Chapter 122: questions
Who am I? This is a question that swirls and moves constantly in my mind like a tumultuous wave on a high sea.
As I sit outside with the sun on my shoulder, a freshly brewed mug of coffee in my hand, and a jet lagged body fresh off the plane from an Italian getaway, I find myself with- incredibly- the very same questions I had on the Italian beaches of Positano, while climbing the hills of Cinque Terre, and wandering the busy alleys of Florence.
Despite the change in location of my feet, my mind seems to remain steadfast in its place of wonderance.
Who am I? Who are you? Am I this body I inhabit, this physical form that ages, grows ill, and dies? Or am I this mind? This constant conscious awareness with no obvious source or destination?
Perhaps I am a doctor, a yogi, a writer, a traveler, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a patient, a friend, a neighbor? Perhaps I am a person who has had cancer and lives to see another day? Perhaps I am all of these things. But what if I am none?
As I read the texts of Buddhist literature, a central question radiates through all pages. Who is this self we so desperately seek to define?
For me, this question did not arise from reading it on a page. It is a core question I think we all face. Are we defined by our experiences, our genes, our professional identities, our achievements, or failures? Or, are we defined by something less solid- our thoughts, our dreams, our subtle kindnesses, unkindnesses, or the lives we inadvertently touch?
I’ve wondered lately if the answer is all and none of these things. What if we are not anything, really, at all? Ok- this is a bit wild and existential- but it’s fascinating for me to think about.
What if this me, this body and mind that I so deeply define as myself, is nothing more than a construct I create? A dream. Sometimes a beautiful dream, other times a nightmare.
If you’re still reading, you might find some interest in the Buddhist idea of anatta, or “no self.” I won’t go into that here, as I am no more a Buddhist than I am any of the things mentioned above.
Despite the unanswerable questions circling my mind, the reason I’m writing them today is fortunately a very simple, answerable question.
I’ve missed writing in this blog. I’ve missed sharing my kooky, often indescribable thoughts with the people who read this and tell me it’s more interesting than scrolling through social media or miraculously, something that helps their own minds find a companion in challenging times.
I’ve been on a blog hiatus as I haven’t been able to define its purpose of late. What started as a blog about a cancer diagnosis, then morphed into a cancer treatment journey, and eventually (thankfully) gave way to a survivor story, is now on an undefinable route.
I am living with scans of my brain every four months. I no longer think about cancer every moment of every day. I’ve realized cancer is not all that I am. It is not the only interesting material I have to write about. Yet it is one essential part of my identity, infused in every thought and action sometimes as subtly as the air I breathe.
I will keep writing and sharing on this blog, even though I lack the concrete questions and answers a typical story aims to tell. But perhaps, that is who I am when it all comes together. A question and an answer, both as muddy and murky as the water from which a lotus grows forth. Hmm…
Sending hope to all who need it today and always.
Fondly,
Courtney
©️ CB2024