Who am I? When stripped to the core there is no proof of identity.
That sentence began my senior thesis on the existence of God. The paper, sadly, is long since gone, but one I would have enjoyed reading again all these years later. I would have liked to have gotten to know that person a little better now, understood how she thought before “the learning”.
My spiritual quest has begun again, I do know the triggering event which has nothing to do with spirituality. The narrator in me begins a new, retracing steps in a worn path, trying to find clues to an unknown question really. Do you ever see yourself in a dream? Who is the observer? Just like my mind, the narrator is orchestrating and defining events, past present and future. Who is behind the narrator?
What is truth? Truth is unmovable, I think, but elusive.
“Truth comes to an innocent mind as a blessing
and a sacrament.
Truth is a holy thing because it liberates thought
from itself and illumines the human heart
from the inside out.”
“This light that I am is no ordinary light.
It does not light up anything
or illuminate darkness.
It is a pure and formless knowingness.”