It may be That I am

Brooke Turnbull 1

This is more of an experimental letter than a practical one. I knew I would not be able to

research, so I only had one topic that I was completely self assured on. I hope it feels comically

convoluted, but genuine. I want to know where it gets confusing so I can provide improved

wording. Redundancy isn’t an issue, but more of the point. I left the headings to combat the

confusing direction; a preparation for the reader, if you will. I doubt the information provided in

this letter is important to anyone it is addressed to, so I hope interest is instead drawn by the

concept of the letter, a poeticism that keeps the reader involved, and the repetition creating an

easy ride. Perhaps it could even be helpful to anyone who, like me, is. It could teach you what it

is like to be presently present, to know what it is like to feel your own existence, in a therapeutic,

spiritual way.
 It may be That I am
Brooke Turnbull 2

To all and any that can see, hear, read braille, smell the alphabet, taste the rainbow, or at the very

least comprehend:

I declare that I am, indefinitely, alive [2:26 PM, 11/19/2022 CE, Denver Colorado,

United States, North America, Earth, Sun, Milky Way]. This may not be of great importance to

you, but it is to me. You may not be certain of this fact, but I am. Since this current form of

existence is only temporary to me, I must utilize the power and rights it grants me in every way

possible to maximum effect. I must affect my surroundings, and take advantage of the power I

hold over them. I must affect you, make sure that you know I exist, and change you ever so

slightly by that fact. I must do all this so that when the day comes that I can no longer testify to

my existence myself, I can no longer provide evidence for the fact that I was here, you will be

able to do so. Instead, my ripples of change throughout time will boast that I was here–the atoms

who knew it, and the people too– and with such profound mounting evidence, this fact will never

be forgotten. Even if no one ever knows it was really me who left a dirty cup in the sink, who

wrote all this, all my changes will culminate into a never ending affect that will share this letter

in my stead. If I were here, then I would make changes. If I made changes, I mattered. All yee

readers, listeners, feelers, smellers, tasters and comprehenders. Hark! Know that I am (was)

alive.

Although the requirements for life are all decisively physical (reproduction, response to

one’s environment, evolution, energy utilization, growth and development), our experience of

consciousness and existence within the universe is at a much deeper level than that which can be

measured by an outside observer. It is both physical and spiritual; thus I argue four main aspects
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Brooke Turnbull 3
of life as you and I know it: physical existence, physical interaction, mental comprehension, and

mental contemplation.

Physical Existence

Physical existence refers to presence within the moment–not necessarily as a living being

with thoughts and feelings, but on the basic level as an object: where do my atoms sit within the

four dimensional plane we know as the present? What do my atoms experience? What do I

sense? In what way do I exist in this moment? What is the present, as I know it?

Air—invisible but felt—rushes harshly through my nasal canals, the dry cold wind

almost painful to the roof of my nose. I lose track of the air’s sensation until it reaches my throat,

where it glides elegantly but soar against my wet tissue. My chest expands. Skin deep within my

torso stretches tight to the pressure of crisp air, and as it does it almost stings. At its apex, the air

bubbles to my throat like the food in my stomach after a thanksgiving meal. Between my

shoulders I generate heat. I feel it in my biceps and on my lap, but my stomach is cold. Every bit

inside of me feels warm, moist and filled, except for the big harsh pressure of emptiness built up

in my lungs. Then, in immediate response to the quadratic equation that describes the

relationship between time and the capacity of my lungs hitting a max, the value falls. My chest

sinks much quicker than it rose, pushing the warm discarded gaseous matter out of my body

without feeling or pain. As my chest closes in, I almost feel two uncomfortable and mushy walls

touch each other inside me. My warm plushy hand rubs my nose, and somewhere inside a scab is

stretched. My neck hurts in strain, tilted down. A tendon on the right connecting from my ear to

near my shoulder stretches, and its nerve endings send a constant stream of unhappy complaints

to my brain. I think, I feel, I comprehend. Yes, I exist.

 It may be That I am
Brooke Turnbull 4

I see a three dimensional rectangle facing me. It projects light at me, which hurts my

eyes, and I know it to be called an IPad. It is attached to a more complex shape (though basically

rectangular) which lays horizontally outstretched to me as my fingers click away at it, changing

the display on the IPad to form what I know to be words. To the right stands a complex cylinder.

It is bright neon yellow, and I adjust its angle to reveal that it depicts what I know to be a forest

green dinosaur holding a red skateboard screaming the word “SKATE” amongst little lightning

bolts. At the top of the cylinder, its form morphs into a more sophisticated shape. Jutting out to

the right is what I know to be a handle. Raising upwards from the left is what I know to be the

sippy part of a sippy cup. This entire portion of the cylinder is blue. Between it and the IPad rests

a purple pen. The clicky part extends horizontally away from me, and diagonally toward the left.

To the left of the IPad is a white rectangle that is made of a bunch of thinner rectangles stacked

on top of one another and joined by a spiraling, cylindrical wire; it is called a ‘planner’. All this

sits on a sturdy chromatic gray rectangle. It is warm toned, and chips in its upholstery reveal it to

be made of wood, with plastic coating.

One thing I can hear is my coworker C. saying “Later Brooke,” and then replying to

something I did not hear saying “Make me, NERD”. I hear A. call “Alright” to echoing voices

down the hallway as he walks past my open door. I hear J.’s footsteps as they walk in rhythm

past, and the squeakless rub of a door opening to the windy sounds of a larger world.
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Brooke Turnbull 5
I feel my wrists against the top edge of the previously mentioned table . I feel pain in a

tendon in my neck. I feel my unique fingerprints against one another as I rub them together, each

individual ridge rippling the next as they pass.

I taste the liquid inside of the neon yellow sippy cup. It is fruity, and bitter sweet. Acacia

Pomegranate. I taste the yet to be mentioned chia seed pudding in my peripheral view. The

nutmeg stands strong with the banana, and peanut butter takes a back seat.

Opening the lid of a yet to be mentioned travel mug and burying my nose inside, I notice

the scent of coffee permeating the empty air it contains. It’s strong, and overwhelms my nose. I

smell much more sugar than I tasted when drinking it. It’s in great contrast to that of Mexican

coffee, which is more aromatic— almost fruity but beany and acidic instead. That citric quality is

still present, but it is greatly overwhelmed by the bold, bitter aspect of this coffee blend.

I do not, in fact, just exist for the millisecond it takes to feel and comprehend these

things, or as long as it takes to document that which I feel and comprehend, as a blip in the

universe. Instead I have abided in life similarly to this for exactly 18 years, two months, 19 days,

9 hours, and 22 minutes as of recording this sentence [4:22 PM, 12/10/2022 CE, Denver,

Colorado, United States, North America, Earth, Sun, Milky Way]. In addition, I will exist into

the future for at least as long as it takes to write all that I have written, at the point that you

(reader) are reading this.

Physical interaction
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Brooke Turnbull 6
Physical interaction refers to how I literally interact with matter upon the dimensions of

the universe: touch, force, resist. It refers to how my molecules and atoms interplay with other

molecules and atoms, and how I physically change my environment. Specifically, what power do

I hold, as something that exists?

To answer these questions, I must first document at the most basic level of how the

molecules around me react to my existence— as proof that I really am here. Not only can I,

myself, verify my existence, but so too can the atoms and objects that surround me. How I force

air particles to not float into the space I take up, or how germs are unable to pierce my skin. I

hold a right to the space that my atoms take up, and the very laws of the universe respect that

right. Additionally as something that breathes, moves, utilizes energy, and is made up of several

highly reactive elements I have the right to interact with my environment: to change things, to

apply force, to catalyze chemical reactions. I have the power to force my surroundings to

respond to me, a power that the very laws of the universe respect. As part of the universe, I too

must abide by the power and rights of other objects: to not exist where they do, to respond to the

force they apply, to chemically react to their presence or catalyst. I exist on a deeper level than

just sensing my surroundings, I partake in the mutual laws of respect for right and power with

other existing matter. I am here.

I affect my surroundings. My bum rests heavy on my chair. My chair in response rests

heavy on the floor. The floor partakes in an equal but opposite reaction, and skyrockets me into

the air. Just kidding. The forces of weight balance themselves in harmony, all partaking subjects

remaining still. I push my fingers to the keys on the keyboard. The atoms of my fingers and the
 It may be That I am
Brooke Turnbull 7
atoms of my keyboard both have electromagnetic fields, created by the electrons whizzing

around them. This causes them to be incapable of touching. As the atoms of my finger draw near

to the key, the atoms of the key recede backwards in compliance with the forces of both

electromagnetic fields. The key goes down as a whole, and as it does it returns an equal and

opposite reaction on my finger. The force pushes the electromagnetic fields of the atoms in my

finger up, but it is not enough to push my finger as a whole. Instead, the affected part of my

finger flattens, and subsequently my nervous system detects the force. It lies, and tells my

neurons I made contact with an object. When the key goes down, my environment changes and

the little symbol ‘e’ appears on the screen of my IPad. I push my feet on the yet to be mentioned

wall in front of me. The force is not enough to move the wall, so when the wall responds with an

equal and opposite reaction, I am the one that must retreat. The energy transferres from me, to

the wall, and back to me, and into the chair I sit heavy in. It glides quickly away on wheels, and

as the wheels encounter friction with the floor it slows to a stop. My stomach gurgles. I scoop

chia pudding into my mouth. The slight acidic ph level of my saliva creates a chemical reaction

with the slightly basic ph level of the dairy in the pudding, and the dairy molecules begin to

break down. The enzymes in my saliva begin to break down the starch molecules in the chia

seed. As I chew, I create a catalyst for these processi. When the pudding changes state and

molecular makeup, it turns liquidy and I swallow to pass it on to the next digestive step. As I sit,

the chia seed pudding will continue to undergo chemical changes, as I isolate the individual

elements I need from it: nucleotides from the chia seed dna, protein from the protein powder,

lipids from the 2% milk, and carbohydrates from the peanut butter. Had I not acted the pudding

would still sit in its jar, chemically unbroken and unchanged.

 It may be That I am
Brooke Turnbull 8
While interconnection with the current present is important as proof to my being, I am

more than just the present me. I have reciprocally reacted with other things in the past, and the

sequential progression of these momentary interreactions hold a greater truth to my power over

my surroundings than fleeting, isolated blips in time. Over the consecutive interaction of my

commute time I force other cars, as valid in existence as mine, to not exist where I do. I force

other people, as valid in existence as I am, to adapt and respond to my presence.

I have affected my surroundings in the past as well. I move through time on the surface of

our ever inflating balloon-of-a-universe. I pass from one diameter to the next, and as I do I send

ripples of change throughout my surroundings. I take up space, and force other particles not to

exist where I do. On the road this morning I adapted to the existence of another car, slowing to

create more desired space between me and the car in front of me. Consequently, I force the car

behind me to slow, too. I create information by which the person in the car behind me chooses to

change lanes into the right hand lane, in which there is no car slowing down and plenty of room

to surpass my currently acquired distance. As a result I changed that person’s overall commute

time and experience, likely pushing them into a slower outcome, as I pass them in the left lane

minutes later. I interact with humans now, as I ask T. about what he is doing. I produce responses

as he explains the process of digitally rendering a three dimensional model. I have interacted

with humans in the past as I once became frustrated with my cousin for complaining about her

physical appearance, and chased her around a campfire screaming “I LOVE YOU KATHRYN,

YOUR BEAUTIFUL KATHRYN.” She ran away, and I ran after. My ripples in time have

spawned across many places: Lake Charles, Louisiana. Gulf of Mexico. Raughlie, Louisiana.

Standing stone State Park, Tennessee. Hathaway, Louisiana. Marion, North Carolina. Shreveport,
 It may be That I am
Brooke Turnbull 9
Louisiana. Asheville, North Carolina. Dallas, Texas. Bossier City, Louisiana. Fort Worth, Texas.

Fort Turnbull, Louisiana. Orange Beach, Florida. Zwolle, Louisiana. Chicago, Illinois. Leesville,

Louisiana. Wisconsin. Natchitoches, Louisiana. Alabama. Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Georgia.

New Mexico. Denver, Colorado. New Orleans, Louisiana. Alligator Point, Florida. Alexandria,

Louisiana.

Mental comprehension

Mental comprehension refers to how not only do I sense and react to the things in my

environment, but I comprehend that they are there, and that I can interact with them.

Comprehension is a present experience encased wholly within the confines of my conscious and

subconscious mind. It describes how the things I currently sense make me feel, and what I think

about them in the moment. It applies identically to the things I now interact with: how they make

me feel, what I think about them in the moment, and what I comprehend about my surroundings

and environment— not just on the level of a living creature, but specifically on the level of a

human being.

Currently, (8:05 AM 12/08/2022 CE, Denver Colorado, United States, North America,

Earth, Sun, Milky Way) I am happy to feel warmth inside my organs, it feels cozy. I enjoy the

sensation of breathing at the very least, which brings me comfort when nothing else does. I have

itches on my face, and these annoy me but do not change my mood. I feel at peace with the

overall quietness and thought of my surroundings. I am happy to have my coffee, because I enjoy

the flavor. I understand that at any moment, I could choose to pick my travel mug up, tilt one
 It may be That I am
Brooke Turnbull 10
edge to my mouth, and drink the coffee it holds. I am happy that I have a protein shake with me,

because I feel successful that I efficiently made breakfast this morning. I am displeased to hear

lawn mowers buzzing around.

I know that I sit in a classroom, a composition classroom which teaches how to write. I

have a draft due today, and I have not finished it. This makes me nervous. The class is at an art

institute. Art institutes make money by charging students for education, resources, and a degree.

A degree proves to others what you have learned, so that they would trust you for a job. I live in

a capitalist society, which trades economy for all kinds of resources, physical and meta.

Economic wealth also grants holders access to greater privileges, such as the privilege to learn,

have a wide audience, and employ. Economy is a stand in for the value of resources, like a

universally applicable “I owe you” within human society. It could even be considered the

physical representation of time.

In the past, I was upset that my neck tendon was hurting; it was very uncomfortable.

Earlier this morning I was cold, and I was not happy about that. It causes me to feel grateful that

now, I am warm. Additionally, it causes me to wonder if I should have worn an extra sweater. On

my way to school, my throat became dry. I did not like this, because when my throat is dry I

begin a coughing fit and can’t breath. This is dangerous when driving, due to muscle reflexes

associated with suffocation and coughing. Thus, I took a sip of coffee by lifting the cup to my

face and tilting one edge to my mouth. I felt disturbed, but happy and successful that it worked.
 It may be That I am
Brooke Turnbull 11
I understand that I can not change many of the things I sense; some things I can, like the

sensation in my throat earlier. When I can change it, I know that I ought to if I don't like it. I

understand many things about the world around me, and how it works. I comprehend that

everything is made of compounds, which are made of molecules, which are made of atoms,

which are made of electrons, neutrons, and protons. Electrons and protons are matter, but also

energy. I think that sometimes these particles go too fast, and become antimatter— as seamless

as a fish jumping out of water. The neutrons, protons, and electrons are made of up quarks and

down quarks. Quarks are most fundamental, and I comprehend theories that they are materialized

by quickly vibrating ‘strings’, which make up the various dimensions by which we live and

move: height, length, width, time. I understand that as the universe passes forward in time, it

expands similar to how a balloon does. From each individual perspective, the universe looks

expands outward. To visualize, speckled dots across a deflated balloon. Observe how the dots

become further and further from one another as the balloon gets bigger and bigger. I comprehend

that on the interior of the Universe balloon exists the past, and on the exterior of the universe

balloon exists the future. I do not comprehend what makes the present the present— or if there is

a present. I do not understand what slides me along the time scale, constituting the pace and

order by which I exist and experience.

I understand algebra, geometry, trigonometry, and information dire to learning calculus. I

understand biology, rock science, planetary science, astronomy, and astrobiology, which is the

study and search for extraterrestrial life. I understand that my country, America, has had a very

bloody, optimistic past. I understand that my species has had a very bloody, optimistic past. I

understand human evolution. I understand that people are very different, but overall the same. I
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Brooke Turnbull 12
understand that everyone reacts differently to their experiences, but how they do so and what

they do so to constitutes the majority of what they think and say and do. I understand that

everyone's brain works a little differently, and sometimes it works so differently that certain

processes become difficult or even impossible. This does not inflict the person's worth, or mean

their brain works incorrectly. I understand that there is a lot about all of this that I will never

understand.

Mental contemplation

Mental contemplation is much more than just a fleeting mental experience, such as

mental comprehension, but a sequential matter. Momentary thoughts, comprehensions, and even

prior contemplations build upon one another over time, and are tied together into a new

contemplation. It is the thoughts and opinions I have fabricated from the things I comprehend

and experience. It is the thoughts I have now about thoughts I had in the past. It describes the

abstract journey I have made from one conclusion to the next, within the interior of my rational,

conscious mind. It is my philosophy, my interests. Comprehension is the brick and mortar,

contemplation is the building.

I think a lot about the things I know and experience. I think every time I drive, every time

I clean, every time I write, draw, or sleep. Through studying astrobiology, I understand that there

is an endless frontier for human expansion. Through the study of history, I understand that we

are, in general, bloody and optimistic. I can only imagine that our ambitions will lead us to

similar advancements in space. But I also contemplate the idea that there is no future for us

among the stars, that instead we will kill ourselves through various bloody and optimistic means.
 It may be That I am
Brooke Turnbull 13
I become frustrated by the idea, but ultimately my religious belief might constitute that if we are

not wanted in space, that is how things will end. I much prefer the idea that we collapse our

society by that means. That we crumble, and rebuild, and crumble, and rebuild as many times in

the future as we have in the past. I think it would be sad if our society did not collapse, because

future generations would never have the opportunity for blissful ignorance and curious

discovery: the opportunity to be wrong.

Of everything I learn, and think, and experience, I try to build a philosophy. Philosophy is

important to me, as I assume it is to most. I do not need to live a happy life to live a good life. I

would rather live one full of heights and drop offs, and diversity in situation and emotion. I

believe the only way to do that is through morally constituted action. So as I think, and think,

and think, and think, and as I build, and build, and build, and build, I find myself in the

paradoxical territory of a pacifist anarchist. I am uneasy with how contradictory that is, because

rationally if there is a contradiction some information is incorrect. I want to think some more,

and make sure everything irons out clean and smooth. I want to identify what I do not know so I

might discover it, but if I don't know it how could I identify it?

I, as a being that exists, experience self awareness. As such, I contemplate the things I

comprehend about myself. When I drink Diet Coke I comprehend that I drink Diet Coke, and I

have the opportunity to sequentially contemplate the fact that I drink Diet Coke in the context of

adjacent comprehensions and contemplations. I have the opportunity to build opinions on myself,

and to contemplate other comprehensions in the context of what I have contemplated about

myself.
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Brooke Turnbull 14

Overall, I like myself. I think that I am arrogant, and confused, and immature and silly,

but I am at peace with my flaws. If anything, I worry more about what I do not know about

myself. Why I do not know what I am feeling at any given point, why I feel things or think

things a certain way. One can only be so self aware, but how can I improve upon a flaw that I

don't know exists? I think that I lean closer to adoration for chaos than adoration for order. I'm

not sure if it has more to do with how my mind works, or my obsession for trying to confuse the

people around me. I am the youngest child. I always wanted attention when I was younger, and

found strangeness to be the most efficient method of acquiring such. I tried to act in ways that

would surprise the people around me. But if you are constantly confusing and surprising, you

never are. I’ve tried to lean away from the unnatural and deliberate aspect of such a method these

days, it's more fun to surprise someone if they aren’t expecting it. The whole ordeal also takes a

lot of energy if forced, and I just don't feel like it anymore.

Argument against:

The opinion that I am not, in fact, alive/ In existence

Points that I must overcome:

Simulation theory

There is a popular theory that gained prevalence after the Matrix: that we are not, in fact,

living in the real world but instead our brains are plugged into a simulation. But this theory does

not matter. Your experience is the only thing you can trust, not necessarily that it was true but
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Brooke Turnbull 15
that you experienced it. You re-experience it every time you remember, so even if part of the

simulation was implanted memories it still becomes part of your reality. Truth does certainly

matter, but this simulation is your truth. If, like in the matrix, we are all in the simulation

together then this world and the outside world might as well be two different dimensions: equally

valid no matter the origin of their existence. What does the real world have that the simulation

does not? What testifies its validity, more so than this one? Do they both not fulfill the

requirements of providing its inhabitants the experience of life and presence? And if the two

dimensions really are that different, is what we know about our surroundings and experiences

untrue of the dimension we exist in— no matter the truth of the dimension we do not exist in?

Even if this is a simulation, I testify that I exist within it.

Nebulous consciousness theory:

Perhaps I am the only one that exists and none of the physical is real, just an imagination.

One might argue that if I do not have matter, I do not exist. But what constitutes the validity of

matter, if not experience? What testifies to the existence of matter, if not a consciousness to

observe it? If not for the observer, to feel it, to move it, to try and fail to destroy it, would it even

exist at all? What is there to verify it, other than experience? At that point, experience is the most

fundamental key of existence.

Many scientists would rather dislike the notion, because the observer has been removed

from the study of the world since before the scientific revolution; it is how the scientific

revolution even occurred. But in the postmodern era, removing the observer has created short
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Brooke Turnbull 16
sights that we can not study or overcome without replacing it. Light particles change based on

the observer, time dilation depends on it. And if I were truly creative enough to imagine all of

this, is it not then real—to me at the very least? Is it not then matter– as I roll it between my

fingers, as I move it and change it, and it changes me? I would even settle for the solution that

this is how my god created the universe.

If you believe yourself to be the only one to really exist, and the world is simply part of

your nebulous consciousness, then I apologize to inform you that there is no way for someone

else to prove you otherwise. I can not show you what I experience, I can not force you to

experience it for me. I can only testify to it, provide evidence that is easily wiped away as part of

your consciousness’s creativity, and hope you trust me. Instead however, I encourage you to

partake in an exercise that I displayed earlier in this letter: name 5 things you can immediately

see, 4 things you can hear, 3 things you can immediately touch, 2 things you can immediately

smell, and one thing you can taste. Does this act not ground you? Do you not feel indefinitely

present and alive? Is the world around you not more verifiable than your computer screen or a

dream? Do you then not exist? Let's form a hypothesis then:

IF you partake in the exercise THEN you verify that you exist.

That rule should then apply to me as well. It is as simple as math, you apply the rule you

learn from one equation to the next:

IF 2(2) = (2+2), THEN 2(3) = (3+3)

If you trust in the laws of arithmetic, than you also trust that what verified your existence,

would also verify mine:

IF I partake in the exercise, THEN I verify that I exist.

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The experiment outcome is just as valid as the belief that 2(3) = (3+3)

But perhaps the writer does not in fact exist, and instead this letter is a phenomenon,

glitch of the keyboard, software or data. Perhaps a cup rolled over the keyboard and so happened

to hit all of these keys in order, and auto correct did the rest of the work. Perhaps the writer does

have matter, but is dead. Inanimate. Non conscious. Does not fulfill the requirements for life.

I am you

I am a background character in someone else’s tv show

I am the figment of someone else’s imagination

I am a character from someone’s dream.

But if I am not real, then nothing is.