To the Materialist Who Clings to ‘I Don’t Believe’: Are You Sure About the ‘I’?

Belief often feels like a fortress—a place where we take refuge in what seems rational, observable, and proven. “I don’t believe in this” or “I don’t believe in that” is often a declaration of independence from uncertainty. But before asserting what is or isn’t believed, pause for a moment and reflect.

The “I” That Speaks

Your five senses—sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell—function effortlessly. You don’t “believe” in seeing, hearing, or touching; they simply happen. Light falls on your eyes, and you see. Sound vibrates, and you hear. These experiences unfold without your deliberate involvement.

Then there are your thoughts. They, too, arise spontaneously, flowing like a stream from the repository of memory. You don’t control them—they emerge, linger for a moment, and fade away.

Even the thought “I” is part of this stream. It arises, claims ownership over experience, and then dissolves, only to be replaced by the next thought.

If this “I” is merely a thought, who or what is observing this thought?

What You Thought Was You

Take a closer look. Is the “I” your body? The body is a collection of changing parts—cells dying, regenerating, aging. If you look at a photograph of yourself from 10 years ago, is the body in that photo the same as the one reading these words now? Clearly not. So the “I” cannot be the body.

Maybe the “I” is the mind—your personality, memories, and thoughts? But the personality is just a collection of habits, preferences, and conditioned patterns. Those, too, are fluid and ever-changing.

What about the voice in your head—the running commentary that seems to narrate everything you do? Surely that must be “you.” But if you can observe this voice, doesn’t that mean there’s something deeper doing the observing?

The Vanishing “I”

Follow this carefully. The thought “I” arises, lingers, and fades. Another thought takes its place. What is constant? Certainly not the “I,” because it keeps changing.

The illusion of the “I” is built on this fleeting thought-stream, sustained by memory and habit. It creates a sense of identity, a story of “me,” and claims ownership over actions, feelings, and sensations. But when you look closely, there’s no static, tangible, or autonomous entity to be found.

The “I” you’ve identified with all along is no more than a collection of thoughts, memories, and impressions—a phantom created on the fly. It’s like a wave rising from the ocean, appearing separate for a moment but always part of the greater whole.

Who Is Watching?

If the “I” isn’t real in the way you thought, then who or what is experiencing life? Who is seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and feeling?

This brings us to the undeniable. Even if there is no fixed “I,” there is still something present—an awareness, a knowing, a pure being that cannot be denied. This ma‘rifa (pure knowing) is not a thought, not a sensation, not even an object of perception. It simply is.

And here is the subtle truth: this Awareness “ma‘rifa” is nameless because it knows all names. It is formless because it gives rise to all forms. It is beyond space and time, yet it animates everything within them. Mystics across traditions have pointed to this truth, often hidden behind veils of language and belief.

This pure knowing, is what remains when all else is stripped away. It doesn’t need belief to exist; it is self-evident, luminous, and ever-present.

This isn’t about convincing anyone to believe in something new. Belief, after all, is optional. Awareness is not. It is the foundation of all experience, the reality that allows seeing, hearing, thinking, and even doubting.

So, before saying, “I don’t believe in this or that,” take a moment to turn inward. Ask yourself: What is this “I” that doesn’t believe?

Let go of the “I,” and what remains? The nameless, formless ma‘rifa—the light of knowing that has been here all along, silently witnessing everything.