Identity Crisis

Who am I?

I find it interesting the number of times this question is a key plot point in many of my favorite stories. Who am I? Who are you? The significance of this query is huge and profound.

I have been watching the new Doctor Who series with Husband for a while now, and in the last one we saw the Doctor found out who River Song is. At least, he found out a part of who she is. He discovered her parentage--and this discovery was of particular importance to everyone involved. In an act of foreshadowing earlier in the episode River Song told Rory that "tonight [the Doctor] will find out who I am."

But... really? All he discovers is who her parents are. He already knew who she would marry eventually...sort of... and this discovery shed no light on why she was imprisoned (that discovery doesn't happen until later). Did he really discover who River Song was? Is her parentage really that important? Some people go through their whole lives not knowing whose womb they vacated--but this does not necessarily define their identity.

So what does?

In Alice in Wonderland this question of identity is posed by a caterpillar blowing smoke rings... and it's answer seems to be of the utmost importance, judging by his insistence. He asks "Who are YOU?" a few times, and is very unsatisfied with Alice's answers. Perhaps because she does not know herself. She states that "... I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then." The caterpillar demands an explanation, and Alice tells him that she has changed size several times since that morning.

Again... really? She was confused about her identity because her height was in flux? Apparently. Perhaps that is why the caterpillar was so short with her (every pun in the world intended...). If Alice's identity was based on such a changeable factor, perhaps a change of worldview was in order after all...

In the movie, V for Vendetta a snippet of dialogue goes as follows:

 

Evey Hammond: Who...who are you?

V: Who? Who is but the form following the function of what. And what I am, is a man in a mask.

Evey Hammond: I can see that.

V: Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation, I'm merely remarking on the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.

 

A paradox because, naturally, the masked man is attempting to conceal who he is. What is it that the mask covers up though? Is that all we are--or is it that the man under the mask wishes to feel freer to show who he is, unrestrained by the tail told by his face?

 

What determines a person's identity?

What determines my identity?

Who am I?

 

We humans have been asking this question from the very beginning. Plagued by doubt, fear, suspicion, and lies we are continually asking ourselves and others: who am I?

 

In The Neverending Story, Bastian loses all of his memories of the world he was born in. These memories are the price he pays for the wishes he is granted in Fantastica. For every wish fulfilled, a memory lost--until he is left with no memories of his own with which to get back home. He couldn't even remember his name. With no memories, the question became again: who am I?

 

I am no longer the same person I was in high school (thank goodness!), college, or even the same as I was in Minneapolis. While my parentage is still the same, my height has changed, my masks have changed, my memories have changed, even my name has changed.

 

But that's not the question. So I am not the person I was--that's known. Who am I now?

 

What defines me?

 

In looking at myself with that ever-critical eye, I am not who I want to be.

I am not the friend I want to be.

I do not follow Christ as passionately as I would like to.

I am not the daughter I would be.
I am not the sister/aunt/wife/granddaughter/niece (just once I would like to spell that word correctly on the first try) I would like to be.

I do not produce as much art as I would like to--of any kind.

 

I am discontent. And that's not good. Of late, I have taken on the extremely bad habit of measuring myself by what is lacking, instead of seeing what is there & where I could go.

 

"Limitations are the catalyst for creativity" said one of my dearest mentors. I have not been living this like I used to.

 

"What I do today is important because I am exchanging a day of my life for it" said one of my best friends.

 

"For most people, it's not what they are that holds them back. It's what they think they are not." ~John Maxwell

 

Oh God, my God, Author of the Multi-Verse, Singer of songs and Painter of the skies--I do not love you as I should and I am ashamed. Teach me again what it means to Love--never stop teaching me! My heart is shriveled up and dying for want of You and Your Love. Show me again those lessons I have forgotten. Sear them into the new heart you have given me and let me never forget again. I am a wretched and withered husk. Fill me and make me clean. Help me to Love You and Your people, even as You have loved me.

 

My identity is in You. Apart from You, I am not.

 

Now the new question: who are You?