It’s an illusion that there is a centre to consciousness. It’s a subjective feeling that you are located somewhere up there behind your face looking out into the world, authoring your thoughts and making decisions.
It’s a constant battle between cogito ergo sum and esse est percipi.
A complex interaction between your unique memories, your unique biological composition, your past and present environments, and the ongoing neurological processes that experience and interpret them.
A fleeting subjective experience in an ocean of possible experiences.
What do you want?
Peace
Everything is explained by one of our gods: https://neopythonic.blogspot.com/2008/10/why-explicit-self-has-to-stay.html
It’s the thing in the corner of your flat, that’s where you put plants or book you’ll say you’ll read but you will not
The self is that which knows itself as it actually is.
Oh it’s me. Hi, how’s it going?
