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Plausibility of Dualist TheorySince Rene Descartes postulated his theory of Cartesian dualism in the 17th century, other dualists have put forward alternative theories such as parallelism and epiphenomenalism to resolve the interaction problem. Unlike Cartesian dualism, these two theories disbelieve in two-way causal interaction between mind and body, with parallelism suggesting that there is no causal interaction between mind and body and epiphenomenalism suggesting only a one way causal interaction. In this essay I shall argue that while Cartesian dualism has major problems regarding two way causal interaction, it is able to justify its position using a valid argument. Even though parallelism and epiphenomenalism are able to get around the interaction problem, they are still implausible theories as both do not add any substance to resolve the interaction problem. I shall conclude that based on this important criterion, Cartesian dualism is the most plausible theory of mind.
In Cartesian dualism, the mind is not p
GatewayThe cigarette smoked to life, wispy curls of it floating up. I pocketed my lighter and slouched at the corner of the derelict bus stop, placing the cigarette between my lips. Smoke rushed down my lungs and I removed the cigarette, trying to blow a smoke-ring into the wintry air. The weak smoky circle formed dissipated within seconds of it being blown out. Turning my head, I spat in the direction of the road, heaving the phlegm out of my lungs.
A black 4WD came trundling alongside the road edge and the phlegm splattered over the side window. Horrified, I turned to face the back of the derelict bus-stop I was in, puffing furiously on the cigarette and trying to look like a shortish man just having a smoke. No such chance though, for the driver of the 4WD knew perfectly well I was a drug-addicted, smoking fifteen-year old.
Smoking again at the ol place? A black, heavy hand landed on my shoulder.
I twitched involuntarily, even though I knew who it was from the African voi
Fading AwayShe is looking
out of windows
to sunlit lawns,
swept by the feet
of rain. She is hearing
distant laughter rising
from young throats
that have never felt
the cry of loneliness.
Her fingers were bitten.
Ice nymphs have long eaten
the tissue that once held
a young boy's hand. She is mute,
dissolving into whitewashed walls
with hair turning whiter
by the day.
She is aging, wasting away
like yellow patched grass
under the soft fall of concrete dust
by creeping cement.
Grey railings, tufts of brown.
She melts into dry puddles
Dreamers"Mummy, I want to be a dreamer when I grow up."
The little child sat propped in her bathtub, foam covering everything except her head, which burst with wet golden curls. Her hands scooped at the foam before her, covering her skin in bubbly snow. She threw her hands upwards, letting the bubbles fly, watching them take flight and descend on her mother's hair. They popped, one by one, and she giggled.
"You can't be a dreamer when you grow up," said her mother, sitting on a pink stool next to the bathtub. Her sad tawny eyes surveyed her only child, her mistake. Bitterness tore at her features, turning them haggard and twisted, but the child saw nothing but the hazelnut face of her mother.
"Why not, Mummy?"
"It's not a job. You can't earn money from it." Despite her bitterness, the mother allowed a small smile. Innocence was such a smile-inducing phenomenon.
"Well, I don't care," the child scooped another handful of foam, letting it sag in her petite hands, "I want to be a dreamer wh
DreamsDreams are soft bubbles
that bounce gently in your head
and pop when you wake.
Dreams are memories,
colours, emotions, pictures
scrambled and replayed.
Dreams are just products
of fantasy and real life
mixing in your sleep.
Dreams are just flickers
winking in and out of life,
Unemotional They say I dont smile often.
They surround me and say that I should smile more often.
They chase me around the blood-red bricked buildings, their faded black shoes sliding on the grey ground, solid as uncertainty. They stretch out warm, happy hands and touch my cold, sad face. They lean forward and pinch the area around my lips, trying to form that fake oh Im feeling good but Im really not, smile.
They are smiling, but I am not. It pains me to even exercise the muscles required, when a frown requires so much more.
Can I borrow a knife? I ask instead, as I dream of a clown and a dark knight.
And then the fog clears, and I look bemused at the tiny white faces in front of me like a newborn greeted with the colour world for the first time. I see fascinating, yet s
I lifted my head up from the sweet mountain grass that I was cropping, faintly annoyed as well as relishing a new challenge. My ears cocked like the hunting dogs that the humans brought sometimes, straining for the tell-tale sounds. But no one brought hunting dogs against me anymore.
For I am Wildfire the Unbreakable, and no one can break me.
I could smell the sweat of those men riding the horses, trying to rival me as the softest stepper in the mountains. But no one can be the softest stepper unless they can evade my keen ears, trained by the many years of evading the very men who have sought and failed to claim me, and break me into submission many times. The wild horses in the mountains were in awe of me and they tried to bathe in my unbreakable spirit, but boldness and arrogance took over them, and the humans easily beat them to submission. I hear they are pack-horses now, carting for those same humans who try to hunt me again, for I was the jewel of the pack, the st
Dear MeDear Little Rachel,
Yes, darling, you. You standing in the queue to get out of the airport, wrapped up as though it was minus 20 degrees Celsius outside when it was just 16 degrees. You there, aged eleven years old, your skin used to humidity and now cracking up like aging plaster in the blast of dry August air.
I know who you are. You brought me to life by your dreams, your bitter recollections of better days as you tried to defog the future, only to realise it was as misty as ever. I am who you are then, and you are who I am now. Call me a time traveller, talking to you and breaking a hundred physical laws but trust me, I'm just here to give you something.
Yeah, really, I hear you scoff. What have you learnt in the last five and a half years that you can tell me about? I mean, you're only about to turn seventeen. You're not even an adult. You're only an angst-ridden, bitchy, moody, internet-addicted teenager without one shred of philosophical decency. A teen advising
The Truth to LifeDo we have a purpose, is a question one will often ask
Is there a higher power out there, some greater task
The truth will hurt many, not only a few
People have a hard time dealing with that which is true
There is nothing greater that watches your back
Deal with it, stop crying and build your own stack
You are responsible for the life that you lead
It is not someone else's fault when you don't get what you need
If one wants the stars, they must be grabbed by one's own hand
Nothing in life is freely given there is no promised land
So the question remains, why are we here
For those without faith, the answer is painfully clear
We live only for today and if we are lucky the morrow
To us there is no afterlife, but that brings us no sorrow
Self improvement is our main goal and it starts in the here and now
We refuse to be filled with illusions of grandeur and get fat off them like a cow
The best of us seek improvement in every area we can
Without the proper balance of self there can be no co
Life is ..Life is …
Life is the space between your ears,
Life is the song that no one hears,
Life is the place that only you know,
Life is the grass growing through snow,
Life is the touch of a lover's hand,
Life is a castle melting in sand,
Life is the laugh that's stuck in your throat
Life is a poem that god wrote
Life is the shiver on a warm night,
Life is like death, only not quite.
Life is...Sometimes I wonder: what am I?
I look at the stars and feel very small;
just a tiny consciousness.
But if I were as tall as a planet,
I would still be short in comparison to the universe.
I see a person twice my size
and I feel weak and fragile.
But if I were strong and powerful,
I would still not be invincible.
I see a painting by the hand of a genius,
and I feel inexperienced and ignorant.
But if I were the greatest artist alive,
it would not make me love what I do any more or less.
I see blood, running from the wound of another,
and I feel a chilling fear from deep within.
But if I walked this earth with bravery,
it would not make things less dangerous.
I see a baby, innocent and naive,
and I feel cynical and jaded.
But if I saw through untainted eyes all my life,
it would not make the world a better place.
I see a raindrop, tear of the sky,
and I feel ugly and unsightly.
But if I were as beautiful as rain,
it would not make me crystal clear inside.
There are children with cancer,
What is life?
I don't know.
Life is just…life.
It starts, and it ends.
But what is it like?
It's not like time. Time cannot be stopped. Life can.
Yet, it's like a river. Rivers can be controlled. Life can be controlled.
So is life like a river? Nah.
It's not like a river, and it's not like time…
What is life? What is it like?
Well, I'd say…
Life is whatever you want it to be. Good or bad.
No one else can make you change how your life is except you.
The question now is…
What DO you want it to be?
It's your choice. Make it a good one.
LifeIve seen the world with these two eyes.
A movie played inside my mind.
Ive traveled the seas in half the time
Without ever leaving home.
Ive spread my wings but didnt fly
Ive touched heaven, but I didnt die
Had the chance to ask God why
Without ever receiving an answer.
Ive count the stars and made to ten
Lost track and had to start again.
People laughed, but thats how we make friends
Without ever knowing their name.
Ive loved completely and watched them leave
I tell the storysome dont believe
Let them go or did you flee?
Without seeing what tomorrow brings.
Ive cried like I would never smile
Walked in darkness for half a mile
Saw the sun in the distance for a small while
Without ever feeling its rays.
Ive walked the beachestasted the breeze
There was a time that Ive felt free.
Touched my soul and let life be
Without any regrets to hold.
Ive laughed until I could not breathe
Gasped for air a
what is it?
Its been said,
and it hurts.
The ones that lost a parent,
there heart was torn away....
What is she to do?
The one that changed to home schooling...
She has problems with friends.
Now she cant find any......
The one who's friends are now doing drugs,
There losing close friends......
They change to,
smoking and alcohol
The one that is alone most of the time.
He is only known mostly threw the net....
Other than that he's really unknown....
What's he to do?
The one that almost died.....
I don't have to say any more with this one.
They are in so much pain,
it hurts to think on.
i guess the question is.....
Why all this.
Will it end......
Will I or they live,
to see an other day?
Its way to hard!!!
It seems we are waiting to die.
Why, you ask your self,
the tear roles down your face.
Looking at the ground,
you never knew what you missed
my lifePeople don't want me to be me,
so they force me to be the person they want to see.
they don't see that their effect was reversed
or that my breaking point has been traversed.
I feel as though my mind is slowly being erraticated
and my once strong body painfully mutilated.
because of my affiliations,
i have suffered through many tribulations.
I want to just lay down and die
and let my soul drift towards the sky.
but i know it's not my time quite yet,
for i still have goals that need to be met.
So until i finish my final task,
a little peace is all i ask.
i do not wish to cause any strife,
i just want you to get out of MY LIFE!!!
LifeMy fingers twisted in the sheets underneath me, tears smearing down the flushed curves of my cheeks. Unable to control my sobs I collapsed forward, why did this have to be so hard? Wasnt my life supposed to be mine? Wasnt it supposed to be fun but it wasnt, at least not to me. Every day my heart aches; I see pain, hear anger and feel hurt. No matter where I go it always seems to be the same; even my friends have had enough at times. I want to scream, it is my life .I chose where I go and I chose who to be.
Flipping onto my back I stare at the ceiling, I go through these emotions almost every day. Sure there are good times, laughing with my friends or smiling brightly as I make some random and slightly perverted remark, the good times are what make me go on.
Staring into the blinding whiteness of my celine I try to think of those friends I love, they criticize me, they are harsh sometimes but they are also truthful. That is what makes them them. I am not
Like sheep in a field.
We all want to be the same.
Because at the end of the day,
Life's a copycat game.
We must all be thin.
Straight hair, teeth white.
What if I don't beleive it.
I think your rules are shite.
So what if I'm different?
Not a brick in the wall.
So what if my clothes are wrong.
And my hands are not small.
People spend their lifes,
Beleiving labels and books.
Don't care about inner beauty.
Only care about looks.
And when it's all over.
And you go to your place.
History won't remeber you.
For joining the fashion race.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More