We all maintain a journal that attempts to recount our personal life stories, helping to explain and justify who we are. We each keep a running tally of our totalities, including our likes and dislikes, our strengths and weaknesses, our responsibilities and hobbies, our regrets and dreams, our friends and foes, and everything else that defines us. This, in and of itself, is not a problem. Our troubles arise when we mistake our stories for our Selves. Once convinced that the tale is the truth, we contort what we experience to support our illusions. Which also isn't really an issue, unless we wish to live honestly.
It's easier to see that we're separate from the houses, clothes and cars that define us, because we can step out of them. If only we could step outside of our selves … Oh, wait – we can!
If we wish to find our Selves, we must first lose our selves.
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