‘Who am I?’
What a strange question, isn’t it? At first glance, it feels like a joke.
How can it be that we don’t even know who we are?
We live our entire lives just for ourselves. Behind every thought, every fear, every plan, there’s only one thing hidden:
Saving this ‘I’ and proving it right.
So the mind says, I already know who I am. What’s there to think about?
It feels so natural that we’ve never stopped to pay attention to it.
Just like we never think about breathing in and out—it just happens on its own.
So, if we want to know who this ‘I’ is, who better to help us than ourselves?
We just need to look at what we already know but never noticed.
Is This An Ultimate Truth?
Let’s clear one thing first. Our goal here isn’t to reach some ultimate truth. We’re not trying to find out in reality who ‘I’ am. We’re just looking at what we think we are.
It might be completely wrong according to some philosopher, guru, or book, but does that matter?
We’re not claiming, “This is the final truth.”
We’re just exploring what we, in our minds, call ‘I’.
Think about it…
What if, instead of getting yourself tested, you asked the doctor for all the ‘correct’ numbers and made your own medical report?
That’s what happens when we blindly accept a guru’s words instead of our own truth.
This article is an attempt to avoid that. It’s our own report.
And yes, the results might not be what we want. But what’s the job of a report?
To show what is.
And think for a moment…
Doesn’t your own mind want to know who it is that you’re running around so much for?
Who are we worrying about day and night? Who are we trying to save, improve, or prove?
So come on…
Let’s put ourselves on trial and ask directly:
Who is this ‘I’?
Am I The Body?
The first suspect is always the body. And it makes sense. We spend most of our time serving this body.
But think…
Do we really believe that we are the body?
An easy way to see our truth is to pay attention to our language.
We say “I” countless times a day. When we say “I,” are we talking about our hands, legs, or stomach?
No. We never say, “I am the hand.” We always say, “This is my hand.”
The meaning is clear: “I” and “hand” are different.
“I” is the owner, and the “hand” is its property.
The same applies to the whole body. We say “my body,” not “I am the body.”
This is clear in our experience too. If we lose 10% of our weight, do we say, “I’m only 90% left”?
No.
Even if a limb is lost, “I” remains just as complete.
Yes, it’s true that the body is necessary for “I”. Without a body, there’s no one to say “I.”
But does that mean the body is “I”?
No.
It’s like how a flower is needed for its fragrance, but flower ≠ fragrance.
Similarly,
“I” arises with the body, but it is not the body itself.
So, the question remains: Who is this ‘I’ that owns the body and doesn’t diminish even when the body does?
Am I The Mind?
We probably don’t need to define the mind. It’s the thing we know most closely.
Every emotion, every thought, every fear, every hope—it all arises in the mind.
But still…
Is the mind “I”?
Pause and ask yourself.
When you say “I,” are you pointing to the mind?
No.
We say, “my mind,” not “I am the mind.”
The word “my” makes it clear: the mind and I are different.
If we were the mind, would we ever try to control it?
How many times have we observed our mind, tried to calm it, stop it, or reason with it?
Something that can be observed—how can it be the observer?
Yes, it’s true that most of “I’s” actions depend on the state of the mind.
So someone might say, “The real boss is the mind, not ‘I’.”
But even then, the mind and “I” remain separate.
So then…
Who is it that observes the mind?
Who is this silent witness amidst the mind’s chaos?
Is “I” beyond the mind?
Am I The Intellect?
The mind is something that often feels out of our control. It keeps creating desires, fears, and imaginations without asking.
But the intellect…
The intellect feels like ours.
When we see something sweet, the mind pulls toward it. But it’s the intellect that stops it, reasons, and says, “Don’t eat it, it’s harmful.”
And when we make a decision, we say, “I did this.”
Because we feel that intellect = I.
But wait…
Do we really think that?
Have we ever said, “I am the intellect”?
No.
We always say, “my intellect” or “my brain.”
“My” means one thing: the intellect is my property, not me.
We call someone wise. “Wise” means the one who holds wisdom.
So, “I” holds the intellect, but “I” ≠ intellect.
Think about it…
We always see the intellect as a tool.
A tool we can sharpen. A tool we can use for attack or defense.
But do we ever say we are the tool?
No.
So who is it that claims to wield this tool?
Who is this ‘I’ that acts as the owner of the intellect?
Am I Consciousness?
We believe consciousness is the foundation of our existence. Consciousness is the light through which life is seen and experienced.
Body, mind, intellect—it’s consciousness that observes them all.
Without consciousness, existence has no meaning.
So, does that mean when we say “I,” we’re pointing to consciousness?
No.
The truth is, we treat consciousness like a tool too.
A tool that’s absolutely necessary for “I” to exist.
That’s why the biggest fear of this “I” is: “What if my consciousness is lost?”
But notice—
Doesn’t saying “my consciousness” carry the same sense as everything else? Consciousness is mine, but I am not consciousness.
We think of consciousness like a torch in our hand, shining light, helping us see.
But the one holding the torch, directing it, seeing through it…
Who is that?
If even consciousness isn’t “I,” then who is this “I” that treats consciousness as just a tool?
Is “I” the sum of all these?
Maybe we’ve been looking at the truth in pieces.
Maybe “I” is like a car.
Like how wheels, seats, and an engine aren’t a car on their own, but together they make a car.
Is “I” like that?
Is “I” body + mind + intellect + consciousness?
No. The car example doesn’t fit here.
Why? Because a wheel is a part of the car.
But body, mind, intellect, consciousness…
These aren’t parts of “I.” “I” considers them its property.
And one thing is clear:
Parts can make a whole,
but properties don’t make the owner.
Add car parts, and you get a car.
But add five houses, and you don’t get the “owner of the house.”
Similarly,
Body, mind, intellect, and consciousness
their sum can’t be “I.”
So, Where Is This “I”?
Now we’re stuck. Because we’ve looked everywhere “I” could be.
But we saw that “I” is not the body, not the mind, not the intellect, not consciousness.
And even combining them doesn’t make “I.”
So where is this “I” after all?
No one else can answer this. We have to ask ourselves.
After all, we’re the ones whose every sentence, thought, and feeling revolves around “I.”
Who else but us can say what this “I” is?
Pause for a moment…
Look closely at this “I.”
What is this thing we’re so worried about? What is this thing we take pride in or feel ashamed of?
If you can, try to look for yourself before moving forward.
Look At “I” Right Now.
Right now, isn’t there a picture in your mind of where you’re sitting, what you’re doing?
Isn’t there a story playing in your mind?
“I’m doing this, then I need to do that, and after that, this will happen.”
And when this article ends, your mind will add another line:
“Today, I read this article.”
Did you notice?
Even right now, your mind is constantly trying to fit this experience into “my story.”
When you read the lines above, didn’t an inner voice immediately pop up?
“Yes, that’s right, I do that too.”
Or
“No, that doesn’t apply to me.”
Pay attention—this reaction rising inside, the one telling you whether this article is about you or not, is the same habit of weaving every experience into a story.
Every experience, every word, every sensation…
The mind instantly ties it to “about me.”
And as it keeps connecting, a story is crafted.
And the main character of this story becomes—“I.”
Yes…
“I” is a character.
A fictional character with a name and an image.
Yes…
“I” is just a thought.
The only difference is that this thought has separated itself from other thoughts and sat on the thinker’s throne.
Story Or Life?
We usually think:
“Life = real experiences.
Story = the explanation of those experiences.”
But as we’ve seen, our life itself is a story.
We never really live the real experience.
Ask yourself:
Have you ever felt hunger, pain, or joy as it is?
Or does the moment a sensation arise, you start running to avoid it or chase more of it?
Don’t we weigh every experience on “I’s scale”?
“This is good for me.”
Or
“This is bad for me.”
And then the reaction begins based on that.
Just like a machine reacts the moment a button is pressed.
This “I” is what stops us from living in the present. It keeps us trapped in memories of the past and imaginations of the future.
It convinces us that life isn’t for living but for becoming something. Not just a character in the story, but the hero.
This story makes only a few people mine and everyone else strangers.
This story says: “You’re not part of nature; you’re its user. Use it.”
And this separation from nature creates a sense of lack.
That restlessness pushes us to become something more, gain something more, and then more… and more… and more.
And then life becomes an endless race to get more.
A race where we’re all running alone with our own “I.”