I feel as confused as I did when I was eight - confronted by my own self. I walked to school wondering, why am I me? Why do I have this sense of me, and not of anyone else. This confusion always sent me off into imagining myself to be anyone other than me, and yet, there was me, imagining the "not me"s. Hmmm.
The world of blogging gives me a similar sensation. Who is this me, and what do I have to say, and how is my voice different from all the other voices out there? The glimpses into so many other minds, incomplete thought processes that are different from printed articles, or printed books, or made films. They are not much different from my own thought processes, and yet why am I me?
I'm sure the world of psychology has an answer, something to do with the brain, and its chemicals, and the triggers of stimulus, or whatever. But, but, but, there's still me.
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2 comments:
Batul,
your pondering put me in mind of Ramana Maharshi's classic text "Who Am I?" -- something I'd not read since many years. Googling, I found it online easily enough -- but it turned out to strike me as rather painfully dry; perhaps one needs the right mood, moment, or mind-frame to enliven such readings.
At any rate, the line of question you sketch seems basic, fundamental, and good!
cheers,
d.i.
ps: nonetheless, in case you're curious (& not familiar with that to which I refer), it can be seen here:
Who Am I?
Maharshi's own account of the importance of this question in his own spontaneous development, is rather fascinating. (That would need more searching out....)
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