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?