Who You Are

Who are you? My answer to most questioners is a husband and father. But obviously, given the existence of this blog, I should also include Motorcyclist. It is interesting, isn't it, how different people answer this question. A lot of people when asked will tell you the title of their jobs or the field of their careers.

I just found myself wondering what happens to one's self image when one's life changes. I guess an alcoholic is always an alcoholic, but an alcoholic that stops drinking is no longer a drunk. A motorcyclist who gives up his motorcycle, either willingly or against his will...can he still be a motorcyclist? What of a husband who loses his wife?

What is now always has been and will forever be. Personal identification is clearly an arbitrary and intellectual exercise. I think that's why I started this blog with the statement, "I am a motorcyclist. For a long time I was a motorcyclist without a motorcycle. Now I am a motorcyclist with a motorcycle and I am happy." I didn't have a bike but I knew I was a motorcyclist.

I'll always be a parent. It is at the core of my personal identity. I will always be a husband. That too is at the core of my identity.

I look forward to my continuing evolution as a person, man, human. What will I become in the future? I can only guess. But I do know who I am right now.

The Seed

The man dug a small hole in the ground and in it placed a seed. For days and weeks he tended the seed - watering and fertilizing and weeding and loving. After a while the man started to tend to the seed less and less often and eventually he just gave up. The man hadn't known what kind of seed he'd planted. After all, he was no gardener. He'd assumed the seed would grow quickly and he'd be able to enjoy the fruit from the vine or the beauty of flowers. The seed was bad and was never going to grow.

While the man was away and after many, many months the seed did sprout.

The son of the man, a man himself now - a lifetime later - on a sunny, hot, windless, perfect summer day, sat down and leaned against the trunk of a tree, (he didn't know what kind of tree. After all, he was no arborist.) But he enjoyed the cool shade that the tree offered and appreciated how the leaves, tickled by breezes he could not detect, danced and shivered against the blue sky.

Don't ever ask "where should we plant seeds?" "What kind?" "For whom?" Rather, plant seeds, whatever kind you have, wherever you are and for whomever may come along.