This post is about the concept of Ego. I’m not talking about hubris. The ego in this sense is the thing that most of us identify with. The person or idea of a person that we think we are. My ego has a story, without which, “I” as my ego knows “I” to be, would not exist. That story goes something like: My name is Kendall. I’m an American. I like to dance. I’m a democrat. I’m a spiritual person. I’m a man. A tall man. A straight man. And so on and so forth. If you had to write down all the categories and things that make up you on a piece of paper, what would you write? Think physical characteristics, groups you belong to, personality traits, beliefs… Anything is fair game. Even if you don’t actually grab a pen, actually stop and think about this for a moment before continuing. Go on I’ll wait…
Ok, now here’s the twist. I invite you to think about the idea that YOU are the PAPER, not the things you’ve written. The ink on the page, that’s the ego. How many of those things do you think you could erase and still be YOU? If I stop dancing, I’m certainly still me. But what if I wasn’t tall? Or wasn’t born in America? The more I erase or change, the more I certainly paint a different picture of a person, but I don’t think there is any one thing without which I feel like I would completely disappear. People often return to spirituality or feel closer to it after someone they know dies for a few reasons. For one, death reminds us that we are also going to die, and thus makes us think about how unimportant our identities as the most successful lawyer or best looking dad at the barbecue really are. It also, most obviously, makes us remember that we are going die, and that makes us think about what (if anything) comes next. But lastly, some loss can be so devastating that it reduces us to rubble, so much so that we didn’t think life could go on. Yet somehow it does. After my I lost my father to suicide, suddenly I was a son, now without a father. A dancer, too depressed to move. A Christian with a God that seemed so absent. With all that made me ME removed, I still remained. So who am I really? Who are WE really?
If you’re the type of person that likes to think about the idea of something happening after we’re done with these lives here, consider this. I would suppose to you that after we’re done here on this earth, all of those things on your paper will be erased. Not transposed onto a new heavenly sheet of a parchment, but truly, blissfully washed away. But, entertain the idea of what it might mean if the paper still remains. Use whatever word for the paper you like: soul, consciousness, energy, etc. Pete Holmes talks about how his daughter is young enough to not have an ego. No story about who she is yet. Not even a knowledge of her own name. But she’s still one of these, right? Meaning, one of whatever we are. If Pete and his daughter were to both pass away, surely the same fate must become of them. She wouldn’t have a paper written for her as a queer clog dancing unicyclist that she would inhabit for eternity, because we never were the contents of our paper all along.
So how then can we get to know ourselves, our true selves? Just. Be. Quiet. You are the thing that is observing your thoughts. You are not your thoughts themselves. Focus on your breath. Quiet your mind to be without language as best you can, although thoughts will always bubble to the surface. In the space between those thoughts, YOU exist. As pure, conscious awareness.
