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.

Living Life, Creating Life

 I wrote this essay a while back, but thought I would share it with you today.

Living Life, Creating Life

    Watching the river amble on its path through a mountain ravine.  Feeling the sea spume blowing on my face as the waves crash on the rocky beach beneath my feet.  Smelling the salty morning air as I stand on my front porch. My senses are awake to the beauty of the world around me. 

I could as easily describe the odor that reeks from the homeless gentleman whose home is on the sidewalk under the bridge near where I live in San Francisco.  I do notice that, but I also notice his quiet dignity as I observe him nearly every day.  He sits cross-legged on his blanket as he reads intently from the paperback book he holds in his hands while sipping from his Starbuck’s cup as he holds the stub of his hand-rolled cigarette. I have heard him talking quietly to friends on occasion, and late at night as I have been on my way home with my family, I’ve noticed him sleeping in his carefully arranged shelter of tarps and boxes.  Nevertheless, mostly what I observe about him is his constancy and intent as he reads daily.  Periodically, I stop to chat with him, offer him books and share food with him, but know he needs little from me.  While he may long for more, a different life than the one he lives, he possesses a sense of himself that allows him his dignity and beauty.
It has always been important to me to look for the beauty in life…even the beauty amid the pain, the sadness, and the injustices of life.  As a mother and grandmother, I have made it a priority to enjoy and observe the beauty of the world in which we live.  I have made it a priority to appreciate and pay attention to each moment and each stage of our relationships.  To watch how we change as Daughter becomes Mother, and Mother becomes Grand Mother.
As a teacher, I found it necessary and more interesting for my students, to bring the subject matter to life through art, music, imagination, and the connection of time and space to culture and history and me. How much more exciting it was to imagine living in an ancient culture and to better understand that people, just like us, lived lives very similar to us in some ways yet very different in others.  To bring to life a distant culture or to connect our lives to the lives of those in our own families who had descended from one of those ancient tribes, was to create a link to students with the life force of whatever I was teaching.  To know that music, art, great buildings and events, as well as intricate codes that held language and complex formulas that formed the basics of mathematics had all been born from the spiritual traditions and ancient ideas of our ancestors. 

Creating is about connecting one idea to another.  My cultural background tells me that everything begins in the imagination.  We formulate and shape ideas and creations in our imaginations. Creator Spirit breathes into us the gifts of imagination, sensation, thought, and emotion.  When I first studied in University, my friend Mary Lynn and I did some research on creativity.  We both had young children at the time, and it was still a time when “reason” was king, so ideas about anything being creative were denigrated.  We, on the contrary, felt there was something innately intelligent and practical about creativity and creating. 
Over my academic career, I used my studies to focus on creating a life that allowed me to explore, investigate, and create ways to connect, heal, and express beauty—be it in relationships or through whatever I made or developed.  I am a writer and a photographer.  These two mediums provide me with the means of expressing myself…Through the lens of my camera and the ideas about which I write, I am creating records, capturing moments and freezing time just a bit to stand as a reminder of its passing.  I stand with my camera to view the world from my particular place and to share a perspective and vision for others to appreciate what they might have missed.  As I write, I leave bits and pieces of poetic rhapsody, of intriguing mystery, of heartening glimpses into cultures, historical moments, and pasts left behind. 

For many years, most of my creating happened in and around academia.  I recall a dream I had a few years ago…a dream that alerted me to the need for me to move out of that area in order to live a more creative, fulfilling life.  Shortly after finishing my thesis on trauma and stress, I dreamed I was re-potting a plant.  In the dream, I picked the plant, roots and all, out of the pot and said to someone (my shadow self no doubt), I hate this kind of writing.  It has no life to it.”  While I had loved the work I had done conducting interviews and exploring the subject matter surrounding the topic, I did not like the way I had to write about the deeply personal, disturbing material I had gathered from the very brave men and women who had shared their stories with me.  I wanted their experiences to connect to people who needed to hear about the struggles that people had gone through to live free lives. 

It took me a while, but I left academia to begin my full time life as a writer and photographer.  I divide my time between my home in Monterey and my daughter’s home in San Francisco where I help my daughter with my Grand Daughter.  The struggle to start a new way of living can be a bit scary, but I have found that I now have more to do than I have time to do it.  There was a point, a threshold time between moving onto this new way of living or going on as before, when I wasn’t sure…oh and why should I be sure.  We never do really know what is ahead.  So at crucial points, I continue to make decisions based on what I feel deep in my heart, soul, and gut is my true purpose in life.  Not what others think I should be doing, not what worked for me for many years, not for the easy way, but for the truly risky choice to live life authentically doing what I was called here to create.

I am interested in using photography and writing to connect others to the beauty of the natural world and to the world, we have created. I encourage others to connect to their essence, their history, and their actual presence in the world.  My desire is to capture the fleeting moments as I live awake and alert to the beauty of images and ideas that may strike me at any time of the day and night, and as a writer and photographer, I am compelled to respond.  I believe that I am to create beauty from whatever experiences I have. That is even the mantra I use as I clean house or straighten out files, drawers, or closets.  All for the beauty and Divine order of the Universe. Each little step I take, each little moment I capture on film or in writing, each little piece of time I have in relationship, is a gift to me for the life I have been privileged to live creatively.

And today, April 25, 2012 as I reread this for the post, I realize how important it is to make each moment count for something.  Being present enough to appreciate whatever the task at hand is, keeps us from falling into the trap of feeling like we're wasting time, not being productive enough, or any number of other negative judgements we make about our current level of productivity or goodness. It is enough. I am enough.  Whatever I'm doing is enough. I miss the satisfaction however, if I'm always complaining (to myself or others) about what I'm not, what I'm not doing, what I'm not accomplishing. With gratitude, I am thankful that each moment of life is a gift to be opened, appreciated, lived, and honored. Have a grateful day full of moments when you feel "it's enough."