Nameless Named

Don’t know who I am.

My name is not who I am. Parents. Teachers. Community. They tell me who I am. But that is not who I am. All things emerging from the mystery. Zillion things named. Not one thing its name. That which breathes me remains a mystery. The mystery of I am.

Ever strip away those things inherited as identity?
Ever contemplate that the name of a thing is just that a concept and not the thing?
In what ways can you move closer to understanding the mystery of who you are?

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