Is it really me

Last night a friend of mine made me wait for a couple of seconds staring at the floor. He just said "What is life?" and I then reviewed my answers to this BIG question. I tried to think once again on this topic in order to make sure that I am confident with what I have chosen. I looked at my hands, my body and tried to find where my soul is. What is the pain? Do I make a difference between the body pain and the the pain in the soul and what is the meaning of experience? Experiencing all these daily events. What portion of that is spiritual and what portion is materialistic? How do they interact through me? How is the connection of me to I? Am I different from me? Who is dominating who? "And which is the language I use, to understand what I tell me? And to find out what me tells I …"* All these question went through my scrambled mind in a heartbeat time. I am not sure what I am doing, but, it appears that this self-questioning is not a bad sign.

* taken from a poem at Route57