What’s at the Center?

“I am bigger on the inside/But you have to come inside to see me” Amanda Palmer

It’s a Saturday morning in between rain showers, the chimes outside tinkle every now and then when the wind catches them. A small group of women meet at a kitchen table room to talk. We gather once a month to share our lives and our concerns and to reflect on a variety of topics. Today’s topic is about centering ourselves with a focus on feelings, experiences, and ways to promote such centering more frequently. It’s a safe space.

Though I walk into the group with questions, I walk out with more that I must consider on own. My mind working overtime, leads me to whether the voice I hear is a true representation of my identity. One’s identity must be more than simply knowing one’s name, address, phone number, marital status, parent status, language, meal preferences. How is identity created, explored or foisted upon us? Is finding our center about confirming identity? Or does identity help carve out a path to the center? And will knowing identity help us take the next step, make the right choice?

Personally, I like to think of Whitman’s version of identity: ‘I am large, I contain multitudes” or perhaps Bernice Zamora’s “My divisions are infinite.” There are less poetic versions of identity, too. According to an article in Psychology Today that asserts “Identity encompasses the memories, experiences, relationships, and values that create one’s sense of self [which] creates a steady sense of who one is over time.” As new facets are encountered, they are developed and incorporated into identity.

Of course, as a teacher and mentor, one critical facet of who I am, I’ve spent plenty of time urging students to explore identity by identifying their values, habits, mindsets, etc, mostly so that they may write with the conviction of their own beliefs — not mine. Moving to our center can help us set aside the “assignments of others” someone once said, to find our true self. My students read books to find out about others and learn about themselves. And you can bet we raise the BIG questions.

Questioning ourselves isn’t just an empty theoretical exercise. To know who we are, we must know what matters. As Socrates says, inscribed on the temple of Apollo at Delphi for good reason, “Know thyself.” Knowing ourselves is a step of maturity, no matter what age we are.

My take on identity might also come from a slightly different perspective, as I walk with my students crafting stories of their own imagination. We spend plenty of time sharing the flaws, wants, wounds, and needs of our characters. Not only must each writer decide how these will show up in their stories, but whether they will be resolved.

In “Who Am I?: Identity as a Theme in YA Literature” Sara Letourneau explores some of the questions writers have by connecting us to the consciousness and experience of youth. In the hands of writers, she explains, identity will often involve a choice, a move toward acceptance or a problem that tangles up the path of the protagonist. In her article, she finds several iterations of identity seeking, including those who must fight for identity as teens ask, “Why is it so hard to be who I want to be?” How fundamentally will our characters grow as they learn from life’s challenges?

Letourneau reiterates that to tell the story the character wants to tell, writers must intimately know their characters. Beyond the “favorite” interview of music, drinks, etc. and beneath the enneagram and myers-briggs tests, we must find those critical elements of identity and how one moves through their world. Is it safe to be who they are?

• Protagonists might discover themselves by possessing the traits of those they admire.
• Protagonists can be torn between who they are and who important others want them to be — a writer vs a computer scientist, a good mom vs. an artist — and battles may ensue.
• Protagonists who face “important others” –parents, kings, friends or siblings–the pressure to hide who they are and to conform to a situation will potentially oppress or limit growth.
• Protagonists may face the challenge of being deemed unacceptable — shift shapers among those who outlawed magic, gay teens in a traditional family, or members of that poor family– identity is rarely a simple path from A to B.

Past decisions can haunt, consequences await, and complexity becomes apparent.

Of course, “they” is not an exclusive pronoun, the search for identity and our center is a task pursued by all of humanity.

I must know my characters well enough to tell their story, so I take up the questions of identity as an author. In the novel I’ve been writing, the protagonist discovers a piece of her identity has been buried under secrets. Her parents gone, her sisters taken by a family member that simply shows up, she faces a decision in which either choice will take her from the only home she has known, felt safe and loved. Responsibility will lead her away from the familiar, but will she continue to close herself off from the possibilities? And if she opens up, what will influence her enough to accept change and claim her identity? Will she have the courage to make the identity shift necessary? Have I?

Moving forward on this story has felt like moving through a maze. What will my protagonist discover? How does what she discover about her parents lead to self-discovery? I ask and come up blank. At this point in the story, no one knows her name or who her parents are. She has refused to give her identity, to acknowledge who she is. On one hand, she fears losing the person she has been, forced to accept the secrets her parents kept and their consequences. On the other, who is she if she doesn’t survive to stand testament to those she has lost?

Having started the story after grieving for my parents (as if that’s a finite experience), I wondered about the secrets that died with them, struggling with how to navigate life, identity and family without their guidance and love. With more written now than I could ever have imagined, more than I ever have, I still have yet to find the finish line, and I have just as many questions about writing a novel, about my main character, and my parents’ lives, than when I started.

As I wait for my protagonist to tell me and she apparently waits for me to guide her, I know I must be quiet. I must listen for the small voice inside. Center, ground, listen. Center. Ground. Listen.

Even when we think we know the answers, life has a way of twisting and upending to challenge us to look again, and look we must, deep inside of us. I am aware that I must go deeper to the roots of this human experience. It’s been reassuring to have a group that acknowledges the challenges faced when we assert who we are and how we struggle with ourselves to not only know but also accept who we are. Can I really be brave and move from writer to novelist?

Saturday discussions not only confirm that I must find center to find truth but also re-confirm my need to push through to the end of the novel. This group of women feels safe, a place for priorities and relationships that matter, and a spirit of exploration to find our center.

What awaits me in the year that lies ahead? Will it be tough? Can I focus and refocus? My heart is glad to find reassurance that I’m not alone.

What are your questions? What answers come to mind? Share in comments!

• What awaits you in this year?
• What do you need to center on?
• How will you focus and refocus your lens on your goal ahead?
• What does identity mean to you and how do you put your finger on the concept?