Who?

That question has presented itself again. ‘Who am I?’

Let’s turn it outwards. Let’s go and ask somebody ‘Who are you?’ They will tell you what their name is, where they live, what job they do, what their hobbies and interests are, their likes and dislikes, maybe even something about their personality traits. They might even claim to be religious and talk of going to heaven when they die. But that isn’t who they are, but what they are. It’s just their identity. Take all those things away by subjecting them to profound amnesia, and they won’t have a clue who they are. I once heard a profound amnesiac describe it in just those terms.

So the real question here is ‘What does “who” mean?’ I don’t know yet, but I’m reminded of Shakespeare’s famous line:

All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.

I think whoever wrote those words was on the right track. So do I want to go on life after life, merely playing roles in a succession of dramas? I suppose it’s the easy option, but sometimes it becomes a bit tedious.