How do we find ourselves? Do we ever pose the question,
"Who am I?" And who are we asking anyway?
When I attended school this seemed to be the prevailing question that all the great thinkers were asking and now that I have been away from those institutions of learning for many years, I feel that I should know the answer. But I'm no closer now than I was then.
In a way, I think I'm still being born. Still struggling to break out of the shell. Still yearning to be fully human... fully alive. Like Benjamin Button, it's as though I began my life as an old man and am moving backward inevitably toward my birth.
Perhaps my true Birthday will be the day that I draw my final breath. I always found it interesting that the Feast Days of Catholic Saints are not celebrated on the day they were born, but on the day they died. It was then that they threw off the shell of this world,
to be born anew into the eternal one.
to be born anew into the eternal one.
To find oneself is to find heaven, which was within us all along.
And to find heaven is to find the One that can
truly answer the question, "Who am I?"
And to find heaven is to find the One that can
truly answer the question, "Who am I?"
"You are my child.
Come to me. I have been waiting for you."
Come to me. I have been waiting for you."
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