Life As a Raisin

Oftentimes I look in the mirror and make a face. It’s usually an “I look better when I pucker” face and so I try to elongate my jaw-line or tilt my head at a particular angle or pull in my cheeks just so. Apparently, it’s obvious and it looks like I’m posing. Which, OK, I am. But once I’m doing that and once I’m actually looking at my face, or perhaps, past my face, I often wonder – what’s in there?

I can still look down at my hands and be amazed that they belong to me. I can’t quite get past the idea that I am in me. I am, enthralled at the idea that I have this physical part that is connected to my mental part and it does what I want it to (most of the time) when I think it. It’s like I have a movie camera mounted on my shoulders and I have this incredible ability to capture the most surreal aspects of an every day occurrence and blur it just right or spin it this way or that to capture something. A truth, a look, a fantasy….

And I’ve been watching a lot lately. This isn’t different than most times except that this theme keeps recurring. I want to know what exactly is that me part that drives the me-you-see part? I want to know how to define the director in me. What AM I? Who AM I? What’s the point?

A part of me knows I’ve been asking this since kindergarten. But I never got the answer so I keep asking.

I asked a good friend of mine recently, a friend who is very ambitious high powered career man, how he defines himself. He works 16 hour days. He has a family. He doesn’t sleep well. He drinks an exorbitant amount of coffee daily. While reflecting in a way that showed he was trying to come up with something good, he said he does non-profit stuff and that’s really what satisfies him. And in a very magical series of words, he tried to convince us that the job he spent 16 hours a day dedicated to, the job he neglects his family for, the job he sacrifices his body, his relationships, and his health for, is only a means to an end. A means by which he’ll help house orphaned children.

I love the idea. I love the good idea that it is a means to an end. But how much do we sacrifice for that end? And if we lose everything along the way, does the end actually justify the means? Maybe it’s OK to simply say, “I’m defined by my job. I love what I do. I am a XYZ and this is what I feel I’m meant to do” Maybe it's OK to say, “everything else is less important to me.” Maybe it will be possible to look back years and years from now and say, “Man, I wish I would have made that meeting. That meeting may have made all the difference…”

I’m conflicted. I want to know at what point are we more than what we do for a living. I can’t recall how many times upon meeting someone the first of the three questions asked is, “what do you do?” And there’s no need to explain the question. Most people answer directly about work (or look appropriately uncomfortable depending on their situation) and provide the summary of the resume. And it’s accepted. This is what we are – this labor we dedicate to our economy. And our value is assessed by how much money our time costs. You’re an engineer you say? Oh, you must be worth X hours per week. You are probably more valuable than me in the grand scheme of life….

But what if we have no other answer? What if someone says, “what do you do?” And there’s nothing to say? There’s just a blank stare and an uncomfortable shifting of weight and an unspoken plea to get passed the question and onto other topics of insignificance? What if there’s nothing to fill the gap and that you actually are nothing unless you do something?

And that’s where I wonder. I think it’s true. We are nothing unless we do something. But the question becomes, what do we have to do to be worthy or valuable or interesting or acceptable? Do I have to work for someone else? Do I have to have a cool job? Do I have to make money? Do I have to make a difference? Can I simply do things? Explore things? Wonder about things? Create things? Be passionate?

So Who AM I? I keep asking the question and the answer keeps changing, so I probably should. But when the question is asked, who do you think I am? And at the end of the day, whose answer is important?