Who am I?
It sounds like such a simple question, but when I really sit with it—quietly, honestly—I realize it’s anything but. And yet, it's the question that has quietly shaped my life, nudging me deeper into an understanding of what it actually means to be me.
So let me begin not by answering, but by eliminating.
What am I not?
Well, I’m not my body. That much is clear. My body has been in a state of continual change since the day I was born. Every cell has regenerated, replaced, reformed. I look nothing like the child I once was, and yet I still feel like “me.” The body is a vehicle, yes, but not the driver.
I’m not my name. That was given to me before I could even speak. It’s a label, a convenient way for others to identify me, but it isn’t me. One of my brothers didn’t like the name he was given and simply changed it—including the family name. Did he become a different person? Of course not. The name is a badge, nothing more.
I’m not my job. I’ve had many roles throughout my life, but I wouldn’t dream of defining my core self through any of them. Jobs come and go. Titles are worn and shed. What stays?
I'm not the stuff I own. Over the course of my life, I’ve collected and discarded a small mountain of belongings—especially since I’ve moved house more than sixty times. Each time, I left behind bags, boxes, furniture, books… things. If I lost everything today, I wouldn’t lose myself. My stuff is not me.
I’m also not my understanding of the world. I’ve read thousands of books and earned many qualifications, but knowledge is just accumulation. It's helpful, of course, but it doesn’t define who I am at the core. Paper and ideas aren't identity.
Nor am I my gender. That, too, is shaped and filtered by layers of cultural, biological, and personal experience. When I arrived on this planet, I had no idea what gender was. It was taught to me, as were so many things. And what I’ve come to understand is that human identity is far more nuanced than binary boxes. Sexual orientation, gender identity—none of it fits neatly into a single explanation. As Nietzsche said, "Man is the animal whose nature has not yet been fixed." We are born with potential, not certainty.
So who am I?
That question has followed me like a quiet companion for most of my life. And what I’ve come to see is that we are all born into systems—of belief, of family, of culture—that tell us who we should be. Most people, it seems to me, never really recover from that early indoctrination. They spend their lives trying to live up to someone else’s script. The result? Just read any newspaper.
But I’ve also come to realize something deeper: that beneath all those layers, I have the potential simply to be human. Fully human. What does that mean?
It means recognizing my fellow human beings as my equals—each one a variation on the same theme. We’ve all landed here, briefly, on this spinning rock in a far-flung corner of the universe. We’re made of the same elements, animated by the same breath. And we all carry within us the gift—and the burden—of consciousness.
This consciousness allows me to see the choices I have. In any moment, I can choose between the polarities that shape human experience:
Joy ↔ Sorrow
Love ↔ Hate
Hope ↔ Despair
Courage ↔ Fear (not absence of fear, but action in spite of it)
Generosity ↔ Selfishness
Gratitude ↔ Resentment
Clarity ↔ Confusion
What makes me who I am is not the name I was given, the body I inhabit, or the roles I’ve played—but the choices I make. Every day, I have the opportunity to choose kindness over cruelty, calm over chaos, love over fear. And in those choices, I become more truly myself. I am very grateful to Prem Rawat for pointing this out to me and for helping me to become more conscious of the miracle we call life as a human being.
So wish me luck. Not in becoming someone else, but in becoming a human being—the best version of this strange and beautiful thing I call “me.”
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