On waking in the morning, I could search for the true-self. Am I all or am I nothing? Before I sleep I could ask myself, have I yet found my true-self? I do not doubt that this human body, which speaks to me through feelings and perceptions, driving me towards survival and reproduction, is the animal presence.
But my mind wants more. More reasons, more validation, more longevity, more purpose. This sense of self that I started building as a child to provide a “certain place” between the all and nothing – clings. I spend my days searching, like through a box of gears, springs, screws and glass, hoping to piece together a clear picture of the clock I believe I once held. But even each part bouncing around in the box is not necessarily more than the metal from which it was stamped.
Each aspect of my presence which I constantly sort and cull to assemble my true-self are themselves illusions. I have accepted that to find the answer would only provide a new start point for clinging.
I choose, instead, to accept only the unfolding of the mystery without the expectation or need for an answer. Just as with a spoonfull of iced cream where the tasting includes the melting, the unattached questioning includes the releasing.
Does this mean that I do not exist? Does this mean I am more than a specific target along the line between all and nothing? Umm, I am tasting and melting.
