Slipping into the images that sweetly rush past, it is easy to let go of your our personality and body.

You are what you see, in a sense. And when your eyes focus not on your arms, as you touch things and as you make tea, carefully heating the water, and pouring in the lemon juice. No longer do your eyes focus on the movement of your legs and toes, far way in the distance that is height, as you read a book. No longer do they focus on your surroundings, unable to get of glimpse of your identity, but externally directed, always facing the outside, never the internal forces that move the mountain.

Are you your eyes or your soul? Are you the voice in your head, the little devil on your shoulders, or are you the mass, the red and pink mass that occupies space and forms matter, seen by the naked eye, that moves and shifts, that gets your mind around? Because, the body, it has no eyes and no imagination. It simply takes in and responds, it does not create.

So, you are your eyes.

You are the things you see.