Who am I?
It’s the question we rarely ask.
And perhaps that makes sense.
We're born into a world already in motion — a world where people rush through their own problems, chasing dreams, carrying regrets, solving things.
We look around and see others — some smiling, some struggling, some simply surviving. And without asking, we assume: I must be just like them.
We see babies enter the world through a mother’s womb, and we think, That’s how I came too. We see lives unfold, and we fall into the rhythm. Without pause. Without question.
We take our existence for granted.
We accept what is outside as real.
We accept what is within as vague.
We build assumptions around this “I” —
never stopping to ask what this “I” truly is.
But if — in the middle of all this noise - you were to pause…
Just for a moment.
Not to solve. Not to plan.
But to reflect — deeply, honestly.
Who am I, really?
That single question opens a door —
a door that doesn’t lead outward,
but inward.
And what lies beyond that door
is not ordinary. It’s not boring. It is a journey — the most extraordinary journey possible. A journey into the mystery of the universe and your own being.
A journey that begins not in temples or books or theories,
but in silence.
In stillness.
In the aching, beautiful question that refuses to go away.
As you walk,
you begin to see that this isn’t a straight path.
It spirals.
It circles back.
It lifts you up. It tears you down.
It shows you everything — your fears, your beliefs, your truths, your illusions.
And yet, the deeper you go,
the more it begins to make sense.
Not only intellectually, but also existentially.
You begin to see:
This question — Who am I? —
is not only a riddle to solve,
but a truth to realise.
It illuminates every corner of your life.
It melts everything that is false.
And slowly, steadily,
you come closer to something unshakable.
Something still.
Something true.
This is the path
the ancient sages walked under the stars.
This is the question that echoed in the minds of philosophers through stone courtyards and silent libraries.
It is the oldest journey — and the only one truly worth undertaking.
Not for escape.
Not for answers.
But for the simple, undeniable truth:
That to know yourself is to be free from everything that’s not you.
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