I sit quietly and allow thought to settle, like a stone dropped into still water. The question Who am I? drifts before me, not as a puzzle to solve, but as a presence to feel. In my mind’s eye, I see a wall, a simple, ordinary wall. On one side is my conventional self—familiar, bounded, defined. Through a small hole, a glimmer of awareness pierces, a quiet light that invites me to step closer. I walk along the length of the wall, tracing its edges, and when I reach the end, I realize there was never truly another side—both sides were always the same. The wall was an appearance, a frame for perception, not a limit on being.
The thought arises: the wall is my body, my mind, my memories—my habitual vibrations made manifest. I sense that beyond it, the subtle pulse hums—the vibration of life itself. And yet, I am not the vibration. The vibration simply is. My body and mind are receivers, radios tuned to a cosmic hum, sensitive to frequencies that pass through them. Awareness itself, the listener, rests behind the receiver, holding all of it: the pain, the joy, the fleeting emotions, the unfolding thoughts.
As I sit with this, I feel the paradox: the witness needs the body to know itself, and yet it is not bound by it. The body, the mind, the heart—they are the instruments through which awareness experiences form, and yet awareness is prior, untouched, vast. I am both the vast ocean and the single wave cresting in this moment, the localized manifestation of an unbounded totality.
I notice how this understanding changes the quality of experience. Pain is less sharp; death feels less final. Still, I know that insight is not the answer. It is merely a guide, a hand pointing to what cannot be grasped: the present moment as it is, vibrating, flowing, alive. To rest here, I do not hold onto recognition tightly, nor do I let it slip entirely. I feel it slide through my fingers like a kite string pulled gently by the wind—neither burned by tension nor abandoned to chaos.
A smile rises on my face, unbidden, a soft acknowledgment of this dance between holding and letting go. It is effortless, unclaimed, a reflection of the openness of awareness itself. And in that smile, I know: I am neither only the receiver, nor only the vibration, nor only the witness. I am the flow—the whole current of existence—expressed through this moment, this body, this breath. I am recognition, simply recognizing itself.
Spiritual Gravity 