How We Define Ourselves

Dana Gearhart, a wise woman once said to me, "Whenever someone describes herself/himself  'I'm not the kind of person who....' I can be sure that they are just that kind of person." At the time she was my astrologer and I was the 'person who.'  I didn't much like hearing that statement, because of course it touched deeply on the challenges that lay before me. 

Our lives seem to be enmeshed in the constant attempts we make to know and express ourselves from our authentic core, whatever that is.  As writers, we're always trying to put into our words the images, feelings, ideas, and concepts that communicate something about how we see and understand the world.  I recall as a young woman thinking that at some point in the distant future things would all make sense and I would not still be wondering about my identity and direction. As years have passed, and I have grown, created, developed, achieved, and lived, I have been surprised on more than one occasion and at more than one juncture that the future and my identity and purpose, though often seeming quite clear, remains much a mystery.

Whenever we approach those areas of ourselves and those times in our lives when we have to deal with our shadow issues, we can be certain we'll not like some of what we need to face. By shadow, as I've written about before, I mean those aspects of ourselves that are yet to be developed, understood, and integrated into our conscious identity. I do not believe this is something that happens entirely in any one lifetime.  My theology is one that holds with the idea that our souls continue to develop beyond the span our our limited time on Earth.  

As I've watched life change, people pass on, relationships end, and new challenges and opportunities arise, I have become ever more certain that what I believe, what I perceive, what I think I have control over, and what choices I have made or will make, are beyond my ability to hold any certainty about. In fact I would go so far as to say I have no idea how things will turn out. That said, my intuitive knowledge, experiences, thinking, and worldview lead me to believe that I can trust myself to do the best I can and pay attention to the signs, to discern the meaning and call that infuses my life with purpose and meaning, and to trust in the wisdom, mercy, and grand plan of the Masterful Creator.  There are far too many people making far too many plans, living far too diverse lives for any one of us to hold the key to the Truth. 

Truth comes in tiny whispers, and in rather mundane or even upsetting times of disruption or toil. Last night I was invited to dinner at the home of a friend of a friend.  The person whose home I went to is a renowned artist, and I had never spent any time talking with him before last evening.  I was invited by his close friend, and the three of us had a very nice dinner together, played some music for a while, and then talked.  We shared a pleasant evening, and I found myself at home with other musicians, writers and artists, and rediscovered a sense of 'home' in playing and singing music together. 

Our homes, meaning houses and studios, also speak of who we are, and in this person's home, I enjoyed seeing his art and craftsmanship in every nook and cranny.  Environment influences me greatly, and when I walked into his studio, the work spaces set out at window-height all faced into his garden. I love looking out into the garden at my home, yet I had placed my studio work table away from the windows. My writing desk works best when I'm not gazing out the window, however, my photography requires light and inspiration, and being in this person's home inspired me to come home and rearrange.  So what does this have to do with identity? 


In order to get my work table over to the windows, I had to devise a plan to rearrange my office furniture. On every surface and on every shelf were books. I realized one of the first things I had to do before I could move anything, was to organize my books. Now if you are like me, books might as well be a third arm. They are everywhere. I took all the books off all the shelves, and began sorting. As I sorted, I divided books according to subject matter and current projects.  My comparative religions stacks and my spiritual development stacks rose higher and higher, and it made me aware of how I've been thinking of myself.  Moving books and furniture necessarily means having papers to reshuffle as well, and a lecture that I had given about a year ago, fell out of something, and caught my eye.  


I had worked on this lecture for weeks, and felt so alive when I began rereading the lecture notes.  Recently, I left classroom teaching, and had been thinking of myself without the connection to this huge piece and part of my life. This morning as I moved books, papers, and furniture around, the voice of my inner Truth spoke to me in no uncertain terms, "You are a  scholar of religion, spirituality, and ancient history." And that filled my whole being with such a sense of meaning, purpose, and sense of identity. It signaled a missing piece of my writing that had been shelved. I thought at some point, I had no desire to enter the ring of scholarly writing. And I'm still not certain that is where I want to move. I do know, however, that the body of work, the passion and interest, the experiences and struggles that are tied up in making me a religious scholar have been a major part of who I've always been, are a part of some of my major works, and are now the signal fires for the path before me.

What this means or what this will look like are no more apparent to me right now that the lecture written out and resting on the couch beside me was when I first began to envision writing it. The last class I taught was a comparative religions class, and the lectures that I have given and then written out over the years, are probably the source of a major piece of my identity. Whatever comes next, I revel in the magical nature of our mystical connections. As I sent prayers out to swim in unison with others who work and pray for peace, I feel rewarded by the inflow of inspiration that says we must say what is...say what our experiences and understanding lead us to express and be.  Amen to that. Sisters and brothers of the pen and plume, listen for the blessing gifts that come on the wings of grace, for that is the true reward of our art.