Who am I? why am I? when, was and if, all of these are fabrics by which we dress the inner self. All our life experience we use to define or outline this self that we assume that dwells within the core of our being. But what if there is no inner self in the way in which we assume but a rag tag coillection of impulses that we have placed together, thinking that these are ‘us’. The impulses of the everyday mind, that inner function that can interpret our way through daily life, address the big questions and become trapped in trivia, that which can create great art and science, but can mistreat and harm our fellow human beings.

We are the products of our everyday mind, it is the creator of religion, politics, the best and the worst of us, yet although it can do amazing things, it is just a fabric that really is made of fused impressions and stitched to the past, its a smokescreen, a dream , a stage direction.

It is not who we are, and fades away when we die. Yet underneath this, lies the potential of who we are, the intrinsic materials for the experience of the inner self, which can not be made, but realised through an act of self-recognition.