I couldn't. Because to say I was nobody would be a lie.

To have let that escape would have meant singing that tired old song; those lyrics about my being invisible that once seemed so true but had long been exposed as a lie. That falsehood was layed to rest through healing the wounds of divorce and finally, finally having the relationship I always wanted to have... with myself. I st

Who Are You?

Has anyone ever approached you and asked "Who ARE you?" That very thing recently happened to me. I was asked that exact question a few weeks ago at a powerful four-day symposium I attended. The group at this event was one I’d describe as particularly clear, present and peaceful. It was one of those rare opportunities in life when a gathering of virtual strangers seems like family. And it was the loving acceptance I felt among this group of almost one hundred that enabled me to be absolutely connected to that animating life force that drives everything I do and everything I am.

One day I was strolling by myself down the hotel corridor where the symposium was held. About 30 yards ahead of me was a man who was also attending this function but who I hadn't met yet. Since we were both walking in the same direction, I don't know how it was that he sensed me from behind at such a distance. But suddenly, he did a complete about-face and asked loudly "Who ARE you?" with a tone suggested I was someone worth meeting.

Even though I knew he was really curious about me, I found myself unable to answer at first. I had an urge to look behind myself for the someone else he must have been talking to. But knowing we were alone, I felt like saying "Who me?"

It was strange how off-guard he caught me. Should I just say my name? What would that really tell him about me anyway? Or should I tell him what I do? The oddest and perhaps most telling thing was that what wanted to slip out of my lips was "Oh me? I'm nobody." But I didn't. I couldn't. Because to say I was nobody would be a lie.

To have let that escape would have meant singing that tired old song; those lyrics about my being invisible that once seemed so true but had long been exposed as a lie. That falsehood was layed to rest through healing the wounds of divorce and finally, finally having the relationship I always wanted to have... with myself. I sto

e family. And it was the loving acceptance I felt among this group of almost one hundred that enabled me to be absolutely connected to that animating life force that drives everything I do and everything I am.

One day I was strolling by myself down the hotel corridor where the symposium was held. About 30 yards ahead of me was a man who was also attending this function but who I hadn't met yet. Since we were both walking in the same direction, I don't know how it was that he sensed me from behind at such a distance. But suddenly, he did a complete about-face and asked loudly "Who ARE you?" with a tone suggested I was someone worth meeting.

Even though I knew he was really curious about me, I found myself unable to answer at first. I had an urge to look behind myself for the someone else he must have been talking to. But knowing we were alone, I felt like saying "Who me?"

It was strange how off-guard he caught me. Should I just say my name? What would that really tell him about me anyway? Or should I tell him what I do? The oddest and perhaps most telling thing was that what wanted to slip out of my lips was "Oh me? I'm nobody." But I didn't. I couldn't. Because to say I was nobody would be a lie.

To have let that escape would have meant singing that tired old song; those lyrics about my being invisible that once seemed so true but had long been exposed as a lie. That falsehood was layed to rest through healing the wounds of divorce and finally, finally having the relationship I always wanted to have... with myself. I st

met yet. Since we were both walking in the same direction, I don't know how it was that he sensed me from behind at such a distance. But suddenly, he did a complete about-face and asked loudly "Who ARE you?" with a tone suggested I was someone worth meeting.

Even though I knew he was really curious about me, I found myself unable to answer at first. I had an urge to look behind myself for the someone else he must have been talking to. But knowing we were alone, I felt like saying "Who me?"

It was strange how off-guard he caught me. Should I just say my name? What would that really tell him about me anyway? Or should I tell him what I do? The oddest and perhaps most telling thing was that what wanted to slip out of my lips was "Oh me? I'm nobody." But I didn't. I couldn't. Because to say I was nobody would be a lie.

To have let that escape would have meant singing that tired old song; those lyrics about my being invisible that once seemed so true but had long been exposed as a lie. That falsehood was layed to rest through healing the wounds of divorce and finally, finally having the relationship I always wanted to have... with myself. I st

f for the someone else he must have been talking to. But knowing we were alone, I felt like saying "Who me?"

It was strange how off-guard he caught me. Should I just say my name? What would that really tell him about me anyway? Or should I tell him what I do? The oddest and perhaps most telling thing was that what wanted to slip out of my lips was "Oh me? I'm nobody." But I didn't. I couldn't. Because to say I was nobody would be a lie.

To have let that escape would have meant singing that tired old song; those lyrics about my being invisible that once seemed so true but had long been exposed as a lie. That falsehood was layed to rest through healing the wounds of divorce and finally, finally having the relationship I always wanted to have... with myself. I st

I couldn't. Because to say I was nobody would be a lie.

To have let that escape would have meant singing that tired old song; those lyrics about my being invisible that once seemed so true but had long been exposed as a lie. That falsehood was layed to rest through healing the wounds of divorce and finally, finally having the relationship I always wanted to have... with myself. I stopped giving any power to the myth of being nobody, yet rarely have I ever been asked about the somebody I truly am.

So let me turn the tables ask "Who are you?" Are you just a name, just a spouse, just a parent, just an occupation? Can any label or title or persona even begin to contain the breadth and depth of you? I'm guessing that somewhere along line you've asked that of yourself and the "Who am I?" question begets answers such as "I'm a winner", "I'm a loser", "I'm someone" or "I'm no one."

To answer that question is to assign some definition, to give an analysis and eventually a value to oneself. And what that effectively does it limit you to a fixed concept. Doing so is to deny the unstoppable forward progress of your humanity. Labeling and otherwise limiting yourself, or anyone for that matter, delays the natural evolution that's possible IF you remain OPEN to the infinite field of opportunity.

So... if you find yourself asking or answering "Who are you?", I’m going to ask you a different and much more compelling question. "What are you?" What is the stuff of your true essence? What qualities invariably express themselves in what you do and what you are? And most importantly, what needs to happen for you to live that truth in all situations, in ALL ways?

It was famed choreographer Martha Graham who said:

"There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening, that is translated through you into action, and because there’s only of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will nev