Our life is a link between our date of birth and date of death. A link that contains all the secrets, dramas, tragedies and comedies of our lives, and we are all abandoned in this performance that we tend to forget who we are in reality.
The book of our life stretches between the two end points, and this blog is the chronicle of our personal history. The story of this personal history may be infinitely varied at an individual level. Breaking through the different heights and abysmal depths along the route in the world of shapes and forms may provide the individual wanderer with endless joy and immeasurable sorrow.
By identifying with our personal history written in the world of shapes and forms we experience ourselves as individuals different from everybody else.
Our parents began to weave our personal history; first they told us who we were, they relayed the rules of living in a community, together with other people within a specific society.
Then the little Ego was born in us, and we started to listen to the voice of the Egothat began to tell us our personal history. The inner voice told us a story about who we were and which way our life was heading.
We found the story so convincing that it never even occured to us to question its truth. But is this story really true, or is this just the Ego, babbling away and leading us into the cobweb of thoughts hopelessly?
The Anatomy of the Personal History
Every waking moment of our life fits a personal history with our own Self in its focus. Our life can only be interpreted within the framework of that history. The reason for that is that we identify with the voice of the Ego, the narrator of our own story, so closely that our personal history becomes the foundation of our entire life.