Around seventy years ago, someone I call Me was born. As far as I'm concerned, I'm still that same person; the same self-aware person that I've been since, well, since I've been aware of myself. The memories I've stored up for all those years, although they may not be exact and full replicas of events, are still mine and don't vary too much. I have memories that I'm very fond of, and others that I'm not so fond of. Nonetheless, they're all there in the melting pot that is my brain.
One of those memories, or titbits of learning that I've picked up along the way, is that the cells of our body die off regularly and are replaced. Now that's a pretty broad statement and lacks any academic parameters, but it made me think how, if the self is contained in cells, it remains the same when the cells it is made of are constantly regenerated.
Dash it, I decided, this means research and so I began, and, what started out as a simple exercise, became complicated. Now I don't read full tomes to do research, I like to glean pertinent facts, and, in my research, I discovered that different types of cells have different life cycles.
According to Scientific American: "About a third of our body mass is fluid outside of our cells, such as plasma, plus solids, such as the calcium scaffolding of bones. The remaining two thirds is made up of roughly 30 trillion human cells. About 72 percent of those, by mass, are fat and muscle, which last an average of 12 to 50 years, respectively. But we have far more, tiny cells in our blood, which live only three to 120 days, and lining our gut, which typically live less than a week. Those two groups therefore make up the giant majority of the turnover. About 330 billion cells are replaced daily, equivalent to about 1 percent of all our cells. In 80 to 100 days, 30 trillion will have replenished—the equivalent of a new you." April 1, 2021
Which is exactly why I wonder why Me hasn't had numerous incarnations, but remains the same old Me. This meant that I had to study neurons, which I thought is what makes up the custard of our brain. But it's not just neurons.
Next, from the Dana Foundation, Authors: Elizabeth A. Weaver II, Hilary H. Doyle, August 8, 2019:
"The brain is a mosaic made up of different cell types, each with their own unique properties. The most common brain cells are neurons and non-neuron cells called glia. The average adult human brain contains approximately 100 billion neurons, and just as many-if not more- glia. Although neurons are the most famous brain cells, both neurons and glial cells are necessary for proper brain function."
But that's not all. The interesting point to note about neurons comes from The Harvard Gazette and a talk given by W.A. Harris and Joshua Sanes, director of the Center for Brain Science at Harvard, May 11, 2022:
"Adult neurons survive a lifetime and remain malleable for several years."
However, "New brain cells are continually produced in the hippocampus and subventricular zone, replenishing these brain regions throughout life." Fred Gage, PhD, president and professor at the Salk Institute for Biological Studies. 15 April, 2020.
So, enough excerpts taken from respected sources and brilliant minds, from which I've produced a soupcon of pertinent facts regarding cells and their lifespans. It certainly wouldn't do for a thesis but gives me something to go on.
I wonder how many cells, of whatever kind, make up the self in our brains. I suspect they must be lifelong neurons, but as yet, no one has pinpointed the region in the brain in which our self hides out. Perhaps it isn't in one region but is comprised of a number of regions networking with each other. It is a very odd thing that we cannot figure out the location of our very ego. I feel that mine is somewhere towards the forefront of my brain in the frontal lobe. I don't feel like I'm coming from the sides of my brain or the rear but, of course, I may be mistaken. When you think about it, the retina of the eye sees the world upside down and then the brain turns it right side up for us. In the same way the self may be in hiding somewhere else in the brain and, somehow, beamed to our frontal lobe.
On a slight, but relevant, detour; I once had a wonderful doctor, a general practitioner. She studied Medicine in England and then specialized as an anaesthetist. She eventually moved to Australia and, to practice her specialization, would have had to retrain here so she decided to work as a general practitioner as Australia accepted her level of training for this. During one of our conversations, I must have mentioned brain surgery, I no longer remember why, and she wrinkled her nose at the thought. She then said something to the effect that she couldn't have stood being a brain surgeon, that the brain is like custard and, I deduced, this made it a very difficult thing to deal with.
So, somewhere in this custard, the self and all its minions reside. Basically, I think of it as a chemical and electrical soup, or custard if you will. In fact, it's a fatty custard, being made up of at least 60 percent fat and fatty acids are crucial to our brain's performance. No wonder we often get cravings. We are being driven by an ego that doesn't care how it looks. It just wants fuel. It doesn't care about our hips or waist.
Given the brain's custardy nature, it is also no wonder that neurologists and surgeons have to stick electric probes into it to discover what part of it is doing what to which. It is rather interesting that the part of us that thinks, at this stage, defies our ability to analyze it. I mean, we're in the thick of it, it is us, but we don't comprehend how it works.
All power to the brain, I say, because, when we do figure it out, we (not me personally) are going to try and copy it or fiddle with it in ways not to do with its health. Humanity has a bad habit of thinking that its level of progress indicates that it has the ability to interfere with a system way smarter than it is and based on millions of years of evolution. It's fine if they're trying to save a life; it's not so fine if they're trying to alter things for the sake of it.
It will be a bit like giving your seven-year-old some tools and telling him/her to tinker with your car's engine, find out how it works and try and improve it. Personally, myself and I will be happy to hide out in the labyrinth of my custard and see out my time before this happens.
END
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