written by: Alura Boyes

The self is not a statue carved in stone, but a flame flickering beneath the layers of ash. It is a quiet stranger we carry through our days, glimpsed in mirrors, dreams, and moments of unmasked truth. We are not born fully known to ourselves, only through the fire and love. What’s hidden begins to speak, revelation is not an arrival, but a shedding. But if revelation is a shedding, not an arrival, then how many layers must we lose before we touch what is truly ours? What if becoming ourselves isn’t about gaining more, but letting go? If every mask we wear is a layer between us and the truth, then perhaps the path to selfhood is not a climb, but an unraveling.

Everyone views the world through their own lense, which is shaped by experiences, fears, and hopes. And in these shifting views lies not just distance, but possibility. For if no one sees the same sky, then surely, we are still learning how to look and grow. We spend so much time trying to be understood by others yet rarely pause to understand ourselves. To meet the self honestly is not a moment of clarity, but a quiet reckoning, a return to the parts we hide, the truths we silence, and the questions we are still learning how to ask. Or questions we have been asked and are still learning how to answer. If this seems abstract, consider how this manifests in real experience. If reality is mediated by perception, can we claim to know the world objectively, or are we forever trapped within the boundaries of our own minds? If the world is only what we perceive it to be, then perhaps the greatest power we hold isn’t changing our circumstances, but in changing how we see them. The way we see the world doesn’t just reflect reality, it shapes it. A shift in perspective can transform obstacles into opportunities or turn possibilities into prisons.

When we strip away the noise of expectation, we begin to see that the self is not a fixed point, but a threshold to a horizon that never ends. What if the only limits in life were the ones we agreed to wear? Who would you be if you stopped asking for permission? Imagine with each new day we wake up inside a story we didn’t write, until we ask ourselves why we keep playing the same role. Upon closer reflection not all cages have bars, some are stitched from beliefs we never questioned. Freedom is often spoken of as a physical state, but the deepest forms of captivity live quietly in the mind, hidden behind the things we accept without a second thought. We talk about breaking free, but how often do we stop to ask who built the prison in the first place and why we’re still holding the key. Upon deeper thought, the prison is crafted by your own hands, the lock never needed a key, just the courage to walk away. When the only barrier is fear, do you dare to move forward?