Is my skin the boundary of me?

Sounds logical but I wonder.  It looks like we’re all these enclosed entities wandering around, occasionally bumping into each other but mostly maintaining the space between.

Some of us have big personalities and cool shapes – like this:

Look how bright!  A riot of colours.  Maybe others say we’re “too much”.  These arms bursting as they reach out, so loud.  We’re noticed by less “out there” folks.

I guess this is good.  It’s cool to be throwing lots of energy out into the world.  Having lots to say and lots to do.

But here I am wondering again.  Perhaps me doesn’t stop at the accepted border.  Perhaps I’m not solid at all.

And then there’s the whole question of what “me” might mean.  Sometimes I look at “Bruce” and feel the letters separating.  No glue.  Over here there’s an “r” floating and way yonder an “e” is hanging in space.

Right now I feel wide open, being stretched ever outwards, flowing beyond the dotted lines.

There’s some sphere far larger than particular human beings.  It’s a container of all things individual.  It holds us in a rainbow embrace.

It may very well look like this:

All the room in the world