When I was 17 in 1971, I purchased my dream car--a 1966 Ford Mustang--blue with a white vinyl roof, bucket seats and a powerful eight-cylinder 289-cubic-inch engine that could peg the speedometer at 140 miles per hour. As testosterone-overloaded young men are wont to do, however, over the course of the next 15 years I systematically wrecked and replaced nearly every part of that car, to the extent that by the time I sold it in 1986 there was hardly an original piece remaining. Nevertheless, I turned a tidy profit because my "1966" Mustang was now a collector's classic. Even though the physical components were not original, the essence of its being--its "Mustangness"--was that model's complete form. My Mustang's essence--its "soul"--was more than a pile of parts; it was a pattern of information arranged in a particular way.
The analogy applies to humans and souls. The actual atoms and molecules that make up my brain and body today are not the same ones that I was born with on September 8, 1954, a half-century ago this month. Still, I am "Michael Shermer," the sum of the information coded in my DNA and neural memories. My friends and family do not treat me any differently from moment to moment, even though atoms and molecules are cycling in and out of my body and brain, because these people assume that the basic pattern remains unchanged. My soul is a pattern of information.
This article was originally published with the title Mustangs, Monists and Meaning.