Prima Facie
May 24, 2010
From the Introduction, ‘Material Constitution: a Reader’ by Michael C. Rea:
“…[Q]uestions about identity over time, the essential properties of objects and events, the nature of persons, the relations between material objects and their parts, the necessary and sufficient conditions for kind-membershp, and other such ontological issues have loomed large in the philosophical literature.”
And in my mind. Your misty handprint still hovers over my mirror. Sticky fingers, sweat on glass that won’t evaporate no matter how hot the water is from the shower. Stubborn print, an organic smudge that will not shift under my antiseptic-sodden cloth. I don’t want to wipe you away. This isn’t about forgetting, it’s about forgiving.
Epicharmus was trying to be funny when he insisted it was another collection of particles that had business to complete. I get the joke now. Brilliant punchline. I’ve been building this collection for years. Less of a hobby, more a way of life. Categories, labels, archetypes – the punctuation of personalities. No one is a stereotype, unless they let themselves become one. There’s always a choice, however inevitable or random the outcome may appear. Forces beyond us equalled by the forces within us. I need to organise this disordered bunch “Emily-wise”. Whatever I decide that that will be.
Who are you? Who were you? How can two emotions be in exactly the same place at exactly the same time? Did we swap bodies, minds, hearts? Fluids? Am I the same person I was last week? I am not a proud person; was I ever?
From ‘Particulars II: Persistence Through Time’, ‘Metaphysics: a Contemporary Introduction’ by M. Loux:
“Metaphysicians, it seems, have a difficult time reaching consensus.”
Metaphysics, not ethics, is the philosophy of relationships. I have to answer these questions myself. Think about them, at the very least – on my own. Not lonely, just alone. Justified solitude. Fair isolation. Icy, it is, certainly. My mother walked a mile through the snow to meet my father, returned from a fiery, faraway land. Each excess of heat collides. You can’t compromise the elements. Let me be pensive, thaw myself amongst this glacier terrain as I singe, seething.
Yet the snow still comes. Yet I still live.
