Identity as Instrument

A Contemporary View of Deity Yoga

The Magical Matrix of Me

Every morning we wake up and reassemble the same convincing mirage: our story. We can't clearly recall the effort it took to assemble a stable identity—there were so few reference points to begin with. But now the process runs like code in the background, a set of reflexive instructions that generate the illusion of consistency. Intellectually, we may grasp that we don't actually know who we are, but the preference for a stable self grows stronger as the world organizes itself around supporting and entertaining this identity. No wonder it's hard to dissolve our breathless interest in personal dramas.

The character we perform is generic by design: elastic enough to stretch across social contexts, yet rigid enough to feel familiar. But that familiarity carries a price. This image swings from shame to superiority, from low self-worth to self-righteous critique. It's fundamentally unstable. Yet we treat it like our most reliable compass.

Lama Yeshe, one of the first …