Appendix

Whatever faith lacks in proof it makes up by being un-provable.


When I think of the word world or think of the word self, so intertwined are they that I can not imagine why they require two words. I am a delicate person the world is delicate, the universe is composed of all of these delicate things, only the universe is tough. All those neutron stars and blackhole-ulcers in its timing fabric seem innocuous and free; gamma, beta and cosmic rays frugally wonder the immensity, the universe is tough, everything that composes it is fragile. I am fragile.

Here where earth encrusted settled magma ripens trees and flowers and canyons and mountains I start with my brain, I end with my brain.

Never understood the concept brain, an apparatus that serves me well in these here wonderings, even so I imagine, even only through my brain, that the universe is composed, in infinitesimal percentages, by my brain, and my brain is composed by the phantasmagoric universe, much the same as world and self are deterrently mutually inseparable. I sift my port, a flowered alcoholic trouble, and feel its influences upon me, such an idle thing, such an idle thing.

I tell myself, who is here talking, the fine exquisite port or is it me, and why my brain so weak as to allow such niggardly influence altering my will of self. I will to drink indeed, and tell myself I could just as well will my will to resist the influence exercised by this fine port; why we have known well for long that the mind can render poisons powerless and the brain can make a molten pot burn not the hand of the monk that wills denial of the burning flesh.

Oh but to fight the port would be so silly, even as silly as port turns on me. I don’t question the idea, I don’t and won’t deny the effects that port has upon me, which I assume are the result of centuries of careful port production, were I then to rebuke my port, I would be saying naught to centuries of carefully combined renditions accomplished by simple ambitions.

I yield to those labors because they call me and I call them, much the same as world and self call and duty themselves all over each other. What is all of that combined necessity of expression is naught in me brain to know, it is however in me brain to ask. And so it is that I begin here with the question, is it possible for a brain to ask questions that it can not answer? Is there, in the brain something so endemically destructive that a brain might not know when to stop asking questions or what questions not to ask? And if so could then a brain be crippled by its inability to resolve a question? And if a brain is mortally crippled by such endeavors then will this brain continue manufacturing truths that answer its interrogations even as these might themselves be beyond proof and so by nature unbelievable?

I think I can imagine this brain organ trying to turn everything into a thought. I think I can imagine this brain organ trying to turn feelings into thoughts. I think I can see my feelings believing that they are thoughts, especially if their only way to gain acceptance from myself is by accomplishing such disgraceful feat. I pause.

According to Darwin I am a product of evolution. Something about my DNA listening to the environment and reengineering the best possible me to deal with the environment. These process takes hundreds or thousands of years, it is therefore very difficult to observe, so you won’t see any dinosaurs turning into birds, but you can at least fancy that idea. It would be irrational of me to refute something based on evolutionary theory, I am perfectly ok with the idea that a bird is the result of a dinosaur’s instinctive extinction prevention program. Lose some weight, hollow out those bones, exchange that huge body form large wings; it seems an appropriate reaction, for a massive creature to want to be trim and flighty.

Evolution has been or is observable at the microscopic level, which is probably the greatest evidence we have for it though I could argue that microorganisms evolving is not evidence that macroorganism evolve. Of course evolutionists say that we come from monkeys and some other said; why dint all the monkeys evolve? And I say it is because they are conservative. Anyway I don’t think it is too difficult to find relationships between things that inhabit the same environment, I mean that we are all going to have organs and bones that function in this environment or else we are all not going to be here because the environment does demand a certain kind of composition. When we go up and out into space we put on astronaut suits that mimic this environment because the vacuum that is space is hostile to our nature. So Darwin saw the monkeys and said to himself, we look like them so we must come from them. It never occurred to Darwin that the monkeys might actually have evolved from humans. But there is nothing in evolution that would prevent that from being the actual truth. It was just easier to sell the theory if we were the most advanced and refined product of evolution; we don’t really think much of monkeys.

There is much here to talk about but let’s try to keep to our point, I mean to say that there is such a thing as runaway evolution, this is when an organism keeps on evolving even when such is not favorable to the organism. I think peacocks have been used as a perfect example. A peacock’s tail evolved to impress and attract its mate, the ritual got so out of hand that the tail kept on growing in majesty but as always with majesty, it also grew in uselessness to the point of making the peacock easily spottable to its predators and easier to catch because of a very beautiful tail that prevented flight and made it clumsy too. This is what is known as run away evolution, the tail of the peacock is a danger to the peacock but because it is a way to attract a mate it keeps on growing in majesty while ignoring the troubling environment.

I will trouble my self to say, that the brain has now become a danger to the self, it continues to grow with its own importance, asking question that it is not designed or trained to answer, and entering into the emotional and metaphysical realms where it does not belong. Is summary I make the case that the brain is trying to be everything to a human being and that the human being is many more things than just a brain, and so we must proactively determine if we shall allow this brain thing to continue to disproportionally define us and everything that surrounds us.

I would further argue with all my mental energies on hold that the brain has been displaying symptoms of being an appendix for at least the last three decades. So much so that any visionary can only conclude that posterity is going to be brainless. At fist this might seem difficult to believe, specially since we have done so much with that fine organ; but I propose here to prove the obvious, the brain is the product of what we are, it is not, I repeat, it is not what we are, it is a consequence, an attribute that serves a purpose to our manifestations, manifestations which are embodied by an essence that projects itself into this condition, as such, the brain is not only expendable but must have a temporary value to our corporeal being.

It may even be that my brain is writing this to warn us all of its imperialistic folly, at many levels the brain is a wonderful intricate thing, and it is entirely imaginable that the brain could indeed have an altruistic function which would allow it to care more about us than itself; in brief the brain may indeed begin to shut itself off, by causing me to outthink it with its own thoughts. I, as a person, might be a mere trigger for the suicide of brain. Cells in my body constantly commit suicide because it is a benefit to the overall system, when they don’t kill themselves we get cancer, and when the system realizes that then the entire corpus begins to collapse upon itself; much as cells have desirable and undesirable life spans, organs too; only a brain is a very especial organ, and because of this not only do we fall in love with it but also we may give it a greater importance that it may deserve.

Brain must and is capable of unthinking itself and thinking beyond itself. The real difficulty might lie in the habitual dependence that the self which uses that brain acquired, this makes it fall in love with the simplicity and manageability of rational results as produced by the complex organ whose entire function is primarily to simplify the world, make it manageable and comprehensible. That to accomplish this the brain might have to deceive and conjure linear ideas that summersault the complexities and concentric triangulations that must invariably silk themselves into the wool of existence is an unobservable, specially once the brain gets done with it.

Brain can unthink itself, but that the organism that owns it can not unthink the very brain that it created is as magical as it is troubling. It is troubling not because of its brain function but because of the user that has fallen helplessly in love with its logician. Brain is like mother, it tells you “don’t worry darling I will make the world ok for you, everything is going to be alright, in the end you will not only comprehend and control everything but you will be able to change it to your liking.” No sour pudding in that feast. Mom loves you, and mom is instrumental in helping you conquer the challenge of life, but then, and this is the then that matters, then there comes a point when mother dies.