Why I Dug Into This "Who You Really Are" Thing
So yesterday morning, I was scrolling through junk on my phone, feeling this weird buzzing inside my head, you know? Like my brain was a microwave full of angry bees. Work emails, dinner plans, that stupid argument from last week – all just rattling around. And I thought, "Man, I feel totally separate from everything, like I'm trapped in this little meat sack called 'me'." That’s when I remembered that old book title: Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are. Okay. Screw it. Time to actually open that ebook I downloaded ages ago.
Grabbing Alan Watts Like A Lifeline
I grabbed my ancient tablet, the one with the cracked screen corner, and fumbled for the ebook reader. Found it. Alan Watts. Clicked open. Started reading bits while my coffee went cold. Honestly, most of it sounded like nonsense at first. "You are the universe experiencing itself"? What the actual hell does that mean? It felt like trying to bite my own teeth. But something made me keep going, like a splinter I had to pick at.
The Mirror Trick (Felt Ridiculous)
Around lunch, sitting there eating a sad sandwich, an idea hit me. What if I tried that thing Watts talks about? Seeing myself as the world, not separate. Okay. How? I decided to try the mirror. Not to check my hairline (that's depressing), but really look. Stared into my own eyes in the bathroom mirror. Felt stupid after 10 seconds. Thoughts exploded: "My left eyebrow is crooked." "Is that a new wrinkle?" "I look tired." Total fail. Just confirmed I was locked in "me". But then... I took a deep breath. Let the thoughts be like noisy background TV. Kept staring, softer this time. Just looking, not judging. Not trying to figure it out. And for a split second – bam – it wasn't "me" looking at "me". It was just... looking. Like the mirror and me were part of the same thing. Freaky. Gone in a flash. But I felt it.
The Garden Moment (No Weed Involved)
Later, avoiding work emails, I wandered into my tiny backyard jungle. Just sat on the concrete step, kinda slumped. Sun was warm on my neck. Listened to this robin chirping its head off in the neighbour's tree. Watched a fat bumblebee fumble around some dandelions. Wasn't thinking about much. Then, something shifted. That buzzing in my head quieted right down. It wasn't like the mirror thing – it was easier. I wasn't "me" sitting in the garden. I just was the sun on the skin, the sound of the bird, the weird bumpy concrete under my butt. Like the edges dissolved. It wasn't grand. It was quiet. Simple. Just being part of the noise and the quiet, the sunshine and the scratchy step. Not separate. Just... here. For a few minutes, the taboo lifted. No big knowing, just not feeling apart.
Keeping The Damn Thing Alive (So Hard)
Did it last? Hell no. Got up to go inside, tripped over the garden hose, swore like a sailor – back to being separate, clumsy me instantly! That's the annoying part. This "knowing who you are" feels more like remembering what you're not – not this separate little island. It’s not magical. It’s noticing when you aren't caught in the mental junk drawer. Like catching yourself humming. Today? I tried noticing that feeling of separation when it crept back in during a boring meeting. Didn't fight it. Just went "Oh, hello again, old feeling." Felt less sticky. Maybe the practice isn't getting something, but letting go of the story that you're just the main character. It’s slippery. It feels dumb half the time. But noticing the buzzing stop? Worth it. Like finding a quiet spot in a noisy city. I ain't enlightened. Just cleaning the window a little.
