Resources

You Don’t Know Her

by Jen Jeans

 

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.

 

 

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 wouldn’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 were 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.