Self-Inquiry or "Who Am I?" - A Diary-Essay on the Long and Short Paths to Awakening

 

Morning arrives with that peculiar, almost disembodied silence in which light does not yet possess color, only contours. I sit before the blank page of my diary, feeling the coolness of the air blend with the rhythm of my breathing. In this weightless hour, before the world has imposed its noisy demands and roles, a single inquiry surfaces from the depths of my being, blurring the boundaries between dreaming and waking: Who am I? This is not merely a question addressed to the intellect; it is a muffled, yearning moan of the soul seeking its lost home.

Behind me lie years of arduous, at times despair-inducing, inner labor. This is the Long Path - the pathway of the slow, methodical polishing of the human vessel so that it may become fit for the "descent of the Holy Spirit." From the perspective of spiritual psychoanalysis, this stage is a time for the raw construction and refinement of the ego. We cannot transcend that which we have not first known and tamed. For years, I fought my shadows, unraveled the threads of my personal history, and confronted my miasmic burden - that heavy, invisible inheritance of past thoughts, unlived traumas, and actions that the East calls karma and psychoanalysis terms unconscious patterns. Along this long path, one learns obedience to a Master, self-surrender, and service. It is a time of continuous efforts of the will, wherein the ego is purified through the cultivation of virtues: selflessness, self-sacrifice, patience, humility, and generosity. Here, the mind is trained to concentrate, to meditate, to quiet the chaos of thoughts. Yet at some point, as I observe this constant effort to be "good" or "spiritual," I sense the subtle fatigue of the ego trying to perfect itself. The ego's very attempt to save itself is its final and most exquisite defense.

And then, at the point of utter exhaustion of the personal will, when the vessel is sufficiently thinned and cleansed of self-serving motives, the Short Path reveals itself. It is not merely an extension of the previous one; it is its "final stretch," a radical turn from doing to being. If the Long Path demanded the tension of the will, the Short Path requires directed, loving attention. This transition is delicate and terrifying to the mind. Psychoanalytically speaking, this is the moment when the transference to an external authority (the Master or the world) dissolves, allowing true autonomy to be born - self-identification shifts from the fragile, frightened ego to the Higher Self. The foundation of this short path is crushingly simple and yet paradoxical: the Eternal Presence. I am forced to admit to myself that Enlightenment does not consist in adding something, in acquiring some new knowledge, or integrating a part that was once split off. I do not need to reach the Higher Self, for it is already here. It is not a distant goal, but the realization of that which already IS. I am in the Higher Self now more than ever. I am the Higher Self. All that is required of me is to always remember this fact.

But how am I to remember it when the morning breeze stirs the curtains and my thoughts begin their restless dance once more? Sacred texts teach us that the mind is formed from the absorbed subtle part of the food we consume, and that it grows, nourished by passions - attachment and aversion, desire and anger. It is a conglomeration of memory, intellect, and ego. It is inherently inert, yet it appears alive and conscious because it associates itself with Consciousness - just as a piece of iron placed in a fire becomes red-hot and begins to glow and burn, borrowing the attributes of the flame. The mind is plastic; it constantly changes its shape like wax or molten gold, pouring itself into the objects it perceives through the channels of the senses. And most importantly: the mind itself is the form of everything - of the individual soul, of God, and of the world. The universe is a form of the mind, a grandiose, shared illusion.

In my psychoanalytic quests, I have always been intrigued by how the teachings explain the creation of this world according to the capacity of the student. The less experienced are taught that the world is the result of a slow, phased evolution of elements. But for the advanced, the truth is sharper and more direct: the world has appeared as a dream of its own accord, born from our own thoughts, triggered by the fundamental deficit of self-knowledge. We dream our reality to fill the void of forgetting. When we forget our pure nature, the mind, which was originally as pure as ether, transforms under the influence of inertia and passions. It begins to mistake one thing for another, constructs false identities like "I am this body," and breeds fears, claims, demands, and controlling mechanisms, plunging us into the endless cycle of suffering.

And so, faced with this illusory world, I return to the only saving remedy - Self-Inquiry, or the question "Who am I?". Every time I feel pain, anger, or anxiety, I pause. I turn my gaze inward, toward the very root of the suffering. All thoughts arising within me anchor themselves upon the first mental form - the I-thought. It is the root of the illusory tree of bondage. Instead of allowing my mind to follow the direction of emerging thoughts and entangle itself in their complex psychological plots, I let it rest in the Self. I ask myself: Now, what is this that appears as "I"? To whom is this anxiety happening?

When this inquiry deepens, within the Heart - not to the left, in the anatomical organ, but in the spiritual core of being - the ineffable Higher Self begins to shine. There, in that absolute inner silence, an unconfined, unified, and pure Consciousness is born, in whose light the multitude of fragmented thoughts simply vanishes. If I manage to remain still in this state, the sense of separateness and egoism is totally destroyed. The final thought of my own significance fades slowly and irreversibly, much like the way fire consumes camphor, leaving behind neither ash nor trace. This is the only true liberation - the absolute mastery of the mind. In this state, I feel the true meaning of the words from Psalm 46:10: "Be still, and know that I am God."

But how can I sustain this state amidst the noise of daily life, when I must fulfill my social and professional functions? Here lies the most beautiful and mature art of the Short Path - the art of acting. A person can and must play many different roles in the pageant of life, in accordance with their karma and past choices that are now bearing fruit. Yet while playing, the thought that they are merely the Observer never leaves the mind. I am learning to perform countless empirical actions with an attitude of detachment, like an actor on a stage who cries and laughs but deep down knows that his true identity is unharmed by the script. I choose the firm, unyielding conviction: "I am the Self," rejecting the false identification with the body and its temporary history. If my mind wanders, I immediately return to the question: Oh! I am not this body; then, Who am I?

This mental alignment actually purifies karma and elevates the frequencies of my existence. When the mind is pure, subtle, and still, the bliss of the Self emerges effortlessly. Then, sensory pleasures and pains cease to agitate the depths of the ocean; they are merely ripples upon the surface. All phenomena begin to look like a dream, without generating attachment or aversion. The sage may engage in thousands of activities, yet in reality, he does nothing, because he has allowed his mind to rest in the primordial humility of the Self. He has renounced not external objects, but the I-thought itself - the illusion that he is the primary actor.

The sun is already rising, coloring the room in a soft, golden radiance. My diary is full of words, yet I feel the need for them dissolving into the gathering light. In the end, the Long Path and the Short Path merge into one. The Long Path prepares the vessel, cleansing it through love and virtues, while the Short Path immerses us in the ever-present Grace. Ultimately, there remains only one path, which is entirely surrendered to God. The Short Path is a surrender to the Higher Self through hope, gratitude, love, humble submission, and remembrance.

I close the notebook. My breath is steady. The world outside is waking up, but I choose to remain still. I choose to know. I rest with joy in that which IS, and I step into the new day not as one who seeks God, but as the very place where God chooses to abide.