The Story That I Tell Myself

Posted on February 3, 2014





There is no “me”, but the story I tell myself. I grasp the story tightly to myself and do not recognize that the tale I’ve spun is entirely dependent on every other thing in the world.

I cannot point to anything else to define “me”. I can not point to my relationships. I can not point to anything that I have done in the past or some direction that I am headed in the future. It is all part of the story that I tell myself to create “me”.

I breathe in.

I pay attention to this moment. This moment that is not a place, something that is not solid. It is unfolding before me, being born and dying each moment. There is no me in the past. There is no me in the future. I have no life outside of the unfolding activity of this moment.

Through each…

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