The Many Me’s
When the Buddha spoke of not-self, he literally meant that we create what appears to be self but really is not self at all. We do this selfing in a variety of ways, and then we create identity for ourselves and call it me.
As I sit here this morning, I watch a swarm of many apparent me’s arising: feelings, thoughts, emotions that create a powerful sense of self, yet they are not a solid, unchanging self I can grasp and hold onto.
Yesterday when I received the news that Sun had laid me off, I was not surprised. A part of me was relieved because I have been ready for change for sometime. Yet, over the last 24 hours I have watched many me’s arise into consciousness: the me who was the loyal Sun employee, the me who now was reacting with a sense of betrayal, the writer me, the successful me, the frightened, uncertain me, the creative me, and the list goes on and on. It’d be easy to say, well those are all aspects or part of me, but I’m seeing that that is not the case at all. These fleeting me’s are all delusion, things I have come to identify with in the “outside” world, and they are absolutely not me. They just feel like it because they are created through mind and reaction.
I am not a writer, but I write. I am not an employee, but I did my job. I am not a creator, but I do create . . . A whole lot of doing is going on, but none of those are who I am intrinsically.
In one of Jack Kornfield’s articles, he compares these me’s we create to a rainbow. Each sense of me can seem very real like the colors we see in a rainbow, but like a rainbow they only appear under certain conditions, and then like a rainbow, like the play of light, they fade away. If we try to hang onto them, we’ll be disappointed; we suffer, because they just slip away. If we try to hold onto them and protect them for dear life, we collide with the outside world.
I can see how these me’s are creating my suffering now, especially the successful Dana, the Sun employee Dana, the Dana who was the creator of this and that, the writer. I watch as my thoughts of failure and rejection create the rising of sadness and heartache. I watch as the rejected me stirs thoughts of indignation in “self” defense, which provokes emotions of anger and betrayal. It’s almost like watching a cast of characters jumping over my head and through my heart. I ask myself, “Is that really me? Who am I at my core?” I go inward, and I see nothing, hear nothing, and I settle into the bit of silence there is before the parade of characters begins again.
This external event has awakened the ego, and the ego provokes the mind, and the mind stirs the emotions, yet at my core is the quiet place of calm, of serenity. It’s where I can always turn to because it never disappears, yet there is nothing really there. What is that place?
As I sit here now I indulge in brownies I had made last night as comfort food. Yet, though I enjoy the flavor, the texture, the aroma, I also see there really is no comfort to be had in this favorite food. The idea of comfort from my beloved brownies is but a dim illusion.
I bring myself fully into the present and listen to the sounds heater turning off and on, the sound of water running in the nearby bathroom, Cannon’s quiet snore, and here in the now there is peace, there is calm. I close my eyes and turn inward to the darkness, the silence. Who is this person I call me? Silence. There is only awareness, awareness of the inward landscape, awareness of the external.
The many me’s vie for attention again, but I see through them like the characters on a movie screen. At times I get drawn in. I forget they are not real. I feel the sadness arise, the tears come, and then I remember, this is a play of the mind, attachments and clinging that have arisen, and I drag myself back to the present, back to now. The feelings fade, the chatter settles. My heart says what lies in this uncertainty, that always was there, is potential. I have no idea what form that potential will take, but I will be there for it, and likely the many me’s as well.
