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.

Part of The Witness, From the Inside — everything I have written about drishta, gathered in one place.