We all have an identity that we believe is who we truly are. As if that identity is static from birth to death. It is how we define ourselves. Ask me who I am and the reply will be – I am me. A man. A son. A brother. A father. A husband. Yes yes of course. But who are you really? What is this thing called identity? I have been so many different identities. Dishwasher. Cook. Baker. Carpenter. Contractor. Salesman. Graphic designer. Firefighter. Stay at home dad. Cyclist. Lover. Tyrant. Romantic. Destroyer. And spiritual seeker. Dreamer too. But maybe an imposter as well? Have I really been any of those things? And when we lose an identity, what then? Adopt a new one? Do we add and shed identities like layers of clothing? ******* How do we ever really know who or what we are? How does belief cloak itself around us to create a way for us to show up in the world? I want to please you. I will rebel against you. I am angry. I am sad. I am generous. I am
Warning: If you’re young and healthy and never think about getting older and the world is your oyster and you are under 50 don’t read any further. “Going cold turkey”. The connotation is that we are giving something up. Usually for good. Things like heroin, or booze, or Oxy. Things that really aren’t that good for you. My cold turkey moment was bicycles. Wait. Aren’t bikes supposed to be good for you? Yes, absolutely in theory. However, in my case, not so much. Of course, I loved the feeling of riding a bicycle – the rush of the wind, the freedom of motion, the ability to push my limits, and the boost in fitness. All healthy benefits for sure. Except when crashes happen. They will and they do. Typically, it’s some road rash or bloody knees and elbows with dirt applied. In my case it’s been all the usual get offs plus head trauma. It’s the “plus head trauma” that has me hanging up the bike for good. I just can’t seem to keep from bashing my head when I do