The planet was formed and it went into cycles as usual.
And the beings that lived long ago were made of it. They died and their bodies went back into the cycle.
The cycle made me.
Who’s dead body am i made of? Thousands? Millions?
Some guy that lives long after me will be made of what is in my body as we speak. My body will die and he’ll become me later on. Little does some dude know that he is literally made of a dead schizophrenic person.
I wonder though. Who am i made of right now. I know it’s someone. Someone had the exact same ■■■■ in and as their bodies previously.
This is how I sometimes believe souls work, too. That there’s just some giant soul ether out there and we borrow some of it for our lifetime, like we’re borrowing our atoms right now, and in the end it’ll go right back into the melting pot and get mixed back up with all the rest of the soul stuff. So we’re a bunch of dead animals and things and we’ll be a bunch of other animals and things after we die.
It was thinking pretty much the exact same thing you’re thinking about being made of the dead that made me think it about consciousness, too.
That was awesome. I’d heard of it before but never seen it.
I used to have panics regarding the strong and weak nuclear forces - it seemed like since everything was made up of so much space and so little substance, there was nothing stopping me from falling, falling, falling through the earth and on forever. I used to lay in bed at night and feel myself falling again and again, couldn’t make myself stop feeling it.
It’s one of my more frequent obsessions, actually, fixation on scale - our skin is the surface of the earth and our pores volcanoes and we are covered with rivers of sweat and blood like magma flows through us, and how do we know there aren’t entire universes of beings inside of us, on their own little worlds, unable to see beyond cell walls? How do we know our universe isn’t just a cell of another monstrous organism?