Identity 

When I was asked for a picture and a small bio of myself, I had to think. Paused for quite some time. In fact I have mulled over it for 2 days before I responded to an email. 

Who am I? I even resorted to googling myself. It was quite interesting! 

So who am I? How do we define ourselves? Why is it important for us to have a tangible thing to sayin which gives us identity? Does that sound strange? Why do we have an identity? This is a time to stop and just think about that. 

I have no answer to that question. Just a blank mind, ok it goes around in loops for a while trying to rationalise why we do. Why has my mind created everyone outside me individual and why do I judge someone by the way they look. It’s hard not to, to the simplest form if I saw a Tibetan monk in front of me I’d feel calm and like that dude there he’s cool he won’t judge me and I have respect for him. Why can’t this be for everyone? I’d like to say I don’t judge but thinking about it I must have this degree of judgement from appearance. Why? Conditioning. 

So we are all floating book covers. I thought. We’ve got to read everyone. But you still judge a book by it’s cover. And so we do try hard with our appearance because we all know we judge or how we look radiates the person we are basically, even if that appearance you work on is manners or tone of voice or no voice.  

Is it an excuse to say we are all on different paths? And by appearance we can see who we feel is on ours? By placement maybe? By location? By association of symbols and signs we all carry with us to radiate and attract what we know. It seems cut off. I know I can learn from everyone. We are all on the same path just fragmented. Maybe the world is full of every ending possible and that’s why it’s so varied, good and bad.

Iv gone on a huge tangent. Why do we feel we need to have an identity? I wrote saying what I do, like thats my identity?!.. I am part of four ladies who run the shop No.11 in Blackburn, I’m co-curating Blackburn Print fest, I’m part of a new art group called ‘desolate’, then I wrote words that summed me up without explaining like I’m a full time mum, a vegan, a blogger, a poet, a freelance artist. So is it my identity? No, no I don’t think so. Something doesn’t sit right. 

Paused.

I want to write…

I AM BOUNDLESS. AND SO ARE YOU. What we define ourselves by is past and future and right in this moment what am I? (Well I’m full of a cold, I’m fat, I’m in bed. That’s my ego!… Shut up) … I AM BOUNDLESS, I am one and I am INFINITE. INFINITE. INFINITE INFINITE INFINTE YES YOUR INFINITE YES YOU YOU THERE READING YOUR INFINITE I N F I N I T E and then maybe make sense of this in your head till it sinks in like brainwashing yourself …you are boundless and infinite.

Maybe we spend our whole lives searching and building and finding our identity, to then work at stripping it away. Stripping it away. To nothing. Maybe that’s identity. I’m sure in another language they have a word that sums up my frustration with trying to express what I want to here with the English language. 

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