[Image: “(No?) Parking,” by John E. Simpson. (Photo shared here under a Creative Commons License; for more information, see this page at RAMH.)]

From whiskey river’s commonplace book (second paragraph):

The ego normally arises as a kind of personal theory about the coherence of experience, an explanation for the consistent association of certain contents of consciousness. For example, the proprioceptive and tactile sensations of the hand in picking up the cup of coffee, the sensations of taste in the mouth and of hot liquid swallowed in the throat, as well as the somatic effects of caffeine to follow, all constellate with visual sensations corresponding to hand, cup, etc., in an emerging sense of self or agency. I, as the passive witness and motor force behind this body, is how the brain makes sense of the association of these diverse inputs, including perceived outputs. The sense of I-ness may be a wonderfully pragmatic device, which mostly works well in the evolutionary scheme. But is it true? Does the self “really” exist?

…There are people who believe they make the sun rise or control the weather. Some schizophrenics appropriate a fantastic range of sensory input to the self, believing themselves the focus and the orchestrator of great cosmic events. Other mental patients, and some mystics, completely lose the sense of self, facing a bewildering confusion of sensation with no unifying scheme to make sense of it. Most people’s experience, of course, lies between these extremes. But normality does not establish truth. The fact that most people have a normal self, the subject of consistent and limited experience, does not make the self real. From the perspective of every spiritual tradition, entered deeply enough, the existence of ego is considered an illusion, the normal psychosis.

(Dan J. Bruiger [source (in somewhat different words)])

…and:

“Of the two witnesses, hold the principal one,” is saying that one witness is everybody else giving you their feedback and opinions (which is worth listening to, there’s some truth in what people say) but the principal witness is yourself. You’re the only one who knows when you’re using things to protect yourself and keep your ego together and when you’re opening and letting things fall apart, letting the world come as it is — working with it rather than struggling against it. You’re the only one who knows.

(Pema Chödrön [source]

…and:

Hidden Things

Let them not seek to discover who I was
from all that I have done and said.
An obstacle was there that transformed
the deeds and the manner of my life.
An obstacle was there that stopped me
many times when I was about to speak.
Only from my most imperceptible deeds
and my most covert writings—
from these alone will they understand me.
But perhaps it isn’t worth exerting
such care and such effort for them to know me.
Later, in the more perfect society,
surely some other person created like me
will appear and act freely.

(Constantine P. Cavafy [source])

From elsewhere:

Now—unless some zoologist can dig up a weird exception—humans are the only living beings who wear clothes. They are also the only beings who laugh, for humor is the property of humanity and consists, essentially, in not taking oneself seriously. (Consider the situation of someone chasing a hat blown off by the wind.) People can laugh at themselves because they know, deep down, that their lives are a big act, a put–on. This may get us into the depths of mysticism, but every person knows, tacitly, that he is God in disguise. Not, perhaps, the universal monarch of Jewish and Christian imagery, but at least the inmost and ultimate Self of Hinduism, the Actor who plays all the roles, and thus the Joker in the deck of cards. Stated more philosophically, each one of us is a manifestation of the total energy of the universe. Wearing clothes is therefore a gesture which implies the unadmitted knowledge that our personalities are put on. Think of such phrases as “cover yourself,” “pull yourself together,” “tighten your belts,” “keep your hair on,” “don’t lose your shirt,” “caught with your pants down,” “shiftless,” “sound investment,” “redressment of injustice,” “defrocked,” “uncloaked,” “dismantled,” “name and address,” “wearing an expression,” “clothed and in one’s right mind,” “vested interest,” “stuffed shirt,” “good (or bad) habits,” “the bare facts,” and “the naked truth.” Such a list of sartorial symbols and millinery metaphors for mental and moral states, of depletions and completions of personality, might be expanded indefinitely. But they express a basic and intuitive recognition of the connection between who we are, as persons, and what we wear.

(Alan Watts [source])

…and:

New Year’s Day

The rain this morning falls
on the last of the snow

and will wash it away. I can smell
the grass again, and the torn leaves

being eased down into the mud.
The few loves I’ve been allowed

to keep are still sleeping
on the West Coast. Here in Virginia

I walk across the fields with only
a few young cows for company.

Big-boned and shy,
they are like girls I remember

from junior high, who never
spoke, who kept their heads

lowered and their arms crossed against
their new breasts. Those girls

are nearly forty now. Like me,
they must sometimes stand

at a window late at night, looking out
on a silent backyard, at one

rusting lawn chair and the sheer walls
of other people’s houses.

They must lie down some afternoons
and cry hard for whoever used

to make them happiest,
and wonder how their lives

have carried them
this far without ever once

explaining anything. I don’t know
why I’m walking out here

with my coat darkening
and my boots sinking in, coming up

with a mild sucking sound
I like to hear. I don’t care

where those girls are now.
Whatever they’ve made of it

they can have. Today I want
to resolve nothing.

I only want to walk
a little longer in the cold

blessing of the rain,
and lift my face to it.

(Kim Addonizio [source])