Dancers 28: Some things seem to stay the same but they can be subtle those changes. (Prints of some of my drawings are available from: johndickinson.imagekind.com )
Do we find our identity within or outside of ourselves? Do we look at something and decide 'that's for me' and, if we're lucky, live happily ever after? Of course, to start with, we have little choice. We are born into a situation which is not of our choosing. Unless, as spirits before birth, we have looked at a selection of upcoming lives across the world and asked, or decided, 'that's the one for me!' Or even, 'that one's for me this time around.'
We can identify with where we are born, what we were born into, and the company we find ourselves in. Or not. Some of us feel that we belong in our families and to our birth-places but some of us don't. I remember thinking that there must have been a mistake. And when looking at the stars in the night sky I felt that I belonged somewhere up there. Somewhere hopelessly out of reach. At the time I felt that feeling like this was unusual but now it seems that isn't so.
Identity was a problem for me because everyone seemed to have one except me. I not only saw this as an appalling state of affairs but I also held myself as entirely responsible. I was also very critical of myself whenever I fell short of what I believed to be expected human behaviour. I was not so critical when others fell short and it took me quite a while to notice this anomaly. When I did I could see the absurdity and I began to be kinder towards myself and more understanding of my failures as I was of other people's. Thus I stepped on to the road of self-acceptance and away from self-dislike.
So where do I feel I belong? The only time I felt I belonged somewhere I was on a trip abroad and I had to stay for a few days in a city because my companion was unwell. The place felt familiar to me though I had never been there before and I spent my time wandering around enjoying this feeling of belonging. But strangely the familiarity did not apply to the people or the buildings. It was a feeling of place and I had no-one to share it with. Fortunately I do feel welcome where I now live and have done in other places too so I don't miss that feeling of being at home but it was interesting and enjoyable to have experienced it.
So what do I now identify with? I think I am best at identifying with people. I have met and enjoyed the company of many people from around the world. And I suspect that however horrible someone might appear to be if I understood what experiences in their lives had led them to their destructive behaviour I could empathise with them. Without agreeing with any of their violent or abusive actions. But, I'm sure, dreadful behaviour hides vulnerability, pain and fear. I don't believe that people who see themselves as more important than other people are happy with themselves. Isn't that all a bit of a front? A case of fake identities? But then I learned to lie as a child and make out that I was okay when I wasn't. That's putting a front on and I can still do that if I feel a need to.
I think the real problem with identifying is when it leads to us and them. Our history, and I mean everybody's, is that it is filled with conflict between us and them. It is destructive to build an identity where an important ingredient is that 'I'm not one of them'. We are all human and we can all get along together if we want to. We are similar enough to understand each other if we want to. And the world would be a much better place if we wanted to.
I have been writing lyrics around the subject of identity and dishonesty and so far I haven't finished a song but this one has come close. Maybe it's a poem? I offer it as a poem for now.
Only mine for a time? Is my car me or is my car mine? I can make it so much more than a ride it can be a symbol, a statement of my worth but it can be stolen and it can lose its shine Perhaps it is only mine for a time. Am I what I do or are my actions mine? they won't tell you who I am or what I could become but they might tell you who I try to be but my actions will be mine even if they're second hand even if they're only mine for a time Is my body me or is my body mine? Is it just for me to use for a while? When I look at it do I see into my self? All those surprises and memories of my crises perhaps it too is only mine for a time
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