Who We Are?

Are we what we think we are?! is our identity cognitively set?
isn't it, what we think we are, a big accumulation of what others told us to be, even unconsciously? accumulation of beliefs, of the rights and wrongs, of what to love and hate...aren't all those reactions to bigger actions you had no input within?
How can you tell who you really, genuinely are, if what made you, or what made you think you are, you have no significant contribution to its being?!
wouldn t it be great, to really know?! wouldn't be great to be back, the blank spirit that was here one day, wouldn't be greater to write it back again, consciously and deliberately so you would really know?
Who we are, V/S what? whom? is it V/S ourselves? or significant others? I think this is too narrow, and small, and a locked box that puts too much boundaries to our existence.
therefore, defining oursleves shall be relative, relative to something, relative to a bigger still a simpler self...or it shall be free, united, individualized and that way is never achievable unless you get back to the blank embryo you were, you rebirth, you reblong to yourself and to the universe.
The path is long, and the whole purpose is to know who we are, to keep discovering ourselves, since ourselves is the whole. To grow truely and joyfully but not dillusionly.

it will never be: we are what we think we are. what we think we are is what we want to be.

What we want to be is the trial and error to the real path, so keep on trying my friend, keep on thinking. Keep on trying with love and joy, so you may know one day or you may not...but in anyway it is worth the trial :)

The journey

Once F explored his revelation, though he panicked, he was overwhelmed. An intense emotion has driven his journey, leading him calmly wild in life, giving him a taste of fulfillment and a belonging to a bigger self.
The image has been complete, that’s what he thought. He is drawing, with confidence and persistence, the smile he thought he may never gain back.
His confidence never took the unknown as something that exists; he photographed moment by moment of what to come and what not to come.
But the photographs were so complete, so heavenly drawn that they could not bear the light of the real.
At moments, the “real” came out to him, to steal away his rebellion but F did not intend to fight back, his ego turned him away, and sheltered his fragile soul.
At a very low moment, accidentally as always, the “real” shown up and slapped F in the face. He got him offended, humiliated and wrecked.
F could not tolerate such agony of disgrace; it was his first, so he gave up and went wailing his mother. He was back the hurt child of the past.

…Again, he gained and lost the smile he has journeyed for. But this time it felt utterly worse, as much as it felt wonderfully joyful catching up on its pieces.

F is wondering again, and wondering will always be.
Not for the smile this time, but for the journey that cherished the smile and forgot to cherish itself…