Who Are We?

Who are we?

Are we the real self or the false self or a cunning mixture of the two? Are we the mask we wear to fit in, to conform, to hide away so that we can survive the rough and tumble of everyday life or the spirit deep inside that is forever restless, seeking out who we really are? The part of us that is eternally connected to everything we do or don’t do depending on how we feel about ourselves and everyone else?

So who are we really?

Are we the person we’ve always wanted to be or are we the little child that continues to live inside, still filled with wonder and possibility, the little one that used to do things without a thought for the consequences because there was none back then? The little one that was never afraid to visit the mistake factory if it meant learning something new? We’re ever-changing depending on environment, experience, and circumstance. We are blown by the fates that toss us from wave to wave on an uncertain sea. We are calm too, in the times when we know that everything is going to be alright. We are the doubt and the comfort that often comes with not knowing. The shifting sands of time exposing us to the challenges that erode us of certainty.

So who am I?

Am I the one who’s fucked up along the way or the one who got a few things right? I know it’s probably a question I will still be asking when I take my final breath. After all, why change the habits of a lifetime right at the very end? I know I’m both the light and the darkness that lurks beneath the surface.

I am the books I have read and the films I have seen in the darkness of a cinema in Dublin city on a damp grey November afternoon when I was supposed to be at a college lecture. Mona Lisa, Betty Blue, In the Name of the Rose, and My Beautiful Launderette to name but a few, each a masterpiece in its own right. I am the memories I will never forget. I am the melody and the words of the music I’ve come to love: U2, Springsteen, An Emotional Fish, and The Golden Horde, again too many to mention here. The songs taking me back to the faraway places when I hear them again. Suddenly I’m running down Talbot Street from Golden Discs to the hostel where I worked during the 1980s after finishing school, and sliding The Joshua Tree tape into the slot and pressing play, knowing it’s the last time I will ever hear one of my favourite albums for the first time. It can never be the same again. The opening beat of Where the Streets Have No Name flooding my brain with curiosity. I want to run, I want to hide, I want to break down the walls that hold me inside.  Whenever I hear U2 I think of a world outside.

I am the past, the present and the future. I am the body and the blood. I am nothing. I am now, then, and everything in between. I am the first time you smiled at me. I am the first time we kissed, and the last time we said goodbye. I am still a boy, sometimes a man, but only occasionally, even if I still don’t know what that means. I am the moments that made me laugh and cry. I carry them with me everywhere I go, packed up in a little camouflage rucksack. I am laughter and joy and crap jokes. It’s why I’m still here. It’s a place called hope. It trumps fear any day and always will. It doesn’t mean I’m not afraid, just that there will always be another chance, another day, a brighter tomorrow, a different thrill. I am the darkness before the dawn and the light that comes afterwards. I am everything that I remember and all the things that I think I’ve forgotten. The undercurrents below the surface looking for a way out. I am always hungry for more. I want to understand why I’m here and what’s gone before. I want to hold your hand again and slip back into the dream we left behind. I am a stream of consciousness, sometimes too busy to unwind. But most of all I’m just trying to do my best to be who I really am, even if that’s one of the biggest challenges we all face in the world of today.

I am all the mistakes I’ve made and the people I’ve hurt, as well as the times I’ve got it right and the people I’ve helped. I am regret, guilt, shame, and yes, hope and comfort too. I am all the people and places I’ve left behind on dawn’s desert highway bleeding because they were too hard to hold on to. I am the drifter caught in the slipstream of what’s expected of all of us. I’ve stepped outside and felt the rage of the mainstream. I’ve stood on the street and watched the people passing by and felt no part of it. Nevermore than now. I know what it’s like to walk the other way. I know what it’s like to feel different, to be different, to be misunderstood, to be cast adrift with only an eerie silence for company. I am everywhere I’ve been: London, New York, and Berlin, but most of all I am Dublin through and through. Hill 16 is where I go to feel at home. It’s there I reconnect with my soul. The spirit coursing through me: C’mon You Boys in Blue, C’mon You Boys in Blue. The rhythm of the bodhrán fills me with an energy that I take home with me when I leave. It’s what keeps me going. The days like this.  

I am a writer, a counsellor, and a teacher. I’m everything I ever wanted to be. I am a friend or an enemy depending on your view. I’ll leave that up to you. Like my father I’ve learned not to suffer fools gladly, but I’m better at it than I once was. Most of them are harmless until they start telling you what to do. I’d like to think that what you get is what you see, but I also understand that it might not always be that way. How can it be in a world that holds such sway? After all, there are times when we have to protect ourselves and wear that mask to hide what’s real. I like to look and listen out for the quietest person in the room because often they’re the ones with the most interesting things to say. I can be rock and roll and cheeky when I want to be but I have to be comfortable in your presence to let the good times flow. I can just as easily be the quiet one in the wrong company. I have to trust the energy if I’m to open up. I am far from perfect, who is? But like so many of us, I’m trying to do my best, even if I always know that’s never going to be enough.

I am the people who mean so much to me. The happiness, the regret, the fun and the pain they have sought in me. I am life and death. We all are Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I am the blue sky up above and the earth beneath my feet. I am the little things that bring contentment: a cup of tea, an early evening stroll, a good film, an easy book or a quiet conversation. I am never black and white, happier instead to inhabit the grey areas where real connection and possibility lie. I am love and hate. More love now I hope. I am what I have been and the person I still strive to be. I’m changing every day. I always will be. I am my mother and father’s wisdom. I am everything and nothing at all. I am the silence and the noise inside my head. I live inside the empty spaces where some of us fear to tread. I am the same in some people’s eyes. I am the person they want me to be. It’s why people go away, to be themselves again. I am different to the wilderness I inhabit on a daily basis. A place where the spirit is squeezed until it gasps for breath. But often we need to experience the wildness of the waves if we are to find the anchor. I am the uncertainty that comes with stability. I can be bored and excited at the same time. I am the person sitting in Simon’s Coffee Shop on George’s Street watching the world go by, looking out for the characters who make me feel that this world of ours is okay. That all is not lost. That there are people out there who truly know what it is to be alive. The people who are worth fighting for. The ones who question what it is to be. I am the people I like to be around. I am the shopper in Supervalu wondering why a couple arguing over which toothpaste to buy don’t just buy both and go home. It’s part of being on your own. I will always be the restless part of me.

 I am the wonder inside. I am the light and the dark depending on the day. I am the Monday morning blues and an easy Saturday afternoon. I am so misunderstood that I struggle even to understand myself. I am the people who inspire me. I am proud, separate, and more often than not I’m more comfortable walking in the opposite direction to the crowd. There’s something about a quieter road that allows me to hear myself think. I am strong, but fragile too. I am the people who mean so much still but probably don’t even know it. The ones I will always trust to be themselves and tell me what I need to know.

I am who I am.

So who are you?