My friend Dean Rotbart believes you are three different persons:
1: The person you believe yourself to be.
2: The person others believe you to be.
3: The person you really are.
I would venture to say that most of us are bit more than three renditions of self … but three has symmetry so we’ll stick with it.
There is a magnificent ME when the light dapples the dying gold maple leafs of autumn in amber syrup of sunshine … this is a sweet, deep, content, contemplative soul soaking in the beauty of life.
There is the ME that is running behind again, as usual, who is distracted, defracted, disinchanted and a grumpy rumpled mess of a man … barking like a seal at other drivers for no other reason than they have the misfortune to be on the same road at the same time … I become a petty little shadow of who I want ME to be.
There is the ME I catch glimpses of from the corner of my eye … spoken about in garbled whispers that I can’t quite make out … hints, allegations, intimations but something tells me this is the realest ME … and so deeply private even I won’t get to meet him.
Me is a jumble of bits and bobs, a quilt of this and thats woven into a story that is usually short on facts but rich in details.
Me isn’t a center ring solo high wire act …
Who I am is as much about who I am with …
… and when I am around you and the other wizardy wahoos.
My wild comes out of the closet and my weird comes home to roost …
… and I howl at the moon and bark at sky and can’t explain the reason but I think I know why.
Cause you see … Me is mostly made of We.