This post was formatted using AI. While the core ideas were mine, the sentencing belongs to the non-human entity known as ChatGPT. But the pictures it generated are good!
Since reading Eckhart Tolle back in 2009, I’ve become deeply fascinated by the concept of identity. It has sparked a series of questions that have evolved over time. Who are we, truly, at our core, beyond what we do, the roles we play, and the labels we wear?
Who are we when we strip away the societal expectations that shape us and tell us who we should be? Are we truly who we think we are, or is there something deeper that exists beyond our immediate sense of self?
What happens when we detach ourselves from what we do for a living, the roles we occupy in the world, and the labels given to us by others? Who am I, for instance, without my job, without my social position, without the name I’ve been given by my parents? The true essence of who we are is not something society defines or assigns to us.
We often exist within the “matrix” of society’s expectations, and while these external constructs shape us, they are not our authentic selves.
The question arises: who is the one asking these questions? If we dig deep enough, we may start to wonder if there is something or someone beyond our superficial self. The “I” that is constantly questioning and seeking — is that the same “I” that we consider to be our identity? Is there a part of us beyond the personality, beyond the ego, beyond the roles we play in life?
In our modern world, we tend to define ourselves by our actions, preferences, and choices. But are our preferences—like the music we listen to or the food we enjoy—really part of our identity? Do they truly define who we are, or are they just surface-level traits that reflect a fleeting moment in time?
Who, exactly, is the “I” that seems to live in my head? The one that observes my thoughts, the one that repeats patterns, the one that carries the weight of past experiences. If we step back and reflect, we notice that certain places, people, and experiences repeat themselves throughout our lives, and in a sense, these repetitions begin to shape who we believe we are.
However, there’s one undeniable truth that life teaches us over time: everything changes. Our bodies age. Our preferences evolve. Our circumstances shift. If what we believe to be our identity can change and shift over time, how can something that is constantly in flux and impermanent truly be our “core” identity?
Perhaps our identity is not fixed at all, but rather an ongoing flow of experiences and expressions. The material world, including our appearance, belongings, and achievements, can be part of how we express ourselves, but it cannot be the essence of who we truly are.
The more we age and experience life, the more we come to understand the transient nature of everything in the material world. We come to realize that there must be something deeper, something more permanent, something beyond the fleeting nature of the external world.
For me, as I’ve grown older, I’ve found myself seeking something more enduring. This search for permanence arises as we become more aware of how everything—our bodies, our relationships, even our memories—eventually changes or fades away. Does this impermanence feel like a blessing or a curse? It’s both, in a way.
For someone living through immense suffering, change can be a blessing, a chance for relief, for transformation. But for those clinging to sweet memories, the inevitability of change can feel like a loss, as if those memories are slowly turning to dust.
If everything around us is impermanent, then what remains? If our identity is not a fixed point but a changing, evolving story, then what is the essence that remains unshaken? What is the core of our being that exists beyond the shifting tides of experience?
Perhaps it’s in our habits. The stories we tell ourselves about who we’ve been, what we’ve suffered, what we’ve lost, and what we’ve gained. Our memories—whether joyful or painful—are an integral part of who we perceive ourselves to be.
The habits we repeat day after day, the people we become attached to, the places we return to, and the beliefs we hold all become pieces of our identity, but they are still only temporary.
They are like the weather patterns of the mind—shifting, unpredictable, and ultimately passing.
At some point, if we look deeply enough, we may begin to touch something more fundamental. Beyond the layers of memories, attachments, roles, and beliefs, there may be something deeper, something constant: pure consciousness. This consciousness is not bound by time, space, or any of the fleeting elements of life.
And then, the greatest question of all arises: Who is aware of this identity? Who is it that knows we have an identity? Who is the “I” that is aware of itself? This awareness—this sense of being—is the key to understanding who we truly are.
Take a moment to reflect on this. Who is the one who is aware of the “I”? And who are we when we drop all the labels, all the stories, all the identities we’ve clung to? Perhaps, in the silence, we’ll find the answer to the most profound question of all.
