I like to think that the parts of myself are not perfectly distinct from my “self”. Perhaps in a certain sense, my neurons, my stomach, my spine are a part of my soul. My hormones are not perfectly distinct from my feelings, or my thoughts even. Can’t we say that we are Beautiful Machines, without reducing ourselves merely to machines? There is a meaningful dance in the falling apart (disarray, inefficiency, confusion) and in the coming together (unity, synchronization) of our individual cogs. Those cogs only useful in the presence of other parts and in the presence of their collective sum. In this sense I think that, though my “self” doesn’t always recognize its parts, the sum, myself, ME, I am “one of” my parts just as they are “one of” me.

Eric Teachout St. Olaf College ’13