Like so many, I have given too much energy this life to being everything but who I am, because who and what I am seemed useless and valueless to the world.
I have come to know that who and what I am is valuable, even when “useless”
Though part of me still doubts… and calls out
“Help me. Help me know again who and what I am, so that I may let go of all this falsity.”
My father once said to me –
in a quiet exclamation of dismay that rang through time like an accusation—
“You don’t know who you are.”
He was right, but did he know any better?
Did he know who he was? …Who I was?
What did he see that I was not seeing?
Some years on, during a tense discussion, I paraphrased back to him what I was hearing: “You mean, I am what I do?”
“Yes, “ he said, even as I felt him shaken awake and reconsidering,
silently sifting the layers of truth and untruth there.
And then, more years later, as he was losing the ability to speak,
he told me he was proud of me, of my spiritual diligence.
We had now both glimpsed who we were, who the other was and who we both are.
The knowing brought us closer, though we did not speak of it.
Speaking fell away. There was only falling into it.
…until he fell through.
…And I am left here,
Still knowing, and yet ever trying to remember,
Calling “Help me. Help me. Let it be enough.”