Here's a question for the hive mind

[la_marquise]

So, one of the things I have trouble with, sometimes, is believing that I exist. (Yes, I know. That sounds stupid. But it's how I am.) There's a piece of me that finds it reasonably clear the the external world is real, but not that I am. Certain things/events/behaviours make me wonder if I am, in fact, just a fiction.
The marquis, on the other hand, is pretty sure he exists, but isn't always so sure about the external world.
What about you lot out there? Do you believe you're real? If so, why and how? Conversely, do you believe that the external world is real, and if so, why and how?
(I believe in the external world because that's clearly where all the power and control and entitlement comes from, and where all the important things are.)

Comments

[cuboid-ursinoid.livejournal.com]

So if you aren't real who is observing the external world. There has to be a you for there to be an external.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

It might be imagining me.
I'm not looking for a cure.

[bellinghman.livejournal.com]

I follow the 'cogito, ergo sum' philosophy. If I don't exist, then what is this bundle of thought and perception?

Having got to that stage, I then rejected solipsism on the basis that if the external world doesn't exist, then it must be me imagining it, and to be honest, I think I'd have imagined something a little less outright weird. I refuse to take responsibility for absolutely everything, and therefore there is something apart from me.

Quite how accurate my perceptions of that weird externality are is another question.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

That's interesting, and is somewhat how the marquis sees things, too.

[zanda-myrande.livejournal.com]

My rule of thumb is simple. The external world is real because it has the power to hurt me. I am real because I get hurt. Anything else could be fictional, but not that.

It follows that sometimes I wish either I or the external world were fictional, but not all the time.

[zanda-myrande.livejournal.com]

I should say that this does not mean I don't believe you are real unless you hurt me. Reality has good things as well.

[ms-cataclysm.livejournal.com]

I recommend this simple home test. Sit down . Wait for cat to jump on your lap. If your cat falls through you when attempting to sit on your lap, you are probably imaginary.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

:-)

[kateelliott.livejournal.com]

Interesting. I'm very mundane in this regard. I have always had an exceptionally strong sense of myself--which includes my existence. I also have a strong sense of the external world.

So -- no worries. I've met you, therefore you exist.

[caffeine-fairy.livejournal.com]

Sometimes I have trouble believing that the external world I perceive and the me I perceive exist in the same way. As if one is always an aspect of the other, but never both at the same time.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

:-)

[frostfox.livejournal.com]

Yeah, like Kate, I have a very strong sense of self.
And I've never doubted the existence of the world.

And you are real to me too.

FF

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

You feel very grounded and very real to me, too. But then, as we know, you are a World Guardian. So you have to be real: it must be in your job description.

[ceb.livejournal.com]

I exist, people and things I know exist, but I sometimes feel like bits of the world I have never been to and probably never will are less real than convincing fictional worlds.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

I'm the other way: if I've experienced it, it may not be real, because I may not be real.

[themis1.livejournal.com]

I believe the outside world exists, but as a philosopher (my first two degrees ...) I have to say that I actually can't prove it. In fact, I can't even prove I exists (debunking Decartes used to be my favourite party trick) so I would have to say that I can prove something exists, because to say otherwise is a nonsense, but have no evidence one way or the other as to what that is.

Although I have always said that if I was imagining the outside world, I rather hope I'd come up with something more interesting!

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

That's very sensible and very well thought through.

[armb.livejournal.com]

At a minimum, something exists to be deluded about the nature of the world. While in principle, the outside world and all my experience (including my sense of self) could be illusions/delusions, shrug, what can I do about it? Treating it as real is the best available working hypothesis.

[history-monk.livejournal.com]

That's about my view. Treating it all as real, until one has grounds to suspect otherwise, seems the only practical course. Many things out there are not "real" in some sense or other - consider how many things are defined by people's political or religious views. Keeping track of the kind of reality everything has isn't possible, but one can generally rely on things that are real enough to prod.

[athenais.livejournal.com]

I am real. The world is so malleable, yet seemingly full of authority that I think it is Wikipedia: constantly being renovated and updated and revised and argued about.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

Ah, you're with the marquis. I knew you were a Good Thing!

[barry-king.livejournal.com]

The older I get and the more I meet other people, the more convinced I become that there are no complete "I"s out there. Or in here. There are visitations, yearnings, joys, accomplishments, perceptions, fleeting glimpses, but no single "I", and by corollary, no single "you".

There IS, however, an illusion created by a cohesive memory of a body and of consistencies out of there, but I know for certain that they aren't any more separate from each other than sandcastles on the beach of the real. And the doubting me knows that the hands that maintain those crumbling walls are my own.

I find overwhelming beauty in that. And terrible meaning.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

That's fascinating. Thank you.

[sartorias.livejournal.com]

While I don't exist to most of the external world (and to a great many of the small minority who do perceive me in a line or whatever, I'm just another stupid old woman to elbow aside, after which I no longer exist) I know I exist. And that the world does.

Now, I'm not so sure about socks, pins, scissors, and a few other items that vanish within seconds of being put down.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

The cats take the socks. This I know empirically.

Trust me on this, you don't want the long answer.

[timscience.livejournal.com]

Pretty sure the external world is real. Reasonably sure that I am a fiction in the sense that, from my layman's reading of neuroscience, neither our selves nor our volition are what they seem to be subjectively, and the difficulty of even figuring out what they might be suggests to me that they are answers to the wrong kind of question, and that whatever exists isn't like that at all.

I find this to be more interesting than bothersome, to be honest.

Re: Trust me on this, you don't want the long answer.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

That is very you, somehow. Thank you!

[a-d-medievalist.livejournal.com]

Um... me? sort of?

That is, I sometimes feel so disconnected from everything else that I'm not sure I'm real, although I think I am me. But then, if you asked me *who* I am, I couldn't tell you, because most of the time I feel like I'm constructed by the external world. If that makes sense. Although, like sartorias, I have also had many experiences where the external world seems not to think I exist at all.

On the other hand, the cats seem to think I'm very real. Cats may be the defining factor here

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

Cats do appear to have superior senses in relation to this.
I know what you mean about disconnection and sense of self -- and I've had those experiences, too. I wonder if it's a dimension of femaleness? I suspect it's commoner amongst women (and women over 40) than men, but I may be wrong.

[klwilliams.livejournal.com]

I know that I am real, because I am where my universe resides. That means that you, as part of my universe, are real. So is Chaz, and many, many other people. Lady Gaga, not so much, but her music is real.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

Oh, Chaz is definitely real. He may be a Natural Force.

[mojave-wolf.livejournal.com]

First, forgive me if this overlaps someone else's answer, or several someone else's. Because I can't get your comments to load. The connection cut in the middle and now when I retry it gets to where it was before and just stops.
Anyway, on to your questions ...

Yeah, I definitely exist. I think, therefore I am. I *feel* therefore I am. Even if your fiction scenario was true, and someone else dreamed me up, I quite clearly have an independent selfhood as manifested by emotional and thought processes. Even if you want to go the way of AE Van Voght in Asylum where I'm a part of some bigger thing that deliberately separated me from the rest of itself, I'm still me, I'm now separate, and that's that.

I believe in an external reality because, well, ::looks around::. I'm pretty sure this is beyond my capacity to imagine. Both the wonderful unique creatures that inhabit it and the physics of the world itself. And more to the point, I'm unable (at least thus far) to impose my will on my surroundings such that I can change things to make them how I'd rather they be (beyond a certain limited measure), so acting as if it was not real would do nothing but cause problems.

Now, you could argue that individuality is illusion, and we are all part of one great whole, but this argument misses the whole point of individuality, which is that self-perception just mentioned. I may be interconnected with everything else, but I'm still me, too, at least for now.

And I'm not sure if it's a good idea to ask what you thought of the writings of David Hume and movies such as Inception the various "what is real?" cyberpunkish movies that came out around the same time as The Matrix (which I would include there) and Videodrome, but I *am* curious. If you have thus far avoided any of these things, that's probably a good idea. Keep in mind, though, that however tenuous reality might be in any of these films, the individual person IS real. Likewise, if ever an AI arises that is somehow independent of a specific hardware location, that someone wrote it as a string of code would be irrelevant. It's still an AI, and it would still be flitting around in cyberspace. If I wrote a fictional character (or you did) and suddenly took on a life of its own, complete with its own thoughts and feelings, by whatever weird process, then it would then cease to be a fictional character and become a real individual. It doesn't matter whether Pinochio is wood or flesh and blood, he is still (for purposes of the story) real. And so are you. So there.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

That's interesting: thank you.
I don't like films and books in which reality becomes (subjectively) mutable at all: they freak me right out, because they suggest that my feeling of unreality may be true. The ending of Brazil, for instance, terrifies me. I don't feel safe that often anyway, and the idea that the world -- which has more authority and is thus more real -- may also shift is one I find really disorienting.

[shelly-rae.livejournal.com]

I've always been certain that I exist and I'm delighted when I discover the world I've read about also exists. I joke about having all these invisible friends--like so many figments of my imagination. However, figments would not have been so kind nor thoughtful in their responses to me. So yes, I do indeed believe that you exist.

Tahiti, now, Tahiti I'm not so sure of. I'll have to go there and make sure.
Anon

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

I second the need for you to check the reality of Tahiti.
And yes, invisible friends: I have those, those people of whom I've read and who are part of that external reality in some very strong way.

[queenoftheskies.livejournal.com]

I do believe I'm real. I'm very grounded, have a very good sense of the world, which I also believe is real. I think there wouldn't be so much turmoil, so much heartache, so many bad things that happen if it wasn't real.

I believe you are real, too. I believe it from your writing, from the thoughts that you share. There is too much wonderful in you to be anything but real.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

Thank you.
Now, I believe that pain and upset I experience are a consequence of my unreality. Interesting how we all differ in how we read the world.

[fjm.livejournal.com]

I have inherited my mother's tendency to narrative solipsism. I have to work very hard to remember that other people are real. I am constantly checking my reactions with others, because I know that if I don't I end up spiralling inward in a weirdly arrogant depression.

I did it last night in fact and went to bed convinced Someone on the Internet Was Wrong because I Am the Only True Interpreter of the World.

What is strange about this position is that as far as I can tell, it is just as estranging as thinking one is not real in that there are times when I think I'm not being heard because I'm not on the same plane as the people I share a room with (of course, two days ago that was because I was a woman and the men cheerfully interrupted me--but I am Me! So I Got Louder).

Ah, balancing the arrogance of my position with its usefulness can be tough :-)

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

It's a very difficult area to navigate, and I have a lot of trouble with it -- my reaction to the talking-over type of thing is to feel erased and invisible and resentful all at once and to be silenced and then fume. Not helpful. And I check with others that I am still there, that they can see and hear me. If I don't, I feel utterly, utterly imaginary. (From time to time I semi-convince myself that I was run over or whatever years ago and that I am really not here at all, just some kind of hangover of self or some such. It's a weird state. Partly a kind of arrogant self-abnegation, I suspect, and partly a kind of panic.) And when it comes to People Who Are Wrong On the Internet, I end up asking the marquis if I'm allowed to disagree with them at all, or if they really do have the absolute right to be in my head ordering me how to think. Because my default position is the latter, but living it can be really scary. Oddly, there is a check box in my head that says that while I am not allowed to differ with the Very Important^TM types on line, the marquis is and his authority over-rides there. I am not logical.

[saare-snowqueen.livejournal.com]

I have no problem believing that the internal and external worlds exist. I live with a cat, remember. But often I feel I don't exist in either one of them - that the 'real' me is somehow floating above observing everything: me-alone, me-interacting with other stuff or me-just watching........... Many days I have trouble getting this watcher-me to stay anchored inside my physical body.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

I get that, too. Interesting.

[andrewducker]

I treat the existence of both myself and the surrounding world as the most likely hypothesis, while bearing in mind that variations from the way I perceive it are almost guaranteed.

So if something I do is going to have repercussions I will sometimes check that the me (and world) that I think are there are what someone else also thinks is there, but most of the time I behave as if my perceptions are accurate.

And I don't think about it much - most of the time it's just an assumption.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

As ever, you are logical.

it all comes down to cats

[cleanskies.livejournal.com]

I do sometimes suffer from the sense that I'm not real -- accompanied by a slowing and then stopping of internal narrative (presumably the observer switching off for consistency's sake).

Less common (but more disturbing) is the sense that the world is in fact some vast out-of-control narrative function -- usually triggered by inconsistencies in memory or remembering dreams as reality.

Under such circumstances other people and animals (and to a lesser extent plants) are extremely comforting, particularly those that are prone to unexpected behaviour and general wilfulness. Not so much because they provide a good philosophical argument for reality, but because they provide that crucial shock of the real that allows your observer to forget about the complexities of consciousness and engage directly with the best working model.

Re: it all comes down to cats

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

Oh, yes. I feel like that, too. Other people and things can be the only piece of sanity sometimes.

[xenaclone.livejournal.com]

Maybe God[dess] is thinking we exist, rather like a cosmic White King?

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

I like that! I do believe that God (and St Francis de Sales) believe I exist and I do find that helpful.

[woolymonkey.livejournal.com]

I'm with Kurt Vonnegut in Galapagos: a large proportion of reality is a fiction caused by our over-large brains. But I treat it as real because recognising the fiction doesn't abolish it or prevent it affecting me.

Intellectually, I admit that my sense of self is another of those fictions, but at the same time I believe strongly in my existence, identified as the consciousness that's smart enough to figure out that a lot of reality is fiction. At some level, I persist in thinking I'm clever enough that none of this clever debunking of reality applies to me. So not that clever really, but perhaps a lot comfier that way.

Basically, I think I'm real, you're real, cats and monkeys are real. But humans have more trouble keeping track of what's real or not than the cats and monkeys do. So I hang out with cats and hope some of it rubs off on me. (Monkeys are more confused than cats, but less so than humans. Orangutan librarians, of course, are the only ones who have it totally sussed.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

That's very sensible. Cats often seem to me to have things much more sorted than I do. (Well, Caspian, Moon and Ish, anyway. Horus is another matter.)