Who are you?
Are you this body?
Are you these thoughts and emotions—
this voice in your head?
Around here we call that voice the ego.
It plays every role in the drama—
the villain, the victim, the hero who’ll fix it all next time.
It’s also the megastar turned writer, director, producer—
and yes, it even handles the catering.
(The intern just tries not to get fired.)
It tells you what to do.
Then tells you you’re wrong for doing it.
It pushes, then punishes.
It chases control—but never finds peace.
Every time the ego sees a molehill, it scales a mountain.
Reaching the peak in exhaustion, it pounds in a flagpole.
Whipping the sweat from its brow—claiming victory.
Applauding.
Protecting itself, not you.
If it were a person,
you’d have blocked them by now.
So who are you, really?
The false self runs on stories.
The true self doesn’t need one.
You’re the quiet that’s always there.
The presence behind the chaos.
You’re the one who notices the voice—
not the one caught up in it.
The one who hears… but doesn’t reply.
The ego creates and controls the narrative.
It is both kingmaker and king.
There’s a different kind of strength waiting—
The true self doesn’t chase.
Doesn’t grasp.
Doesn’t panic.
It doesn’t need to prove itself—
because it isn’t trying to be.
It already is.
Jules Harris says:
“…the good news is that, when we let go of illusions,
our Buddha-nature then becomes available
to support us in ways our ego tried and failed to do.”
(Ego, please… Buddha-nature doesn’t even hear that noise. Get that junk outta here.)
You don’t destroy the illusion.
You just stop believing it.
Stop rearranging your life.
Start RearrangingSilence.
Stop listening.
Start noticing.
