Getting to the Promise

(Excerpted from The Identity Code)

by Larry Ackerman

     
Who am I? is a question that has been asked in various ways by everyone from great philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle to decidedly not-so-famous people: that jumble of "regular folk" who make their lives in the far-flung cities, towns, and villages we call home. Asking the question Who am I? makes kin of us all.

At times, you may pose the question in calm, contemplative moments, like when you're strolling along the beach at sunset as waves lap at your feet. In these moments, arriving at the answer isn't necessarily the urgent matter; rather, it is a moment of reflection, a "time-out" from the incessant demands of your daily life. In this sense, asking the question Who am I? is like a small luxury you bestow upon yourself, much as you might allow yourself a favorite treat, but only on rare occasions.

At other times, you might ask the question around the fires of growing despair. Your job has become meaningless and boring. Your daily routine seems tedious and empty. The affiliations you've relied upon to define yourself no longer seem sufficient.

Am I not a Jones, a Stern, a Tanaka, you may ask -- the child of a good family? Am I not a loyal Christian, a pious Jew, a devout Muslim? Am I not American? Or Turkish? Or Japanese, or Indian? Am I not, at least, a hardworking employee? Are these things not enough? If not, Who am I, then? Not surprisingly, your question begs for an answer. It never comes.

In fact, you may be any combination of these things; for instance, a Jones, a Christian, and a hardworking American. But none of these labels answers the question Who am I? That is because, despite their importance in how you define yourself, these labels serve to mask, rather than reveal, who you are at your core. Apart from being a member of any of these groups, you are, in the words of Walt Whitman, "a simple, separate person," independent of the customs, cultures, and conventions society imposes.

This may be a difficult notion to grasp. It may confound your view of how the world works. It may even cause you to lose your balance, if not your way. Still, it is the truth. Embrace it and you will find fresh footing that is sturdier, and more reliable, than what you have experienced in the course of your life so far.

Don't be afraid that once you've stripped away the labels, there will be nothing there. Such fear is unfounded. You are not your labels. You simply are. Learn to appreciate yourself in your most elemental form, free, if only for a moment, of the social markings we all rely on to delineate where we fit in the world.

Locating this sense of self is like being born anew. At its fullest, this sensation will make everything around you seem intensely vibrant and animated -- as though you are encountering life for the first time. What you are sensing, however, aren't the things around you; it is yourself in a heightened state of awareness. Discovering that you are here in the spiritual sense connects you to the very roots of consciousness: I am here. I exist.

As I was working to decipher my own identity code, I would often repeat to myself, I am Larry Ackerman. Not Larry, son of Jack and Anne. Not Larry, the American, the Jew, or the consultant, or any one of a dozen other labels I could claim. But, simply, Larry Ackerman, the man, the human being. This rudimentary exercise kept me centered. It kept me from taking the easy way out and just accepting the stamps society put on me, before I even knew that it had happened. Finding your "I" is the exhilarating and necessary first step in beginning your identity journey.

The answer to the question Who am I? brings with it the promise of affirmation -- nothing less than the awakening of your spirit. It is no great feat to verify that you exist in physical terms. Your five senses do this for you automatically. It is something else entirely, however, to experience yourself as aware and awake, separate from the flesh, bones, and breath we take for granted as standard signs of life.

You are not your labels. You simply are.

Experiencing this confirmation of life is a prelude to everything else you will learn and do in relation to your identity. Once you have found this feeling of life, you will be ready to discover your uniqueness as an individual and the potential it implies for how you ultimately engage the world.


Define Yourself as Separate from All Others

Within each of us lies the innate, if unconscious, knowledge that if we know who we are, we will know why we are here. We will have found our natural gyroscope, which will guide us to a wonderful place from which to engage life. On the strength of that gyroscope, all decisions will be wise decisions, and their outcomes, no matter what challenges or hardships may follow, will be the right ones.

It isn't surprising that the prospect of achieving such a keen state of being leads one to ask, How can I discover who I am?

The way to know who you are is by first defining yourself as separate from all others. Within the context of identity, separation isn't about being physically or emotionally remote from people -- physical separation isn't especially difficult to achieve, if that is what you desire, and emotional connections are essential for strong relationships.

Separation is about putting some healthy distance between yourself and other people so you can step back and see, really see, yourself within the context of your relationships. How are you different from your best friend, your brother, or mother, in terms of your personality, your values, and your talents? Consider answering these questions to be an exercise in setting boundaries that mark out turf belonging just to you, no matter how close you are to others.

Think about separation as finding some space where you can slow down and look at yourself and others objectively. The aim is to see people -- yourself included -- through fresh eyes. The feeling separation evokes is similar to the feeling you might have when you learn, or see, something for the very first time. In that instant, you are exceptionally alert; all of your senses are operating on edge in an effort to comprehend what you have just encountered.


How can I discover who I am?

What you seek in separation is independence -- the ability to think and act on your own and in your own best interests, despite what others may expect of you. Defining yourself as separate from others is about finding your own integrity as an individual. It gives you a place to live within relationships that is all your own, even in moments of greatest intensity: in the sweat of a crowded locker room after a come-from-behind victory; in heated conversation with your parent or child; or in making love, when there is, it seems, only one of you.

Put plainly, before you can know who you are, you need to know who you are not.

The act, even the prospect, of separation, however, can stir strong, unfamiliar emotions: misgivings and resistance, as well as exhilaration and hope. Each of these is a normal byproduct of the experience.

If you are like most people, the idea of separation will spark fear. Fear of being alone, of a kind of brutal rending from your daily routine and lifelines -- the relationships you've come to count on as sources of social oxygen. But for all the apprehension you may at first experience, you will likely find that being able to "stand alone" strengthens you. Facing up to the initial discomfort that aloneness may bring is a sure sign of progress. Stay with it. It is part of your passage to discovery.

In your efforts to find separate space, you may feel guilty that you are turning your back on people who need you: family and friends, among others. This response is a natural result of caring about others. It is uncalled for, however. In fact, you are developing your powers as an individual in your own right. Whether it takes you six months or six years, operating from the special turf that is yours alone will enable you to contribute to those relationships as a stronger person, with more to give.

You may also feel you are being selfish by taking time to focus on separation, especially with the express intent of detaching yourself from others -- parents, children, close friends, and associates -- who have given you so much. Perhaps you are. But taking this time isn't self-indulgent; it is self-affirming. How can you give to others if you do not also give to yourself?


What you seek in separateness is independence.

The prospect of stripping yourself, even for a moment, of the various labels you have come to take for granted in your life, of exposing yourself to questions rather than answers, is, at the very least, anxiety-producing. It can make you feel as though there will be nothing there but yawning, uncharted space once the quilts and comforters of longstanding relationships are removed. But this isn't the case at all.

Know that the shivers you feel running down your spine as you consider entering your separate space are glimmers of life, not the coming of death. You are simply preparing the way, your way, for discovery. Your task is to clear the path so that the contours of your identity can become visible to your eye, unencumbered by the burden of others' expectations.

Excerpted from The Identity Code by Laurence Ackerman. Copyright © 2005 by Laurence Ackerman. Excerpted by permission of Random House, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher