January 3rd, 2023
At the start of each year, most people enthusiastically contrive a New Years Resolution. The prototypical makeup of any given resolution falls into three categories, [1] healthier living (eating, sleeping, exercise), [2] skill acquisition/improvement, or [3] self-growth (relationship, travel, family). Most resolutions last about 4 weeks. To be vocally self-critical, I've been guilty of this many times. Aware of the vacuum of self-discipline embedded in the modern human condition, some people instead pick a single word for the year to meditate on, both daily and situationally, at the precipice of decisions or in moments of stillness. Others - the "free thinker" types - consciously avoid any novel behavior or action-based decree for the new year out of defiance for the "artificial nature of time". Everyone has their schtick.
I learned recently of a man who wrote an autobiography in a very interesting way. Every Sunday, his son called him with a prompt. The man was tasked with answering the prompt over the course of that week. At the end of the year, he'd written an autobiography - 52 questions, 52 answers, 1 book. I loved this idea. It resonates with my deep desire to write (part of what I hope is a fruitful career as an author), as well as my desire to have a discipline or practice lasting an entire year. It's a real challenge when you stop to consider the commitment. My New Year's resolution 5 years ago was to begin writing, so fittingly, I've decided to undertake this challenge for 2023.
One problem, I'm not old enough nor wise enough to craft an autobiography of substance. Imposter syndrome sets in contemplating the idea that I've somehow earned the right to tell the story of my life, let alone, that anyone might find it interesting. As I look to the stack of unread books on my shelf, to the multiple failed relationships in my rear view window, to the rent payment in my inbox, or to a half-dozen cognitive blind spots I continue to tackle, I'm certain that more time must pass before I write the story of my life. In the same breath, I understand that the sentiment I just expressed is absent the depth and color of the 27 years I have experienced: the week I spent in Colombia, the business case competitions in Australia and New Zealand, 3 years on the road in temporary domiciles, the 96 published posts on my blog, the life-savings surgeries in 2018 and 2019. I am not ignorant to the uniqueness of my journey, and there is much to comment on.
How do I reconcile these juxtaposing beliefs and still satiate my desire to complete a vast contemplative exercise such as this? I am reminded of Marcus Aurelius' Meditations, which he wrote to himself, along the war trail, with no intention of ever publishing. It was, in the purest sense, a true contemplative exercise. It was repetitious discipline in service to his higher self. And I realized, that is what I have been doing all these years writing, how could this be any different? Why assign a certain magnitude to this project that I'd not assigned to all my previous? And so I decided, that question, the question of juxtaposing beliefs, would become the entire basis for this project. How does one truly know themselves - what they're worth, what they believe, what their journey has been - if they do not quietly and diligently explore their mind, querying their conscience for answers? Many people claim to not know who they are and what their path should be. They look to the world, to substances, to others for answers. Why not instead look inward? What I believe is reflective of how I act. What I enjoy is reflective of how I spend my time. What my journey in life has been, what I've learned, what mistakes I've made - it all lies in the experiences of my life. And only this way, through a concerted effort to introspect, reflect, extrapolate and understand, can one ascertain their true self.
This project is called Who are you? Who am I?
I'll use the same system as the man and his son, 52 weeks, 52 prompts, but I'll focus on more than just the chronological, autobiographical narration of my life. I'll integrate more specific and general topics throughout the course of the year. Each month will have a theme. Some topics will cover a range of experiences, some will be philosophical inquiries that force introspection, and some will be open-ended discussions about friendship, family, career, and meaning. In this way, I hope the project is unique, as I attempt to grasp a multi-faceted perspective of my past, think actively in the present and understand myself better for the future.
Comments
Post a Comment