Edges

Where does the edge of one thing stop and the next begin? The table that you sit at seems to have a clearly defined edge, at least from an every day perspective. What if you were the size of a fly? A mite? An amoeba? An atom? the edge would no longer be a simple straight line, but a jagged, roiling cloud of haze. It would be like trying to define the edge of a cloud of mist.

Thinking further, where does your body's edge stop? At you fingertips? Just past them? Is your breath still part of 'you'? What about your sight and hearing? Science has informed us that your are an island. There is only a sheen of perception between you and the outside world. You cannot exit your body, in any sense - you aren't looking at that distant building, it is reflecting light into your eye and your brain is translating that into the concept of 'distance'. Your eyes aren't lasers that reach out and touch objects, they are merely sensors into which light travels.

If it feels a bit unintuitive, have a read of Rupert Sheldrake. A bit of an esoteric to be sure, but he believes that senses do travel outward from the body - not only that, but they actually 'touch' the objects they interact with. Some of his chapters suggest you can actually feel someone looking at you; that attention can be sensed. That fields of consciousness extend past the limits of the physical body.

If your consciousness can extend, can it travel? Can it meet other consciousnesses floating around? Can it meet the consciousnesses of other entities like mountains, suns, galaxies? Science and philosophy can battle that one out. Given that we can even wonder about such things means at least we can tell stories and create artworks on the subject.