“When I had nothing to lose, I had everything. When I stopped being who I am, I found myself.”
–Paulo Coelho
How do I define myself? What makes me me? Each definition will be but another onion skin layer. I unreal each one slowly for each one while true remains true in the same way that the blind man’s elephant was very much like a tree trunk? Or was it like a fan? Or a snake? In other words, any definition or description I could give of myself would at most expose part of me leaving the rest undescribed or unexplained. Would I tell you a mythical most important part? Perhaps to my mind. In all probability I tell you the part I want you to see. I describe endlessly the parts of myself that I most want to identify with. Too bad they also tend to be the most illusory. Part of that house of cards, tower aspect I like to talk about. It is a part I use more to conceal than I do to reveal. But what if I could surrender that part, give it up. Ah, then something real may finally show through. Namaste, G
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Eyes in the Buddha’s Electric Garden by G A Rosenberg