Searchers
What are you? This was the question that I was made to confront by my friend, my philosopher, my guide? What am I? Now, every time I did manage to answer that elusive question using the limited repository of information or knowledge that my brain possessed, I could only realize the fallacy that I was living under the shadow of. Each time I uttered a word that could momentarily summarize what am I, I could only discover that I was just using words that are signifiers or better still quantitative signifiers as Jacques Lacan would put it. But is that who I am? A quantitative signifier? A word whose meanings are made by lesser mortals like myself? Call it an existential confusion that people like me live under or call it that elusive search for the true meaning of self ripped from the pages of Advaita - but what is that defines us? Under the haze of the smoke, what I said was that I am nothing but a human being in flesh and blood. I got a wonderful retort that two of my wonderful
