Song — The One Who Isn’t There
Daniel had always been the one in charge.
Not officially.
No title.
No badge.
But inside, there was a constant sense of management.
He managed his time.
Managed his reactions.
Managed his future.
Managed how others saw him.
Managed whether he was doing life correctly.
It felt obvious.
There was an “I” here—
and that “I” had to steer things.
One afternoon, he was sitting at his desk, rewriting a simple message for the fourth time.
Not because it was complex.
Because it had to be right.
A tightening in the chest.
A subtle pressure behind the eyes.
Then the thoughts:
I need to say this better.
I don’t want to come across wrong.
I should know how to do this by now.
That last one hit harder.
I should know.
He paused.
Not intentionally.
More like the system stalled.
And in that pause, something odd became visible.
The tightening… was already there.
The hesitation… already happening.
The words forming… already forming.
Then the thought arrived:
I need to fix this.
And it claimed everything that had already begun.
Daniel leaned back.
For a moment, instead of following the content, he watched the sequence.
Sensation.
Pause.
Words forming.
Thought claiming.
And the claim had a structure:
“I am doing this.”
“I should be better.”
“I need to control this.”
But where was this “I”?
He looked.
Not philosophically—
directly.
There was:
pressure in the chest
flickers of language
images of outcomes
a sense of urgency
But the “manager”…
wasn’t there as anything actual.
Just another thought.
And with that, something loosened.
Not control.
Not behaviour.
But the belief that there was someone controlling.
The whole system kept moving:
the message got written
the body kept breathing
decisions kept happening
But the centre—
the “one doing it all”—
was no longer obvious.
Later that evening, walking home, Daniel noticed something else.
A memory surfaced:
A moment from years ago where he’d said the wrong thing.
Immediately, a familiar contraction:
I shouldn’t have done that.
And again, the structure revealed itself:
memory appears
sensation arises
thought judges
“I” takes ownership
Responsibility.
Regret.
Self-image.
All built on that same quiet assumption:
There is someone here who could have done otherwise.
But standing there, watching the traffic move through the intersection, it didn’t quite hold.
The moment had happened.
The response had happened.
The thought came later.
And the “I” was inserted… after the fact.
He laughed softly.
Not because nothing mattered.
But because so much of what had felt heavy
was resting on something that wasn’t actually there.
Investigation — What Grows from the “I” Story
You’ve pointed to the root cleanly:
Identification with the story of an “I” is the foundation.
Let’s map what builds on top of it.
Not conceptually—functionally.
1. Control
Without “I”:
There is action happening.
Typing, speaking, moving, choosing (as events).
With “I”:
“I am controlling this.”
Control becomes a claimed ownership of what is already unfolding.
It also creates:
tension (things must go my way)
fear (what if I fail to control?)
effort (constant correction)
2. Choice
Raw experience:
Options appear → action happens.
Story layer:
“I chose this.”
This creates:
pride (“I made the right choice”)
doubt (“Did I choose correctly?”)
paralysis (over-analysis)
3. Comparison
Comparison requires a stable reference point.
“I am this”
→ compared to
“others” or “who I should be”
Without the “I” story:
There are differences, but not identity-based comparison.
With it:
better / worse
ahead / behind
success / failure
4. Responsibility (psychological, not functional)
Important distinction:
Functional responsibility:
Bills get paid. Promises get kept. Systems operate.
Psychological responsibility:
“I am the one who should have been different.”
This brings:
guilt
shame
self-judgment
All based on the assumption:
“I could have done otherwise in that moment.”
5. What else relies on the “I” story?
Here’s where it expands:
a. Ownership
“My thoughts”
“My feelings”
“My life”
Without “I”:
Thoughts appear. Feelings arise.
Ownership adds:
attachment
defense
identification
b. Pride & Shame
“I did well” → pride
“I failed” → shame
Both require:
A central owner of action.
c. Blame (self & other)
“I did this wrong”
“They did this to me”
Both depend on:
Fixed agents with control.
d. Narrative Identity
“I am this kind of person”
Built from:
memory
interpretation
repetition
Maintained by:
Constant referencing of “me.”
e. Seeking / Becoming
“I need to become better”
Requires:
a current deficient self
a future improved self
Drives:
Endless striving.
f. Regret & Pride over the past
“I shouldn’t have…”
“I’m glad I…”
Both assume:
A continuous agent across time.
g. Anxiety about the future
“What will happen to me?”
“What if I fail?”
Requires:
Projection of “I” into imagined futures.
h. Control over internal states
“I need to stop thinking this”
“I should feel differently”
Creates:
Internal conflict.
The Key Seeing
The “I” is not found as an entity.
It appears as:
a thought
a label
a reference point
Inserted into experience.
Once inserted, it organizes everything around itself:
ownership
control
judgment
comparison
But if you look directly:
There is:
sensation
perception
thought appearing
And occasionally:
A thought that says
“I am doing this.”
That’s the pivot.
Practical Inquiry
Next time something happens, slow it down:
What is actually happening?
sensations
movements
thoughts appearing
When does “I” appear?
Does the “I” exist before the thought about it?
What changes when the “I” thought is believed?
You’re not trying to remove the “I”.
Just see its construction.



Vince, hello!
I am often interested in your letters, but it is usually realy tiresome to plow through so many line breaks. I understand the romantic value, but it is simply too much noise. I would prefer having, maybe as an option, something more paraghraphed, more teaching-style or insight-style.
I am not insisting on anything, just feedback.
Anyhow, thank you for these, cool stuff