tarrat

I am a Finn, an artist, a nurse, an ordained minister, a writer, photographer, a father and grandfather.  Those words describe me, or describe facets of me.  These are the types of labels we place on the jar of our particular expression of humanity.  They give a clue as to where I came from, how I make my living and what I do.  They don’t tell the whole story, of course.  If you read the fine print, I’m also a hard of hearing, dyslexic cat lover.  If I cover the jar with too many labels, you won’t see me at all!

Sometimes the labels loosen or come completely off.

My body is a collection of cells that interact with each other, and are contained within a barrier of skin, which is also made of cells.  They all function together to make me into an animated kind of machine, or distinct entity.  One day, even that label will fall off, and I will cease to be that anymore.

So what am I really?  Molecules that cling together for a while.  I’m an idea.  I’m an expression of the universe.  I’m a fleeting thought.  A minute part of a particular, temporary race of beings, trying to say something about my supposed existence before the cells of my body separate again and become part of something else.

But is that me?

Am I my body, or do I just live in my body for now?