When I was a young boy I didn’t have much of a self-image. Most of my time was spent daydreaming, usually off somewhere alone. Even in school I spent more time lost in the depths of my imagination that I did listening to the teachers. Any physical energy put forth was primary focused on blending into the background or escaping any potential disturbance to my illusory reality.

After graduating from high school, and having no clear direction, I joined the army. The recruiter painted a picture in my mind that fit nicely with my thoughts of finding direction out in the larger world, a place filled with adventure and travel, of distant lands and wondrous sights. It wasn’t long before my bubble was burst in a most traumatic manner.

It appeared that I was the perfect subject for the military, which they immediately and coercively began to form into their image and likeness. And so a Self was created. It wasn’t really mine, but now it had form and substance, along with definite meaning and purpose. This new Self was easily recognizable to the outer world, which now honored and respected the package formerly known as Me.

When my service to the government was complete, I was honorably discharged and allowed to leave behind most of the Self they had built. I was now free to find a new one. In college, I selected a course of study that gave new meaning and purpose to an idea of Self that I imagined. And the teachers filled my mind with concepts and knowledge expressly designed to form this Self into a responsible member of society. This new Self would enable me to serve a larger purpose within the world.

Over the years I’ve had a few careers, built a few businesses, raised a family, and lived a fairly interesting and successful life. There were pivotal points when major changes would occur. Some of these challenged me deeply enough that I felt as if I’d somehow lost my Self. In time I would either find my Self or form a new one and life would continue.

There are times when I look back and think about that young boy. I wonder what sort of Self he would have grown into if left to his own devices, if he wasn’t constrained by time and the rush into adulthood. Would he still be as free and imaginative? Perhaps he was my true Self, albeit sorely unappreciated by worlds reality. Maybe I should go and find him.

Then again, maybe he never left. Maybe all I need do is release what is not me, simply let if fall away. To stop pretending, to be authentic, to tell the truth, to know a Self that may be less than the world expects, yet greater than it can imagine. Yes, to be My Self.