Who Am I?

Who am I? Yes here we go again, and if your reading this Cary just skip it all together and go to the next post. Because I realize that this is the only question that matters. If unanswered and even unasked then the rest of life seems rather random. I am a seeker...always will be. And as much as I would love to just let this life fly by without introspection, sounds a lot easier, I can't (though you wouldn't really know it from reading this blog). Who was it that said an unexamined life is one not worth living? I don't know but I do know that for me it is true. For until I find out who James is, everything just seems like running on a hampster wheel. I just re-read the side bar on this blog page, then re-read many of the entries over the past few months. Were they even written by the same guy?! Going on some journey looking for inner truth? Who am I kidding?! I end up writing volumes about other peoples' appearance or behavior. I end up writing about the physical hardships or the humor of miscommunication. I end up writing fluff...which I actually enjoy and so do many others it seems. So maybe the side bar is perfect. As I step toward truth and deeper understanding of all of this and start getting close to it, I go for the easy way out and find the cute, humorous tale/anecdote every time. I'm not judging this as a bad thing as I occasionally crack myself up. You get the added bonus of having vicarious diarrhea which is a whole lot better than real diarrhea! As an aside (yeah I know I never get off track), in Tibetan Buddhism there are many levels of "hell" or a really bad next lives. One of them is the "hot flaming poker up the butt lifetime" where that is your existance for however long you live in it. I often wonder while I'm squatting on the Asian style toilets, cramping up with tears in my eyes, if whoever came up with this particular nasty idea had travelled to Thailand and ate at the same hawker stalls I have...because he hit the nail (or hot poker) squarely. Anyway, it seems like I'm often copping out on exploring the deeper reasons for travel as I'm too busy seeing and doing some really cool and fun stuff. Stuff like scuba diving off of Tioman Island in southern Malaysia or rock climbing in amazing Krabi, Thailand! And I'm not whining here...I've had a blast. But my sister Samantha and my nephew Elliott (aka butthead) are flying in tonight and I realize that this trip is going to change character drastically for the next 3 weeks. Time to dust off the vaval and have a gaze before the distraction of constant family brings me back to this "reality". OK, here we go.

Surely I am not James W. Bryner Jr. That is my name of course given to me by my parents 44 years ago and I like it well enough. But it isn't ME just as "a rose is a rose by any other name" (even if I don't smell as sweet after my Bangkok sweaty-ass-crack-bike-ride today). My passport even says that is who I AM and the photo even looks like ME. A bad photo by the way... as if I was given a large dose of Thorazine before some low quality mug shot was snapped. And even though I've lived a life of crime (see last blog) no mug shots were taken until this one. Ten years. It's a long time to have to look at this picture. As you can see above for yourself. And for those who don't know me? I'll paraphrase Richard Nixon "I am not a crook...or a psychopathic killer"(he, for those of you under 30 and educated in the U.S., was a "bad man". You can google him or better yet 'wikipedia' him. But don't bother My Spacing him as he's dead.).

That picture was taken 2 years ago now and not a single cell on my face in that picture is still with ME...so I am definitely not my body as I regenerate a new one of those overy few months or so. Is this body then just a bag of skin and a food tube from mouth to butt, occupying space as a container for the real ME...my soul? If so then why bother and why not let the soul run free because this thing is kind of goofy shaped with all kinds of needs and pains. It burns in the mid-day equatorial heat without a good moisturizing sun screen, and keeping up with my nails is just tedious. Or am I the air that comes in and out of this cellular tube/bag? Because without the air I am dead...or at least this tube/bag is. How about the food that shares the same space as I do once I eat it...is it me? Am I it? Once again, no food or water...no James. And what about you? I am certainly not me without a you. I can't be me without a you, it is all a relationship. Is there a writer without a reader? There really is no seaparation from me and you. No you, no me...Know you, know me (sorry about that, I just couldn't resist the cheezy bumper sticker reference "No Jesus, no peace..."). Then, there is no separation from all of this that we experience (foods events thoughts dreams) and even things we can't experience. Because I really don't experience the space between me and this computer screen but without that space there would be no differentiation and I couldn't BE. What a beautiful thing this all is. It means that we are not only all connected but that we are all essential...the mosquito that is buzzing my head right now, and the guys outside tearing up the street driving me crazy at 12:30 am. Just as George Bush needs to be apart of it all so do we who oppose all he does at home and Iraq. For what is a 'warior of peace' without a war? Just a warrior ( now I'm really sorry as that is a truely meaningless and cheezy sounding bumper sticker style quote). I have no idea where I'm going with any of this but it is exciting because I feel so connected to everything instead of so alone or pointless. It's why I continue to ask the question. And of course I'll get back on the hampster wheel tomorrow but maybe I'll walk it for a while before getting all rodent-psycho again...maybe not.

p.s. For those of you who think I've gone off the deep end or have been taking mushrooms stored in a box from the late '60's you're wrong. For those of you who think I'm reading too much Alan Watts...spot on.