#56 Castles (Koh Lanta, Thailand)

The mind is a shifting collection of selves. It is not singular, not fixed. The sense of self, that thread I cling to, is as fabricated as the memories it rests upon.

Yoo

Long time - how are you? Lmk as always!

I’m in Koh Lanta, a quite Thai island as I remote work myself through the winter.

This morning, during meditation, I wandered into my mind’s castle.

The door was heavy, its surface worn with age. I stepped through into a dimly lit corridor, lined with doors stretching into the dark. Each one contained a memory, a scene preserved. Some doors were inviting, warm. Others were foreboding, shrouded in unease.

As I walked, one door stood out: darker, heavier, almost alive with its presence. This was no ordinary memory. It was something I had long avoided.

I opened it.

Suddenly, I was no longer in the castle but at my kitchen table. My family surrounded me, their voices sharp and jarring. I felt trapped, reactive. My sense of self, fragile and defensive, clung to the moment, unable to see beyond the pain.

And then, through the kitchen door, came another version of me—the 'me' who had been exploring the castle. This self felt foreign and detached, yet it was undeniably me. Calm, steady, it crossed the room, sat beside the reactive 'me,' and spoke.

The words were simple. Reassuring. And slowly, the reactive self rose, took my hand, and together we stepped through the kitchen door, back into the corridor of the castle.

It was then I saw them.

Other doors were opening, and from each emerged a version of myself. These were not the 'selves' I normally recognised. Some carried memories I’d long buried; others wore expressions I’d never seen. Each one moved with a distinct energy, and yet they were all unmistakably me.

The castle was alive, its halls filled with a hive of selves—parts of my mind that didn’t always feel like me, but now revealed their potential to be just that. My sense of self shifted, expanded, stretched to encompass the hive.

Among the selves, one took the lead. Watching him, I felt a strange detachment. He wasn’t the 'me' I felt aligned with in that moment, but he was still 'me.' This was the nature of the hive: a fluid, dynamic sense of identity, each fragment stepping into the role of self when needed.

Together, we all left the castle. The collective hive moved toward the light, toward peace.

Outside, I rested, no longer confined to a singular identity. I realised then that my struggles—my reactivity, my pain—are not intrinsic flaws but cries from rooms of my castle, each demanding integration.

The mind is not a fixed entity, and neither is the self. But in embracing this complexity, in seeing the hive for what it is, I glimpsed the possibility of freedom.

True freedom—not from the self, not as the self, but as something different.

Peace

Lex

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