When we are born, we start listening to stories. About the world, about us, about how things are and how they are not. About what this and that means. What is valuable and what is nothing. What is true and what is false.

We get maps and instructions and get on our way. And we do not immediately think to ask - where? And so, at some point in our (or is it outs yet?) life, we just crash into this question at full tilt and only then see it in front of us: "Where am I going?". In the beginning, it's the only way to ask yourself this question. But then you realize that the question contains an unknown, unconscious concept. This is the "I" element. Well, what do you know!


Once a chain of unexpected events crashed into my glorious automatic (although then it did not seem like that at all) life like a sharp slap and the pain - shot through all the layers of my being - imprinted this question in my mind: "Who am I?"

It seems impossible even to start looking for an answer, to understand where to dig. But when such a question is posed to oneself, to turn away from the search is even more impossible than to understand where to look for the answer. No matter how angry you get at this accidental release from the cyclicity, no matter how much you envy people who are content with the identification and program they were born with, no matter how much you try to return back to the simple joys of being - in the end, sooner or later you accept that there is no turning back and your life will no longer be the same.

You start looking for something that you have never encountered before. Something that you are not sure if even exists. But this unknown – or, perhaps non-existing – became now your main value. You have no maps on how to get to this most important thing. But the need to get there is wild, more urgent than any other. Eating, sleeping, and even living in comparison with this is complete nonsense.


You can try to get somewhere as much as you like. And you can even get there. But all this is nullified in value if you were not you. In short, without that "I", there is no "your life", "your way" or "your decisions". If "I" is everything that others told about me, that cultures, ideas, and concepts told about me, then this is "their life", "their way", "their decisions". And I am just something like a radio that keeps playing their songs. But somehow, I feel that I can sing my own song. Somewhere deep, I feel that I am a separate live song. And I choose this reality.

I choose. Again, this incomprehensible word. Looks like all other words will keep running into it. There is no choice, we dive into the void. Without safeguards, without guarantees of results, without anything at all. Well, perhaps with fears: of uncertainty, of defeat, of madness, and - well, what of it - of death. This, at least, is some kind of stability; this, at least, is familiar. You find support and tranquility in this awareness - and you jump into the abyss.