Pieces of my soul
Every so often I attempt to clean my house. At one point, I had over 2,000 books, most of which I am not reading at this time - not enough hands. I whittle down my book collection - I donate a few hundred every year and "recycle" the truly awful ones. In the process of all of this whittling, I noticed something - I was sadden by this act of cleaning.
Who am I? Who are you? Am I just an island, defined by nothing other than mind? Are things around me actually part of me? Can I be better defined as "me and my environment"? Things around me have memories associated with them. When I scan over my books, I see the titles and remember what was in them. Without those around to remind me, my memory of them will fade over time. So, by getting rid of the books, am I not also getting rid of pieces of me? I have to be defined as "me in my environment". So, any changes to my environment are changes in who I am. By cleaning, am I not killing myself, throwing away pieces of me?
The same goes with buying new stuff - I have to change some aspect of myself to adapt to the new items. I am a different person after I buy something - which is why I buy so many books. :) If only I could absorb the information in them... but I digress.
This led me to realize something! eBay. Why is it so popular? Because it allows people the opportunity to try and recreate an earlier version of themselves! People can find the stuff they had as a kid, for example. I've seen it - people talk about something from their long lost past and get all misty-eyed. They obviously have the memory of the object, but for some reason, once they acquire it from a place like eBay, they are different. They have a clearer picture of their memories from their past - they have partially recreated themselves from the past.
So, maybe a company that could focus on recreate ones childhood, or some other past point in time, by selling items that allow you to be that previous person - now that would be a killer company. I even have a company motto: We sell you pieces of your soul.
The Edward