'NYC Fit Living'

Consider this, dear friend:  From the very first breath, the world leaned close and whispered names into your ear. One by one, they clothed you in words: i am this. i am that. i am a man. i am a woman. i am sick. i am well. i am broken. i am healed. i am a doctor. i am a handyman. i am John. i am Jack. Layer upon layer, like garments worn too long, these identities press against your skin. Over time, you mistake them for yourself. But they are only clothes. They wear thin. They fade. They shrink and tear, and when carried too long, they weigh you down. This is the nature of the egoic self—the conditioned self. It takes the sacred phrase I Am and attaches it to every passing shadow. Pain arises, and it declares, i am in pain. Happiness arrives, and it exclaims, i am happy. Failure visits, and it mourns, i am a failure. Success shines and declares, 'I am a success.' But beneath all these claims, before the first thought, before the first “i am this” or “i am that,” there remains ...