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On occasion, I’ve considered a little snippet of science learned many years ago to help me gain perspective: our bodies are in a constant state of renewal. That sounds somewhat academic, but it helped me understand something profound that was well put by a Greek philosopher a few thousand years ago; “You become what you give your attention to.” You might wonder what connection exists between that biological observation and this ancient philosophical axiom. I’ll do my best to explain.

As children, we’ve heard that cells in the human body are replaced every 7 to 10 years. That’s exciting stuff, but it turns out to not be entirely accurate. For example, some cells only last a few days or weeks before they are replaced, while bone cells may take up to 10 years to renew. Interestingly though, some cells, particularly brain cells, last a lifetime.

We know simply by scanning photographs of ourselves that our bodies change over the years. The body of that chubby little baby or red-face toddler no longer exists – it has been renewed and remade into another version of itself. That process continues for a lifetime. While all of these physical changes occur, life experience proceeds and adds to a collection of memories that remain with us. This accumulation of life experience forms the building blocks for our next moment in time and creates the matrix through which we navigate life.

Not all life experiences are nurturing or uplifting; some are outright terrifying. Unfortunately, these also take their place among the accumulated memories of a lifetime. Although the physical parts of ourselves that suffered trauma may be replaced and renewed over the years, the memory persists. Its prominence in our thoughts is determined by the attention or energy we give to it.

Memory is a gift, but unexamined, it can simply be a swamp that feeds impulse after impulse. We have been told by yet another Greek philosopher the importance of examining our lives. It became essential for me to recognize that the physical body that may have experienced joy or fear, pain or euphoria, injury or healing no longer exists; it is my memory of those things that remain. In that sense, it is not my body that defines my personhood; it is my memory and what I do with it.

Sense of self comes not from the body I inhabit but from my life experience and how I interpret it. I can choose to dwell on my failings, hurts, or sorrows or balance these in perspective among my joys and place my attention and new life experiences there. Attention is a choice. Becoming is a choice.

Kevin Deeny