We are our minds. Chop a leg off? Still you. Chop a part of the brain out? You become someone different. And that is so strange, because, when we talk, we can't say anything else than what we are. After all, if you try to express something you aren't, there is nothing that you are that can express it. But that's so strange, because when you talk, how she understand what you say unless she already is that? Because if you tell her something she isn't, where will the words go to be understood?
When you both talk about what you are, and you perfectly understand each other, you are the same. When someone teaches you something, you become a part of them. When you read this, I become a part of you, and you of me.
I point at a cup, and you look. What do you see? A cup. The question is; can you see that cup without seeing a cup? No you can't. Because there is no part of you that is "not a cup". Not anymore. When you were half a year old, maybe you could, but now you can't. You can only see "a cup."
I point at your friend. Who do you see? Your friend. You don't see "me that sees a woman, and that woman is my friend." We are all transparent to ourselves.
A Sri lankan girl is standing in front of you, a child, barely three. What do you see? A Sri lankan girl. But how does she see herself? Is there any part of her that sees herself like you see her? When you talk to her, is there any part of her that finds a home for your words? And, when you see her as your transparent self, are those parts even her? And when she talks to you, does her words find a home in you? She is both unreal, because there is no you to which she can be, and she is invisible, because even the things in ourself that you cannot see, are not a part of her.
But you can learn. She can become a part of you, and you can become a part of her. And you can see her and think "friend", and so can she.