Who is me?

This morning I watched the last half of "Little Women". I mention this because Jo becomes the writer she becomes because of who she is and the experiences she had had which she then writes about. My grandmother's name was Jo. I've always felt some connection to Jo March because of Josie Mellquist, nee Johnson.

I once saw a science fiction show (Star Trek?) where an alien asks a human, "Who are you?" The first response the character gave was her name. Was it a female character or am I projecting myself into the memory? Anyway, the response of a name was met with some punishment - a shock or something. That is just your name. Who are you? A job title was the next punished response. That is just what you do. Who are you? A familial position was also rejected. I don't remember how the scene was resolved, but it has always stuck with me. How would I answer such a question? Who am I?

Well one thing is certain. Whoever I am, I am in part because I am Josie's granddaughter and I saw "Little Women" and whatever that sci fi show was. But I am not simply the result of my experiences am I? Admittedly my experiences in the sequence and intensities I experienced are a unique recipe. As are yours.

I watched an episode of "The Practice" in which many of the characters said we are what we do. Not our jobs, but our actions. I'm not looking to TV for the meaning of life. It just was interesting that it was one of my experiences today.

Today I also read Alex's philosophy paper on identity. He examined three or four theories of identity. Physical - very unsatisfying. Memory - interesting, but I'm not sure I lose bits of myself as easily as I lose my keys or your name. Mom doesn't remember a lot of things, but she is still her. Soul - hmm, I think that is a bit too undefinable. And yet...maybe that's just like calling something magic because it isn't understood.

Who am I? Am I the same person I was before? Am I the same person I will be? Is the towering oak the same as the acorn, the same as the seedling? The sapling? Or is it the sunshine and rain and lightning strikes and burrowing insect that makes it what it is? But I am not a what, I am a who.

Maybe we are the sum of our experiences. As I get older each experience is a smaller percentage of the previous sum and so the me that I am is less diluted or altered by any one experience. Now most experiences just subtly flavor the soup that is me.

One thing I know. I am me and the me that I am would like to take a philosophy class. I'm not looking for answers. Because whatever the answer, I yam what I yam. I just like pondering the questions.