If I can be
who I am
when I'm not with you, then when I'm not with you, I'm with you.
I'm with you even when I'm without you when I'm being
who I am.
Because that's who you are.
There are many things I'm certain I know, many things I'm
sure of, which are thrown into chaos around you. Ordinarily there's
no listening for anything thrown into chaos as being a
good thing. But around you, by now I'm at least open to the
possibility of having what I'm certain about, of having what
I'm sure of thrown into chaos as being a good thing.
One of the things I know, one of the things of which I'm
sure which is thrown into chaos around you is the
boundary between human beings. Where does one human
being end, so to speak, and where does another human being start?
I thought I knew. But around you I'm no longer sure. And it's not that
you make me unsure, like I doubt myself or even like I doubt my
experience. It's rather that you make me unsure in the sense
that for a moment, for just one glorious opportune moment, I'm willing
to leave behind, I'm willing to let go what I know and see
if there's another possible way of holding the same material.
Another of the things I know, another of the things of which I'm
certain which is thrown into chaos around you is my
own boundary. Where do I start? Where do
I end? Am I really five foot nine inches
tall, about eight inches thick weighing about one hundred and eighty
pounds? Or is there another possible, equally legitimate way of
defining my own boundary?
I thought I knew. But around you I'm no longer sure. The first
certainty to go, incinerated in the furnace of chaos, is
the boundary I've defined for myself based on my corporeal frame of
five foot nine inches tall, eight inches thick weighing about one
hundred and eighty pounds. When I look at my body in the general
agreement of other people, what I see is my identity, what I see
is my image, what I see is my physicalness, what I see is
my maleness. And on some occasions which are those occasions of
the most crass mis‑identification of all, when I look at
my body, apparently what I see is who I think I am.
But around you when I look in the same direction, when I look at my
body, all I see is prime grade
hamburger.
And even in the midst of chaos, one thing I'm clear about is
I'm not
hamburger.
But if I'm not
hamburger,
where then is my own boundary?
I take on the second issue first: Where do I start? Where do I end? Am
I really five foot nine inches tall, about eight inches thick weighing
about one hundred and eighty pounds? Or is there another possible,
equally legitimate way of defining my own boundary? Yes there is.
There's two ways - as far as I can tell.
In the first place, the "five foot nine inches tall eight inches thick
weighing about one hundred and eighty pounds" is me defined in
physical reality. It's the way my physical presence is
measured. That's what's real about me byagreement. Yes it's only
hamburger.
No it's not
who I am.
But it is real.
Who I am
like an experience, like a possibility is
"everythingnothing" ie I'm all of it and at the same time
I'm none of it (as
Werner Erhard may have
said).
When I'm being who I really am, when I'm being the
fullness of who I really am, when I'm being the
satisfaction of who I really am, I'm boundless, I'm
"everythingnothing", I'm everywhere, I'm nowhere.
That's pretty much it then on my own boundary, like
something finite, like something measurable outside of ie
aside from the physical reality of my body. When we're speaking in
terms of being "everythingnothing", when we're speaking in terms
of being everything, when we're speaking in terms of being
nothing, when we're speaking in terms of being
everywhere, when we're speaking in terms of being
nowhere, the very notion of a boundary ceases to be
useful. It drops off. It becomes naïve, trite, even quaint.
In the second place, by declaration I am my speaking, I am
my languaging, I am my commitments. In a word, I am my word.
Where I show up for you is in your listening. If you take
a closer look at this, you'll see I continue to show up in your
listening even after I've finished speaking whatever it is I'm
speaking. I continue to show up in your listening even after I've
completed languaging whatever it is I'm languaging. I continue to show
up in your listening even after I've languaged my commitments.
The clear and present implication here is this: when I'm being my
speaking, when I'm being my languaging, when I'm being my commitments,
when I'm being my word, I'm not bound by any physical
boundary. That's extraordinary. Yet what's even more extraordinary
is the implication that when I'm being my speaking, when I'm being my
languaging, when I'm being my commitments, when I'm being my
word, I'm not bound by any time boundary either.
In other words, when I'm being my speaking, when I'm being my
languaging, when I'm being my commitments, when I'm being my
word, I'm not bound by space and I'm not bound by
time.
That's set the context to take on the first issue second: where does
one human being end, so to speak, and where does another human
being start?
Werner
Erhard
asserts the trouble with the truth is when you believe it,
it becomes a lie. So I want to be quite careful with what I'm about to
say next. I'm not going to say it like it's "The Truth".
I'm going to say it like a "maybe". I'm going to say it like a "what
if?". I'm going to say it like a possibility.
If who I really am is not bound by space and is not bound by time, then
who you really are is not bound by space and is not bound
by time either. If that's
what's so
for you and I, then clearly no human being is bound by
space or by time either. And that would imply the
unthinkable: there can be only one human
being. Only one.
So if I can be
who I am
when I'm not with you, then when I'm not with you, I'm with you. We're
one.
If I can be
who I am,
then I'm with you even when I'm without you. We're one.
If we're one, then I'm with you without you. Because that's who you
are. Because that's
who I am.
Because that's who you and I really are.