If I asked you who you are, what would you say? Many people might start by describing their job—teacher, software engineer, accountant—but that’s just what you do, not who you are. If you changed or lost your job, that identity would disappear. So who are you, really?
You might then mention your family or cultural background: a mother, father, an African American, an American citizen. But that’s still you in relation to others. So who are YOU, independent of them?
There isn’t a core essence within us that remains unchanging. You might talk about your personality or values—being an introvert, a romantic, or having a love for beauty—but these are just ways you behave or what motivates you. They aren’t who you are.
We can endlessly ask the question, “Who are we?”, but we won’t find anything permanent or unchanging because all these identities are superficial and impermanent. There isn’t anything within us that we can point to and say it will never change.
This isn’t to say we don’t exist. If we walked into a wall, our bodies would bump against it, and we’d feel pain. We do exist! What it’s saying is that we are constantly changing beings, like rivers. If you watch a river, the water you see now isn’t the same water you saw a moment ago. So how can we say it’s the same river? Calling it by a fixed name is just something humans do to make sense of it. This identity is an illusion.
The issue with attaching labels and concepts is that our egos latch onto them, making them seem permanent. This attachment objectifies these labels, distorts reality, and can get us into trouble.
You might argue that there are core traits that remain constant throughout our lives. However, as soon as we label something, our egos start to solidify it, creating stories that can mislead us.
Here’s an example: I always saw myself as hardworking and self-motivated, striving for excellence. I labeled myself a “high achiever” and “Type A personality,” and felt driven to excel at everything. This drive was about feeding my ego.
But in my thirties, my life fell apart. I had believed so strongly in my story of excellence that I ignored signs of trouble. My health collapsed, I fell into depression, and after 9/11, my career path closed off.
This idea of “no self” taught me an important lesson: drop the stories. When faced with choices, I now try to see what I bring to the table at that moment, not based on past labels, but on my current potential. That doesn’t mean disregarding my past experiences, skills, or strengths, but focusing on how they manifest in the present and apply to current situations.
The Buddha’s teaching of no-self is about letting go of our egos and the stories we tell ourselves. These stories feel like they bring security but actually distort our vision. Being fully present allows us to clearly see our strengths and weaknesses and make better choices.
Mindfulness plays a crucial role here. It helps us let go of the dualistic view of “me vs. the world” and understand that we are part of a larger awareness, seamlessly flowing with the world around us. This creates a sense of harmony and trust in life.
I find the Buddha’s teachings optimistic and hopeful; they tell us we can change and choose our path. My character traits still motivate me to do my best, but my perspective has shifted. Now, I aim to harness the environment around me to help me grow, similar to sailing by catching the wind instead of rowing.
So, if there is no self, who is sitting here? The answer is a growing, changing being, striving to be wiser and more open-hearted, making the best choices to move towards that goal. While I don’t know where I’m headed, making positive choices guides my direction.
The teachings show that the more we embrace no-self, the more we discover who we truly are.