We’ve all heard it dozens of times – New Year, New You! For many years this refrain motivated me in my resolutions and then went quickly down the drain, along with those same resolutions. A year later, I’d attach myself to the slogan again, and somewhere around January 13th, it lost its appeal -again. I’ll just learn to live with the “old me,” I’d think. This new version seems like too much work.
Sound familiar?
Here we are again on January 13th and I’m reflecting upon why this phrase – “New Year, New You” – is so annoying to me. I think it may have to do with the definition of “me.” There is the Little Me – made up of a body, a collection of thoughts and roles like mother, daughter, friend, partner, etc. You know, the one we most often refer to when we say “me.”
Then there is the Real Me: the true me, which is none of those things.
Not the flesh and bones, not the identities that I’ve taken on or the ones that have been assigned to me. Not the collection of memories, goals, or aspirations.
I’m none of that. I can’t be. It’s impossible.
How do I know I’m not those things? I’m not a quantum physicist or philosopher but somehow, I know that if you can sit back and observe something, you can’t be it, you are the observer of it. It seems to me, that you can’t be the observer and that which is observed simultaneously. For example, I can look at my hand, so I know I’m not my hand. I can feel, sense, and observe lots of things going on in my body so I know I can’t be my body. I can observe my thoughts, feelings, memories, future projections, etc., so I can’t be them either.
So what am I? What is this thing that has the power to watch Stephanie’s life and comment on her embodied experiences? What is this thing that can experience all the feels, from joys to pains? The thing that can jump into the thinking causing the sensations or that can sit comfortably on the sidelines of her messy mind?
What is this thing? Who is this observer?
I don’t really have a clear answer right now and I’m sorry if that is unsatisfying. Or shall I say, Little Me is sorry. (Little Me seems addicted to guilty thinking). I do know that this observing entity is much more permanent than any of the physical and thought-created things that have come and gone from my life. I also know that the more permanent something is, the more real it is. I’ve therefore concluded that this formless observer is closer to the ”Real Me” than the form that is observed.
I also know that when I sit in the comfortable seat that this formless observer enjoys, there is no reason to work towards a “new me.” There’s a peaceful serenity and perfection that comes from this vantage point. A place that has a quiet chuckle at the thought of making a big effort to create a “new me.” The place that knows a “new me” merely means a new experience of myself that is on offer in any moment. That moment comes when I drop out of my habitual, addictive thinking and drop into the “Real Me” with access to unlimited thinking.
It turns out that the only ‘new me’ I actually need in 2023 is access to the “Real Me.”