Who do you think you are!?

Hi Reader,

I recall a story of a man who was upset at (who else but) an attendant at an airport ticket counter. He’d long since lost his temper at not getting what he wanted and, in full-on tantrum (has anyone coined the term “mantrum” yet?) shouted, “do you know who I am?“

It’s the same sort of thing you might say in exasperation at someone’s bad behavior: “who do you think you are?“

These expressions are interesting because, like all good epithets, they point to something deeper.

One of my friends replied to last week’s email and said, “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘ineffable.’” That was spot on. And this week I’m doing it again; trying to talk about something that isn’t really talk-about-able.

So I ask you to set aside your logical/analytical mind for a moment and feel into this with me.

The question is this: who are you?

Take a minute here and really feel into that question with me. Close your eyes, relax your face (your “thinking” muscles), take three deep breaths and bring the question to the center of your awareness.

Who are you?

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What do you see? I’d be honored if you write a few words to me about your experience.

Here’s what I see for myself. It occurs to me that this is a basic “timeline” of what I experience as I sink into meditation.

It feels like there are “layers” to my being, and my awareness sinks down through them. Not that it doesn’t “skip upwards” sometimes, but the movement generally feels as if it’s going deeper into me.

First is my body. I have to let go of the tension in my face, forget about my breathing, relax the inside of my head, where it feels like my thoughts happen. I realize there aren’t any muscles there but that’s what it feels like.

Next are my thoughts. I’m thinking about whatever is going on in my life, or whatever I’m struggling with. Sometimes I get stuck here for a long time, but other times I succeed in letting my thoughts go, too. They don’t stop, but they do seem to drift off some distance and get quieter, like road noise as you walk into the forest.

Sometimes I encounter my emotions here, but sometimes there’s just a quiet calmness. Maybe that’s an emotion, too.

There might be another layer or two that I haven’t clearly identified yet, but as I relax deeper into myself, letting go of everything I juggle to function on the day-to-day, eventually it feels like I start to approach a place that is noplace. Nietszche said, “for when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you,” and I sometimes wonder if I am nothing, if I am somehow, somewhere, somewhen already dead or not-yet-born. Just a brief dream God is having.

But then… I can’t honestly say I’ve experienced this myself, but some people say that within the nothingness is the everythingness, and within the darkness, the light.

So I’ll keep looking, coming home again and again, each time bringing back a self with some new experience. It feels somehow at the same time like the most important thing there is and like a complete and utter fantasy. A charade of truth.