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