The Joys of "I-am-ing"

New Principles, Number 6

Last week we began to look at an answer to the following question:

One of the questions you ask a lot in your writings, several times in "Orbits", is for each of us to ask ourselves is "Who Am I"? I seem to have difficulty with this question. I can describe myself in my various roles, a male, a father, an ex-husband, a friend, a chartered accountant, someone who likes to do different things, e.g.. dance, work-out at the gym, walk, bike etc., etc.

I can describe all my likes, and dislikes, my history, my hopes for the future, my emotional and reactive patterns, all the things about myself of which I am currently aware. But who am I really? Do all of these things describe me? How would you describe yourself? How might I describe "me"?

Perhaps this something you might want to write about in ITC. I would enjoy seeing what you have to say.

I began by suggesting:

"I am the sum total of all of me - physically, mentally and spiritually. I am the sum total of my experiences and my understandings. I am the sum total of (to quote Ben & Jock, and last week's article,) my authentic, actual and ideal selves. HOWEVER, as I live in the world, I am only that which I choose to accept, integrate, and express."

One of my Haven buddies wrote and suggested the rest of last week's article might have been a tad disjointed. I had another look and I can completely understand how he could see it that way. So let me try it again.

When asked the question "Who are you?" most people begin creating a list. They will rhyme off their location in the universes they traverse. For example, they'll "locate"

• within a family structure (father, daughter, husband, etc.), or
• a work environment (boss, self-employed, research scientist, etc.) or
• a religion (Buddhist, Christian, etc.) or
• a political party (Liberal, NDP, Democrat, etc.).
• a culture (social rules, dress codes, ways of communicating, etc.)

You can come up with other referential loci for this list.

People locate within their gender. Here, we get cultural accretions. So, "woman" in North America is different than woman in Afghanistan. "Man" is different in South America than in Japan. One's sex is often used as an excuse: "I'm snarly because of PMS" or "I'm a man and men don’t have feelings." How one expresses oneself sexually (another locus) comes from within the cultural context, and from the family of origin's influence. I actually had a 43-year-old client tell me this week that it was "wrong" for him to look at other women because his parents said so when he was 16. He was stunned to think that he might actually be able to decide to change that or any other "rule" he learned at his parents' feet.

People locate according to what they know. This is especially true in the West. One friend mentioned that people he knew were always pushing books on him, saying, "Read this, and you'll get it!" Which of course implies that the pusher "gets it," whatever "it" is. (Much like wisdom, I figure people who scream that they get it, don't.)

Coupled with this is an ego identification point. The ego, ever a part of us all, wants to be declared both "right" and "wise." All of our grandiosity is ego driven. It (and we) know(s) that this is crap and that such identifications will fall with the next screw up, but that doesn't keep this aspect of us from trying to convince us and others.

People locate in terms of their attractiveness, appearance, sex appeal and who their friends are. This kind of "locating" is the height of immaturity, something I see a lot of in my teen clients. It's the "O god, what will people think?" bit. People locating in this way seem flighty and insecure, puff up in the presence of complements and shrink when they are unnoticed. Their locus shifts depending upon the opinion of others.

Now, all of these loci, except perhaps for the last, are valid expressions of who I am. I can't escape being a son. I choose to be a husband. My profession is psychotherapy. My academic background consists of a B.A. and 2 Masters degrees. I have a 1^st degree black belt (as does Dar) in Ninjitsu and am qualified to teach a Tai Chi form. I have an interesting group of friends. I could go on and on, listing my likes and dislikes, my backpacking trips, books written, courses taken. I could point to Into the Centre as a good source of what and how I think. And were you to take all of this together, you would still only have a caricature of me.

Additionally, each of you that read Into the Centre (and especially those of you who know me personally) will have developed a set of filters about me - a picture in your mind that you consider to be "Wayne." It, however, is both a construction and a locus, and is not accurate. But that's a topic for another day.

What I was saying last week is that much of who I actually am is contained in the way I choose to relate - both to life and to my internal theatre of both feeling and self-understanding. Dar and I choose to continually reveal to each other our thoughts and feelings. In this process, I am expressing to her, not another list, but rather a sense of who I am and how I am in that moment.

Two examples: Dar came home last night in a bit of a grump. She'd had her car in for service and they'd done more than she'd asked for. She was angry and a bit teary. Now, I have a tendency, as a male, to be a fixer. (See sexual stereotyping, above) I have learned over the years that this isn't helpful. So instead of fixing, I offered a shoulder and an ear. Dar needed time to express and re-express her frustration and anger. I then offered her Bodywork. That Dar was sad, angry and grumpy in that moment is an expression of Dar in that moment. It is a part of her, not all of her. It needs thorough expression. As Dar does this, she learns about herself, as do I.

Example 2: last year, toward the end, I was in a funk. I can and have done depression in my past, and have learned to dissipate a true depression quickly. (See my booklet, The Watcher.) This funk was a "low-grade unhappiness." Interestingly, many of my clients were in the same space. I decided early on to "be" with this funk and see what lessons I could learn about myself.

That choice received a variety of responses. Dar sat with me throughout, and asked good questions. She was content to listen to me process my stuff. My doctor friends figured I needed Paxil. Some people I know tried to provide me with strategies to get out of the funk. They were bemused that I indicated I was fine being there and learning about this part of me. Clients had one of two reactions: 1) surprise that "the therapist" would be in a funk, or 2) relief that they weren't the only ones.

The last reaction is the interesting one, for me. What's happening is that these clients are exploring the idea that something that is frowned upon by the culture could nonetheless be helpful. I heard, "You mean it's OK to hurt sometimes? I feel low and unclear and unsure. My (partner) thinks it's terrible and wants me to snap out of it. I'm afraid I'll always be this way. But this is a part of me I need to explore."

And explore it we would.

My point, long in coming, is that the answer to "who are you" is, "it depends." I am who I am in this moment. I am learning who I am by being open to experiencing all of me. I don't limit my experience of me. I work at not judging my desires and my emotions, nor do I judge how I choose to live out my life. I make clear choices and live with the consequences of my choices. I am not a helpless victim of my emotions, upbringing, culture or loci.

In this process of self-knowing, as the "religious" have known forever, the "stuff" on the lists - the ego stuff - the "Wayne" stuff - begins to fall away. Or to at least have less of a pull.

I am not merely what I know, who I sleep with, what I do for a living, or any of the other things that might cause me to puff up my chest or pull in my horns and scream, "Look at me! Aren't I special!" I am who or whatever it is that lives inside of me, animating me in this body, and existing after "Wayne" dies. I am, in a sense, my experiences.

My "I-am-ness" is limited only as I choose to limit myself. If I identify with lists, with what others think or what others want, my "I-am-ness" becomes a small, tight box. In a sense, I am not a noun. I am a verb. The question, then, is this: how much of my "I-am-ing" will I bring into consciousness, and how much will I choose to live?

'Cause, hey, it's not like you're going to get another chance, eh?