Come again, please.

“Who are you?” A question I sometimes get asked. Ah. It’s the same for you? It’s also a question I keep asking myself. Sometimes quite frequently and then there are times where I seem to care little who I am. “I am who I am.” I think that’s a statement out of the Bible and probably elsewhere. It puts things quite simple and clear. I can apply it to myself, and you’re too, who you are. It’s so full of self-acceptance and yet confronts me directly with the person who I am. Probably I should slow down, I’m getting dizzy at this point with all the “I’s” and “who’s.” But again they ask: Who are you? I’ll give you an easy answer. I most likely will tell you the name that my parents have chosen at my birth. Of course, there’s almost no time to ponder for myself when I’m asked this simple question as a standard question. Wouldn’t I be looked at weird if I took a few minutes to answer it? Maybe it could take a whole lifetime to give a comprehensive response. Well, the whole thing will probably be broken into many parts during a conversation and during the course of time. It might continue like: “What do you work?” or “What are your hobbies?”. In a sense, all of this also forms a part of our identity. However, the core can only be answered personally by “I am who I am.” Everybody else wants to hear a name.

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