Empty-headedness and attempts at thinking

What about who I am or what. I’m not sure how many people think in terms of “what” when they consider their identity, but do you think of “what” often, or is it more like “who?” We might consider a little of both. It seems that the what is more like which labels apply, or what do you feel like in relation to them. And who might be ego or your archived past. I can’t find labels that suit me most of the time. Weirdo maybe. Or unorthodox. Or strange. Politically correct I am unique. Interesting.

I feel like nothing. I have empty inside me but it feels nice. This is the joy of dumbness, or being struck dumb. I am dumb in the face of the mysteries of the universe. I cannot comprehend. I “understand” the universe spiritually but it ends there. Nothing else really registers, though a good Thai meal or a noteworthy cup of coffee or a poem will resonate. Good music like the unplugged jazz I listen to or certain classical music, like Beethoven or Schumann piano pieces or Schubert trios. Chopin and etc.

My house is like a religious house. No one here is religious but it is constantly quiet with us reading or thinking or daydreaming or sleeping or eating. My cat is loud enough to make up for the rest of us.

Some notes

Schubert’s notes softly coexist. Variations like an energy field. Potentiality, then sonata eighth notes. Piano — universal life field. Bionetwork notes. I am a C major w/ tendencies of D minor. Do C major and D minor exist beyond the piano or any other instrument. If a note rang out in the forest and no one was there to listen.