Why are we so identified with our life story? Why not just let there be simple awareness of what’s happening—happy moments, fearful thoughts, angry feelings, sad memories, work well done, mistakes made—without weaving it all into more story? Thought is always stepping into the picture as “me,” the main character—damming up the stream of events with self-reference, reacting and commenting and emoting about “myself”—becoming attached to what is experienced and felt as “good me,” and rejecting of what is judged as “bad me”: “I don’t want to be that way. This is not me. I don’t like it.” We are clinging, denying, or escaping from ourselves all the time.
Where are we right now? What are we? Is it possible to observe these ever-changing states of feelings and emotions dispassionately without becoming the owner or dis-owner of any of them? -T.P