Last week I delivered an icebreaker speech at Prostmasters, my Toastmasters Club (I highly advise you to attend one if you want to develop your public speaking skills.)

An icebreaker speech aims to introduce the speaker to the club.

I did not want a regular introduction speech where I talk about where I was born, what my hobbies are, and what I do for work.

I wanted something new, out of the box and creative.

I also wanted to use the occasion to have a fresh view of myself.

I got an inspiration: What if others would tell me about myself.

And what if others were not people but who have the direct experience of being me?

What if my body parts told their story?

That turned out to be a very interesting exercise.

My feet brought back many memories. They reminded me of the feeling of sand from our summer holidays since I was a child, the feeling of shock and immediate burning when I stepped on a nail playing in the neighboring garden under construction, the discomfort of being stuck in tight, high-heels while working in Turkey in the bank and having cramps at night. Then getting healed through exercises in ballet that I started when I was 25. They expressed the freedom they felt in the last 2 years being at home most of the time and not needing shoes...

My stomach reminded me of a lot of feelings, especially the exciting ones.

I was surprised to find the memories of the feelings in my belly. It hosted memories of inspiration I got from dance, music, books, and stories of people I've met. It reminded me of the thrill of travel and new experiences, the joy of good food, the butterflies of love...

When I checked in with my heart, I did not find memories but a general wide expansive sense of love. Love towards all beings, the world, the known and unknown, what I can see and not see.

Connecting with my mind was surprising. I did not find any records but space. It was a revelation that the judgment I held was not in my mind to be found, they were probably recorded in my body.

My research was fun but I was not satisfied with the result. What I found did not express who I was. It was all history. This moment can exist independent of the past, and so can I.

If I don't define myself with my past, who am I?

I am not sure. But I wonder. I am the one who wonders. I am the one who senses. I am the one who is inspired.

That is probably who I am at this moment.

How about you?

Who are you?

How would you define yourself?

And what would your body parts tell about the experience of being you?