A moment of existentialism...

I am fascinated with the concept of 'the self.' I never grow tired of asking myself, "Who am I? Why do I do what I do? What makes me an individual? Why do I think the way I do? What causes the differences between two people?

The more questions I ask the more traits (or labels) I come up with. For example: I ask questions, because I am inquisitive. I have a strong sense of what is right and what is wrong, making me consistent. I lack a sense of inferiority, which has developed within me an internal confidence. I find success in my varying aspirations therefore I am talented. I think first with my head then feel with my heart making me pragmatic.

The interesting thing is that people, when speaking of themselves or the people they consider 'theirs', tend to twist everything toward the positive. Inquisitive, consistent, confident, talented and pragmatic can just as easily be labeled control seeker, rigid, superior, anal and detached. Even more ironically amusing is that I hate the very concept of labeling- I think it stunts a persons potential to grow- yet, I find myself doing that very thing on a daily basis, because I am a contradiction.

It's for this same reason I hate introductions and/or visiting with infrequent acquaintances. People always come away with such foreshortened perceptions, which bothers me to no end. My prior bishop, upon meeting my husband and I for the first time, looked at me and said, "I can see that you are both intelligent and artistic by your glasses, the way you speak and the clothes you're wearing." I could feel myself getting hot and my face turning red as I clawed my nails into the top of my thighs. I was so furious that he would make such an assumption that it was a real struggle to appear somewhat normal. All I could think was, "You know nothing about me!" Upon later reflection I concluded that I may have somewhat over reacted.

I think the reason I despise labeling and at the same time seek to do it myself is because often I feel so fluid in nature that I fear I may dissolve at any moment. I feel myself grasping onto labels to feel somewhat grounded, to give me solidity and focus. But, I do not want to be called intelligent because some days I feel a simple mind sees more. I do not like being called artistic because it puts me in a box. If you give me the label I will have to live up to it or decidedly veer from it. People don't see varying nuances in personality or character very well. You are either good or bad, pretty or plain, talented or average, rich or poor, smart or dumb, black or white and whichever you are depends entirely on the perspective of the one giving the label. (Perhaps, labels speak just as much- if not more- about the bestow-er than the recipient?)

Upon being completely written out and having nothing more to say I shared my thoughts with my husband. He reached for a book on the shelf and shared the following paragraph with me:

"It seems to give [the natural man] a sense of security to have a concrete idea of who he is and to identify strongly with it. But this is a false security, given his imperfect thought processes and his impure heart. He is projecting solidity on something that is really more fluid and will give way in the light of persistent awareness. It will help him to realize that the self-idea is largely a telestial-world fabrication that limits him spiritually.*"

It is a comfort to know I am not alone and that my wandering thoughts aren't singular- though far less concise. For as much as we strive for individuality there is something so liberating about shared thoughts, feelings and ideas.

And even though I may be grasping at straws I can't help thinking that today I am part dreamer, part seeker of patience, part doer of hard things and part creator (a label we all share with our Godly Father, proving labels at their core aren't flawed, but are tools being used by imperfect beings.)

*Light in the Wilderness, M. Catherine Thomas, pg 97