Day 1 9/30/24 Friend and Foe - Ego

I am not a social person. Outgoing, yes. Social, no. Confident in stride and demeanor trusting myself to make the best decisions for me, I do not look to others for guidance or input. Any lack I feel is generated by me; and therefore, is only able to be filled by me. A leader, not a follower - who better to lead me than me? Arrogant, you may think, but brush that aside as the voice of insecure ignorance - that pendantic, narrow, conservative voice that oppresses possibility. Self is possbility - the empty canvas of imagination. The most important relationship is with self. Not the conceptual self of human concocted unsustainable material gain, but unconstrained, unlimited, free Self. As long as I am comfortable with me, comfortable in my solitude, my thoughts, my ideas, my demons - as long as I prefer my company over any other, then I am free to roam the world. Free to be in the company of an other without the hindrance of demanding from them the validation and acceptance I already give myself. I will not suck the life out of an other's existence. by stealing their lives - insisting their story's protagonist be me. They need their stores for their journey. Stories are directions - snippets of insight to guide and illuminate an otherwise unknown path home. We all cary knapsacks and canteens, so our hands are always full of our own baggage. No human has a free hand with which to take from an other - me included. But I may set mine down to temporarily alleviate some of your weight, remembering to return your bags. Otherwise, I have stolen your life and left you for dead. And for that I am but a murderer and a thief - no longer me - but a deceived version of my self rummaging the globe in desperate search of repireve from the weight of stolen goods only I can put down. Today I leave the stolen goods of an identity I stole from me. Past ideas of self habitually worn, now tattered beyond recognition and use - remnants, leftovers, and scraps pinched from sources not my own. The relief is palpable. I take a seat and stare at a clear plastic jar marked "identity" sitting empty on a shelf in the shop. My ego wistfully counters, "May it remain forever so."