The crisis in Identity

When we were born, in whatever way our individual soul was conceived as an elemental component of the universal soul, what was our identity? How did that identity take shape over the years? How many years? Births? This modern world has been churning out a mountain of consumables, for instant gratification. This sure has created problems of disparity among economic classes, but humans have evolved too. Every day, before the pandemic started, hard-earned money seemed best spent in a good meal, or a movie- instant gratification as well. Should we recognize this as an internal opportunistic revolt against the economic disparity evident around us, or consequences of a trickle-down economy?

Looking at an instance far less broad, and an opportunity to delve deeper in search for that original identity, the inner voice, our hearts, the individual soul presents an interesting case of a periodic loss of identity. As children are educated with what they are taught to think as ways to follow their dreams, the search for heart often renders a luxurious landscape for the haves. Many have-nots remind themselves and everyone they know, including their children, that security is the key to happiness – a destination where one should aim to reach as fast as possible and stay as robust as they can, for as long as they can manage to stay alive. Next, comes – why focus on sustaining when we can aim to grow? This sounds like a gigantic goal with hopes, which, after being developed in the darkroom may look like depictions of still life rather than portraits. With every job we take pushing the ‘eventually’ a little further, every relationship in which we agree to let ourselves get adjusted to what seems like an endless lapse in time, every hobby we think we can keep pushing until we have children, we wait for ideal candidates to ‘provide’ direction on what would get us closer to our given up dreams. Identities are compromised every step of the way, as a veil of potentially upcoming opportunities keeps the present hidden. The cyclic process of daily life quietly hums under the chaos of an entire species trying to move through their days as quickly as possible, in such a rush to reach somewhere else, that they forget they are here. I am here.

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