If you could, should or would, please open your social media account. Any will do. Have a quick look at your friends list, scroll down, slowly, taking in all the faces and names. How many do you know, really know or, in fact, ‘think’ that you know.
The world isn’t simply black with the white appearing ever so often, it’s multiple shades of so many colours and, as I’ve read, many other colours that we might never, ever, realise. This, of course, is the same with people. Take a selection of people, from that glorious list of names. Think of them. Recall them. Smile, as you remember moments, words, within sections of time. They’ve touched your emotions, they might have even held your hand or, let you go. Overall, we probably all know many, many different individuals.
Alternatively, do we? There are people that I haven’t seen
or, even, spoken with in years. There’s many that I’ve never spoken with, which
of course, is a shame. I’m a friendly person, but am I? You see, each person on your list of friends
sees you in a different light. They see you as a different person.
You, yourself, the I, the I am, believes that you’re a
certain person. You might believe that you’re liked, loved, missed and never
forgotten. You could appreciate the energies that you expel and bring into your
world. You’re magnificent, you’re lost, you’re heartbroken, your emotions finally
finding the stability you desired for the longest of time. You are, just as you
are. The moment captured, immortalised, held within your consciousness. Hopefully,
you know who you are.
Your ego, amongst many other facets, believes that you are
the x and y of the world. Each friend, however, within your list, believes that
you are something else. Each person we know, or have known, has an impression
of ‘us’, within them. To one person, we’re the joker, the smiler, the miserable
heartbreaker, the complainer, the yo-yoing person, the idiot, the cheater, the
looser, the mischief maker and more. Those impressions, albeit often incorrect,
are held like a polaroid picture taken years previous.
Once again, it matters not if you’ve achieved, expanded your
knowledge, healed, or regretted and come to terms with previous malicious
actions. It’s not recalled that you’ve adapted, succeeded or, even, become a brand-new
person via adversity, trauma, pain and near life ending situations. You are, in
essence, many hundred plus individuals within one body.
Although the histories of life proclaim that we’re all
connected, all a central consciousness of abundance, we, instead, rely upon the
simple, easy, miss-informed logical sense that a person is whom you think they
are. Your Mother, your Sister, your partner and your neighbour, all see you as
a different individual, despite actually being one solo person. Someone can
form an opinion about you and, if they never ask, will keep that opinion
despite it being completely, unequally, untrue.
How, upon any singular day, can someone, anyone, truly
comprehend the complexity of any individual? We view a person as a book, the
cover of colour and shallow substance, with the synopsis being all we need to define
and decide upon our evermore imagined impression. No matter the effort, the
delusion we decide to present to the world’s individuals, we will always be
seen as someone else, other than who we really are. It makes a mockery of any
attempt to seem nice, polite, or understanding, as there’s always the
possibility of being miss-understood and fractioned into many, many alternative
labels.
At this point, you might be thinking, “Well, yes, that’s
pretty obvious!” You’d be correct.
However, we seldom think such thoughts. We’re sometimes occupied, attempting to
be something that we’re not. We’re thinking, feeling, hurting, healing entities
wrapped within a suit of meat, water and space. The outside is, frankly, a
limited view of the universe with the inside, that glorious ball of energy
called a soul/consciousness, being everything. Sure, it’s lovely to have the
car, the house, the clothes and the importance of having a hundred people love
us to bits, but the real conclusion, the actual truth, would be that hardly
anyone thinks of us and if they do, their thoughts and impressions are more
than likely incorrect depending on time. Alternatively, they could see you for
exactly what you are.
The snapshots we take, the moments we make, when imagining
another, are incredibly limited. A life can be static one week and then, the
next, every single part of that life could change, forming a brand-new person. The
safest path within the world is staying the same. The same day, the same
routine, the same people, the same kisses and, the same harsh memories grinding
us to dust. Slowly. That, as we know, is also incredibly boring. Personally, the
only opinion that matters, when it concerns who ‘you’ are, is your own. You can
change, you can grow, you can learn, and you can become something… more, than
you are. I believe in all of you, in everyone. However, I also appreciate that
my belief means little to the many and something, to the few. Realistically,
we’re hardly thought of at all and even then, it’ll be the same picture formed
in time.
Upon a day, maybe ‘never’ ask another ‘who’ you are, as they
probably won’t know. If you, as an individual, cannot answer the question of
‘who’ you are, then heaven help you, if you consider the impressions and opinions
of another. After all, the only person that really, truly, knows you, is you, and
even then, many hardly ever even consider the very question of, “Who am I?”
