Defining who you are
Let’s play pretend, I thought.
I’m a princess. borrringggg.
Okay, I’m a magical princess. *Snore*
So, who am I? I am anyone I want to be at any given time. And that’s the answer.
But let me back up a bit.
This morning I had a lot of meal prep to do, so, after listening to a podcast interview of Terry Gilliam I decided to watch The Man Who Killed Don Quixote. It was oddly sentimental and I found myself tearing up at the end.
It occurred to me that we all have alter egos whether we like it or not — whether we’re aware of it or not. Other people’s perceptions of us, for example. Our masks, for example.
In the near end of the film there was a lavish party. Everyone was dressed up and expressing some side of their selves or their abilities — including licking dessert off the ground. She is able. I’m not sure she wanted to, however.
Don Quixote likes to say, It is a grand day for adventure. As every day is, isn’t it? He is mad and in his own mind he is the hero of his tale. How fortunate is he!
I watched the party and all the players and dancers — it was a dream scene with deep hues of darkness.
I imagined being there. Would I be wide eyed? Would I find my way down and around into the dance or up high like the acrobats? Would I feel good? Would I be pretending or would this be an opportunity to fully be myself?
And then it occurred to me that all of the roles being played defines the individuals that make up the players.
Everyday, we can play who we want to be, who we see ourselves at, who we aren’t, and who we need to be. By acting out or role playing these parts we can feel more deeply into who we are and who we are not. In addition, it can help us hone that person that either we see ourselves as or our best selves.
Some say their goal is to become that great person their dog thinks they are.
A worthy cause. An ambitious goal indeed.
By the end of the film I found myself thinking of so many precious things. Elder folks in my life who were examples of a fantastic life lived. Some who may have had dementia.
What is our madness, I thought. Will it be a good story? And Where is my madness?
Perhaps it is tucked safely into my warm cozy blankets right now. Perhaps just waiting to cause a little trouble like Eloise or Madeline. Or maybe ready to make up some words or drawings like Lewis Caroll or Shel Silverstein.
Maybe in this world of madness, as long as it is lively, light, introspective, fun, generous, and with love, it is good to be a little mad like Don Quixote trying to bring chivalry back into the world while being on grand adventures. Maybe it is a good thing to be a little unbalanced to find our joy.
