According to my mind, most of the time, I am a 37-year-old female named Gina Tang who needs authentic creativity to thrive. I have three daughters (with two fathers between them), and a few straggling succulents. I call myself writer, dancer, poet, artivist, teacher, student, lover, friend, mother, daughter, sister, healer, servant, hostess, partner, employee, and on down the line.
The point of this question seems to poke deeper.
Because these are all roles; ways to interact with the world, and all of its moving parts. These are parts to play. These are parts of who I am.
So who do I think I am?
Who I think I am, according to my mind, cannot possibly be right all of the time. Because my mind is informed, shaped, influenced, and molded by stories, beliefs, judgments, opinions, conditions, and on down the line. External, even arbitrary, forces.
Without shame, I would go as far as to say that my mind has been damaged by society. I'll think I am wrong, unworthy, misplaced, stifled, inadequate, unwelcome. I'll distract and devalue myself rather than lean into a full trust of life, and my inherent right to play.
Then I'll snap back awake and remember:
I am a distinct expression of whatever-god-is. Love. Spirit. Life Force. I am a cellular event, exactly like a star, brilliant and temporary flash of light, body-mind extension of The Big Hand.
I can change my mind. The definitions around how I experience myself may grow and expand. There are wormholes, everywhere. I'm in a conditioning compost-bin.
I am an experience in the making.
I am a living example.
I am being human.
I am full of surprises.
I am a force of nature.
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