# Ego Release Reflection **Note to Self** *written in the morning light, after the coffee, before the noise* You keep thinking you’re a thing. Like a statue chipped by time, like something solid, like something that can be protected, defended, polished. But you’re not. You’re a swirl. You’re warmth passing through a room. You’re feet against floorboards and wind against neck. And those things, they don’t care what name you go by. They’re just happening. And you’re in them, not above them. You’ve read it a dozen ways: *the self is an illusion.* But damn if it doesn’t feel like a sticky one. It clings. “I’m different.” “I’m special.” “I’m broken.” “I’m owed.” “I’m right.” All of them flavored with *I*, thick with the syrup of *me*. And most of the thoughts that visit? They’re not kindly guests. They whisper about being hurt, being left, being wronged. They build walls, not bridges. They mistake solitude for safety. You’ve caught yourself rehearsing distance: “That one’s not worth your time.” “They wouldn’t understand.” “Better to stay quiet.” That isn’t wisdom. That’s ego dressing up as protection. But remember the other part. The quiet under the static. That moment when you felt your hand on your own chest, and nothing needed defending. That warmth wasn’t pride. It wasn’t accomplishment. It was presence. So today, *try it differently.* Don’t believe every thought that ends with *me*. Don’t build a case for your separateness. Feel the breeze. Let it pass through you. Be a window, not a wall. Lean into the feeling of being *with*, not *apart*. Let your edges go soft. Speak gently. Ask once more than you tell. Notice the tree, the cat, the pause in someone’s sentence. And when ego knocks, nod politely. Then turn back toward the light.