What is that thing I refer to when I say "I"? I can't pin it down despite how much I try to. The thing I thought is there deep down as the basis of my experience, is not. Is it the other way around? This "I" is up there, at the highest level of our abstractive capacity as humans. It's the greatest abstraction, the focal point of all other abstractions. The "I" is a virtualization of a multitude of phenomenological experiences. Is it something we curate from our fixations and attachments? A staging area for the thoughts, feelings and emotions that we think of as "me" or "mine".
One of the things that made fall in love with software development is this sense of control it gave me at some point I lacked it at many personal levels. This shiny hope that all abstract ideas can get formalized, all formalizations can get implemented, and all implementations can get optimized. What else I could ask for? For someone like me who have been always in a fight with himself, a fight to control this illusory thing we call it "self". It always appeared as something too stubborn to define, to control. Then I learnt one hell of a lesson: it's only heavy because you are carrying it. Most of the things we refer to when we refer to ourselves aren't actually constituents of this self, but attachments we hold onto because they are the only things we are familiar with. We confuse them as essential parts of ourselves. The memories, the feelings, the emotions and the thoughts. These are not YOU. Once I told myself that I can let them go, I didn't need to control...
There is a weird lightness in place when I have to experience my body reactions to danger with a deflated ego. The cold shiver down my spine, the heavy breath, the contraction in my forehead, and the weight on my chest — these are not me. A distance apart, I can observe these mulitude of energies and emotions travel through my body. It used to be so scary, I'd fall into a self-reinforcing loop where the danger and the reaction/malfunction amplified one another. I think of danger as a signal that tells me that there is something wrong around. Most of the time, my body reacts with some short-circuited automatic response(s) that amplify the coming signal. It's the awarness of this ping-pong of horrors that can get you out, or at least allows you to see that there is a way out. Remember what you are, it's gonna be alright.
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