De-identified

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A friend who I hadn’t seen in a year or so sent me a text this week. He asked “How are you?”

Most times, I’d say something conventional, “good”, “fine”, “all good”, blah, blah. This time, something stopped me. I couldn’t say something glib. I stopped and actually looked to see “how I was” and I saw that certain circumstances in my life suck right now and that I’m feeling happy and alive. So I said that.

Since then, I got something happened there. I got I’m not my circumstances. There have been other de-identifications along the way, the big one being that I’m not my thoughts and feelings, and I hadn’t gotten this one before.

Now I see there’s another one that hasn’t occurred yet: that I’m not my body and appearance. That’ll happen in its own good time too.

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Image: Photo of a Rosalie Gascoigne  (1917-1999) work in the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, Hobart, Australia

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