Seems like a pretty basic question, but is it? What am I? Not who, but what. Am I this body? If I were to lose a limb, I’d still be me. So, I can’t be this body. This body is just a vessel to contain and carry and protect “me”.
Am I these thoughts? Thoughts come and go. Thoughts get stuck on repeat. Thoughts get us mad and scared and excited. Thoughts change us. Thoughts are what I’m trying so desperately to put in a box at least for a few minutes each day to let me experience life and not just think about experiencing life. I surely can’t be these thoughts, or those thoughts for that matter.
Am I this mind, this brain? I don’t feel that I am this body nor these thoughts so why would I be this brain? If I were would I be the conscious part or the unconscious or the semiconscious? Or all or some combination thereof? When I was young and certain parts weren’t “switched on” yet, was I not really me? My brain likely thinks that it is me, but I don’t think it is.
Am I this soul or spirit? Maybe. If so, think how amazing this is. We are nothing more than a wisp of energy. We are not six feet tall or investment bankers or left-handed, we are just a little poof of delicate vibrating nothingness. Yet my little nothingness is easily recognizable from yours, even with eyes and ears closed.
Am I just a collection of relationships and shades of grey? Seems possible. A grab-bag of likes and fears and values and attitudes. These could much more easily change over time than say your name or the timbre of your voice or the color of your irises. How do you describe yourself? What is the fundamental particle, the indistinguishable unit of “you”? I bet it is a tossed salad of adjectives.
Why then do we think that we ever die, or were ever born for that matter? Sure, these vessels will continue to degrade until they are no longer viable, but your energy and beliefs and influences and actions are already in so many other things and so many other people. We were us long before we were here and we continue for long long after wards, even those of us who think we don’t have much of a story or have had much of an impact. Those ripples continue to dance outward and interact with other’s spirits and souls and beliefs and kind deeds. There is no way to really separate you from me from our forefathers and mothers and those to come millennia from now nor the pandas or desk staplers. We are one big breathing gift; one long exhalation.
If we are not these bodies or these thoughts or these job descriptions than we do not fear losing ourselves if and when they change. Today I have pain in my left toe. I sometimes have difficulty falling asleep. I am not these things; I am just the witness. I acknowledge and then let go of this and so much more. I am not anger or fear. I see it there and know that I am not that. I am just this breath. Where does my exhale end and your inhale begin?
