Let Me Tell You A Story About The "I"
In the sacred circle of integration, I often share a tale woven from the ancient threads of the Bhagavad Gita—a story that echoes through the ages, carrying the medicine of truth. Gather close, for this is a story of spirit and shadow, of the eternal dance between the self we think we are and the Self that simply is.
On the dawn of a great battle, where the drums of destiny thundered and the earth trembled, there stood Arjuna, a warrior prince. His heart was heavy with sorrow, for before him stood not only foes, but also kin—friends, teachers, and family, all arrayed on both sides of the field. Overcome by anguish, Arjuna’s spirit cried out, “I cannot do this.”
But listen, seeker—who is this “I” that cannot? It is the mask, the ego, the small self that believes it is the doer, the sufferer, the one who bears the weight of the world. This “I” sees only division, believes in endings, and fears the illusion of death. The true pain is not in the battle, but in the forgetting of our boundless nature.
It is then that Krishna, the Divine Guide, whispers across the veil, reminding Arjuna—and all of us—that the True Self is untouchable, eternal, beyond harm. This Self cannot kill, nor can it be killed, for it was never born and will never die. What we truly are is not the fleeting shadow of the body, nor the illusion of separateness, but the eternal flame, the dreamer behind the dream.
Though most of us are not called to the battlefield with sword in hand, each of us knows the struggle of the ego. Life can feel like a war, with wounds old and new, stories we carry like armor, and the ceaseless defense of the self. The ego clings to its pain, seeing the world not as it is, but through the smoky mirror of its own projections. It seeks proof of its stories, and in doing so, it suffers.
But hear this, soul traveler: the part of you that recoils, that feels unseen or unheard, is not your essence. It is the false self, woven from memory, judgment, and fear. Its suffering is a mirage, born of its own blindness.
Our true journey is to love—to pierce the veil of ego, to see the radiant light behind every face, every story, every heart. To remember: I am you, and you are me. There is no enemy, no other, only the great web of life, woven of love. And so, I honor you. I love you. We are one.
Aho. Namaste.
