Who am I?

In the midst of both difficulty or great happiness, I try to ask myself "who am I"? Who is it that is experiencing this? To whom does this great success or failure accrue?

Often, I hear this little clip:

"... wondering just who I am, who I am, who I am. Oh, who am I?"

Or I hear this one, from Les Miserables:

"Who am I... who am I?"

The more I ask, the less I'm sure. As the question echoes in my mind, the thought or feeling that I was sure was me or mine fades or gives way to something else. And then I know it could not have been me. And things are a bit lighter.

But the question remains. Who am I?

And who's asking?

At times, I also hear:

"Who are you? Who who, who who?"

It may seem like a difficult or dark contemplation, but that's only the case if you think you actually need to come up with an answer, or try to engage the question with the rational mind. That's not really the point of it. You're not supposed to be searching for an answer. That might be how it starts off as you begin to practice, but as you do it over and over again, it takes on a different form. It just kind of echoes through your system, without ever really hitting anything. It wakes you up to the present moment, and you're aware of all that's happening right now.

As with all practices, the recipe is wash, rinse, repeat.  And something interesting might happen.