The Architecture of the Indivisible: A Close Reading of Cartesian Dualism “There is a great difference between the mind and the body, in as much as the body is by its very nature always divisible, while the mind is utterly indivisible. For when I consider the mind, or myself in so far as I am merely a thinking thing, I am unable to distinguish any parts within myself; I understand myself to be something quite single and complete. Although the whole mind seems to be united to the whole body, I recognize that if a foot or arm or any other part of the body is cut off, nothing has thereby been taken away from the mind. As for the faculties of willing, of understanding, of sensory perception, and so on, these cannot be termed parts of the mind, since it is one and the same mind that wills, and understands and has sensory perceptions. By contrast, there is no corporeal or extended thing that I can think of which in my thought I cannot easily divide into parts; and this very fact makes me understand that it is divisible. This one argument would be enough to show me that the mind is completely different from the body, even if I did not already know as much from other considerations.” The first time I came across this extract of Descartes' Sixth Meditation, it literally made me stop—not due to its scientific correctness but because of its bold insistence on the "I." At the superficial level, Descartes is seemingly making a straightforward comment on the anatomy. Nevertheless, a "close reading" discloses that he is in fact performing a rescue operation for the human spirit. To put it in another way, in a scenario where the so-called modernity often classes us as nothing but data, biological functions or machine parts, Descartes makes use of words to create a stronghold around human identity. Close reading becomes obligatory in this case, for if we were to just skim through, we would come across a not very current medical discussion concerning the issue of amputated limbs; whereas, if we were to go deeper, we would discover a very foundational argument for the assertion of human dignity. The Sixth Meditation of René Descartes is not only a landmark in Western philosophy because of the conclusions it comes to, but mainly due to the strict method of analysis it applies to human existence. In the excerpt, Descartes presents a main idea that acts as the foundation for Cartesian Dualism: the mind and body are different substances because the body is tri-dimensional, and the mind is the opposite, a one-piece, unbreakable unity. If we analyze the logical necessity of this difference, we will come to the conclusion that Descartes is not only talking about a metaphysical theory; he is trying to characterize the "I" as a unique, deathless part that, in its totality, does not mind the splitting up of the physical world around it. Getting this deeper meaning is going to take us to look beyond the amputated limb case and into a historical and scientific debate about the opposition of our physical reality and subjective experience. It is necessary to consider the historical background of the mid-17th century if we are to grasp fully the importance of Descartes' assertion. Descartes was a contemporary of the Scientific Revolution, and the "Mechanical Philosophy" was already on its way to viewing the physical universe as a huge and very complicated clockwork. If the human body is nothing more than a very complex machine—operated by the laws of physics and having parts that can be moved and easily broken—the next question would be: what will become of the human soul? Descartes' argument for the mind as a unity and therefore indissoluble was a move that had to be made for guarding the "thinking thing" from being equated with just the clockwork. By taking the mind to be of no extension (that is, ...meaning it does not take up space), he removed it from the realm of mechanics. This allowed science to study the body as a machine while preserving the mind as a sovereign, unified domain of consciousness. This facilitated the scientific examination of the body as a complex and intricate machine and at the same time allowed the human brain to stay as a distinct, indivisible and fully conscious area. The brilliance of Descartes' detailed investigation of the ego is revealed through the illustration of the "powers" of the spirit. The philosopher admits activities of different kinds—willing, sensing, and understanding—that might take in the view as different "parts" of a person. However, with a thorough scanning, he discloses that those "parts" are not really parts at all but simply modes of one operation taking place. When I decide to walk, the same "I" is the one that feels the ground under my feet. That is an amazing discovery about the nature of consciousness. To put it differently, the "I" is the common factor of all experiences, while a computer can be dismantled into parts, and those parts are a processor, a hard drive, and a screen. Descartes claims that the human mind is a "single and complete" substance; in a natural way people can not have "half a will" or "a third of a perception" the way they can have half a loaf of bread. The intended message here is that our personal identity is not a collection of experiences but the sole platform where all experiences take place. The main point of Descartes’ argument is based on his peculiar selection of the term “indivisible.” In detailed reading, we need to put a question: why not simply employ the word "whole" or "one"? The selection of the term "indivisible" makes Descartes to present his view in the light of mathematics and metaphysics with absolute certainty. A thing being divisible means that it is open to the laws of nature that operate through entropy, whereby it is disintegrated, divided, and ultimately annihilated. When the mind is said to be "absolutely indivisible," he points out that the very essence of our existence is not affected by and remains untouched by the destruction and disintegration of the material universe. This observation carries with it very serious consequences for the concept of human dignity. If the "self" is not separable, then it cannot be "reduced" by the factors like physical disability, old age, or even the scientific "automaton" of the seventeenth century. Close reading brings to light that Descartes is not merely referring to a "thinking thing"; he is actually proclaiming that human essence is a territory of sovereignty that is invulnerable and unpermeated by any physical power. It is the "meaning below the surface" that the occasional reader might overlook: our worth is not a collection of parts that can be removed, but an essential totality that cannot be further reduced. Descartes makes this point even more precise by calling the mind “entirely single and complete.” This expression is the focal point of his "close-up" study of consciousness. In everyday living, we experience a lack of wholeness—we are "parts" of a family, "members" of a class, or a "bag" of moods. Nevertheless, Descartes' careful scrutiny of his own inside experience shows a different reality. He points out that although we have several different "powers"—to choose, to perceive, to understand—these are not "parts" of the mind, as the tires are parts of the car. On the contrary, they are "manners" of the same unique action. When I decide, when I perceive, and when I think, it is the same "I" executing all these actions. The major emphasis on the terms "single and complete" indicates that Descartes is characterizing identity as the very basis of experience rather not as a summation of experiences. A computer can always be taken apart into parts such as the processor and the screen; however, a human's will, according to Descartes, can never be divided into "half a will" or "a third of a perception." In a way, we are, at the level of essence, complete products right from the beginning. The application of this principle of divisibility creates a very different scenario vis-à-vis the physical body or world. Descartes asserts that the smallest physical object can still be divided in thought and eventually in reality. This leads him to his well-known illustration: "when a foot or an arm or any other part of the body is amputated, nothing has been taken away from the mind at all." This was a very bold declaration of the mind’s autonomy and the idea of the essence of the human being as not a biological sum of its parts. The body being a divisible vessel, the mind is the pilot—and the pilot does not lose their "self" just because the ship loses a plank. This differentiation was a breakthrough as it provided a way to think about human dignity and the immortality of the soul in a society that was measuring everything materially and thereby losing spiritual values. Nonetheless, today's detailed reading of the text has to deal as well with the difficulties of the modern-day neuroscience. The modern-day scientists who have conducted experiments on "split-brains" have concluded that the very "unity" Descartes referred to is, however, partly an outcome of the way the brain is anatomically organized. Roger Sperry and Michael Gazzaniga are among the neuroscientists who have done major work in this area. Their studies reveal that when the corpus callosum, the bundle of nerves connecting the two hemispheres of the brain, is surgically cut, the "one" mind can still act as if it has split into two different consciousnesses. Besides, the patients may experience their left hand working separately from the right hand’s desires, thus indicating that the "thinking thing" might be indeed divisible if its physical substrate is invaded. Moreover, a lesion in a given area of the brain can "erase" a certain skill—such as recognizing faces or speaking—while the other skills remain undamaged. This indicates that what Descartes termed "modes" might in fact be "parts" corresponding to specific neuronal circuits. However, despite all the arguments put forward by modern neuroscience, the "core meaning" of Descartes' contention still holds its ground. To put it concisely, the brain may be definitely dissectible but the "self" experience persists as a unified entity. Hence, the contemporary philosophers reflect over the age-old "Binding Problem": How can a brain with millions of distinct neurons firing in dissimilar locations produce a single, cohesive "film" of consciousness? As a matter of fact, even if neuroscience uncovers that the "machine" of the brain consists of several pieces, it has not yet completely described the "I" that sees everything. Descartes points out the very issue that science has not yet resolved: the enigma of a unified consciousness arising from a fragmented material world. But Descartes' Sixth Meditation is something more than a landmark of Western philosophy: it is, itself, a masterclass in this "wonderful skill" that is looking in. Demonstrated is a close reading of his work, proving that only in inches does one gain maximum knowledge. Without that, we are consumers in a world accepted to be divisible into mechanical pieces. It is in the energy of a "deep dive" that information becomes insight. We learn that we are not just "biological sums, but "single and complete" things. Close reading enables us to read the "text of the self" for the same level of interpretation we devote to a library book until we come to realize that the most important knowledge doesn't reside in the superficiality of the world but in the indivisible depths of the mind. Cottingham, John ; Stoothoff, Robert ; Murdoch, Dugald & Kenny, Anthony (eds.) (1988). Descartes: Selected Philosophical Writings. New York: Cambridge University Press. Gazzaniga, M. S., Bogen, J. E., & Sperry, R. W. (1962). Functional changes following the partial and complete section of the cerebral commissures in man. Neurology, 12, 303.

When I think of the values that Brian Tahair embodied, one word comes to mind: kindness. Throughout my life, I've tried to live by the mantra that small acts of kindness can make a big difference in someone's day. From volunteering to offering a listening ear to a friend in need, I've always sought out opportunities to spread love and positivity. One particular experience stands out to me. My experiences interning at Rush University Medical Center, and volunteering at Porter Medical Center gave me more connection with patients and more insight into the empathetic part of medicine. At first, my role as an intern seemed trivial; I checked patients’ charts to make sure their details matched the nurse’s whiteboard in the room and offered cups of water with a smile and light conversation. Even as my duties’ breadth increased with working more closely with the nurses as I got more experience, I did not see my impact. But eventually, the names on the door became more than just words. They turned into actual people who greeted me by name and who I greeted in turn. I met entire families, parents who would stay overnight with their children, spouses, and people who were delighted to see that I learned a few simple phrases in their native language. I had conversations and learned about family stories and cultures from both older adults and teenagers, one cup of water at a time. I have also seen the power of kindness, creativity and self-expression in my involvement with the arts, in volunteering for the Goodman Theatre. I enjoyed planning and carrying out the homecoming event for servicemen and women and their families, or Youth Matter, an annual event where we invited teenagers and young adults to showcase music, poetry, and short films. At my first opportunity to conduct my own event, I jumped at the chance to fundraise for a food and clothing drive for the homeless. The next year, we raised $1200, which we donated to the Greater Chicago Food Depository, finally making an impact on food insecurity in my city. I also reached out to the Santa Fe Young Playwrights project and mentored 20 young students. Encouraging students day by day, building confidence through conversations, getting to know the students, and having fun through creativity were immensely valuable for me, and the students as well. I believe that this is what Brian Tahair meant when he talked about doing small things with great love. It's not always about grand gestures or heroic acts, but rather the daily decisions we make to prioritize empathy, compassion, and selflessness. Going to college here in Vermont, I've been fortunate to see and be in a community where kindness is valued and celebrated and, I've witnessed firsthand the impact that small acts of kindness can have on our community. Receiving the Brian Tahair Life of Gratitude Memorial Scholarship would not only provide financial support for my educational goals, but it would also serve as a reminder to continue living my life with kindness and compassion. I am honored to have the opportunity to apply for this scholarship and to carry on Brian Tahair's legacy of love and gratitude.

Growing up in an urban environment, I witnessed firsthand the effects of poverty on my community. I knew from a young age that I wanted to make a difference, so I sought out opportunities to give back. Through my involvement with community organizations, and internships I quickly discovered that my true passion lies in healthcare and medicine. As a pre-med student, I have spent countless hours volunteering in hospitals, shadowing doctors, and working in cancer and neuroscience research labs. These experiences have taught me the importance of empathy, compassion, and dedication in the field of medicine. I have seen firsthand the impact that a caring and knowledgeable healthcare provider can have on a patient's life, and it has inspired me to pursue a career as a physician. In addition to my academic and research pursuits, I have also been heavily involved in the arts. As a volunteer at the Goodman Theatre, I have witnessed the transformative power of creativity and self-expression. I enjoyed planning and carrying out the homecoming event for servicemen and women and their families, or Youth Matter, an annual event where we invited teenagers and young adults to showcase music, poetry, and short films. At my first opportunity to conduct my own event, I jumped at the chance to fundraise a food and clothing drive for the homeless. The next year, we raised $1200, which we donated to the Greater Chicago Food Depository, finally making an impact on food insecurity in my city. I also reached out to the Santa Fe Young Playwrights project and mentored 20 young students. Through my fundraising efforts for communities in Chicago, I have learned the importance of community engagement and leadership. In all of this, my mother has been my biggest supporter throughout all of my endeavors, and her unwavering love and encouragement have been instrumental in my success. I am deeply grateful for her guidance and mentorship, and I hope to continue making her proud as I pursue my dreams of becoming a physician. Growing up, my mother always emphasized the importance of giving back to the community. She taught me that volunteering is not only a way to help others, but it is also a way to grow as an individual. I have taken this lesson to heart and I’ve even started volunteering here in Vermont so far for 50 hours at the local hospital. Through these experiences, I have gained a greater appreciation for the struggles that others face and have developed a deep sense of empathy. My mother's faith has also had a profound impact on my life. She has taught me to trust in God and to find strength in Him during difficult times. Her example of love and compassion has shown me the importance of treating others with kindness and respect, regardless of their background or circumstances. I am deeply grateful for my mother's influence on my life, and I know that I would not be the person I am today without her. I believe that her example of selflessness and dedication to others is exactly the type of legacy that Ginny Biada would have admired. As a recipient of this scholarship, I would be honored to carry on her legacy by continuing to volunteer and serve others in my community. Overall, I believe that my experiences and passions align with the values of the Ginny Biada Scholarship. I am committed to making a positive impact on the world around me, and I am confident that my unique perspective and skill set will enable me to do so.