A Place for "Nobody"

I ’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there ’s a pair of us—don’t tell!
They ’d banish us, you know.
How dreary to be somebody!	5
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

                                                -Emily Dickinson  (1830-1886)

We know that Emily Dickinson penned her poetry in obscurity with no intention to publish most of her works.  If she had lived in 2019, would we have found her on social media?  If so, wouldn’t her poem be ironic?

In 2019, how is a person’s identity defined?  By their profile on facebook?   Do any of us really know the character of a person without having a face to face  (in the flesh) encounter with them?  How artificial is a profile on facebook?

What is with this public recognition craze?  Are we inherently attention grabbing? Or are we merely attempting to be expressive?  Does anybody really care about what I write in this blog?  Am I sitting on my lily pad looking for an admiring bog? Or should I perhaps be dubbed as "Nobody #1"?

To study the Way is to study the self.
To study the self is to forget the self.
To forget the self is to be enlightened by all things.

-Dogen (1200-1253)

Science tells us that from a neurological perspective, the "I" is a continuous series of patterns of information created by the brain, an illusion, with no fixed center.
"The self grows through identification, possession, pride, and separation from the world and life." (Rick Hanson, Buddha's Brain, pg.225).  One should strive for an open channel of observation of the world so that the "self" doesn't become a narrow pod of self importance.

When historians get around to writing the history of the second decade of the 21^st Century, they will no doubt posit about the social media explosion and will discuss how the Tweetie in Chief attempted to dictate policy from his cell phone. 

In conclusion, from a safe dry place called Merry Mount, I will observe the irony of “drain the swamp” from the presidential frog and his admiring bog.

Om mani padme hung.

CPW