about reality. To the point where I think in this manner. If I am performing some particularly onerous task for future me, I hope he'll appreciate it, or if I'm being lazy, I'll think "Ha! Screw you Monday morning Ant I'm leaving it to you to fill the car with petrol".
Who am I?
Well, past me is clearly a lie - me as seen though a glass darkly. Present me is too fleeting, gone before I ever get to know him. Which just leaves future me, who doesn't even exist yet and he's only a figment of my imagination! Each of my memories is just a frozen instant in time like a single frame in a movie. Just like a character in a movie, I am the summation of all of those snapshots played at 25 frames per second to create a coherent narrative. I am that narrative...