Ever since I was a child the toilet seat has been the fortunate venue for some of my greatest revelations and insights. Anyone who knows me knows that the bathroom is for me a sort of sanctuary, a place for solitude, contemplation and letting go of excess baggage. I have never been one of those unfortunate people for whom the bathroom represents an inconvenient pit stop on their daily circuit. Instead, I view the bathroom more as a sort of oasis for rest, relief and relaxation. It affords us a momentary escape from the demands of the world. Even in the workplace the same monster boss who called you a hundred times while you were on vacation wouldn't dream of disturbing you in the privacy of your bathroom stall. The toilet is a faithful companion, willing to accept whatever you have to offer.
As a child, I would play this game while on my throne. I would stare at the palm of my right hand and whisper the words, "How am I alive?" Then, I would blink and refocus my eyes, a bit like how you might refresh your internet browser's window. Then I would repeat again, "How am I alive?" then blink and refresh again each time refocusing on the palm of my hand. And I'd repeat many times, working myself into a sort of trance in which, with each refresh, the recognition of what I was staring at would slowly fade. Soon, my palm would turn into this completely alien entity that I'd find myself gazing at in fascination. I would feel my heart begin to race with nervous excitement and I'd get up (yes, in the middle) and waddle over to the mirror and stare at my face seeing it for the very first time. Then continuing to stare into the mirror, I would slowly allow the recognition of who I was dawn on me again. It would literally feel like this "Shiv" that I was, was coming to life in front of my eyes. It was a game that was exhilirating and terrifying at the same time. Each time after, I'd vow never to play it again but find myself hopelessly seduced the next time around.
By my teens however, I lost the interest and the ability to do this. I tried once, but after about 5 minutes of staring at my hand and repeating those words, nothing happened and I felt a bit idiotic for having wasted my time. Maybe I'd become a bit too cynical, or maybe I'd accumulated way too much personality to be able to drop it so easily. Either way, the how-am-I-alive game was forgotten and stashed away in some dusty corner in the attic of my memory.
Although I didn't realized it then, the game was my way of seeing through this identity I had procured for myself. This "Shiv" that I was simultaneously creating and becoming. Later on, no amount of meditation or technique would ever allow me to penetrate through the layers of self identification as cleanly and swiftly as the game once did.
Which brings me to the question: how much of who we think we are is really true? This "me" is a constantly changing landscape. The physical aspect of this "me" - my body with its senses has evolved and is slowly deteriorating. It is no longer as energetic as it used to be, it can no longer take the punishment it once was capable of taking. The nervous system is more sensitive, the digestive system a little more touchy. And this is only in the 30 years it has existed. This body also cannot recuperate without regular sleep cycles, whereas only 10 years ago it could operate on much less. Yes, this body is changing. It metabolizes a little more slowly and heals a little more slowly. While these changes are relatively slight, over the next 30 years they will become significantly more pronounced. And yet, if I were to reflect on what it feels like to be me, that has never changed.
The mental and emotional aspects of this "me" have also changed. My thoughts about myself, thoughts about the people close to me, thoughts about people in general, the world, society. All of that has experienced an evolution of its own. A funny thing I realized about my thoughts is that they are never original. Not a single thought I have ever had actually originated in my own mind. From the most basic idea of myself - the thought "I am Shiv." That, I borrowed from my parents, who had the silly (or profoundly appropriate, depending how you look at it) notion of naming me after the Hindu god of destruction. But even this thought, hardly originated in their minds. More likely (and this is speculation although I'm fairly confident of it) it was my father's fantasy that his son and his legacy may one day personify the virtues of strength, compassion and purity that he held sacred above all else. Shiv is the meanest, swiftest, gunslingin' god in the hindu roster. He drinks poison for fun and uses a cobra as a scarf. You don't just name your kid Shiv unless you're willing to pay the consequences (as my parents will readily testify).
From that most basic thought which is no more than a fantasy and is inherently truth-less, came every other thought form. The "I am Shiv" thought is central to the identity. Like the central hub on a bicycle wheel from which every other thought pattern is a spoke. But even the other thought forms were borrowed. Initially, I borrowed them from my parents - the do's, the don'ts, the yeses, the nos, the shoulds and the shouldn'ts. As a boy, as my world expanded, my thoughts began to reflect those of my peers, the media, my teachers. As an adolescent, I found the mainstream less appealing, and my mind wandered instead down the more unkempt roads of rebellion and non-conformity. And I found examples there too that I could emulate. And in my intense self reflective early twenties I browsed and cautiously adopted the philosphies and ideologies of great philosophers, spiritual masters and thinkers. And then to the perplexing and paradoxical koans in zen and so on. And yet, if I were to reflect on what it feels like to be me, that has never changed.
Emotions and sensations are the bridge between our physical and conceptual selves. In fact, if a thought didn't have a corresponding emotional response there would be no way for the body to respond to it. And vice versa, a physical feeling or emotion gives rise to thoughts. The way I experience emotions has evolved over the years. I am by nature intense and impulsive, yet my relationship with these aspects has changed. The thought-emotion pattern builds upon itself and has a sort of effervescing effect. A negative emotion can trigger a negative thought which enhances the negative emotion which reaffirms the negative thought. And the same goes for positive thoughts and emotions. But if an emotion or thought is allowed to occur without response or investment it quickly dissipates. So through my years of feeling emotions sensitively and intensely, my relationship with them evolved. In fact I now consider myself more sensitive and yet a lot less intense in my expressions. And yet, if I were to reflect on what it feels like to be me, that has never changed.
The physical, the mental, the emotional : everything that makes up "me" - all my opinions, beliefs, feelings, grievances, self esteem both positive and negative, affiliations social and familial, roles and functions, my age, my gender, my nationality, my ethnicity, my spirituality - all of these are the many spokes on the wheel of which the central hub is the "me". And so in order to truly know my Self, I discovered a long time ago that I could try and analyze each spoke and trace it back to the root or I could just simply question the most basic assumption itself.
In asking the question, "Who or what is this 'me'? " any answer that rises up is just another thought in my mind - just another spoke on the wheel. Which is why no answer, no matter how profound, could possibly be true. That is the beautiful stalemate. It is intellectually undeterminable. It cannot be conceived. When we truly see this, we come to realize that it is the question that is the whole point and not the answer. The question is an opportunity, or rather an invitation, to let go for even a moment, all our ideas and notions of who we think we are in order to fully immerse our selves in the experience of what we truly are.
All I am is the dream of a dream and the thought of a thought. At the center of it all there is nothing there. Just a vast and empty awareness. I tried playing the game the other day. It took a while but I experienced it again for the first time since I was a child. And it felt every bit as exhilirating. And every bit as terrifying.
