Two Ways to Know You Exist

Last night, just before sleep, a thought arrived.

I am not loving myself.

Not dramatic. Just there.

What followed was a list. I strain myself for others. I work past my own limit hoping for something back — reward, recognition, I don't even know what exactly. I think about family, work, what needs doing at home. All day. And somewhere in all that, I forget the one who is doing all of it.

Last thought before sleep — when did I last look in the mirror? When did I last comb whatever is left of my hairline?

Morning. Brushing teeth, I actually look.

Then, already dressed, I walk back for a full view.

What I felt was calm. Present. Like I had somewhere been absent.

I noticed I was holding something tight. Neck, shoulders. No reason. And then a stranger thought — all of this, every organ, everything inside, had been running without me noticing. Keeping me alive while I was elsewhere.

I didn't know what I normally looked like. Not an exaggeration. No reference point for my own face.

Evening. Beer. Writing.

The paunch. White in the eyebrows. Skin texture — puffy or not, I can't tell because I don't remember what normal is for me.

Something surfaces:

World is here to use us to their advantage. No defense. Just being sensitive is needed. Rest, we are all part of a play by Shiva. Game hai. Play it.

Vigyan Bhairav Tantra. Ashtavakra. Both point to a state where the witness is just that — witness. No mind. No body. Just the seeing. Sakshi Bhaav. That is one way to be conscious.

But standing in front of a mirror, dressed, about to leave — noticing the white in your own eyebrows, feeling your lungs, knowing your face — that is also consciousness. Different kind. Not detached. Just present.

Two ways to know you exist.

I'm still figuring out which one I'm better at.