I have several names. Which one is used depends on the context I’m in.
To my mother, I am Barry, because that is the name she and my late father gave me.
To my friends I am Ba, Baz or Bazza.
To my wife, I am Hubby.
To the children I teach, I am Sir.
To the Karma Kagyu Buddhist sect, I am Karma Yeshe Nyima.
To the person I meet on the street or in a shop somewhere, who doesn’t know me, I am “mate’ or ‘butty” (or “Sir” if they work in the shop and want to sell me something).
Each of these names addresses a different facet of who I am. Everyone sees a different side of me, depending on where we are, how well they know me, what I’m doing, and probably various other factors too.
Which one is the real me? Or are they all the real me, simply being expressed in different ways? Or, given that the self is more of an ongoing narrative than a fixed, permanent thing, does each of them represent fully who I am at one particular time? Am I an integrated person or am I all over the place?
I don’t have the answer to that. The question itself, though, fascinates me. I suspect that I will spend plenty of time reflecting on it.