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I found myself tonight once again answering the question "so where did the name 'phi' come from" with an explanation I've used for a while now, that stories get less and less true as time goes on, and at this point the origin of my name is many stories, none of them with any bearing in reality at all.
And I came to two realizations as I was making this explanation.
First, that this isn't because what happened changed, but that who it happened to changed. We are all George Washington's axe (or the ship of Theseus, if you prefer). The "I" in a story from 32 years ago isn't just an imperfect memory of myself; it's also a new understanding of who I was in light of who I became, and even a new understanding of the concept of identity as fleeting and illusory.
And second, that I'd been telling this story about truth for long enough that it was also starting to get less true itself, and that maybe it's not actually about truth at all.
And I came to two realizations as I was making this explanation.
First, that this isn't because what happened changed, but that who it happened to changed. We are all George Washington's axe (or the ship of Theseus, if you prefer). The "I" in a story from 32 years ago isn't just an imperfect memory of myself; it's also a new understanding of who I was in light of who I became, and even a new understanding of the concept of identity as fleeting and illusory.
And second, that I'd been telling this story about truth for long enough that it was also starting to get less true itself, and that maybe it's not actually about truth at all.
