The Birth of "I"

JUNE 23, 2014 -- The Birth of “I”

    Hi, beautiful wife.  I love you.  Guten Morgen.  It was so good seeing you yesterday and during the night.

    Yes, I am aware that people may think me a lunatic for believing you are still alive, even if only in spirit that is a form which is not perceived through normal physical senses.  You and I communicate with each other daily.  I write about it along with other various topics.

    Should I care what anybody thinks about anything I do?  I think not.  

    At least I should not care in regards to my own personal self; for what is this personal self but a troublesome doomed little temporal ego, a mistaken identity.  This ego, this personal alienated little self of mine seems to have been born as a reaction to conflicts between truth and falsehoods far back in the dawning days of my physical life, two thirds of a century ago.  

    I remember its first appearance.  At seven years old, I stood alone in our small front yard seeing, for the first time, this "I" inside me.  I was dumbfounded.  I didn't know how it got there.  I wondered if other people, if my brothers and sisters, had one inside them.

    This was around the time my father died.  I did not know what death meant.  I had been reprimanded by some adult for not showing grief.  How could I show what I did not know?

    I stood alone in the yard thinking about the reprimand, feeling strangely guilty over something I did not understand.   But it must have been a wrongness in my actions and connected to all the crying and whispering going on inside the house.

    Alone in that yard with those thoughts, I noticed for the first time that "I" inside me.  Consciousness and curiosity had been with me since the pre-crawling days of my infancy, when I noticed things outside of myself and followed them with my eyes.  But the "I" inside of me, as I stood alone in the yard at my father's wake, was new.  This little "me" was new.

    I am now in the twilight of the same life looking backward and forward.  I think my critics should postpone judgments until they see their own soulscapes.  

    I have my hand on the light switch of my tenancy here in this incarnation, preparing to shut it off, close the door, and walk away from this life for good.  

    Why should I care what people think of me or whether they think of me at all?  It doesn't matter.

    I am going home to my wife.