Chapters (58)
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- I Qualia
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- II Umwelt
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- III Semiosphere
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- IV Autopoiesis
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- A Note About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
“What is fascinating to me about the system you describe is that it may be much like the nervous system of the octopus. There is good evidence that octopuses truly think with their arms. That their central brain is not in control all the time—that in fact it may not be in control much of the time at all. The octopus’s arms are constantly exploring its environment. I talk about this in my book—it’s one of the ways in which the octopus is so extraordinarily different from us. It’s smart—very smart—and we have established that. But it’s about more than that: its intelligence is strongly attached to curiosity and exploration. And one of the most intriguing things about the octopus is that much of that curiosity may, in fact, reside in its arms. It may be an animal with almost no top-down control much of the time—a mind navigating the sea that consists, primarily, of a set of exploring limbs only incidentally and intermittently controlled by a central, ‘core’ intelligence. Even the way we think about core and periphery is incorrect, when we apply it to them. We’re just using our own metaphors, but being within that system would be something entirely different. A completely different way of being in the world.”
Altantsetseg looked at Ha as if she had finally, for the first time since she arrived on the island, said something interesting enough to pay attention to. “Yes,” Altantsetseg said, “that is what the holon system feels like: a completely different way of being in the world. It is as if your limbs were constantly moving on their own accord, exploring the world around you, thinking for themselves. You are watching them move, observing their actions—no, that isn’t quite right. You are in a state of feeling/observing. Their actions flow across the system. If that flow feels correct, you allow it to continue—though ‘allow’ isn’t really the right word. You observe its continuation, let’s say. If it seems wrong, somehow, you alter the flow: you re-channel it, the way you would re-channel the flow of water by putting a hand into a small stream and changing the angle of your fingers. Your changes are subtle, most of the time. But you can also seize control fully, if needed.”
“It seems dangerous,” Evrim said. “That level of passivity at the center. It seems like your limbs would get you in a lot of trouble.”
“It makes octopuses the ultimate multitaskers. But it does seem to be a bit dangerous. I think it helps,” Ha said, “if those limbs can regenerate when they get lopped off for being too curious. Luckily for the octopus, they can—and they grow back just as good as new.”