Who are you?

 

  

 

Look around you.  What do you see?  A computer.  A phone.  A drug of some kind.  Is this your real life?  What do you do?  Or what do you be?  

 

Or do you provide a good or service?  Or work for a living?  Or care for people?  A partner?  Children?  Parents?  The community?  Or play a mean guitar?  Or pray and practice a religion or rituals?  I would guess that these people when asked who are you would have a satisfactory answer.  

 

Or maybe you are a buddha.  Or a spiritualist?  And you don’t really have to ask yourself who you are.  Or if you take away the marijuana or grocery store or running water, what would your answer be?  What about the sex?  Can you live a year in the woods?  Really.  Or the desert?  For a year?  For ten years?  Or your whole life: chopping wood and carrying water and being perfectly fine?  Then you don’t have to wonder if you don’t have to ask yourself who you are?

 

Who are you?  Are you satisfied with the answer?  

 

I would ask this question to anyone who considers themselves spiritual: do you suck blood or do you give love?  And I ask it to anyone at all: who are you?  Are you happy with the answer?

 

Cinematography can make anyone question who they are?  But those are the exceptions to art and philosophy and literature.  For emergencies.  Post modernism.  Nihilism.  Rage.  Apocalypto.  If you look at time lapse photography of your real life, what would you see?  If you look at the people you’ve impacted what would you see?

 

When you look at your life, is it just running from hand to mouth; or some slight derivation thereof?  Or sucking someone else’s hand.  

 

Who are you?  Are you a sentient being?  Or are you an insect?