by Gibran Cruz

I Am that I Am (Erin’s Monologue)

“Myself. My self.

That’s the problem. That’s the whole problem with the whole thing. That word, “self.” Thats not the word. That’s not right, that isn’t…How did I forget that? When did I forget that?

The body stops a cell at a time, but the brain keeps firing those neurons.

Little lightning bolts, like fireworks inside and I thought I’d despair or feel afraid, but I don’t feel any of that. None of it. Because I’m too busy. I’m too busy in the moment. Remembering. Of course. I remember that every atom in my body was forged in a star.

This matter, this body is mostly empty space after all, and solid matter? It’s just energy vibrating very slowly why there is no me. There never was.

The electrons of my body mingle and dance with the electrons of the ground below me and the air I’m no longer breathing. And I remember there is no point where any of that ends and I begin. I remember I am energy. Not memory. Not self. My name, my personality, my choices, all came after me.

I was before them and I will be after, and everything else is pictures, picked up along the way. Fleeting little dreamlets printed on the tissue of my dying brain.

And I am the lightning that jumps between. I am the energy firing the neurons, and I’m returning. Just by remembering, I’m returning home.

And it’s like a drop of water falling back into the ocean, of which it’s always been a part. All things… a part. You, me and my little girl, and my mother and my father, everyone’s who’s ever been, every plant, every animal, every atom, every start, every galaxy, all of it. More galaxies in the universe than grains of sand on the beach.

And that’s what we’re talking about when we say “God.”

The cosmos and its infinite dreams. We are the cosmos dreaming of itself. It’s simply a dream that I think is my life, every time. But I’ll forget this. I always do. I always forget my dreams.

But now, in this split-second, in the moment I remember, the instant I remember, I comprehend everything at once.

There is no time. There is no death. Life is a dream. It’s a wish. Made again and again and again and again and again and again and on into eternity. And I am all of it.

I am everything. I am all. I am that I am.”

13 Comments

  1. When I heard these words it was as if my lips themselves were speaking them. As they were spoken I knew that this is exactly my soul’s expression.

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  2. If you enjoyed Erin’s monologue, perhaps you might find something worthwhile in a piece a bit longer and covering much the same territory in greater detail. Read “Life Stills: A spiritual calculus” at “againlifestills.blogspot.com” The book may be read online or downloaded free as a .pdf file. Here is a quote from the books Precis:

    Of a kind with all things living,
    Man is of both
    The flesh that sustains him and
    The spirit that animates him.

    Setting man apart and
    Making him fully human is
    His awareness that
    This is the case – that
    He is both flesh and spirit
    By birthright.

    Deep in their hearts,
    All men hear my whisperings, and
    As clearly and as loudly
    As one hears my voice,
    To that extent is he
    Ruled by spirit and
    To that extent does
    His desire for me
    Determine the path of his life.

    Alive to the flesh but
    Dead to the spirit,
    They that deny me
    Are no less my children.

    Estranged through the
    Conditions and experiences –
    The dispositions – of their lives,
    Their spirits remain undefiled,
    Returning, as do all,
    To me in the end.

    Hearing me from a distance,
    My devotee comes to me by addition;
    Believing me outside himself,
    My devotee gives me a name, and
    In naming me, pushes me away.

    In the suffering of his isolation,
    My devotee offers me his prayers and
    Living a life pleasing to me
    Secures his place in my eternity.

    Hearing me not from a distance but
    From within his own heart,
    The renunciant is aware that
    He IS not –
    That Self is of the flesh and
    Has no true being.

    All that his mind thinks and
    All that his hands create are
    For this moment only and, like Self,
    Have no true being.

    Aware that I can be seen in this life
    Only by subtraction,
    The renunciant uproots Self and
    Shuns all things temporal.

    Detached from the world of the flesh and
    The burdens of both heart and mind,
    The renunciant grows
    In love and in Charity, in
    Undifferentiated and eternal
    Spirit only.

    Hearing but denying my voice,
    Hearing my voice but softly, or
    Hearing my voice as a deafening roar,
    All men walk the paths
    Determined by their dispositions.

    All men – non-believers, devotees, renunciants –
    All men alike return, in the end,
    To whence they came,
    Their bodies returning to earth, and
    Their spirits returning to me,

    Untouched,
    Unchanged,
    Unblemished.

    Perfect.

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      1. Do you know if Flanagan is responsible for writing Erin’s death monologue? I’m trying to reference it in my writing and would like to give proper credit to the writer if possible

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