So I got home, and the phone was ringing. I picked it up, and

“So I got home, and the phone was ringing. I picked it up, and said, ‘Who’s speaking please?’ And a voice said, ‘You are.’” — Tim Vine

At first glance, this saying by Tim Vine seems but a jest, a play of words crafted for laughter. Yet within the folds of humor, there lies a mirror to the soul — a reflection of how often truth hides beneath simplicity. The humorist, like the sage of old, cloaks wisdom in laughter so that men may receive it with open hearts. In this brief tale of mistaken identity and quick wit, we hear the deeper music of self-awareness, communication, and the mystery of the self speaking to itself.

For what is this moment but an echo of the human condition? A man answers a ringing call — a sound that demands response — and hears a voice that tells him, “You are.” Beneath the jest lies the oldest question: Who is speaking? Who are we, when we answer the call of life? In that instant, Vine transforms a common act — the answering of a telephone — into a parable. The world calls to us, and we answer, unaware that often the voice on the other end is our own — our fears, our hopes, our conscience, calling back to remind us who we are.

The ancients, too, pondered such mysteries. When Socrates declared that “the unexamined life is not worth living,” he was, in essence, picking up the ringing phone of his own soul. He questioned himself endlessly — asking not who others were, but who he was. When Tim Vine’s imagined caller replies “You are,” it is as though the spirit of self-knowledge itself is speaking, whispering: The voice you seek to know is already your own.

Yet, there is another layer — the play of modern absurdity. In an age of machines and endless communication, where every man is both sender and receiver, we often forget the essence of connection. We speak endlessly, yet seldom listen; we communicate constantly, yet rarely understand. The joke, in its innocence, reveals the irony of our times — that we may talk forever, but true understanding begins only when we realize that we ourselves are the speaker and the listener, the question and the answer.

Consider the tale of Diogenes, the philosopher who lived in a barrel and sought an honest man. When Alexander the Great came to visit and asked if there was anything he could do for him, Diogenes replied, “Yes, stand out of my sunlight.” In that moment, Diogenes, too, answered the call of life — not by bowing to power, but by affirming the self. He, like the voice on the phone, declared, “You are” — meaning: You are your own master, your own truth. The wise and the foolish alike hear the same ringing; it is how they answer that defines them.

Thus, the lesson of Vine’s jest is not only to laugh, but to awaken. Life calls each of us — through joy, through struggle, through silence. When we ask, “Who’s speaking?”, the answer comes not from the heavens, but from within: “You are.” You are the one who must respond. You are the one who must live, act, and create meaning. The world may speak to you in confusion, but your reply must be clear.

So, take this teaching to heart: listen for your own voice amid the noise. When the phone of destiny rings, do not wait for another to answer. Speak with courage. Live with purpose. Laugh at the absurdity, yet see the truth within it. For the divine irony of existence is this — that in seeking the answer to who speaks, we discover that the speaker, the hearer, and the truth itself are one and the same.