I hope this post finds everyone doing well and enjoying the dog days of summer. Question for you all: have you ever felt like you are waiting for all aspects of your life to come together at the same time? Like nothing is really settled or decided? I have a feeling you are all thinking "yes." Here's the thing, though: have you ever, in this state of being, been happy to be there? Perhaps even happier than you were when everything seemed set in stone? You're not sure of your footing, but you are acutely aware that you have feet and that they can take you anywhere... anywhere! The path isn't clear, but you see paths everywhere. You try one, find a dead end, return to the point of origin and try another. Nothing is clear, but you realize this with complete clarity; you are aware that you are unaware of what will happen next. I have experienced this ephiphany several times in my life, but for the first time it does not frighten me. For the first time, I am able to experience this feeling while also knowing who I am. As you may know from previous entries, I like to explain things in terms of context and content; the context is that which frames and defines the content, and the content affects but cannot overtake the context. Here's my theory: when you know who you are, uncertainty ceases to be the context of your life. You become the context, and uncertainty is just part of the content you contain.
Psychologist and theorist Erik Erikson identified and defined four identity statuses: identity achievement, moratorium, foreclosure and identity diffusion. Identity achievement occurs after an individual has explored different identities and committed to one; moratorium is exploration without commitment; foreclosure is commitment without exploration; and identity diffusion is lack of exploration and commitment. Which stage are you in currently? Erikson may not have endorsed my response: I have committed to an identity after exploration but I am also in a moratorium of sorts. In other words, I think I have cemented the most essential parts of my identity - the things that will never change - but I am still exploring other areas. Hmm, this calls for some new terminology. How about incubation (because I am such a scientific thinker)? Yes, I am a resident of an incubator. Freedictionary.com defines "incubator" as "a place or situation that permits or encourages formation and development, as of new ideas." Implicit in this definition is the fact that something already exists within the incubator. For instance, incubators are used to maintain at-risk infants, not create them. A baby may weigh four pounds and be fighting for every tiny breath, but he or she is very much alive. The incubator does not house his or her identity but does affect the unfolding of that identity. It's not a perfect example, but the basic idea is there: it is possible to be sure of your identity and still grow and change. In fact, it is not only possible - it is necessary if we are to live truly meaningful lives.
This past month has been one of the most turbulent times of my life, but it has also been one of the most rewarding times of my life. I have relied on other people more than ever before - something I have always had trouble with - and instead of missing my pride, I am aware of who my good friends are and of how good they are. I am aware of the necessity of participating in musical endeavors in my identity - playing it, singing it and listening to it. Career changes (of a yet unclear nature) are on the horizon. I will admit that I have experienced some karma that I deserved to experience (without even being sure I believe in karma). At the bookstore the other day I saw a man walking with two prosthetic legs and helped a lady find a book for her new grandchild after being yelled at by an old man and a middle-aged woman for trivial reasons. Life isn't like this sometimes... it's like this all the time. When you know who you are, these paradoxes and uncertainties don't shatter or redefine you. They're just mechanisms in the incubator, reminding you with each whir, twang and click that there's always room to grow.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
Humility
For starters, I want to apologize for my last post (and for the blank post which followed, which was my failed attempt to erase the original post). The feelings I expressed were genuine at the moment I expressed them, but I had no right to post them publicly. And now, given a recent personal change for me, I am afraid that those of you who know me may misunderstand my meaning and intention in creating and erasing that post. Most significantly, however, posts like that undermine the foundation of this blog: an individual perspective which exists meaningfully within a larger discourse. When I write, I want to write about things that speak to other people and to which they may also speak; with that post, I was merely recording an inner dialogue, feeding a personal fire. I am aware that I have lit and stamped out many personal fires in life and in this blog and that I will probably continue to do so, but maybe the more I fess up, the less frequent this habit will become.
That's the thing about humility: it requires not only complete awareness of one's own fault/rejection, but also public acknowledgement. I do not mean public on a large scale; I mean telling a close friend or family member that you've screwed up or that you've been rejected. Both of these things hurt and are hard to admit, but something happens to us when we bring them to light. In that moment, we exist completely in the exchange between ourselves and those in whom we confide. We abandon pride, or ego, which houses our identity. As the mediator between the id and super-ego, the ego is also responsible for defense mechanisms; the id reacts viscerally, the ego obeys the id and the super-ego punishes the ego with feelings of guilt or shame. When we do wrong, we are aware at the level of our super-ego that we have done wrong (guilt), but our ego rationalizes. Because the ego is the foundation of identity, we adhere to these rationalizations in order to maintain a sense of self. On the other hand, when we are wronged, we are aware at the level of our super-ego that we have been wronged/rejected (shame), and our ego represses or denies the rejection. When we are wronged, we don't try to maintain our identity - we try to abandon it because we cannot separate our identity from the rejection of our identity, and rejection is unacceptable. As such, our identity becomes unacceptable. In both instances, our egos prevent us from acknowledging the truth. Here's my hypothesis: I believe it is impossible for us as individuals to remove ourselves from our own egos, recognize and disable our own defense mechanisms, and thus learn from our own mistakes/rejections. We must expose our guilt and shame to someone or, better yet, someones, in order to grow in a positive direction. Incidentally, I also believe that until we expose both guilt and shame, that growth is incomplete.
I am a different person than I was a week ago and than I have ever been because I have now admitted both guilt and shame to people I trust. Some differences are routine and trivial: I am listening to albums I haven't listened to in a long time and avoiding others that had been in my car player for months. Others are routine and significant: I no longer speak to a person I had spoken to daily for months. But one is a veritable paradigm shift: I am aware, for maybe the first time in my life, of how damn lucky I am. I reached out and found myself enclosed in arms, lifted until I felt I was flying but still grounded. I reached out to several people I knew and trusted and was reached out to not only by them, but also by near and complete strangers who could not have possibly known that I needed their hands too. I never understood before why people say they are "humbled" by their achievements, and maybe that is because all of my previous achievements have fed my pride. I now realize that my greatest achievement is my humility. It is a small and tarnished trophy that will shine more and more as I continue to trust myself and others to acknowledge and accept me as I am. But no matter how brightly that trophy shines, it will remain small. Like us, dear friends. Like us.
That's the thing about humility: it requires not only complete awareness of one's own fault/rejection, but also public acknowledgement. I do not mean public on a large scale; I mean telling a close friend or family member that you've screwed up or that you've been rejected. Both of these things hurt and are hard to admit, but something happens to us when we bring them to light. In that moment, we exist completely in the exchange between ourselves and those in whom we confide. We abandon pride, or ego, which houses our identity. As the mediator between the id and super-ego, the ego is also responsible for defense mechanisms; the id reacts viscerally, the ego obeys the id and the super-ego punishes the ego with feelings of guilt or shame. When we do wrong, we are aware at the level of our super-ego that we have done wrong (guilt), but our ego rationalizes. Because the ego is the foundation of identity, we adhere to these rationalizations in order to maintain a sense of self. On the other hand, when we are wronged, we are aware at the level of our super-ego that we have been wronged/rejected (shame), and our ego represses or denies the rejection. When we are wronged, we don't try to maintain our identity - we try to abandon it because we cannot separate our identity from the rejection of our identity, and rejection is unacceptable. As such, our identity becomes unacceptable. In both instances, our egos prevent us from acknowledging the truth. Here's my hypothesis: I believe it is impossible for us as individuals to remove ourselves from our own egos, recognize and disable our own defense mechanisms, and thus learn from our own mistakes/rejections. We must expose our guilt and shame to someone or, better yet, someones, in order to grow in a positive direction. Incidentally, I also believe that until we expose both guilt and shame, that growth is incomplete.
I am a different person than I was a week ago and than I have ever been because I have now admitted both guilt and shame to people I trust. Some differences are routine and trivial: I am listening to albums I haven't listened to in a long time and avoiding others that had been in my car player for months. Others are routine and significant: I no longer speak to a person I had spoken to daily for months. But one is a veritable paradigm shift: I am aware, for maybe the first time in my life, of how damn lucky I am. I reached out and found myself enclosed in arms, lifted until I felt I was flying but still grounded. I reached out to several people I knew and trusted and was reached out to not only by them, but also by near and complete strangers who could not have possibly known that I needed their hands too. I never understood before why people say they are "humbled" by their achievements, and maybe that is because all of my previous achievements have fed my pride. I now realize that my greatest achievement is my humility. It is a small and tarnished trophy that will shine more and more as I continue to trust myself and others to acknowledge and accept me as I am. But no matter how brightly that trophy shines, it will remain small. Like us, dear friends. Like us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)