Tripartite Tenets—Part 2

Now to the contentious aspect of our being: Do we have a soul? While there is little doubt about the existence of the body and mind, we find strong debates about whether the soul is real. And it's even harder to define than the mind. While there is plenty of indirect evidence for the reality of the mind, the soul is much less substantial and provable. The dictionary defines it as “the spiritual or immaterial part of a human being or animal, regarded as immortal.”

That “immortal” part is what some people object to. They might agree with the immaterial part (after all, so is the mind), or even the spiritual aspect, but how does anyone know that it's eternal? Where is there any evidence for that contention? What does spiritual even mean? Isn't the description of the spirit and soul really a circular argument—because we define the soul as the spiritual part of us, and our spirit as the soul of us? In the end, the existence of the soul is essentially a belief—something that many of us simply accept as true. Its truth does not stand on nearly as solid ground as does the mind, however.

So the tripartite view of the human being is a debatable one. The body is unequivocally real (unless you are a hard-core disciple of Descartes). The mind—even though we can't see or touch it—seems also to be real, especially if you understand some of the remarkable findings of neuroscience. What about the soul? Its existence—or not—is very open to interpretation.

I think a more relevant question on the issue is: Does it matter if the soul is real? Does it matter if it's immortal or not? To some people it matters very much. I'm not certain it does. What really matters is that we live a moral life; that we help, rather than harm. Anyone's belief in the soul or even the existence of God is, I think, not essential to creating and living that moral life. And I believe that is an important point—given that there is no irrefutable evidence for either the soul or God. Neither can be irrefutably proven nor banished. In the end, it's not my beliefs that matter; it's my actions.

Tripartite Tenets—Part 1

How do we define a being—in particular, a human being? Of course, we could defer to biology for a definition of a living entity, which describes it as possessing certain characteristics; or to the dictionary, which defines a being as “the nature or essence of a person.” Now, that definition is a bit of an anthropocentric perspective, since it could be argued that a dog or a bat is also a being, and that they have their own essence.

But sticking with the human arena for the moment, there is widespread acceptance that we Homo sapiens are a tripartite entity which consists of a body, a mind, and a soul. It's the union of these three qualities that makes me, me. Each of us is a unique human being, whose body, mind, and soul comprise who we are, and the combination makes each one of us distinct.

Not everyone agrees with this perspective, however. Some would argue that there is no such thing as the soul—that each of us is really a bipartite being. To take a closer look, let me consider the nature of each of these three components of a human being—starting with the least controversial one: the body.

The body is the only one of the three that is a material entity. All of our senses—sight, hearing, smell, touch, taste—will confirm that indeed we have a body. It can be seen, heard, smelled, touched, and tasted. I can use any one—or all—of my senses to convince me that the body is real. There's little disagreement that our corporeal essence exists.

How about the mind? Although none of our senses can unequivocally prove it, each of us is quite certain that we do have a mind. It may be immaterial, but common sense and experience tell us that our mind is real—just as real as the body. In fact, Rene Descartes, some 400 years ago, reasoned that our mind is the only real thing about our being that we can be sure of. In a deeply skeptical analysis, he concluded that, although we might be deluded about our body, we can be sure that we are thinking, and thus we exist—even if the only real aspect of us is our mind.

Descartes' thinking aside, how do we know that we have a mind, if we cannot see it or touch it? Many historical arguments and scientific experiments offer us evidence of its reality, yet it remains a diaphanous thing. Is it measurable? Can it be proven? Most of us are convinced we do have a mind—an aspect of us that enables us to be aware, to have experiences, to think (Descartes' point), and to feel. It's the basic faculty of our consciousness.

Modern science has provided lots of evidence for the existence of the mind—through various technologies of brain scans. In fact, the body and mind are intimately connected. Yet many questions remain. How does an immaterial entity like the mind influence, or even direct, the material body? Where does the mind reside—in the brain? Throughout the body? Or even outside the body? Can the mind survive the body's death? Might it be possible some day to upload the mind into a computer and thus achieve some kind of immortality?

More tripartite tenets next time...

American Lady Butterfly

Here are two views of this beautiful butterfly, showing the different patterns on the underside and top of its wings. Click to enlarge.

Unhappy Endings

There is a love story from the Chinese Tang Dynasty, that was written over 800 years ago, of two lovers, Yingying (her) and Zhan (him). After a stuttering start, the two lovers subsequently united in ecstasy, but their affair had an unhappy ending. The story's conclusion was not nearly as tragic as Romeo and Juliet—both of the Chinese lovers lived on—but their affair did not enjoy the Hollywood movie ending of riding happily off into the sunset; that compulsory cheery outcome that the movies seem to demand.

Happy endings provide an immediate feel-good rush. We leave the theater or set the book down, with a buoyant feeling. All the problems have been resolved; everyone feels good. But that rosy feeling quickly fades and the story subsequently also fades from memory with it. Escapism seems pleasant in the moment, but quickly dissipates. The white hats won. The lovers live happily ever after. The drama is neatly tied up, but soon forgotten.

That is not reality, however. Real life stories often end ambiguously, or even unhappily; in an ending that leaves us unsettled and unsatisfied. It bugs us. It's disturbing. Many literary and film artists understand this dynamic and they often leave us hanging, or with that feeling of being a little disturbed. Unhappy endings tend to stick with us. The outcome bothers us. We keep mentally working on it, trying to find meaning in the melancholy ending. Sometimes we do discover significance, as we mull it over.

It's similar to poetry—in that we continue to process the message and often find deeper meaning, or realize that the unhappy story ending—though a bit unsettling—can be very appropriate. There often is a moral that is expressed in an unfortunate conclusion, which rosy outcomes rarely deliver.

Chinese society during the time of the Tang Dynasty was rather bothered by the sad ending of the story of Yingyin and Zhan. People wanted to feel better about the tale, so the ending was later given a happy twist. Rather than have them part ways and feel sad or resentful towards the other, the new result saw the lovers living on together in bliss. It made Tang citizens more comfortable for a while, but soon people realized that any lessons offered by the original sad ending were absent. Moreover, the cheery ending did not adequately reflect the values of society at the time—which were to honor one's duty to society, not pursue personal pleasure.

Soon the original unhappy ending was restored. As a result, the story of Yingying and Zhan has endured for hundreds of years. People continue to derive meaning from it. Its twists and turns are still debated and discussed. Is there a lesson here, which the happy ending did not deliver? Many people think so.

When we experience a cognitive jab from a tale, it causes us to persist in thinking about the story. In contrast, a cognitive consolation feels good in the moment, but can soon be forgotten. Being forced out of our comfort zone can be useful. We can learning something and grow from it.

Coyote Cuisine

After decades of being driven out to the wilds of North America, the coyote is making a spectacular comeback all over the country. A wolf-like, wild dog native to North America, the coyote was unmercifully exterminated—like its cousin the wolf—from populated areas long ago, but the clever animal has recovered and is showing up in many major American cities. A recent survey found that over 90% of American urban areas are currently inhabited by them. And they are becoming increasingly bold—often being seen in broad daylight. Out here in my countryside they can be heard calling on occasion, but rarely seen; maybe because we have a dog patrolling the area.

Today's urban coyotes are discovering that cities offer them an eclectic and convenient diet. No longer having to rely upon chasing down wild prey and tasty farm animals out in the countryside, urban coyotes dine on fruit, pet food, and domestic cats—the last of which constitutes up to one-quarter of their rations in Los Angeles. Unfortunately, coyote attacks on humans are also on the increase there—up by a factor of eight in five years! One neighborhood of Culver City, California, experienced some 40 deaths of pets, over a six-month period in 2018! Yikes, that behavior could get them outlawed again!

How do the authorities come up with these dietary figures? Surely they don't rely solely on the frantic response and viral rumors of pet owners. Panicky cat owners are not the most reliable source of information, when Fluffy seems to have disappeared. Maybe Fluffy simply decided to go on an extended voyage, or chased a mouse into the next county.

To be sure of their estimates, researchers in Santa Monica examined the contents of 30,000 coyote scat found in nearby areas. That's a load of poop, but good science demands thorough work and a shitpotful of data. Yes, the poop scientists found excremental evidence of the remains of cats—along with other tasty items such as work gloves, rubber bands, condoms, and a piece from a computer keyboard. (Maybe the letter “c”, for cat?)

A follow-up study by researchers at the University of California, Irvine, examined the stomachs of over 300 coyotes killed on highways. At least they didn't have the job of picking through scat. They also found the smoking-gun remains of pets—along with a baseball, shoes, pieces of furniture, and even some jewels.

Now, urban coyotes, as I wrote above, do have an eclectic diet. Besides cats and small dogs, they seem to enjoy fruits and berries—and there certainly are many fruit trees in sunny California. City officials are a bit stumped about how to respond to Canis latrans—also called “brush wolf” and “prairie wolf,” so they are irresponsibly handing off the chore to citizens, by suggesting that they reduce readily available food supplies, such as fruit trees, pet food, and trash. But if they do that, the foraging and clever coyotes may go after even more cats. Better keep Fluffy indoors.