You Don’t Know Her

[Read live at International Women’s Day, Women on the Rise, Victoria, 2024]

You think you know me,
Stranger, who met me once  
You love me, or you judge me
But you only know what you see
And what you see is a mirage

You think you know me
Colleague who has worked with me
Roommate who has lived with me
Friend who has walked with me

You think you know me?

You think I know me?

They think they know me, my family
Those who watched me grow from seedling to sapling
They think they have the upper hand in understanding who I am
But often they stand furthest from the truth.

When my father was dying, I watched him as he said goodbye to the people in his life. I watched them come and go, I listened to their stories, and what they knew of him, and who they thought him to be. He was someone different to every one. It struck me that I didn’t know him. He was so much larger than I had ever imagined. There was so much more to know.

A few weeks before he died, I overheard my parents talking. My mother made a comment about me, and my father interrupted: “Listen.” He said, “You don’t know her”. He said it kindly, but my mother was silenced as the gravity of those words clashed with her understanding of the world. A world that was crumbling around her, while she flailed for something to hold on to. 

“You don’t know her”.

With these words, he was admitting that neither did he.
But he could see that there was more of me to know.
I didn’t know him,
He didn’t know me,
And from there the world opened before us

My partner – the person who is nearest to me –doesn’t claim to know me.
But she stands on the edge of my ocean with me,
Imagining my vastness,
Willing to journey forward with me,
Curious what we can discover together

I sometimes feel like I am standing in a house of mirrors. Every human in my life amplifies a different characteristic in me and reflects it back. I gather all of the images – All of their altered reflections. And I add my own image to the collage. My own version of who I think I am

But still it is not Me

There is a question that has been scribbled into the margins of everything I’ve ever written, and everything I’ve ever done. The same question that is stitched into the fabric of humanity.

Who am I?

I chased the Gods of Science, demanding they tell me the answers. Neurons and synapses and biochemistry and colliding particles. I entrenched myself in it for decades, until I came to realize that Science couldn’t tell me the answer, because Science doesn’t know.

I sought education and degrees (unconsciously seeking respect), only to learn that my accomplishments and titles have a hollow quality when I try to attach them to myself.

I travelled and adventured – only to realize that the stories are about where I’ve been, and what I’ve done, but not who I am.

Am I my moods? My emotions? Those fleeting tempests that energize and overpower? No.

I am friend, partner, sister, daughter, coach, citizen, physician… But those are my roles, they are not me.

I am not my labels.
And I am not my past.
I am of this moment,
not the last.

What is left, when I take away the accomplishments, the roles, the labels, the adjectives, the history, the stories?

It’s a question we don’t often ask, terrified that the answer will be “Nothing”.
But I notice that when I take it all away, I feel closer.
Beneath these many layers there is an Energy
When my mind is quite, I can feel it vibrate in my being.
It is bright, and warm, and alive.
Molten gold that flows through my core

Am I that?

I asked my higher power: “What will you have me know about Who I am”?

She gets the final word. She said:

You are love, my love. You are not confidence or courage or compassion or curiosity or intellect or wit or talent or wonder. Those words simply describe you. You can gather as many words about yourself as you like. Collect as many words as there are stars in the sky. Keep going. But it won’t get you any closer to the question you are trying to answer.

You are the one who holds the words
You are the one who watches the iris petals unfurl in spring
You are the one who dances in the forest to the music of the birds

My love, it is not a question you can answer in this lifetime,
or in this human form
But that does not mean you should not try

Living that question you bring you closer to me
Closer
Until someday we merge
When all of your illusions have crumbled
And you realize that you are me
And I am you
And We are everything.

–

[P.S. How does this relate to coaching? “Who am I?” is a question we all ask ourselves, at some point in this life. Lots of humans go through their entire life without ever knowing how to answer that question. Coaching is a tool that can help you get closer to your answer – or at least find new ways to live the question!]