“Yo se quien soy” – “I know who I am” – said Don Quixote as he went his merry way, oblivious to the mockery of his detractors. But what does it mean to know who you are? Those who lack a sense of identity, said the Roman sage Seneca, “taste through a stranger’s tastebuds.” Indeed, taste is a good analogy for the sense of oneness with ourselves that we call identity. We expect wine to taste of its native soil. If it doesn’t, we say it lacks authenticity – lacks identity. Similarly, when a musical instrument fails to sound as we expect it to, we say it sounds “false”. Just so with people. Once we think we know someone, we expect them to act in accordance with their perceived essence – that their actions and ideas will “ring true.” Could we not say that we come to know ourselves through something akin to taste? Consider: the verb “to know” in Latin is sapere, which also means…“to taste.”
«[...]I cannot stand the warblings from a tenor's shallow nose,
Nor the chorus of the crickets as they chant the moon and sun,
I pause to separate the voices from the echoes,
And then among those voices hear but a single one.[...]»
«A distinguir me paro las voces de los ecos;»
Antonio Machado,
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