This art called napping

*Photo courtesy of
http://www.hahastop.com/

Naps - doesn't the very word just make you smile? Well, it does if you're past the age of 8, probably. Childhood is about the only time in our lives when the word "nap" is a bad thing. There's playing to be done, after all....trees to climb, siblings to pester, the whole world to explore in your backyard. Who has time for a nap when all it does is interrupt all the fun? Adults are just weird that way.


Flash forward to adult years and oh my, yes, the concept of napping takes on overtones of sinfully decadent indulgence. Snoozing an extra five minutes in the morning can honestly save your sanity and keep your co-workers safe for one more business day. The thought of snatching twenty minutes in the middle of the day to zone out and recharge can produce a wistful sigh, as very few of us are granted that luxury during the business week.

Other countries are smarter than the United States in that they do recognize the logic behind resting during the middle of the day. Mid-afternoon naps exist and thrive in numerous countries, all of whom embrace a much slower, more sane and, I daresay more healthy approach to life. Naps are a good thing from all perspectives.

Photo courtesy of
http://www.parade.com/

For each of us, the ideal nap has its own persona and location. Some prefer their beds with crisp, freshly laundered bed linens and tons of poofy pillows. Others are couch napping afficianados. Many prefer a hammock or porch swing, and there are some who will stretch out on the floor for a quick snooze. My older sister has this incredible ability - incredible to my way of thinking because I don't possess this ability - to nap at will. She can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, in noisy and/or uncomfortable conditions. Not so for me. I have to have quiet and at least a bit of comfort to snooze during the day. But ohhh...on the rare occasions it does happen, I find a nap to be a thing of beauty!

You have to throw in the question of what constitutes a nap, I suppose. Some argue that a nap shouldn't be longer than twenty minutes. Webster's Dictionary defines a nap thusly:

Main Entry: 1nap
Pronunciation: \ˈnap\
Function: intransitive verb
Inflected Form(s): napped; nap·ping
Etymology: Middle English nappen, from Old English hnappian; akin to Old High German hnaffezen to doze
Date: before 12th century
1 : to sleep briefly especially during the day : doze
2 : to be off guard

So, according to the above definition, to nap is to sleep briefly. Those of us who are true nap connoisseurs will disagree and staunchly defend the concept of a 2-3 hour stretch of sleep as fitting into the parameters of a nap. I fall into this category, as sleeping for only twenty minutes actually makes me more tired, groggy and irritable than I was before I napped in the first place! I feel a nap should be at least one hour or longer to qualify as a true experience of the act.

*Photo courtesy of
http://www.rockingrocker.com/

I prefer a longer nap and cooler temperatures, but there's also something to be said for being outside and catching a stretch of sleep in some shady spot. Fresh air, the sounds of nature around you...that's just pure bliss to fall asleep and wake up to! Some people enjoy napping on the beach, out under the full blaze of the sun. I'm not one of them. Sweating and napping don't go together in my world. I'm more fond of the porch swing nap, as it keeps me out of the sun but allows me to still hear the birds chirping and feel the breeze blowing, smell the flowers blooming as I drift off to the gentle sway of the porch swing.

Animals seem to be the most savvy nap takers around. Watch your cats and dogs - they know the value of a well executed nap! That cold spot on the kitchen floor keeps their tummy cool and who knows, when they wake up, one of their people might be around to dole out a snack.

Perhaps that's another reason we as human beings love naps so much - we remember our own childhood naps in a similar way. Mom would always be there to hand out a snack and give us a hug when we woke up.

We know from a medical perspective that getting sufficient rest is healthy and necessary. The pace of the modern world is such that unfortunately, many people find naps to be their most common source of sleep. This is saddening, as we all deserve a truly good, solid night of sleep. Naps should, in my world, be a treat - that icing on the cake, that cherry on top of the sundae, that extra bite of a delicious meal - something to indulge in with gusto and enjoyment! No agenda, no particular place to be but right there in that spot that invites you to settle in and snooze peacefully, allowing your body, mind and spirit to rest, regroup and recharge.

*Photo courtesy of
http://www.fineartamerica.com/

I think that porch swing is calling my name....

....and I'm on my way to answering!

There is an art to resting, and one facet of this art is called napping.

Take a nap, my friends. A long, extended, absolutely self-indulgent....nap. It's good for you, and you'll thank me!


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*No financial return was received from posting photos and links to the websites above.
_____________________________
If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

How will you be remembered?

Loving, caring, compassionate

Wife, daughter and friend

Enjoyed writing

Cooking

Playing with toddlers.

Funny in her sarcastic way

Witty, intelligent, feminist

Traveled the world

Wrote numerous

Bestsellers.

Taught others

How to pause

And smell the flowers

Appreciate their loved ones

And count their blessings.

Always sought

New knowledge

Asking questions

Relentlessly

Of friends and strangers.

In her own small way

Made

A difference

In the lives of those

She touched.

---------------

---------------

Needy, selfish, confused

Imposing wife and daughter

With no real friends

Enjoyed being a

Loner.

Staunchly believed

Her viewpoint

Was the

Only

Right one.

Feminist who sought

Equality for those

Who did not seek it

Was full of

Idealism.

Led a nomad life

That didn't amount

To much

Thought of writing books

But never did.

Died dissatisfied

And unhappy

Writing her own obituary

Because she knew

No one else

Would.

-----------------

Copyediting the obituary for Santa Clara's former president (who died two days ago after a short battle with pancreatic cancer) made me realize how our every day actions control what goes in that homage when we have passed.

We will be remembered as who we are today, not who we can become tomorrow -- for who knows, tomorrow may never come...

Some of us have will have a series of accomplishments; others will have adjectives.

Some will see the tide of time; others will pass away before they reach their prime.

Some will be missed by millions; others just by their families.

Some will change the course of history; others will be remembered for simple deeds of kindness.

No matter how or when we die, the bottomline is all of us will.

How do you want to be remembered?

Also posted on my blog.

New shoes in the gym

I never really know what the topic of my next article is going to be. I've often said this is one of the joys of writing for me...that endless discovery and enjoyment of the unexpected moments of inspiration. Today, inspiration visited in the form of a quote:

Don't be afraid if things seem difficult in the beginning. That's only the initial impression. The important thing is not to retreat; you have to master yourself. - Olga Korbut, Olympic Gold Gymnastics Medalist

This quote immediately brought to mind the days when I used to work out with a personal trainer at my gym. I was assigned a trainer who eventually became one of my dearest friends. Two people could not be more different. I'm not athletically inclined and I do not enjoy exercising. I do it because I know it's important and necessary. I chose to go the trainer route so that I was accountable to someone and wouldn't tank on the intention to stick with a program. My trainer turned out to be a 6'5" muscle bound guy who truly loves exercise. Loves it so much, he calls a ten minute stint on the exercise bike at Level 8 a "cardio break". As in, "Okay Dawn, let's finish up this set on your triceps and then go over to the bike and have a Cardio Break...it'll be fun! We'll do Level 8!"

Photo courtesy of
http://www.pycfitness.com/

Picture me shooting said bike a look of pure loathing as I climbed on and groaned, complained and grumbled my way through Level 8 for ten minutes. If you haven't tried Level 8, let me just share with you that it feels like pedaling through mud....hip deep, half dried, very thick mud. It never felt like a break to me. Breaks are something that give you rest, right? Pedaling through hip deep, half dried, very thick mud is not a 'break'. It is torture. Unless you have a very strange person next to you who thinks it's the best thing since sliced bread and you love that person. Then you do your best to get through ten minutes of torture without too much whining and complaining. I admit, I whined and complained plenty; I laughed too.

But I digress. My point in bringing up the gym and personal trainers is that each time my trainer would introduce a new exercise, I would have a curious reaction. Almost 100% of the time, my body would try to throw a proverbial tantrum which manifested in the form of nausea. Serious, gut grinding nausea that had me positive I was on the verge of throwing up. Sorry to be graphic, but it's true. For some reason, a new demand on my physical body would result in that reaction. It put me in mind of a child throwing a fit to avoid some unpleasant task or chore. I had a mental image of my stomach saying, in cartoon balloon text, "Okay, that's not fun. In fact, that hurts. What she's doing hurts! What can we do to make her stop doing that thing that hurts? Let's make her sick. Seriously sick. She'll stop if we make her feel like crud. Bring on the extreme nausea!"

I learned that if I breathed through the nausea and kept right on with the thing that hurt, usually within about 5 minutes, the nausea would recede to a manageable level. With continued activity of this new exercise, the nausea would finally stop. My trainer must've had experience with this phenomenon, because he would gently, but firmly keep pushing me to continue. While sometimes it was downright unpleasant, it taught me something about myself. Although this was a reflex reaction that I was experiencing, it also underscored what Ms. Korbut's quote mentions - new things can give us pause.

Fear of the unknown, even with something as simple as a new exercise being introduced in the gym, can cause myriad responses on both an emotional and physical level. Most of the time, we're so busy with the detritus of daily living that we don't always pay attention to those micro-moments of unease. Because I tend to be one to ponder, when this experience happened at the gym, I paid attention. I wondered about it, studied it, even went home and dragged out my old anatomy and physiology books to understand the mechanics behind that knee jerk physical reaction. While most people aren't going to go to those lengths to understand a short moment of discomfort and unease, I believe it can definitely benefit every single one of us to stop and pay attention when something feels bad or unusual.

In this case, I discovered that I have a tendency to react on a primitive level to new physical challenges. My body and my emotional persona want to STOP THAT NOW! The good thing is that I'm fairly stubborn and really dislike admitting defeat. I also was blessed with this wonderful personal trainer and friend who was so cheerful and happy as he put me through 90 minutes of torture that I felt badly if I didn't at least try when he asked me to do something new. So, I would grit my teeth, push through the nausea and force my body and mind to adapt to a new experience.

This is something I've carried with me many years later. I no longer have a membership at that gym, and my trainer friend is now working full time at a local university in the athletic department. Our friendship is still solid, but I admit that I've slacked on daily workouts such as we used to tackle three times a week. What I took from that time in my life was, first and foremost, a beautiful friendship, and secondly, a newly discovered way to identify when I was reacting in a fear-based manner.

The mind is an incredibly complex organ that is constantly changing and adapting to new stimuli and experiences. We grow as long as we are drawing breath. The primitive reactions that we all feel, if we take time to stop and analyze them, can be quite handy tools as we go about our daily lives. There are always going to be new experiences to weather, new people to meet, new challenges to embrace and lessons....always lessons to learn. Paying attention to those reflex reactions can give us valuable insight if we just pay attention!

I used the analogy of a gym workout, but I can also say that by recognizing this specific reaction, I came to realize that in business situations the same reaction sometimes surfaced. It wasn't the same full blown attack of nausea, but it was enough of a twinge in my stomach that it would always catch my attention. I would then take that extra couple of minutes to silently reflect on the situation and people involved and invariably would realize that 'gut reaction' was a warning flag. Pay attention to those little twinges, my friends. They are happening for a reason.

Photo courtesy of
http://www.7luxuryshoes.com/

Going beyond that visceral reaction, and revisiting Ms. Korbut's quote above, adversity isn't always a bad thing. Difficulties, as her quote so wisely indicates, aren't necessarily a reason to stop and give up! New things can feel strange and uncomfortable, but so can a new pair of shoes. Look at those challenges that may seem scary as a reason to try on a proverbial new pair of shoes. Think of how differently you walk when you are wearing a new item of clothing. There's that extra bounce to your walk, that extra sparkle in your eye. The same can be true of persevering through what initially feels like a situation that will never make sense to you. Mastering your fears and putting them to use for you, rather than allowing them to convince to you stop before you even get started, can give you that same bounce to your step, that same sparkle in your eye.

So, when those uncomfortable moments hit your life, remember Olga Korbut's quote above. Take a moment and step back. Breathe through it, give thought to what you're feeling and identify the reason for the unease or fear-based reaction. Nine times out of ten, you'll realize that the fear-based reaction is just a primitive response to something that seems scary only because it is new. Challenge yourself and resolve to push through that moment and discover the exhilaration of conquering that fear. Recognize the power this puts into your hands to manifest your own success! Then congratulate yourself on the fact that you've had a bit of an "A-ha!" moment, a graduation of sorts, and you're now wearing some proverbial new shoes in the gym.

Give judicious attention also to those twinges when it is clear your instincts are clamoring and jangling away to prevent you from making a mistake or blunder in judgment. Our instincts are there to protect us, after all. Now, you may be sitting there thinking, "How do I know which is a fear-based feeling and which is an instinctive warning flag?" That's where being a responsible human being comes into play. It is up to you to decipher your body's reactions and interpret what means what. It isn't as complex as you may think, and with care and attention, you'll quickly learn to read those tell tale inward signs that your body and emotions are giving you. In time, probably much more quickly than you would imagine, you'll grow to recognize the varying degrees of internal dialogue. With a bit of practice, you'll be able to adapt quickly and maneuver through those daily bumps, obstacles and unexpected turns with ease. And I daresay those proverbial, spiritual new shoes and clothing will add that extra sparkle to your eyes and that extra snap of energy to your walk!

So, when something feels unusual, strange, perhaps uncomfortable...take a moment to identify it. React accordingly and move forward, rather than retreating in fear or confusion. Push through with that new-to-you exercise. Those new shoes are waiting to be tried on, after all!
____________________________
This post was the result of an invitation to become a contributing writer for the Australian ezine publication, Aromatique Essentials, of Julie Nelson. 
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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

The Simple Lifestyle

My conscious spiritual journey began as a child. My path has been marked by zigzags, detours and back tracks. I realize it's because I've been on that notorious road - the one less traveled, devoid of yellow bricks, neon signs or bright arrows to point the way.

Many years ago, while on one of my many Truth expeditions, I read a book about the spiritual and practical benefits of living a simple life. It was inspirational. I listened intently to the muffled call and hoped its source was Divine.

Poverty, like wealth, is relative. I am one of those inner city escapees, who "made it" into an unstable middle class status via the benefits of education and good luck. So, considering how poor I had been in my childhood, my adult level of abundance suddenly seemed obscene. As I inspected my immediate environment, I convinced myself that I was living in decadent luxury. My house, by my youthful standards, was huge with much of the space going to waste. I decided I didn't need it.

After reading the book, my husband became my co-conspirator in a quest to seek a simpler way of living, that would ensure our ticket to you know where. "Wow!" we told ourselves, Won't our friends, not to mention God, be impressed with our high level of spirituality? We're going to stand out in church due to our modern, progressive way of living our faith."

Humbly, we bragged about our new spiritual goal of downward mobility. Undoubtedly, many of our friends were perplexed about their feelings - a mixture of admiration and jealousy as well as a lot of condemnation for our weird way of practicing our faith.

"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication."

Leonardo daVinci

Our big house sold quickly and just as quickly we found a very small, modest home befitting the simplicity we aspired. Our new tiny house was cute, really. But we struggled to adjust. Both our neighbors on either side had gigantic eternally barking dogs, making it impossible for us to enjoy our small back yard. We couldn't/wouldn't use it much anyway because the unfriendly neighbors behind us vacillated between loud fights about all kinds of marital infringements and inappropriate signs of affection when they made up.

The inside of our cozy house proved inadequate for our furniture. We practically had to jump on our bed to get inside our bedroom. Collaborating on cooking was out of the question in the tiny galley kitchen. Dirty clothes spilled out of the little laundry room (if one could call it that), curtailing our access to the undersized linen closet.

Entertaining was difficult, and we resigned ourselves to what we rationalized as chic dinners for no more than two friends at a time. Christmas proved to be a fiasco, when stubbornly we decided to maintain tradition and invite the usual guests. Plates and glasses were spilled as people bumped into each other. Some people ate in the bedrooms and some preferred to stay outside.

~

The book on simplicity was eventually taken to the used book store. It was replaced with books about mindfulness, chanting, meditation and other spiritual topics in vogue. I clung to my church by a thread, perhaps more from habit than belief. Gradually, I became unable to sustain my insincerity and left.

Downward mobility, the simple lifestyle turned out to be a great unaccomplished goal. Careers moved upward for my husband and me. Salaries increased and discomfort in the cute, little house became intolerable. We both yearned for a place with solace and privacy, where we could peacefully continue our journey on a more sincere track.

~

We now live in a different house. It can be described as beautiful, private comfortable, inviting and warm...and big enough. To me it is primarily simple - an ashram of sorts, where I practice my inclusive mixture of spirituality.

I no longer need to move downward or upward. I just need to be whoever I am at this moment, at whatever stage in the journey I happen to be. I realize now that spiritual growth, any growth, any journey is a process. Simplicity, like humility and other worthy spiritual goals, begins in the heart and is not limited to the realm of possessions or material wealth. A real transformation blossoms from the inside out. A book can perhaps suggest it, but only Life can demonstrate it and prepare us for it. If we're not ready for something, we can't force it to happen.

I haven't totally given up the quest for a simple life, but now it seems to be happening naturally. Though I do focus on the need to lessen my consumerism and my personal ecological footprint, I find I actually do need and use less. I think also that intention has much to do with it, but we'll leave that subject for another day.

"Live simply so that others may simply live."

Mahatma Gandhi

Also posted on my blog: http://mydailyspirit.net/

Storm Bubbles and Water Balloon Fights

 Last night’s midnight sky crackled with lightning, thunder and rain. Tiny calling cards were left this morning and almost went unnoticed. The sun moved around the evergreen trees, like a parade watcher shifting to get a better view of the floats, and pointed to them. Tiny glistening droplets on the grass were now obvious inside the sun’s pointer.

I chuckled to myself as I thought of them as storm bubbles. Perhaps after their festivities and fireworks the storm clouds gathered to blow bubbles and relax after a long night. Or, better yet, maybe the moon and stars, upstaged by the storms, had a water balloon fight and these were droplets of laughter. The blades of grass were beautifully adorned. I had to wonder if there were more. Scurrying around to the side of the house, to my delight I found more. Resting on blooms at the end of their seasons, were more storm bubbles, more droplets of laughter.

In an hour or so the droplets were gone. The sun’s pointer was too intense, though I think she meant no harm. Or, could that have been the day’s lesson? Tiny storm bubbles, droplets of laughter glistening in the sun are so easily unnoticed or crushed beneath our feet and wiped off on the door mat. But, if you notice, if you listen to the pauses and notice nature’s pointer, what stories you can create. Stories like storm bubbles and water balloon fights between storm clouds and the moon and stars. Simple delights. Simple touches. Simple hellos.

 They are moments to be noticed and remembered as the day and seasons march onward. They lasted on the grass and blooms but an hour. In my mind, throughout the day, I still see storm clouds with their plastic bottles and dippers blowing bubbles and droplets of laughter during a water balloon fight. I notice my feet as they walk. And I cast a wary eye to the sky, just in case there is water balloon still lurking. Nature does love to laugh.



[also posted on my blog]

Beauty is what the heart sees

Author's note ~ In writing one of my most recent blogs "Who...AM...I?", I observed and commented upon our sense of "self-identification." I tried to present concepts to chew on pertaining to how we incorporate certain "things" and ideals into our lives to either feel “greater-than or less-than.” Amazingly, I omitted a facet of that discussion I encounter quite frequently. It’s my job. The subject is "beauty." My personal interpretation and attachment to this subject has changed over the years. My exposure to this subject and those seeking it has broadened my perspective not only on the subject itself, but those in a perpetual quest to obtain it.

I am a beauty professional by trade. I used to think that made me an “expert” on the subject. I won't bore you with my credentials or my resume' as I find them no longer applicable.



For years, a quarter century to be exact, I have travelled the globe sharing and acquiring knowledge on this subject to be a sought after beauty guru. Yes, I have done TV, worked with celebrities, and have my work featured in magazines. Again, these are dusty trophies of a man who has been blessed with a new perspective.


Beauty is an opinion

As a long time participant in trend releases and magazine spreads depicting what the masses should consider beauty, I now find an ironic humor in this. In my quest to help extinguish the burn of insecurities injected into public by my own images, I found I was often raising the bar all the while trying to boost my clients to help reach it. It was like trying to get somewhere by walking down the up escalator.


Hopping in the way-back machine we find many trends that were presented to and entertained by the public. For example:


In the days of Cleopatra, hair was colored with ground minerals and plants, permed with ingredients ranging from dirt to dung, and others at times had their subjects' heads shaved to not overshadow the royals in their beauty.


In the days of Marie Antoinette, the huge high-rise hair styles we see in paintings were obtained by cutting the hair of slaves and attaching them to the aristocrats with a concoction using lard.

In some time periods and cultures, obesity is sought after as it shows a well-fed life of leisure. The Rubinesque curvy women of earlier centuries were a sought after companion. Jenny Craig would have been a heretic.

Nudity in some countries is the dress code.

If beauty was not an opinion, often keeping designers, trainers, and therapists employed, we would not be burdened with what the latest new anything is. The standard would be health, acceptance, and function. No more women's magazines with the heft of a Los Angeles phone directory clogging our mail slots in the fall.


Beauty is a facade.

I really, really, admire women. I truly do. Outside of a Photoshop master, is any collective group worthy of respect for their deceptive prowess? Let's start at the top and work downward...

Hair - Cut, colored, Permed, lengthened with extensions. Teased, moussed, sprayed, pinned, and secured.

Eyelashes - Tinted, thickened, lengthened

Makeup, Botox, Restlyne, fillers, and micro-demabrasion.


(We are just getting to the neck!)


Spray Tan. Tanning bed. Sunshine.

Breast augmentation, reduction, push up bras.

Tummy tuck, liposuction, creams, oils, and ointments, and we can't forget Spanx.

Thighs - See lipo and Spanx

Calves - High heels

Feet - polish and pedi

Hands - Can't get a pedi without a mani.

I have seen almost all these on one woman, and this does not even include the wardrobe selection.

Now I can appreciate all this effort and can also enjoy the visual appeal. I am a man you know. What is interesting though, is that somewhere down the line, someone, or a group instilled the idea that we were not good enough in our original form. Our age becomes a curse as our normal natural progression that allows us to become wise, become parents, and to expand our experiences in the world and the related nicks and scratches make us become "lesser than." Is an octogenarian any less beautiful than an adolescent?

I admit I like being a man. I just have to shower, use some deodorant and toothpaste, and a comb, and we are just as good on our wedding day as we are on our day off. I will also admit I will wait until the ladies leave the room until I exhale and let my gut relax.

Beauty to me is who we are or how we would feel in a lightless world. I have always said: "Everyone is a dimmer switch away from being a 'ten'." I feel sad when people use the benchmark of "beauty" when feeling whether or not they deserve love, companionship, or affection. Maybe the trends change each season because not enough people are buying it. Maybe people are smarter than they are given credit. I think they are.

I have always tried to help people achieve a harmonious balance between function and fashion. Our beauty regimen should be an ongoing and expanding appreciation of the necessary restoration that allows us to be happy with ourselves today. It is okay if this changes frequently. What we see on the outside is only the wrapping on the gift.

Beauty is what the hearts sees.

Never dismiss the hearts connection to what it finds as beautiful. True beauty doesn't concern itself with acknowledging weight, age, labels, or logos. Beauty is what we feel when we warm in the presence of something. We stare, we desire, we connect. Why? Often we do not know.

The ability to see beauty first in ourselves allows us to see it around us and in others. Beauty is love that sees beyond the surface. It is the magnetism without reason and bond without boundary.

If beauty were only visual, are the blind capable of its appreciation? Of course.

True beauty cannot be trimmed, Botoxed, or squeezed into jeans. It has no age, gender, nor is it a number on a scale. Beauty is a divine gift given to us by our Creator to be enjoyed without challenge.

Beauty can be found in all things tainted only by negative reflection.


Beauty is an opinion - make yours positive.

Beauty can be a facade - go deeper to appreciate the true beauty.

Beauty is what the heart sees, may yours have 20/20 vision.

Repost from ~ Artisan of the Human Spirit by Tony Anders

P.S. Here is a good VIDEO supporting some of my points.

Who...AM...I?

Ever asked a kid who they are? Aside from the standard response of their name, you will also get a variety of responses being “My name is (insert name here) and...


“I can tie my shoes!”

“I can go pee-pee on the potty!”

“I have Spiderman shoes!”

“I am a cub scout!”

“I am four years old!”


Ask a teen to young adult and the response also expands beyond the name.

“Oh that is Brittany, she is a cheerleader!”

“My name is Doug, I am captain of the football team!”

“That is Jill, she is valedictorian!”

“Yeah, I think I have heard of him, he goes to Ohio State.”

“Doesn’t she own the blue Mercedes?”


As Adults:

“Wow, you are having lunch with him? Isn’t he the bank president?”

“That’s Darlene. She has twins and is married to the famous baseball player.”

“Don’t you know who I am, I could own you!!”

“How can I go to jail? It will ruin my reputation!”

“They are nothing. They don’t even have a full membership to the club.”


As we age:

“That is my son. He is the City commissioner.”

“I am the ex-CEO of such-and-such industries.”

“I am grandpa to seven wonderful kids.”


I guess I reflect upon this as I pondered for a moment on asking myself: “Who am I?”

I often times find myself trying to make this personal reconciliation when something changes in my life. At times it is also when I am trying to become okay with the fact of where I may presently be in my own personal timeline. Maybe I should be somewhere else. Maybe someONE else. Is what I am doing a good testimony to who I am supposed to be? My identity. What is this thing called identity anyhow? Why is it our name, our identity has to have some sort of subscript attached to it?

As I started to dig a bit deeper, I started to realize that for me to get to the bottom of my query I had to do a couple things. One was to separate my circumstances from what I call my identity. I quickly learned that I am not what my circumstances dictate. The most hurtful thing we can do is to attach our circumstances to a personal opinion of ourselves. Often these labels occur in crises such as financial difficulty, relationship squabbles, affliction and addiction, loss of property, separation from groups or people we care for.

In the past I would attach a negative label upon myself due to the addition or subtraction of one of the above mention categories. Who I am, the me deep inside does not have to change because of an endeavor, poor choice, good choice, or circumstance I found myself in. Bad circumstances do not make me a bad person any more than going to a football game makes me a quarterback.

So it stands, I am not what I do.

I also realize that things can come and go. In these recent economic times, many have been humbled by the realization that nothing, especially toys and money last forever. Sometimes one of life’s best lessons can be to lose some-things we worship. I realize that if I used to drive a Mercedes, and now drive a Chevy compact, I am no less a person. Should one think this to the contrary, explain to me how you may justify one’s “human stock” dropping after a hurricane because their belongings are destroyed. It doesn’t. Often their best assets surface.

I am not what I have.

I have time on my hands. I write a lot. I also get time to play. I do not have the time to try to manipulate nor adapt to what others think of me. I can live the life I believe I am supposed to. I can try to live on the greater side of good. I seek compassion and connection. If you don’t find any favor in that. So be it. I don’t have time to try to make you like me. Does my worth really grow if you do? I would rather be alone for the right reasons, than famous for the wrong ones.

I am not what others think of me.

In deep contemplation of “who I am”, I find it hard to explain. The moment I try to explain it, I label myself. Am I a Dad, husband, business owner, swell guy, martial artist, reiki practitioner, and foodie? Yes– by activity or practice, but it is who I am inside that allows me to connect to those things collectively. Who I am makes me seek them out, or try to be the best at those things, and yet, if those things change, who I am necessarily may not.

I find “who I am” is found in the space between. My identity goes beyond my name which was given to me without my consent (not that I dislike it). My identity is not tainted by opinions including my own. It is the music without sound and the light yet without luminescence. It is ethereal, nebulous, and spiritual. It is the part of me that doesn’t need a compass to know where my true North is.

Who I am is the part of me that I would be with no one around. It is the part of me who I would want to share with my most cherished loved ones. It is the me I long for, when who I “think” I am or should be is most present in the room. It is who I know I want to be. It is who I am okay with.

The “I” I seek is where I find peace. It is where I know. Where things seem correct. Struggle stops. No outside appreciation is necessary. It is from that peace and awareness I become most radiant, and therefore I end up becoming what my ego most often wanted me to become, just now with the substance to back it, but the humility to not need the adoration. I am a sum of my experiences. I am the recipe of myself that has no ingredients. Empty yet full.

I guess what I have found is that no matter the onslaught, and inversely the joys, I am still the same being. I am I.

I am not a title, hood ornament, number on a W-2, position, label on clothing, your opinion or mine, I am who I am supposed to be, and for once I really, really feel okay with that. No matter what I gain – I am the same guy. No matter what I lose – I am the same guy. If you love me – I am the same guy. If you hate me – I don’t care.

If you ask me who I am, my name is Tony. My identity is not my name and the labels past and present that may be pinned to it. Who I am is somewhere inside, protected and flourishing. I hope the real “me” gets to meet the real “you” someday.

 
 
The name will have to do for now...
 
 
 
Repost from Artisan of the Human Spirit