In the process of reviving an article I wrote maybe five or six years ago, I was surprised by how little I sounded like my present self. The state of mind I described initially was similar to my current one: not consistently sad or lonely but not especially content; not bored but not anxious, stressed, or overly excited about much either.

In that previous article, though, I sounded much more comfortable being in this in-between place; I seemed to know that we need them in order to learn from the more acute highs and lows of life.

To support the glowing optimism I felt then, I even quoted Alan Watts: “There would be no bright stars without dim stars, and, without the surrounding darkness, no stars at all.”

It was interesting to revisit that original article; it gave me a glimpse into the psyche of a younger me. But it also opened my eyes to an uncomfortable truth: I have been forgetting what that guy knew well — that it doesn’t matter how dim or bright the stars are, or how much darkness surrounds them, for everything I need to be content has only ever existed within me.

I’d tapped into a sense of peace and confidence that felt indestructible. “There are no good or bad days for me anymore,” I wrote. “No ambitious journeys or storms to thwart them. There is just me, growing and trying to become the most authentic version of myself that I can.”

Lately, I haven’t felt much like the guy who wrote that; I have been overly self-conscious and obsessed with future uncertainties; and as a result, I’ve had plenty of relatively “bad” days.

“Sometimes,” he continued, “it feels like I have a secret that those around me don’t know about. A sense of self and view of the world that swells up within me like a secret power.”

To better illuminate this feeling he quoted an essay by American literature enthusiast Penny Vlagopoulos. “It is something like the sensation of suddenly being shocked by the sight of a large, full moon hovering almost too low to notice, and wondering if anyone else sees it,” she wrote, describing her experience of reading Jack Kerouac’s On the Road: The Original Scroll. “You are a lucky participant receiving privileged information.”

Shifting back to his own experience, he wrote, “Looking at the world through the lens of my own eyes, it appears bright and mystical, not something to be understood fully, but something otherworldly that no one else has bothered to take notice of. Sure, at times, I feel stress and discouragement acutely. But I also have an unshakeable conviction to enjoy my life.”

Seriously, who talks like that??

Maybe he’d been reading a little too much Alan Watts. Because, in the next paragraph, he quoted him again:

“No one imagines that a symphony is supposed to improve in quality as it goes along, or that the whole object of playing it is to reach the finale. The point of music is discovered in every moment of playing and listening to it. It is the same, I feel, with the greater part of our lives, and if we are unduly absorbed in improving them we may forget to live them.”

Apparently, that guy believed his life did not need to be some endless reconstruction project. Clearly he thought the rat race was bullshit. And he was certain beyond all doubt that material wealth and social status are just ego-generated, societally supported illusions of personal significance.

Reading his thoughts — my thoughts — I was reminded how quickly we forget who we used to be. Usually, we’re happy to forget some past (drunker, dumber, sicker, angrier) version of ourselves; I know I have been. But if we’re not careful, we can forget the better (wiser, calmer, less-serious) versions of us, too.

“I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not,” the brilliant journalist and author Joan Didion wrote. “We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were.”

Maybe I was simply a happier version of myself back then. I mean, I was living in a different country; I had different friends; I had different hobbies; I was working a different job; and I was navigating a different relationship.

But how could that be?

How could I be less happy now when, fundamentally, my life is what it is because of a series of deliberate choices? I am where I am not because of a lack of options, but an abundance of freedom — because of decisions that were influenced by his beliefs, courage, and optimism.

So, what’s changed? Where did that other guy go? What did he know that I seem to have forgotten? What was he seeing back then that’s hidden from me now? What in the world is one to do when they become a stranger to themselves?

In Hindu mythology, there is a central figure named Hanuman, a half-man monkey god who is the ultimate servant of Ram (the seventh incarnation of the supreme god, Vishnu). And as the story goes, when Hanuman first appeared before Ram, Ram looked at him quizzically and asked, “Who are you, monkey?”

Bowing his head, Hanuman replied, “When I don’t know who I am, I serve you. When I know who I am, I am you.”

Translation: Hanuman’s supreme devotion symbolizes a mind that has reached an evolved state, beyond our unruly “monkey mind” that is constantly seeking and can never be still, quiet, or contented. He is the embodiment of a being who has fully surrendered to life, who has placed themselves in permanent service of the Higher Self.

Surrendering to the flow of life should (if you’re asking me) be our absolute, number-one priority: the goal that takes precedence over any other. For this is the quickest pain reliever, the most-reliable stress reducer, the most-effective mood enhancer, and, most importantly, it’s the only way of figuring out (or remembering) — Who are you?

For me, right now, that’s a tough question. I guess, when I don’t know who I am, I feel trapped (as we all are) somewhere between an animal and a god. And when I do know who I am, I know that I am always both… and neither… and so much more.

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*Hanuman’s full, un-paraphrased response to Ram’s question was: “When I believe I am the body, then I am your faithful servant. When I know I am the soul, I know myself to be a spark of your eternal Light. And when I have the vision of truth, you and I, my Lord, are one and the same.”