Who am I?
Ah, a question of the ages. It’s 59 for me, and coming upon a “past middle age if you do the math” landmark brings introspection. Somehow I feel I know myself too well and not enough, the latter being the most surprising, considering I’ve spent more than 20,000 days and night traipsing about the planet.
But I haven’t given up--still searching for self. And what tells one about one’s self? Likes? Dislikes? Fears? Joys? Sure. Thoughts? Values? Opinions? Beliefs? Absolutely. But some clues need to be looked for at the scene of the crime, where actions and decisions outwardly express all that interiority. That’s why I’m stopping the Rick Grant Get To Know Myself Tour at my two clubs.
One is the Rainier Club, a bastion of tradition and gentility which has been catering to Seattle’s movers and shakers since its inception in 1888. My wife and I joined when we moved here in 2011, and embraced the shaking since then. The other is the Chief Seattle Club, an outreach providing essential services to the American Indian and Alaska Native community, especially those who are homeless. Here I’m not so much a club member (you need to be Native American ) but a board member (I recently finished a 3-year stint).
So what does this tell me about me? I must be a mover and shaker with a heart of gold! What a guy! Have I moved into the sunset of semi-retirement just sitting around eating salmon at the Rainier Club? No! I donate my time. Have I become a chronic do-gooder foregoing my God-given right to embrace the good life as my dotage approaches? No! I embrace my inner entitler.
Establishing my credentials as a well-rounded schmuck aside, I know there’s more to learn here. Like what caused me to become involved in these two clubs in the first place? And why do I feel nervous when I show up at either place?
I know I joined the Rainier Club for the loftiest of reasons--my parents and wife wanted me to (and since my parents are dead-would’ve wanted). My parents were depression era nouveau richees whose joining of the exclusive Jonathan Club in Los Angeles established themselves as somebody. I’ve followed suit, wanting to be a non-nobody. My wife is a baby boomer who has become successful who likes the security of the club and the interesting lectures and programs. I’ve followed suit, because I’m married.
I’m a bit unsure why I became involved with the Chief Seattle Club. Caucasian Guilt? Authentic compassion? The fact that my wife is half Native American? The fact that my schedule had openings? All of the above? Is it because I feel sorry for these people whose faces often appear ravaged by years on the streets? Do they feel sorry for me in the awkward way I approach them with some pseudo-bonhomie?
I believe the latter question answer is yes, and it’s an indicator of why I tend to feel nervous at both these clubs. When I walk in, I feel like an impostor. At the Rainier Club, I feel like an underachiever and wonder who might notice. At the Chief Seattle Club I feel like the members are seeing through me.
So what does this tell me about me? I must have a fear of both success and failure! What a loser! Have I learned to enjoy the fruits of my life’s labor and started to relax into savoring the food and fellowship of a cool club? No! I wallow in insecurity. Have I allowed myself to give and receive at an outstanding outreach to those in need? No! I embrace my inner saboteur.
So you can see why I’ve had a hard time finding myself. My inner voices are all over the place! I go from saint to sinner in a second, subjectively screening everything in my path. And this path leads to nowhere.
But the answer to who I am has to be more than just careening through my wayward thoughts and emotions. Who I am is a synthesis of how I experience myself and who I choose to be. And at this point I choose to see and embrace my two clubs more objectively. I do honesty enjoy the intriguing people, impeccable service, and interesting programs of the Rainier Club, and sometimes feel worthy of all this abundance. I’m also enamored with the honesty, authenticity, and gratefulness of the Chief Seattle members, and sometimes allow these characteristics to penetrate who I am.
And what is the objective truth about these clubs themselves? They have a great deal more similarities than just being 4 blocks from each other. It may seem like the privileged vs. the disadvantaged, the inner sanctum vs. the left out, but the clubs are more about human beings who want to feel safe and interact with each other. Sure the people have different needs, different opportunities, and sometimes different social skills, but all want to know and be known, to love and be loved.
The Apostle Paul talks about being acquainted with both want and abundance, and learning to be content with whatever he had. This contentment was based on his relationship with God, who taught him not only about what he had but who he was. With all my voices and fears I need “I Am Who I Am” to tell me who I am, and what I’ve learned from my two clubs has helped draw me in that direction.
Ah, a question of the ages. It’s 59 for me, and coming upon a “past middle age if you do the math” landmark brings introspection. Somehow I feel I know myself too well and not enough, the latter being the most surprising, considering I’ve spent more than 20,000 days and night traipsing about the planet.
But I haven’t given up--still searching for self. And what tells one about one’s self? Likes? Dislikes? Fears? Joys? Sure. Thoughts? Values? Opinions? Beliefs? Absolutely. But some clues need to be looked for at the scene of the crime, where actions and decisions outwardly express all that interiority. That’s why I’m stopping the Rick Grant Get To Know Myself Tour at my two clubs.
One is the Rainier Club, a bastion of tradition and gentility which has been catering to Seattle’s movers and shakers since its inception in 1888. My wife and I joined when we moved here in 2011, and embraced the shaking since then. The other is the Chief Seattle Club, an outreach providing essential services to the American Indian and Alaska Native community, especially those who are homeless. Here I’m not so much a club member (you need to be Native American ) but a board member (I recently finished a 3-year stint).
So what does this tell me about me? I must be a mover and shaker with a heart of gold! What a guy! Have I moved into the sunset of semi-retirement just sitting around eating salmon at the Rainier Club? No! I donate my time. Have I become a chronic do-gooder foregoing my God-given right to embrace the good life as my dotage approaches? No! I embrace my inner entitler.
Establishing my credentials as a well-rounded schmuck aside, I know there’s more to learn here. Like what caused me to become involved in these two clubs in the first place? And why do I feel nervous when I show up at either place?
I know I joined the Rainier Club for the loftiest of reasons--my parents and wife wanted me to (and since my parents are dead-would’ve wanted). My parents were depression era nouveau richees whose joining of the exclusive Jonathan Club in Los Angeles established themselves as somebody. I’ve followed suit, wanting to be a non-nobody. My wife is a baby boomer who has become successful who likes the security of the club and the interesting lectures and programs. I’ve followed suit, because I’m married.
I’m a bit unsure why I became involved with the Chief Seattle Club. Caucasian Guilt? Authentic compassion? The fact that my wife is half Native American? The fact that my schedule had openings? All of the above? Is it because I feel sorry for these people whose faces often appear ravaged by years on the streets? Do they feel sorry for me in the awkward way I approach them with some pseudo-bonhomie?
I believe the latter question answer is yes, and it’s an indicator of why I tend to feel nervous at both these clubs. When I walk in, I feel like an impostor. At the Rainier Club, I feel like an underachiever and wonder who might notice. At the Chief Seattle Club I feel like the members are seeing through me.
So what does this tell me about me? I must have a fear of both success and failure! What a loser! Have I learned to enjoy the fruits of my life’s labor and started to relax into savoring the food and fellowship of a cool club? No! I wallow in insecurity. Have I allowed myself to give and receive at an outstanding outreach to those in need? No! I embrace my inner saboteur.
So you can see why I’ve had a hard time finding myself. My inner voices are all over the place! I go from saint to sinner in a second, subjectively screening everything in my path. And this path leads to nowhere.
But the answer to who I am has to be more than just careening through my wayward thoughts and emotions. Who I am is a synthesis of how I experience myself and who I choose to be. And at this point I choose to see and embrace my two clubs more objectively. I do honesty enjoy the intriguing people, impeccable service, and interesting programs of the Rainier Club, and sometimes feel worthy of all this abundance. I’m also enamored with the honesty, authenticity, and gratefulness of the Chief Seattle members, and sometimes allow these characteristics to penetrate who I am.
And what is the objective truth about these clubs themselves? They have a great deal more similarities than just being 4 blocks from each other. It may seem like the privileged vs. the disadvantaged, the inner sanctum vs. the left out, but the clubs are more about human beings who want to feel safe and interact with each other. Sure the people have different needs, different opportunities, and sometimes different social skills, but all want to know and be known, to love and be loved.
The Apostle Paul talks about being acquainted with both want and abundance, and learning to be content with whatever he had. This contentment was based on his relationship with God, who taught him not only about what he had but who he was. With all my voices and fears I need “I Am Who I Am” to tell me who I am, and what I’ve learned from my two clubs has helped draw me in that direction.
RSS Feed