This seems to be a straightforward question, and one we have all answered countless times in our lives. We each have a personal story we know by heart and repeat often. It usually begins with the time and place of our birth, and where we went to school, and is followed with what we do for a living, if we are married or have any children, and so forth. Depending on who we are telling our story to, details about our interests, experiences, political views, religious affiliation, and retirement plans may be added to give a more complete picture. In our society, such sharing of personal information seems satisfactory and accurate to most everyone.

While such facts may be conventionally relevant, from the perspective of the world’s wisdom traditions they have nothing to do with your true nature. In the Buddhist tradition, for example, a question that teachers often pose to students is: “What is your original face before your grandparents were born?” This koan, or paradoxical riddle of sorts, insinuates a reality far deeper than the surface characteristics with which most people are preoccupied. It bypasses all the demographic data, everything we have learned, the personality we have developed, all the wealth we have amassed, and the many accomplishments we so eagerly show off. The perceived content of our lives is given no quarter in this question, and for that reason its meaning is beyond the reach of most who try to fathom it. But once our personal stories are dropped and our perceived importance forgotten, we can see that this ancient query is directing us to what we are, to what is—to life itself.

We are born of two mothers, given existence in two radically different ways. Our actual mother is life, and we are conceived in the human womb and nursed with the milk of wholeness. Our virtual mother is language; we are conceived in the thoughts and words of our people and nursed at the breast of our cultural and intellectual heritage. Ever after, we struggle with the conflicts and confusion that have plagued us all since our species learned to divide up what is and give names to its separate parts. The key to our spiritual dilemma is not to find God, but to find our true Self—to solve the riddle of our conflicted existence and to return to wholeness.