An existential monologue



"My it's cold! Being left outside to freeze on a winter's night is no fun but it seems to be my place in life. My destiny if you like. Later, after the sun rises I'll start to move around a little and this will spread warmth throughout my whole being and as the day progresses I'll forget the miseries of this horrible night. However, later on there'll be the open road and as I begin to go faster and faster the heat inside me will build to intolerable levels and so it's probably fair to say that in the course of the day I will go to extremes of both heat and cold. Life! It's no fun.

However, the question which really bothers me is: how does a tyre manage to think thoughts? Technically I am an inanimate object and, as inanimate objects cannot think, they cannot be. So although initially tempted to say something like I am not here because I am not and therefore do not exist, it might be possible to say that I am here because I exist as an imagining in an imagination. That imagination is imagining me and therefore I am. I exist. But if I exist in the imagination which imagines me, what purpose do I have in that imagination? What is the meaning of existing as an imagining? Why is that imagination imagining me? The next question of course is: how did that imagination come to imagine something like me? Why me, a motor car tyre and not some other 'thing'? Do I have a purpose in that imagination's imaginings and if I have, did I grow out of another imagining? For example, do I, in that imagination, have a history? And, if so, what is it? Has that imagination imagined some kind of starting point for me like a rubber tree and, from there to a factory which made me? Does that imagination also have to imagine all the other things in the factory its imagination created so it could imagine my coming into existence? In fact, if we take the machine which pressed me into shape, did the imagination which had to create it so it could create me also imbue that machine with the power to think? Is that machine now at this moment thinking thoughts similar to mine? In fact, are all the machines associated with my creation also, in the imagination which imagined them, capable of thought? If they cannot think, then surely they cannot be.

But before allowing ourselves to get bogged down in the multiplicities involved in pursuing this direction, we should ask why the imagination which imagined me actually imagined me? And, why did it imagine me, a tyre and then imagine me as a tyre which could think? Supposing I stood by the realistic fact that because I am an inanimate object I cannot think and because I cannot think I therefore cannot be? What is the imagination which imagined me into existence going to do then? It has imagined me as a tyre which can think but because I can think I can know that I am inanimate and therefore cannot think and, because I cannot think, I am not. I do not exist. That means that I also have to point out to this imagination that because I am not, I cannot be a product of its imagination and must therefore be a delusion.


---November 23, 2007---


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