There is no certainty

There is no certainty.

Whoever we think we are, we are not. Whoever we wish we were, we are not.

When the heart breaks, and the “I” dissolves, we can find ourselves stripped naked from the ideas that created a continuum through memories, dreams, longings…

We are not those either. There is no certainty about who we are from the perception of the “I” that was carefully built to fit the story we wanted to tell ourselves.

Who we are cannot be contained in any descritption that lives in time and space. The truth shines bright when we fall through the abyss and we have nothing but the darkness to hold on to.

Like in meditation, only forgetting ourselves truly opens the door to remembrance. Like upon waking up, in that split second, when we haven’t gathered yet the thought of “me” and “mine”.

That’s the great paradox of questioning “who am I?”. It’s in the searching where we lose ourselves….

I have no answers. I don’t even know if I still have questions. But at last I can just rest in this space between known and unknown.

There is no certainty.