I wish I could be like David Watts.—The Kinks
You wake up one morning and the thought arrives and then flits away, like a bird alighting on the branch outside your window: Who am I now?
Are we ever who we thought we would be? Or is it that we can’t know because we never really asked that question, even though we think we must have. Maybe what we really wondered was, what would I be? Would I be famous? Married? A swashbuckling world traveler? A math teacher? The owner of a candy store?
Who we will be is a different question, and one we can never answer, because not even the gods can tell us the secret identity only we can flirt with, the self that changes every single minute of the day, the one we can only catch a glimpse of in any given moment—and then only if we slow down long enough to feel our heart beating and our soul breathing. I am no longer who I was when I woke up this morning and came downstairs to greet my wife, who rises early with the dogs. She always looks up from her favorite chair and smiles, and we kiss. Thanks in no small part to her, I have grown since then, loved even more than the day before, and also a tad wiser, despite my best efforts to cling to selective ignorance.
When I was a child, I thought as a child, and there were plenty of things I thought I’d be, at one time considering that anything was possible and (I kid you not) I could split my time among three careers: magician, television news anchor and airline pilot. I was a dreamer. But I was also Rob, and that is who I continue to be, despite my best efforts to split myself into different people, depending on who I’m talking to.
I think one could do much worse than to think like a child, and wonder, and dream. Who we are is always unfolding, a constant state of un-becoming, even as we continue to become more of who we are than we were the day before. Some un-foldings are sharp creases finally giving way, others gentle rolling overleaves showing us different sides of ourselves. If we are lucky, we one day arrive at the flat unfolded sheet that shows us who we were before we began, before we were all folded up into that tight little embryo, and it is then that we realize that becoming ourselves is not a matter of hunkering down but of opening up.
It’s more of a layering than a shedding, this unfolding, more of a loving texture that only deepens and grows as we travel the time-train. Despite the fact that given enough time, talent and resources, we could be anything, our true destiny is simply to be who we are. But it is also true that we have the final say, and that in that sacred space, where even the gods bow their heads and pray, anything is still possible.
This spoke to me in many registers. My daily quest is to escape from check, check, check to "slow down long enough to feel our heart beating and our soul breathing." The second is as important as the first. I am also often seeking "that sacred space, where even the gods bow their heads and pray." Although I'm never sure that "anything is possible" I am sure that seeking sacred spaces, and feeling our heart beat and our soul breath are my best paths to peace, freedom and an enhanced capacity to love and accept people. Thanks so much Rob!
I love this notion of “un-becoming”even as you are “becoming”. The things we hold onto are the things that hold us back. To go where we are going we must leave where we were. The ongoing quest to understand self even as that self continually shifts — and yet is the same self that always was there. But your words are poetry, and I welcome the unfolding and opportunities to discover new layers and creases. Thank you for this.