I discovered a voice underneath the voice that I used for reading.

And after much careful watching, I saw that this "lower" voice

was very childlike. it . . . "he" . . . . .did not speak in "proper"

sentences. Then I realised what I had done. I spoke to myself,

inside my head, with my internal voice, about the other, lower,

internal voice, as if it belonged to someone else. It was mine,

but a much younger me, a "me" that no longer existed.

Hearing my younger voice forced me to look at ownership.

How much of what I called "me" could I control?

If I could not control some of it, was it still "me"?

I now saw, that my sense of self, the "me", was most strongly

linked with what I could do, with "doing" something.

The "me" I seemed to be finding was about doing

not being.

"me"

"meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"

I began to hate the sound of that silly little word.

I went for a long bus ride to try and let go of my self-obsession.

I fell asleep on the bus. I woke up to someone gently shaking me.

It was quite dark. The bus conductor was telling me to wake up.

The bus was in the garage.

He said: "Wake up.

We are at the end of the line.

You can't go any further".

Perhaps because I was sleepy, I felt his words sink in

deeply. It was a physical feeling. I could feel something

sinking inside my body . . . . . .

I stumbled off the bus, knowing that I would not find a

central, unified "me" that I had ownership of.

Whatever the "me" was, I saw it as a collection of things.

the bits of me were just things. Just bits of things hanging

together for a while.

Of the 7 events that I had previously identified, the " 7 wires "

I had control over just 2 of them, only 2 , only 2 ! ! !

"I can make thoughts" and

"I can choose to remember".

One of those had parts (my internal and lower voices) that I had only

partial control over.

Then the strangest thing happened as I was

waiting for another bus to take me home. . . . .

At the very moment that I gave up on trying to find a

single unified "me", at the very moment I saw that I was

just a collection of " 7 wires " I could see and Lord knows

how many others I could not see - at that moment, an awareness grew

of something else. . . . . .

. . . . . .. it started to rain

and as the rain fell on my head

it felt as if each drop was affirming

this new something.

Of course, I could not describe it,

even calling it an "it", felt wrong.

"It" did not feel like just one thing

it did not feel inside me, or, outside me.

I laughed out loud as rainwater ran down my

head and into my mouth.

I didn't have a clue . . . . . . . clueless in the rain.