Who are you?

Self-identification is one of the great hobbies of our existence. Who are we now? Who will we become? Who have we been?

I'm reading the fantastic book, "Bono in Conversation with Michka Assayas" and I'm riveted by it. I pretty much love Bono to pieces, but as I'm learning about his views on life and spirituality, I'm undergoing my own sort of reckoning. It's making me rip my skin off and look at what's beneath. It's incredibly honest, visceral stuff, this book. And I love it for that.

One question that he answers is "Who the hell are you, then?" His answer is a litany of qualities: he's a wine-drinking, Bible-reading, friend of the poor and sometimes the rich....etc.

I was so moved when I read his honest interpretation that I scratched my own definition in the margins. I was tempted to leave it there, but I figure that part of genuine assessment of one's self is owning it.

So, "who the hell am I, then?"

I'm a voyeuristic, wine-drinking, gut-singing, Bible-reading fount of empathy. A reformed neurotic, too cerebral, too emotional. A mess. An artist, a great lover, an even better friend. An advocate and counselor for the lonely, a selfish show-off, mediocre club dancer, shameless seeker of attention and God. A beautiful woman who fights her inner voice to believe it, but usually wins out, often erring on the side of vanity. I have rhythm in my heart, love dripping from my lips and I need books like I need air.

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Thank you God, for these gifts and for your grace at how I fumble about while using them.