Who Am I?

My friend asked me what came to mind when people thought of her. What type of person, what type of feeling do we get when we think of her? And I told her what I thought and how I felt. But then I thought about it more and said that everyone’s opinion would be different and I’m partial so she should take it with a grain of salt. Even if some of us said the same thing, those very same words mean different things to each of us. She agreed. And it ended disquietingly there. It wasn’t until later that I started to think about it again. What a strange concept! Everyone’s impression/opinion of you is based off of their instinct, experience and memory of you. These combined create your essence to them. And everyone’s is different. That said you wear a new mask for everyone you’ve ever met or will ever meet. You are 1 million versions of yourself to 1 million different people at the same time and no two versions the same.

So then who are you? To everyone else you are true in their mind. But in everyone’s separate mind you are true differently. And if two truth’s are different, how can that work? Perhaps the truth is that one person cannot hold the truth independently and that truth is the collection of everyone’s experience of you from beginning to end. But if that’s so, then it’s a lonely thought because it means that no one person can ever know you truly, only partially. And even if this is the case, what mind is supreme enough to collect all of these truths and realize you for you–head to toe, soul to spirit? And if there isn’t one, does this mean that you will never been fully known?

Perhaps it means that only you are capable of knowing yourself truly. But then the odds are against you because in the grand scheme of it all, you’re only one of millions that know you or have experienced you. And I’m inclined to say that none of us know ourselves absolutely because we’ve never experienced ourselves the way others have the privilege of experiencing us. And that itself is a terrifying thought because if it is true it may very well mean that we ourselves know our true selves the least out of everyone we know.

So then who knows? “Not I,” said the cat.

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