So identified with who we are not, most of us will get dizzy trying to understand this post. Yet I encourage you to pierce through the dense shell of words and letters to the essential yolk of meaning within this writing, for it is there you will remember who you are.
Most of us struggle to feel an enduring sense of identity. We fail to know who we are. It is like we are naked, bare of self. Feeling naked, we grab for the nearest clothing we can put on. Knowing not the timeless and unchanging part of ourselves, we clothe ourselves with borrowed bits and pieces. We “put on” a sense of identity, rather than wear our own. We take on a piece of mom, a part of dad, a little from our friends, a bit of our heros, and a whole lot of what we see worn by society. A patchwork quilted suit of self, stitched together from what we perceive around us, is what emerges from our taking. In our daily lives, we identify ourselves with whatever we believe is most fashionable. Bling. Boats and cars. Gadgets. Big houses. Prestigious titles. Even our thoughts are matched to the popular beliefs of the day. But in doing so, in attaching our sense of “I” to tangible objects or personal thoughts, we feel ourselves to be impermanent, disposable. Without apparent purpose or meaning. And, we set ourselves up for chronic grief and loss.