"How do we define identity?" Castiel asked without preamble. "Are we merely the sum of our memories, or is our personality affected by our physical forms?"

One might guess how a guy who existed on the mortal plane by taking over someone else's body might fall on that scale.

"This weekend, many of us encountered something of a crisis in this area. We were changed fundamentally, both in memory and in physical presence. And yet we remember the events, making that alternate individual a part of who we are, today."

It was clear that Castiel didn't much like this thought. He continued on with the questions, mostly the basic "nature v. nurture" arguments that one might have heard many times before -- only from one who was truly only just figuring out that the question even existed. His irritation bounced between himself, the island, and even on occasion, his father, before concluding that the weekend was a test, that the events and the altering of personage must be used to reestablish one's own identity in the world.

He concluded with something of a light show, stretching and showing off his wings momentarily before relaxing.

It seemed to do him some small measure of good.

[ooc: apologies if this is somewhat incoherent -- I've had an odd morning. OCD is on its way up.]