The qualifying statement at the beginning of projects of any kind, stating how whosoever the writer is had some surely understandable amount of difficulty in choosing the subject for said project is never of any importance, except in this case, of course, or I would have left it out. The thought process by which I chose my subject has become my subject itself, and thus I begin the ethnography of my being.
I begin with the mind, as it is the chief of all processes under whose guidance and direction my body goes about daily life. Truthfully I have no clue how to formulate an ethnography. My mind is aware of this fact, and has decided it proper to continue anyway, flattering itself with its own subject. My mind is similarly aware of my hands as they type away. In fact, my mind is telling my hands exactly what to write. Not only, though, is it in control of that, it also conducts every strike of every finger, every shift from left to right of the palm, which glides smoothly across this wooden desk, wooden only because my mind has decided to interpret it so. My mind, along with the mind of every other being, is the dictator of all processes, actions, and experiences of the populace of each molecule that forms its respective body. Let’s break this down.
If the mind is the chief, every sense organ is its advisor. The ears for hearing, the eyes for seeing, the nerves for feeling, the tongue for tasting, and the nose for smelling. Of course, no advisor knows himself the complete picture of what it is experiencing. The tongue may taste, but it does not know what tastes good, what is poisonous, what is sweet, or what is preferable to something else. These are all questions the mind must consider. The advisors, therefor, are severely subjugated to the mind. The mind decides when and if they act, what they act upon, and has the final say in interpreting these experiences.
These advisors, though, have no power without the society of molecules and microorganisms by which their organic kingdoms are maintained. The mind itself is only as powerful as the collection of molecules and electrical signals that collectively form it. The mind is aware of this, of course, as the mind is aware of as much as it chooses to be aware of, and in light of this fact, in the best case, it is a benevolent dictator, an enlightened despot. The mind sometimes, though, becomes drunk and makes choices that are injurious to its people. An arm may be broken, an elbow scraped, or a toe jammed. It may incite riot, a revolution. The body may become sick with misuse. In the worst possible case, the minds kingdom may altogether fall apart. If the transgression is too much to bear, the chief and his people may die.
If the mind perceives an enemy, he may wage war against it. If it is disease, he will send the white blood cells. He may burn out the offender. However, he may get carried away and things may get too hot. Again, the kingdom may fall. Hopefully, if the mind is a particularly clever one, he will enlist the help of allies; doctors, medicine, good nutrition, vitamin c. No mind is aware of all the allies it actually has. Of course, if the mind is a great one, he will have built his kingdom to be impervious. His national guard, the immune system, will allow no potentially dangerous foreigner to enter.
If the enemy is external, he may wage war with his army. He may swing his fist. He may kick with his legs. He may engage the enemy with heavy artillery, wielding knife or gun or bomb or tank. Hopefully, however, the mind is a passive one, content in the service of his people.
The mind, with all its power, carries heavy responsibility. He must keep his people warm, free of disease, clean, well rested, in good shape and in good health. The list of responsibilities continues to those the the mind itself isn’t truly aware of. Consciousness, the ability to be aware of something, is not the only things the mind can do. Its powers extend far beyond. These subconscious actions the mind does out of habit. It does what it must do for maintenance. However, if the mind is truly genius, he can develop an awareness of these actions. Some minds can heat their bodies with conscious will alone. Some can survive, hardly clothed, in freezing temperatures. Most minds, however, are not so advanced. However, it is not the mind itself that is lacking, it is the mind’s will to develop such awareness of its own processes. The mind conducts these processes already. It is a question of what the mind sets itself to accomplish.
Second only to the mind, as the mind is in control even of its process, is the heart. The heart has been given the task of feeding the whole of the mind’s kingdom, including the mind itself. Without the heart, the mind and its people would starve and die, but without the mind, the eye would not see food. The tongue would not taste it. the throat would not swallow it. The stomach would not digest it. The intestines would not derive nutrients from this food, and the blood with which the heart feeds the whole being would be lacking in substance. The health of the entire kingdom would suffer. The mind is aware that its survival is completely dependent on the whole of its kingdom, especially its heart. If the heart dies, the mind dies too without exception.
The mind conducts foreign relations with other minds by reforming previously understood words and concepts into new, applicable concepts, and voicing them with its choice of tone and pitch and timbre by means of the lungs, which, under the mind’s direction, take in oxygen and disperse it into the blood. The mind may also communicate with its hands, its hips, its choice of clothing, or anything the mind does as a conscious choice that is visible to an outsider. All there is that is possible to experience is a form of communication. The mind, if it is aware of this fact, may communicate well. It may arouse its desired reaction. The more it is aware of, the better it can conduct its activities. The mind’s only true responsibility is awareness. All other things are either taken care of out of habit or are truly unimportant.
My mind, as it communicates with your mind, is aware that it is not advanced enough to explain to you in perfect clarity the exact thought it is trying to convey. It has not learned enough words. It has not an understanding of biology so complex that it is aware of all the processes it conducts. It simply does not know what it knows. It hopes, however, that your mind has a different set of understandings. That you know other things than it knows, and that hopefully it knows a few things you may not have considered and in some way may fill in some minute gap in the range of potentially understood concepts, which spans on and on to infinity. My mind is a chief that wants all chiefs to work together for the understanding of all things, as it believes that the destiny of all mankind is the understanding of all things. It understands, too, that this belief is something itself has conjured up, and thus has no substance beyond the context of my own mind. My mind is tired, and it hopes that in some way its exertion has exerted your mind too, because this, for some reason my mind could be aware of but isn’t by means of not directing its attention towards the question, would give it a petty sense of gratification. All minds are autonomous states. No mind is more capable of gratification than any other as much as no form of society is intrinsically better than another. It is an issue of what you make of it, and as such, make of this as you will.