Who Am I?

This seemingly straightforward question often prompts us to reference our core identifiers—factors that many believe define our existence. We label these identifiers to indicate our heritage, experiences, and communal practices. Among the most influential are our personal struggles, both victorious and otherwise.

We carry these labels with us, treating them as fixed points that supposedly clarify our identity. This practice, however, restricts our freedom and prevents us from engaging with life fully, as we become burdened by oversimplified definitions that obscure the complexity of our true selves.

By conflating ourselves with our labels, we engage in a cycle of self-sabotage.

How Does This Happen?

The act of clinging to our past yields two significant issues. Firstly, once we assign a label to something, we cease to perceive it as it is. Instead, we become fixated on the limited value we have ascribed to it. Over time, we become prisoners of our rigid narratives, missing the vibrant reality around us.

This labeling process can act as a self-fulfilling prophecy, particularly regarding our self-concept.

Secondly, we grow reliant on our self-imposed labels, perceiving any challenge to our narratives as a threat. Consequently, we expend immense energy resisting the present, defending our constructed identities rather than experiencing life as it unfolds.

Almost every moment of our lives is spent in this cycle, leading us further away from our authentic selves and from life itself.

So, Who Am I?

At the core, we are merely our sensations and actions. Everything else is a construct that diminishes the power of genuine experience. We are both observers and creators, engaged in a continuous dance with everything around us. The more we allow ourselves to exist in the moment, free from the need to impose meaning or predict outcomes, the more profound our experiences become, enabling us to grow and evolve.

Alternatively, when we measure the present against a past we wish to uphold or a future we strive to control, we lose sight of the broader picture and miss opportunities for authentic engagement.

By shedding our defenses and experiencing life without filters, we open ourselves to the world’s energy, allowing it to flow through us.

As Michael Singer, the author of the insightful book The Untethered Soul, states, "If you make lists of how the world must be for you to open, you have limited your openness to those conditions."

When we restrict our openness, we engage with the world primarily through a lens of control, attempting to mold it to affirm our preconceived notions. This approach is fundamentally flawed; rather than allowing reality to enlighten us, we resist its lessons.

Samskaras

The habitual paths our thoughts carve in our minds are known as samskaras in Hindu philosophy. In The Untethered Soul, Michael Singer describes samskaras as "cycles of stored past energy patterns" that hinder our ability to flow with reality.

Meditators are familiar with this concept; we learn to observe our thoughts without attachment—free from labels and judgments—preventing them from becoming samskaras that disrupt our true essence.

One insightful observation about samskaras states:

"When our actions are repeated over time, they become habits and tend to be performed more mindlessly rather than mindfully. The stronger these habits become, the less control we have over our minds when these actions arise."

So, how can we break the cycle of labeling and judging, and avoid reshaping the world to fit our narratives, thus preventing samskaras from blocking our ability to engage fully with life?

According to Singer, it begins with the recognition that we need to shift from "outer solution consciousness" to "inner solution consciousness." We must abandon the notion that our problems can be solved by rearranging external circumstances. The only enduring solution lies within—by letting go of the aspects of ourselves that resist reality. When we achieve this clarity, we become equipped to handle what remains.

This realization was an "aha" moment for me. What remains is often a collection of samskaras; recognizing them allows us to understand that they arise from true experiences that intersect with other samskaras created to shield us from reality.

Everything that disturbs or irritates us points to a samskara—an unresolved issue that prevents us from being present in our own lives. Singer notes, "Your definitions of desirable and undesirable, as well as good and bad, all arise because you have defined how things need to be for you to be okay."

In my perspective, spending a lifetime trying to shape reality to meet our needs results in exhaustion and dissatisfaction.

Being

When we immerse ourselves in simply being, we lack the time to judge our experiences. Being imprints a lasting psychic mark on us, regardless of whether we label it, becoming part of our understanding of the world.

Labels diminish experiences by oversimplifying them and imposing superficial judgments. They also create future limitations against which we assess everything in an effort to align it with our earlier evaluations.

Being fosters feelings of love, awe, hope, and connection. In contrast, judging distances us from these emotions. Singer argues that the key to existing in the world lies in relinquishing our grip on experiences—ceasing to transform them into memories.

As counterintuitive as this may sound, let me elaborate.

Memories—both positive and negative—hinder our capacity to be present. Just as negative samskaras weigh down our hearts, "Clinging creates positive samskaras." In both scenarios, we block the flow of energy by resisting or clinging to experiences.

The alternative is to savor life rather than cling to or reject it. By living in this manner, each moment has the potential to transform us. Embracing the gift of life instead of battling against it allows us to be profoundly affected at our core.

Consider some of your most impactful experiences. What made them memorable? Chances are, you were entirely present, allowing the moment to touch you deeply. You likely did not label it because it was fresh and novel, enabling you to perceive it authentically.

These two conditions—presence and novelty—do not need to be reserved for extraordinary moments. The new can manifest every day, in any context. Our approach to living dictates our experiences. If we seek familiarity or focus on protecting our samskaras, we miss the present moment and the novelty each new encounter brings.

We witness this distinction daily. Some individuals seem to radiate positivity, viewing the glass as half full and engaging the world with enthusiasm, regardless of challenges. We might attribute this to luck or advantageous circumstances, but the truth is, they are free of samskaras and, therefore, fear.

A magnet on my door reads: "Let go or be dragged."

Singer explains, "That which is blocked and buried within you forms the root of fear. Fear arises from blockages in the flow of your energy. When your energy is impeded, it cannot nourish your heart, leaving it vulnerable to lower vibrations, with fear being one of the lowest. Fear underlies every problem; it is the source of prejudices and negative emotions like anger, jealousy, and possessiveness. Without fear, one could find true happiness in this world."

The moments that leave a profound impact do so not because of our self-imposed identities—name, occupation, background, affiliations, or traits—but because we have allowed ourselves to experience them fully, permitting them to flow in and out of us, changing us in the process.

So, who am I?

I am the individual experiencing life, flowing with the world as it unfolds, shaped by interactions with others and my surroundings, leading to continuous growth and transformation. I am alive because I can feel. The impressions left by a lifetime of being grant us immense power in our own lives.

Change is change, regardless of whether we cling to its past triggers.

When I label myself or others, I cease to exist authentically. I, along with all that I label, become mere constructs—simplistic abstractions that weigh me down and hinder my appreciation of the rich complexity of life.

When I liberate myself from my mind's confines, the samskaras I once clung to can no longer anchor me down, for I have let them go. In doing so, I learn—echoing the words of Vivian Greene—that "life is about learning to dance in the rain, rather than waiting for the storm to pass."

That's another magnet on my door.

Try it sometime. Literally. Embrace life as children do—free from worry, judgment, and self-doubt.

With presence.

It's incredibly liberating.

As Shel Silverstein beautifully expressed in one of my favorite poems:

"Let it rain on my skin,

It can't get in—

I'm waterproof." © Shel Silverstein 1996