Who Are You?
¿Quién eres?
A student describes being asked "Who are you?" and finding that neither "It's just me" nor giving a name feels fully honest. The student asks whether the teacher has known this tension.
Who Are You?
A student describes being asked "Who are you?" and finding that neither "It's just me" nor giving a name feels fully honest. The student asks whether the teacher has known this tension.
Can I ask you something?
Yes, of course.
Lately, people keep asking me, "Who are you?" They seem surprised. And I just answer, "Well, it's just me." Then I find myself reflecting on whether what I'm saying is congruent, because I know I am not just me. And yet I know I am. But even when I say, "Well, it's me," the wonder is still there: Who are you? Who am I?
I am really exercising the muscle of congruency, of not lying to anyone, including myself. So when I say, "Well, I am..." and give my name, something inside me says, "Yes, but you're more." And at the same time, when I say, "Well, it's me," it feels like something is lacking. I know it's the mind, but have you been in that spot?
I can't really say, because it's your experience, and I can't know exactly what you're experiencing. But from what you're describing, I don't relate to the problem.
No problem to solve
So there is no problem? It's not incongruent?
Exactly. Why would it be?
Right. It's the mind. It's just the mind. I was caught in my mind, even though I was aware it was the mind. But I wanted to know. Thank you. That was literally it. I'm going to be laughing at myself all day.
That's great.
Thank you.