The Image

The Image

Image Courtesy – Eric Torres on Pexels.com

Who Am I?

The one who is writing this, or the one reading this; maybe the one contemplating these words or the one observing these three or could be none of these but a part of every one of these, at times, observing the act, while many a time participating in it and still wondering who actually does all this thinking and writing.

The moment I look at myself in the mirror, I see a face, I see every day and as I stare at it longer, there is a feeling as if the one in the mirror and the one outside are two separate beings, maybe they copy each other’s actions, but can’t be one; there is such an obvious difference between the two.

Do you also begin to have strange feelings, when you look at yourself for a little longer and there is kind of a discomfort that is difficult to express but is somehow obvious; the eyes stare back at you, the expressions change frequently, but they still don’t feel ‘you’, there are two beings there, ‘you’ and ‘him’.

Suddenly, the uniqueness you have about your existence is shattered, the image is a creation of you, but maybe it’s not you.

We may be just an image in this world, an image of something bigger, something relevant, but just like that image behind the mirror, we have no conscious thought of how we come to exist, and the moment we begin to think about it, the whole world begins to turn strange losing its coherence.

At times, I feel as if we are probably the mirror image of someone else, moving and expressing ourselves based on what that someone is doing. Now, he/she may be just killing time, making faces, and trying to show off, and we invariably follow all that, but still want to feel and believe we are doing it, it’s our choice and no, no one forced it upon us, because there is no “no one.”

What if we begin to question this whole premise?

“What if this is all farce, an illusion, Maya, we haven’t yet understood.’

The moment “I” begin to question myself, it becomes hard, life suddenly begins to ask all these uncomfortably tough questions, turning us speechless and “dumb.”

“You are crazy; have you lost your mind; you need to realize your responsibilities and forget about all this spirituality and higher consciousness; don’t run away; the world is real, now go work and make a living instead of writing this crap.”

The one telling all this and the one exhorting you to look beyond the worldly things and find your true self, who are they, “different”, or the one and the “same.”

We are happy to be an image, happy with this ephemeral existence, which is contingent; contingent upon how long it will be sunny but the moment it turns dark, there won’t be an image, it will be gone, and we wouldn’t even know, who’s image were we.

But are we an image or do we really exist?

Exist with an independent consciousness and thoughts and “endowed” with a “decision-making ability?”

Or is it just an illusion?

Is it me thinking all this or is it the one who created this image projecting his thoughts on “me” and enjoying the misery I am going through right now?

Well, I don’t know, but I am still trying to find out.

Are you?