Who are you, really?
This is one of the most fundamental questions we can ask ourselves. Yet, the answer often eludes us. At our core, there is something untouchable, indestructible—a True Self that exists beyond the roles we play, the emotions we feel, and the stories we tell ourselves. This True Self is pure, unchanging, and safe, no matter what life throws at us.
And yet, despite this inherent safety and stillness, we rarely live from this place of knowing. Instead, we create layers of identity, masks, and roles that allow us to experience life more vividly. These creations become the filters through which we feel emotions—both joy and pain. We forget who we are in order to feel more deeply, to engage in the human experience fully.
This is the paradox: while our True Self remains untouched and unchangeable, we choose to create roles and identities that allow us to suffer, feel joy, and live. We oscillate between remembering our innate safety and getting lost in the roles we've made for ourselves.
In the following exploration, I invite you to journey deeper into this paradox—how the True Self and the created self interact, why we choose to forget our inherent safety, and how fear and suffering become tools for growth, even when we believe we are losing something valuable. This is a reflection on the delicate dance between remembering and forgetting, between joy and suffering, and how, ultimately, you are always safe.
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A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a piece called Compromised Safety. Today, I feel inspired to reflect further, but this time I want to explore how our innate sense of true safety can never actually be compromised.
Like much of what I discuss, this idea is a paradox.
Who you truly are is indestructible, unharmed, and untouched—no matter what. But because we rarely know who we truly are, we create parts or "versions" of ourselves to hide behind.
These parts, or masks, can be shattered easily, and this can feel terrifying. You may suffer greatly if one of your "costumes" is violently torn away. But the real You doesn’t suffer. The real You doesn’t lose anything because what you truly are is unattached and untouchable. Your true self only gains; it never loses.
Your current roles or identities might feel uncomfortable or unsettled when confronted with what the real You gains simply by being. If you over-identify with your masks, your mind might convince you that you're losing something valuable. You might experience emotional suffering trying to protect these roles. But in reality, you haven’t lost anything of your authentic self. You've merely lost a character you played, but never the true You.
The true You needs no protection. It has nothing to fear because it is already untouchable and unharmed. It knows this deeply and unconditionally. No matter who you are or have been, there is an indestructible part of you that cannot suffer and can never be hurt.
This part of you is the actual You. Yet, an eternal life of pure stillness without contrast can feel boring, so you create new roles, costumes, and masks. You identify with them just enough to truly feel emotions.
This creation of the "false" self gives you the opportunity to experience love or pain. Through your stories, masks, and costumes, you gain the ability to feel emotions and undergo human experiences.
How would you know what love is if you had never suffered for it? How would you appreciate joy if you had never faced pain? How deep or meaningful would love feel to you if your heart had never endured grief, sorrow, jealousy, envy, anger, hatred, or the most agonizing heartbreak?
But what if suffering isn’t the only way? Yes, pain can open us, revealing the raw places within that long for love and healing. Yet, it's important to remember that suffering is not the sole path to understanding or experiencing depth. Sometimes, it’s joy that teaches us. Sometimes, it's the quiet moments of curiosity, wonder, and awe that expand us.
Not everyone creates suffering to experience life. Some of us come here to create beauty, joy, and connection. Just as masks allow us to experience fear and sadness, they also allow us to experience awe, laughter, and the simplicity of being present. These moments are just as real, just as profound.
In fact, when we are truly connected to our authentic selves, we begin to see that life is made up of both suffering and joy. Both are part of the dance, the eternal play of experience. Maybe we didn’t just choose suffering to feel alive—we also chose to experience wonder, to know love without conditions, and to smile for no reason at all.
You are the one creating the costumes and masks you wear in order to experience the emotions you seek. To truly feel, you must believe in your own self-created role. You need to believe it's truly You for the emotions to be felt.
When you let go of everything except your true self, you become pure stillness and unconditional love. Nothing more, nothing less. You simply are. That’s it.
You are safe, secure, and loved, no matter what. And no one, no circumstance, can ever compromise that. It’s unconditional and has always been there. You are unhurt, untouched, and bathed in stillness and peace for eternity. This is who you truly are.
Yet eventually, pure love alone becomes boring. You desire experience; you want to feel something. You make the conscious decision to forget who you are, just enough to experience life. You forget, to remember again. It’s part of the dance.
You create stories in your mind that have the potential to compromise your sense of survival.
Because you believe your own stories, you feel something—even if it’s not real. And when you feel, you move. You do something. You live something. And since that’s what you wanted from the start—to feel and experience—you become very creative with your mental stories, your creations, and your forgetfulness, allowing yourself to "fall asleep" even more.
This paradox is wild and profound.
Most of us have done an incredible job of forgetting who we truly are. We’ve succeeded in co-creating a shared reality where we experience both suffering and joy together. We’ve put on so many masks that the path to authentic remembering seems almost impossible.
But the truth is, fear and suffering are not all there is. Fear is good; it gives you something to feel, but you can also choose joy. You don’t need to remove all your masks to stop suffering. You can transform them, change them into something that serves you now.
Think of it like an adjustable scale you control. The goal isn’t to forget everything or remember everything—it’s not about extremes. It’s about flow. It’s about learning to adjust how much you choose to remember and how much you want to forget. How much fear and suffering can you take, and when do you decide to stop and choose something else?
You don’t want to live in a reality where fear doesn’t exist, but you also don’t want to live in one where fear is all there is. You are the one in control of that balance.
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Where does that leave us? The paradox of remembering and forgetting, suffering and peace—it’s all part of the same story, isn’t it? The dance between who we truly are and who we pretend to be. The masks we put on, the games we play—they are all there for a reason. But the question we need to ask is: how much of that game do we want to play?
Do you really want to remember it all? Or would that spoil the fun, remove the very thing that makes this life feel real? There’s no need to destroy all your masks, no need to reveal every hidden part of your soul to escape suffering. Sometimes, it’s enough to remember a little more, just enough to ease the fear.
There is a sweet spot between remembering and forgetting. It’s the place where you can experience life fully—where you can feel deeply, love fiercely, and still know, deep down, that nothing can truly hurt you.
And that’s the beauty of it all, isn’t it? You are the one in control. Not your masks, not your roles—you. You get to choose what you want to feel, what you want to experience. You get to create your own balance between joy and pain, between remembering and forgetting.
Because ultimately, life isn’t about escaping suffering or reaching some enlightened state. It’s about playing in the space between, creating the experience you want to live, and knowing—truly knowing—that you are safe, no matter what.
