I was super hesitant about sharing this one post here. I was suppose to publish this blog post last week on Friday but I was unsure.
So I will just see what the feedback may be before I get into the other interesting things I’m into.
If you have been a follower of my Journey then you would know that this blog isn’t always about Multiple Sclerosis. There are other little nuggets of things I enjoy talking about. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been curious about the voice inside my head. Not the one that tells me to get up and put that Halloween mask on to try and scare the family
You know the one I’m talking about. The voice you hear even though your mouth isn’t moving. The one having entire conversations with you while you’re trying to sleep. Sometimes it’s reminding you about something you forgot to do. Other times it’s replaying an argument from three days ago, except this time you’ve come up with the perfect response.
Dam-it!! Where was that brilliant response when I actually needed it?
I’ve always wondered where this voice comes from. I mean, I know it’s my brain doing its thing, but who’s listening to it? Who’s aware of all these thoughts? Think about it. You have conversations with yourself all day long. You worry about things that haven’t happened. You remember things from years ago. You get angry, excited, embarrassed, anxious. Sometimes you even argue with yourself. If you’re like most responsible adults that argument starts sometimes on Mondays at 6am. I DO NOT WANNA GO TO WORK!
But who’s the one noticing all of this?
That’s the part I’ve never been able to wrap my head around. One of my favorite rappers from the golden age of hip-hop is KRS-One. I’ve always appreciated how he talks about knowledge, spirituality, and self-awareness. He has spoken about the soul as something deeper than the physical body, something connected to how we experience ourselves and the world. Now I’m not saying I agree with every spiritual interpretation. But the idea has always interested me.
Anyway, let me move this along before I lose everybody.
Lately, I’ve developed a habit of falling asleep listening to YouTube videos about consciousness, meditation, spirituality, and astral projection. Some of these people make a lot of sense. Others have me staring at the ceiling wondering what the hell I just listened to. But I enjoy it. I like hearing different perspectives, even when I don’t completely understand them.
The other night, I was listening to someone explain something called pure consciousness. I’ve heard the term plenty of times, but for whatever reason, something about the explanation finally clicked.
It had to do with the idea of being the observer of your own thoughts.
Here’s what I mean.
Let’s say you’re angry about something. You know you’re angry. You feel it. You recognize it. You might even tell yourself to calm down. But if you’re aware of your anger, doesn’t that raise an interesting question?
Who’s doing the noticing?
The same goes for happiness, sadness, fear, or even physical pain.
You experience these things, but you’re also aware you’re experiencing them. And that’s where things started getting interesting for me.I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about who I am. Especially over the past several years. I’m a husband. A father. A friend. Someone who works, writes, worries about his family, and occasionally spends too much time inside his own head.
I’m also someone living with multiple sclerosis.
And MS has changed a lot about how I experience life. My body doesn’t work the way it once did. Things I used to do without thinking now require planning, patience, or help.
There have been times when I’ve struggled with how much my life has changed. But here’s something I’ve been thinking about. Even with all those changes, I still feel like me.
My body has changed. My circumstances have changed. My opinions have changed. Hell, some days my mood changes before I’ve even finished my morning coffee.
But somewhere underneath all of that, there’s still this familiar feeling of being here.
Of existing.
Of simply being aware.
And that’s where the phrase “I am” started making a little more sense to me.
Not “I am Jon.”
Not “I am a husband.”
Not “I am a father.”
Not even “I am someone with MS.”
Just…
I am.
Now, before anyone thinks I’ve figured out the meaning of existence after watching a few YouTube videos, I haven’t. I’m still the same guy lying in bed with three cats nearby, trying to understand things people have been debating for thousands of years.
Philosophers, neuroscientists, and spiritual teachers don’t even agree on what consciousness actually is. So I’m certainly not going to pretend I’ve solved it. But I did start asking myself something different.
If I notice my thoughts, does that mean I’m something separate from them?
If my emotions come and go, why do I sometimes let them define who I am? And if my body changes, does everything about who I am change with it?
I also understand that being aware of a thought doesn’t necessarily mean there’s some separate person or soul sitting inside my head watching everything happen. Our brains are complicated, and there’s still plenty we don’t understand about conscious experience. But I find the question fascinating.
You’re aware of reading these words. You’re aware of your thoughts about them. You might agree with me, disagree with me, or think I’ve been spending entirely too much time on YouTube.
But somewhere in that ridiculous little exercise, I understood something about meditation that I hadn’t considered before. Perhaps the point isn’t always to silence your mind. Perhaps it’s learning to notice what’s happening without getting caught up in every single thought.
At one point I was practically having a conversation with myself about who was listening to the conversation.
I don’t have answers to those questions.
I even tried something while lying in bed. I closed my eyes and paid attention to whatever was happening in my mind.
A thought would come up. I’d notice it.
Then another.
Then I’d catch myself thinking about the fact that I was thinking.
You see why I have trouble falling asleep?
I don’t have to become every fear I experience.
I don’t have to believe every negative thing my mind tells me.
And I don’t have to define my entire existence by what my body is going through.
That last one means something to me.
Living with MS has forced me to reconsider a lot of things I once took for granted, including my identity. And while I wouldn’t wish this disease on anyone, it has made me curious about parts of myself I might never have questioned otherwise.
So here’s something I’d like you to try.
For a moment, put aside your name, your job, your age, your responsibilities, and everything else you normally use to describe yourself. Don’t worry about finding some deep spiritual answer.
Simply notice that you’re here.
All fair responses.
But there’s something interesting about the fact that you’re aware of your own experience. And lately, that’s what I’ve been trying to understand.
I’m not trying to convince anyone to believe in pure consciousness, souls, astral projection, or anything else. I’m still figuring out what I believe myself. I’m simply sharing a question that’s been sitting with me for a while.
We spend so much of our lives trying to figure out who we are based on what we do, what we’ve accomplished, what we’ve lost, and what other people think of us. But what if we spent a little more time paying attention to the experience of being alive in the first place?
I don’t know where that question leads.
But I know it’s made me think differently about myself. And for someone whose mind rarely shuts up, that’s been an interesting experience.
So I’ll leave you with the same question that’s been keeping me awake lately.
I’ll end here until the next time, butWhen you say “I am,” who exactly is the “I”?
And who’s aware of it?
I wish you peace and love.
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