On the True Self

 

I had planned to start with a different essay, specifically one on Lent and the role of tradition in religious experiences, but it occurred to me that I could not properly talk about religion without first talking about my idea of the true self. The true self inspires many of my thoughts–about God, about beauty and art, about truth, and even about math. I will try, in this essay, to explain my conception of the true self, so that it might inform the reader’s understanding of my future writing.

 

Have you ever had a moment where you felt the world just click into place? Where everything in you feels at home, and you could not even imagine that you would rather be somewhere else? Where just for a moment, the endless fight to be someone else ceases, and you feel totally at peace with yourself? I have experienced these moments in varying circumstances: when I am in nature, when I am with people I love, when I am creating art, and when I am in holy spaces, to name a few. In these moments, the harmony and peace I feel with the world is unity with the true self. 

 

The true self is hard to explain, as an entity. I find it difficult, and perhaps it is impossible, to define it exactly. It is something like Heraclitus’ river–you cannot step into it the same way twice. I understand the true self as someone you are meant to be–that is, some place and some thing you are meant to be doing, and there can be many different true selves at any point in time. It is easy enough to defy the true self, and we do it all the time. When we engross ourselves with the daily and the menial, and forget to seek out fulfillment, we lose sight of the true self. Indeed, maybe that is what the true self is: fulfillment. 

 

It seems obvious to me that the goal of life should be to live as close to the true self as possible, and to chase those feelings of harmony with the world. It’s very easy to get lost in things that don’t actually make us feel fulfilled–we live in a society, after all. But I also believe that the true self is constantly calling at you. I feel called to create poetry, and to love others, and to serve God, because these things are part of my true self. The true self calls constantly, if only we can open our ears and seek for it. 

 

I will spend the rest of this essay describing some experiences I have had with my true self, in the hopes that some of it might resonate with you. The first time I remember feeling at one with my true self was three years ago. Since then, I have felt it many times more, and have even been able to attribute it to previous experiences. I believe it was a calling from my true self that led me to Choate–when I was on campus for a visit, I felt an unexplainable tugging in my gut, telling me that I was home. To date this is one of the best decisions I have ever made, and has brought me fulfillment in many, many ways. But I did not attribute this to the true self then. 

 

The first time I can recall having a concrete conception of unity with the true self was a later experience, on an orchestra bus back from DC. This was the first time I fell in love. To be in love, I think, is one of the clearest signs of the true self. Love is a beautiful feeling, and one that I will talk about at length in future essays. Indeed, it was love that made me believe in God, because it is unquestionably divine. That night on the bus, I felt my heart swell with softness, shattering me and making me whole. I was surrounded on all sides by warmth, and overwhelmed with affection and laughter and gratitude and sorrow, all at once. I remember thinking, very clearly, that this was who I was meant to be. I could not have been felt more at home anywhere else, or doing anything else; all the pieces fell into place perfectly.

 

I intended to discuss an experience of my true self while creating art, but I realized that there were simply too many options; I feel at one with my true self almost every time I create art. When I write poetry, I feel the words just flow out of me, unbidden, as if they are being called out of me. This flow comes from unity with the true self–poetry is a pouring of the true self onto the page. When I dance, I feel the fulfillment fill me to my fingertips (psyche moment, anyone?). I devote my whole body to the art form, feeling the beauty, expression, and freedom of movement everywhere, down to the smallest details of the shapes I create. I feel this most strongly when I am dancing in a modern style: a style based on freedom from convention, and a style built on truth. Modern dance is raw and honest. It bares every part of the performer on stage, and thus calls the true self to the light. My poetry and dance is not always happy, and at times it can be outright painful. But it is the freedom of expression and honesty of the art forms that calls to me.

 

I will leave this for now, but will certainly return to discussion of love, art, or God at a later date. The true self has connections to almost everything in my life; one I hope to devote an essay to later is gender. This essay should serve as an introduction to what I believe about the true self, which will inform many of my future ventures. It should also give you an idea of what the flavor of these essays will generally be: disorganized musings, loosely centered around a topic. To call them essays, then, is maybe a stretch; they are more glorified journal entries than anything. But I digress. 

 

I am interested in hearing people’s thoughts on this conception of the true self, and particularly interested in hearing about other people’s experiences with the true self. While you were reading this, did any experiences come to mind? Have you felt a similar unity with the world? If so, I would love to talk about them with you–please feel free to reach out to me, as I am always an avid enjoyer of hearing about other people’s lives.

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ADDENDUM: It occurs to me that in this piece I do not draw a good distinction between feeling one with the true self or feeling fulfilled, and feeling comfort. Of course the object of life should not be to feel comfortable all the time. I have felt at one with my true self in moments of great discomfort, like the feeling of exhaustion and pain after fulfilling physical exertion or the sorrow and grief of mourning and honoring a beloved family member after their passing. The true self cannot be limited by happiness or comfort, and at times, discomfort is necessary to find the full expression of the calling of the true self.