Sometimes in one’s field of vision there are after images visible like little specs that move and one cannot directly see them. Optometrists call it floaters. Try explaining what your mind is but there is no such thing as a visible you and that’s what the mind is. The thing in the mirror is an animal, you only see it’s parts. That which says I is just a spec of the brain. If you could see through the cranium to the brain being brain, that would be closer to seeing you rather than admiring how one’s hair falls over their eyes. Trying to understand what is mind is like a dog chasing it’s tail. If there is anything close to an end game, its realizing the floater. Similar dance to music, as people invest in what is melodic and what isn’t, even designating one as music and the other as noise – but mind constructs it just like mind encourages the belief that we are something. Music isn’t a physical thing like a cup you can hold. A molecular structure has lifespan, music seems real like a physical thing and it shares the physical thing of being sound waves but instead of realizing it as that we imagine it is real, we have recordings to play it back but they only play back the thing that isn’t real. You have pictures of you but you won’t be here next week or next year or next decade. The glue around the repeated certainty of us being us, thinking I or me, is words and how how mind perpetually speaks to itself. I asked the ten year old if she could imagine walking a short distance without thinking. She tried and started to laughed because it was tricky. It is a lot funnier to see it that way than to be in the usual state on whining and pain. Note to self, wrote floater blues.