What could it mean to ‘be myself’
when what I am keeps changing?
Just following the whim of the moment?
That’s problematic, as I’ve found out.
What else am I made of? Ingrained habits,
native abilities, default emotions,
personality traits, learned skills. . .
Are any of these ‘me,’ except accidentally—
things resulting from what happened
to me—genetics, history?
Who am I, then, underneath everything else?
Words can’t pin it down,
but I know it when I feel it—
that feeling of being here,
inside my own skin, exactly
the specific person I am
and no one else—
Experiencing these thoughts, feelings, sensations,
connections with others, the cosmos—
not needing to judge or change anything,
even the less-than-pleasant parts, because:
exist as a living whole
is worth anything.
How do I get to that state of being from here?
It’s unlikely I’ll find an answer in words, I bet,
but just the asking, the deep need to know
might be the crucial factor,
leading me to pure gold.