About

When I come across a new blog, I often go straight to the ‘About’ page.

Before reading what someone’s written, I want to know who they are. This seems to be largely ego driven, though – because what I really want to know is if they’re like me.

Do we share the same values? Are we at a similar stage of life? Do they have some knowledge or experience that will benefit me?

And, importantly, can I trust them?

It’s a strange habit, at least from an artistic point of view.

After all, what someone writes should speak for itself. If a child hands me a drawing of a pink elephant, do I really need an accompanying bio? And if I demand to see Picasso’s Census form before looking at his paintings, I think I might be missing the point!

Of course, the ‘About’ page is a very selective portrayal of one’s identity, anyway.

And it changes over time, too. (How boring would life be if it didn’t?)

But the real dilemma is this: the labels we use can’t possibly capture the essence of who we are. At best, they depict a half-truth, and a fleeting one at that.

Because we’re more than our age: 38, our gender: male, or where we live: Australia.

We’re more than the things we enjoy – playing football, singing, swimming in the ocean.

Equally, we’re more than the letters on our personality test – I’m an INTJ.

Or the spiritual tradition we follow – I practise Vedic meditation.

Or even the people we love and the values we hold most dear.

Before all else, we are consciousness – or perhaps the trillions of cells that make up a human body.

What else is there to say?

Each time I post something, I feel a sense of fear – and that probably means I should press on.

I’m inspired in part by the late poet-songwriter Leonard Cohen who spoke, with great humility, of the yearning to:

“find a voice, to locate a voice; that is, to locate a self.”^[1]

I think it’s incredible how many different people live on this planet. And there are moments when I’m with people who I love and feel at ease with where life just seems so wonderful.

Sometimes though, when I’m alone, I feel a sense of connection with nature and even the universe.

I get a lot of fulfilment from writing, too. And yet I don’t think the truth of who we are can be put into words. Words are, after all, like a finger pointing to the moon – but they’re not the moon itself, and they can never really do it justice.

Maybe the best I can say then is that I’m alive and, like everyone else, am evolving.

break

— Jason M. Deutsch

space

[1] Leonard Cohen on finding his voice (canongate.co.uk); Leonard Cohen: How I Got My Song Speech at the Prince Asturias Awards – Online Speech Bank (americanrhetoric.com)