What do you feel as?
On labels, the sea, and what's left when you drop them
At the end of May, I spent a few days in Croatia, my father’s home country. It could not have been a better way to give this body some rest and to see what kind of thoughts would appear while not working.
Growing up in Switzerland, I was often asked questions such as, ‘Who do you feel you are? Swiss? Croatian? Finnish?’ This question never made much sense to me. I always saw it as a way of confirming that people thought of differences.
Sometimes I answered with ‘European’ (mostly when I was younger), and on other days I would say that I feel ‘human’. But what do I know about feeling human? I have no idea what a cat feels like. Or if a rose has a concept of itself? What if the chair I’m sitting on has some thoughts on that, too?
When I moved to Zurich in my twenties and started working in finance, I realised that the question had changed. The idea behind it hadn’t. Now it was no longer about nationality, but always about “Where do you work? What do you do?” It’s as if you open a drawer containing categories, and you take the one that fits the idea of who that person is supposed to be.
Imagine introducing myself as, ‘Hi, I’m Tomi. I’m a banker, and I’m also human’.
While swimming in the sea in Croatia, I thought about the concepts we overlay on everyone and everything. They’re stories, ideas and wishes, but not necessarily reality.
I imagine a workplace where it doesn’t matter where you come from, what sex you are, how you were raised or what colour your skin is.
I love thinking of everyone and everything as a unique expression of the universe, or of awareness. This also enables me to understand different opinions, ways of working, and ways of being much better.
Here I am in the sea, floating, unlabelled, and aware. The waves don’t compare themselves to each other.
To the sea, it doesn’t matter who I am.
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