You are now reading this.

Right?

How do you know?

Well, because you do.

You have experiences.

You’re aware of sensations.

You know the moods you can drop in, and the expectations and judgments that arise.

You know.

You, just, know.

But who is that you?

Is it the body with the familiar-sounding name and the heavy past that was hated so much this morning?

Or is it the experience of a happy, carefree you with a bright future, like a blue Summer sky?

How can it be that there’s a you that is sometimes appreciated, but also deeply disliked sometimes?

Who knows those you’s?

Are you still there when you don’t think?

And who would be that?

WHAT is that?

Are you still reading this?

Are you trying to follow what I’m saying?

Is this rambling going straight over your head?

Good.

What if you drop it, the non-stop trying to get it and control it, the attempts at changing it and keeping it a specific way, the sense of that tiny, fragile you in a big bad world?

What if the only thing that’s left, is knowing itself?

You are knowing.

The rest is literally made-up.

—

(Photo by @hisart_gm, for Unsplash)