Hello from a rather sparse space,
Sometimes we find ourselves in situations unexpected, and the reasons are general more than some simple cause/effect sort of dialectic. And as importantly, or maybe more so, it is the consequence of a basic character trait, and even a perceived strength, but something that has been demonstrated or practiced for much of someone’s life. Recently, I noted some of my areas of struggle, the traits that make me uniquely who I am. And the being generous is certainly an admirable quality, but it is something that has brought both a sense of joy or happiness as well as some pain and disillusionment. At the moment the duality of that characteristic practice, which a Great-aunt once told me was apparent before I was two years old has my brain working in circles. Even today, as I take a sort of inventory of my life situation, I can see how choice not merely in the past months have been more concomitant than expected, but over even the past four or five years. Things decided, paths taken, circumstances experienced can collectively change the trajectory of something or someone. Much like how something even minimally out of square might, over a greater distance create a significant building problem.
Since retirement, which I am still comfortable – maybe, perhaps, maybe not, with, I have grappled, scrapped, or felt broadsided by, what I thought I had prepared for and what has happened has not been perhaps even close to what I imagined. I am not sure if it is because I uprooted most of what I had, be it location, space, belongings, or a combination of, I was not nearly as ready as I thought I would be. I do not think it is merely the change in schedule or responsibilities, I think it is, in a large part, due to a change in identity. As I sit in the Gathering Place on this early Monday afternoon, I am in a space I have (cumulatively) spent days. It is a place where a former dean (and not of my college), remembered me as the professor-who-had-office-hours there. As I sit here. today, two years removed from the classroom, I know almost no one, recognize only a few, and feel somewhat like the old man in the corner, in spite of being told I do not look or act my age, which I take as a compliment. What is different is the role I currently have as I sit here in a familiar place, but with more and more unfamiliar people. I am no longer the professor with an office on the third floor of Bakeless. I am no longer the advisor to Professional Writing students, nor the director of that program. And while my current life does not eliminate those roles once occupied, their completion and a life moved on creates a new primary identity for me. The current question is rather simple. What is that identity? What makes me of importance? Do I need to be of importance? And if so to whom and for what?
Identity is such an incredible concept, as well as a powerful element of our humanity. As noted by Anthony Giddens’s, the British social theorist, we all have subjectivities. In his structuration theory, he noted “[we] are not passive but [we] actively shape society through [our] actions, while simultaneously being shaped by the social structures [we] inhabit. He called that reflexivity. In the roles we are given (are fousted upon us), those subjectivities, each one creates part of our identity. The influence, be it less or more, of each role changes depending on our given circumstance. As I was telling someone the other day, for the majority of my adult life the places I occupied, the jobs or professions I had allowed me significant control of my space, from server/bartender to pastor, from Greek Instructor to professor, when I met someone, stood up in front of the congregation to in front of the class or met a student, I had some significant influence on that situation. At this point, I seldom have any control, except of myself. To return to Giddens, what does this allow or require? The changes are both a requirement and an opportunity to construct an identity in a more fluid and self-reflexive way, drawing from a wider range of cultural influences. This has been the context of the past year as I am far from my comfort zone. Even just this morning I am working to arrange, to logistically manage things still in TN. There are so many pieces to my literal moving puzzle at the moment, and this is where I realize the importance of what might at time be considered mundane to the general comfort of our daily life, of our existence. It connects more often than not to asking what makes us feel successful or accomplished? What provides us a sense of worth or value? A year ago I was selling, giving away, dumpstering the great majority of the things I had accumulated. The question I asked was not “Do I want it?” or “Do I need it?” The question was “Will I use it?”
What provides a sense of well-being for someone? It is merely stuff? Is it the balance in your bank account? Certainly, more often than not, I have bought into that idea, the cultural expectation that success is determined by one’s dwelling place, on the commas on the balance sheet. That success equals strength. And yet, as I sit this morning on a bench (not the Group W bench) listening to waves, watching the sun over the water, I struggle with the juxtaposition of being here was expensive, though I am honored to be asked, and merely stepping away for a moment to ponder the reality of daily life. I can tell that I am sort of swirling because I am writing daily. I am feeling unsettled in some areas and hopeful in others. I am feeling incapable in some significant ways and accomplished and valued (respected) in others. I know that daily life has those challenges, but for some reason they seem more conspicuous, more profound, at the moment. While always be a ponderer, an analyzer, it seems that those traits are taking up the majority of any moments that are not intentionally scheduled with something else. From merely noticing more about my surroundings to wondering what everyone does, what are their professions? Or what do they do to feel successful? It seems that I have an increased sense of vulnerability. Is that an inner fear or fortitude? Is it a resilience, a sense of courage or perseverance? Much of my life has been spent wondering the how and why, not only about life but the beyond as well. How does daily life and our navigation of it connect to the sacred, to the numinous? Is vulnerability to that numinous equate to a sacred strength? Perhaps so. Presently, I surely hope so. There is a truth and honesty in vulnerability. There is both taking a chance and believing in the comforting promise of baptism and the Holy Spirit. The dialectic of Luther seems alive and working for me.
Thanks as always for reading,
Michael
thewritingprofessor55 