What's In a Name?

A recent question Jennifer Knapp posted on her blog got me to thinking about the ways I define myself. Beyond the usual daughter, friend, conservative, financial analyst, lover, or what have you how do I see myself really? It's an existential question, to be sure, but I've been thinking more in terms of what I want my life to stand for?

I recently spent a week in Santa Fe, letting the rhythm of my own breath plot out the course of my days. It was an exceedingly liberating time where I could tune into my own pulse, listen for God whispering to me on the morning breeze and see if any of the labels I have given myself over my life really fit any more. I know, I know. It sounds like the start of some sort of mid-life crisis, but it really wasn't like that. I had given myself the gift of silence and learned very quickly how valuable a gift it really was.

For most of my life, I've allowed myself to be defined by how other people view me, and for the most part that hasn't been a bad thing. Honestly, who doesn't like to be called friend, confidante, encourager, ally, lover? And I don't think those aren't labels one can really give to oneself, not if they are to be meaningful. The people who have so named me are precious to me. They are part of the tapestry of my life that has given heft and richness and I thank God every day for each and every one of them.

There were the labels that have been given to me by employers and colleagues that always made me sound like I was part Girl Scout and part Labrador Retriever. Not that being thought of as reliable, conscientious, hard-working, or dedicated is a bad thing, but I've never been comfortable with those. As true as they may be, they feel too confining. The expectations that go along with those labels seem to deny what else is true of me: I am not my job.

In the silence of my Santa Fe retreat, I allowed my thoughts to turn to what words I use to describe me. Musician, writer, poet, survivor. I felt proud of myself for identifying with those labels. But there were other words I felt less comfortable with. Co-opted, compromised, complacent. When had that happened? When did I decide that settling was okay? When did I trade my reach for my grasp? Where were the labels I wanted to be true about me? Content, fulfilled, growing, free.

I don't have the answers yet, but I'm working on them. I think that's part of what it means to be human. Not having the answers yet, but seeking them. So for now, I'll add another label that I think I can live with: Seeker.