We are like trees. Every year as we pass through the seasons and the wind and rain falls onto our bodies, and the sunlight filters through our skin, and as we absorb the experiences of our lives, we add another ring. With a tree you can see these rings, but with us they are hidden deep within our minds, within our psyche. In essence, what is our continuous journey of maturation all about? I can say that these experiences are in my memory. But where is my memory? Is it really just a collection of neurons in my head?
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