Uncovering The Illusive Ego

I am Buddhist, and while practicing meditation, I detected thoughts blossoming, one after the other, in a corner of my mind. Each one initially appeared as a single frame but quickly developed into a storyline, a dramatic movie. It might begin with a picture of myself sitting cross-legged and meditating, followed by the next picture, perhaps that of a friend. These two pictures were so fast that they created an illusion that the picture of me was watching my friend.

This went on in an endless sequence; pictures followed by memories, creating the illusion of a watcher observing the stories being created by my memory. I wondered; is this all I am —one thought following another in a continuous stream? Am I merely a series of pictures followed by the mind’s memories of those pictures?nn n n

In reality, there is only one thought following another. First a picture, then a memory, then another picture, then another memory — all creating a fictional observer. It’s quite an illusion, a very clever deception, the fundamental trick of my mind that builds a self or an “I" thought. I also noticed that it’s impossible to think more than one thought at a time, even though their speed leads me to believe that many thoughts are occurring simultaneously. This illusion creates movies out of still frames and constructs an illusory watcher of thoughts. Without meditation, I could have never slowed my thoughts enough to discover this clever deception.

So, is this all I am — a memory? In that case, what is there to lose . . . truly? Why should I fear death? What is it that will disappear, or rather who will disappear? Can something never existing in the first place, except in a fanciful imagination, cease to exist? How silly it is to regard myself with such importance, laughable actually to realize that I’m simply a picture and a memory.

What a tremendous relief! I mistakenly thought that I was something tangible. For just the fraction of a moment, I glanced at the cessation of my existence. But even with these tremendous insights, my insatiable wants and desires remain. How can I take this wisdom into the depths of my heart and accept the fact that I’m nothing? How could something, concocted of a series of pictures and memories, survive anything, even the next second, let alone death? It must be this illusory self-memory that causes my “I" thought to roll along so merrily.

I feel my body breathing. I detect my organs working and pumping. But it is not me. I see my mind thinking. But it is not me. What am I, exactly? Am I truly pure awareness? Is this pure awareness all of me? Because I have seen for myself that I don’t exist in the way I had always thought I did, there is no recourse but to remain within this awareness regardless of the difficulties, because this discovery is the key to my freedom.

Beyond my personality and beyond my memory, which I have identified as my watcher, there seems to be something greater, something yet to be understood. This search for truth is an examination of everything, both physical and metaphysical. It requires a very concentrated, dedicated mind. This practice had been an act of faith so far, but now it’s becoming an affirmation of something much greater than myself. What is it that has no beginning and never ends? Am I a part of something that is immortal?

As of now, I am little more than a beast in a cave, held captive by my misunderstandings. At one time, I thought that I was real, but now I’m discovering that I am merely rising and passing occurrences with nothing supporting them. I had always counted on this jumble of a physical body and mind to sustain me, but I’m realizing that the parts do not equal a whole. There is no whole, only a puppet with its many strings. There are simply impermanent parts, an illusion that can easily become a prison.