an enemy called identity

Yesterday, after a very hot afternoon I decided to go outside and water the garden. Like most people, I used to love jumping through the sprinklers and play water games on those long summer days. The feeling of cold water cooling your body is probably one of the best associated with childhood. And so I took the hose and watered the dry, thirsty plants and trees. While doing so, you feel like you have an infinite power…like you’re God and have control over this tiny patch of nature called your garden.

Funny thing is, I told my fiancée about that strange experience and, once I was lying in bed, I could hear a strong wind rushing through the open windows. A flashing light entered the room and a roaring sound could be heard far away. However, in what seemed like a very short time, the powerful thunder and lightning and hard rain and strong winds were right above the house. It then dawned on me that God decided to show me how one waters nature properly. And I could hear him say:

“Son, good try…but this is how it’s done!”

All of this really inspired what is written below…that we too often let our purpose be clouded by our struggle (and/or search for identity), when all we need to know is that we are God’s children. We may have a grand plan for the near future…just like my small, simple plan was to water the garden, assuming and speculating that it was going to stay hot and dry all night. But out of nowhere, a storm may arrive and you will have to adapt to those new circumstances. More than often it’s a sobering thought that we are not really in control of our lives. And to trust is something we cannot and don’t always want to do.

***

an enemy called identity

stepping out of the house from my childhood

a scent of freshly washed nature hits my nose

reminding me of the many times I smelled a new morning

with a new face

with new thoughts, ideas, hopes and dreams.

as I climb into the car

there is a passenger joining me

a faceless figure without voice

who just stares at me

and the person I have become.

without judgment in those blurry eyes

i feel his presence close to me

and a telepathic communication ensues

where neither of us speak

only silence pervades the space between us

we are one

and yet not the same.

without realizing it

the figure tries to force me out of the car

to push me off the road on which I’m travelling

he is angry for no reason

and it consumes his every pore

like humid, sweltering heat

drawing out the sweat

he cannot shake off the pain and hurt

that is tightly stuck on him.

resistance is the only way to stay in control

or so it seems

and so I push back

using force against force

and we are caught up

in a deadlock of confusion

who is who

am I him

or is he me

and the truth is we don’t know

but we are just focusing on each other

and the things we hate

the things that make us fight

and I can only see how the car is driving towards a cliff

or, more realistically, into oncoming traffic

my hands are off the steering wheel

both of us start to look ahead

and we anticipate the crashing together of metal.

but the cars move out the way and let me pass through

against all belief

the fighting has stopped

i am holding on to the steering wheel

wanting control

i look to my side

trying to identify the figure in the passenger seat

where did he come from and why is he still here

it suddenly occurs to me

that he is an enemy

and distracting me from driving in the right direction

an enemy called identity

who messes with my brain

incepting my dreams

altering the understanding of who I am

who I have become.

a soft voice enters my heart

telling me to let go

to let myself fall out of this car headed for

an unknown destination

a place far away in the past

where nothing grows

a desert without provision

a sea without a breeze.

with one last glance at my foe

i open the door

lean over the side

dropping down towards the moving ground

in a flash my body spins, tumbles and rolls

through a poppy field in bloom

i watch how my car drives off into the distance

my soul waves goodbye

to a part of me that will keep coming back

to check whether I know and remember

that someone greater now holds his hand over me

protects me from the storm.