Notes on Identity Death
This is the dance of dying. And being reborn.
Two years ago, during the summer of 2023, my world as I knew it collapsed. It was a classic “dark night of the soul” (or ego), and one of several I’ve been through over the last decade. But this one hit especially deep. Over the course of a few months, I took leave of my home, my community, many friends, and my romantic relationship. I hit the road in an attempt to perhaps postpone (or expedite?!) the inevitable, but the inevitable happened anyway.
An old version of me died.
Now, life has shown me that every time I endure one of these dark nights of the soul, my life is about to be upgraded. I’m about to come more into alignment: becoming less of who I thought I needed to be, and more of who I actually am. There are perks to this new alignment, undoubtedly. But, let me tell you, it doesn’t feel like alignment at the time. It feels like what it is: A death. It’s hard, and painful, and grief stricken. And the more I fight it, the more I tend to suffer.
Life, after all, wants me to break down.
Life wants me to surrender.
Because it’s only in the breaking and the surrendering that something newer and truer can emerge.
I’ll admit, even two years later, I’m not fully sure what that new thing that’s emerging is just yet. There are glimmers of it. Slices of promise. Relationships with startling new depth. Projects with new zeal. A fire rising up from my deepest recesses that feels potent at times, scary at others. There are hints in the ether. But no concrete answers.
In fact, the space feels uncertain, liminal. Like both a beginning and an ending at once.
It’s funny, because if I look out at the world at large, at the people I love, and at the communities I follow, we’re all seemingly in the same spot at the moment if we choose to see it. Earth itself feels like it’s having a dark night of the soul. One of those chapters where the way we did things before cannot continue, and yet, the new hasn’t fully presented itself yet. We’re being asked to hold simultaneously the grief of the old version of who we were (and perhaps the frustration with our current situations) and the promise of what we could be if we step into the unknown. We’re standing in the ashes while staring at the plans for a grand, new building, scratching our heads like: “Can I really build that?!”
The answer, of course, is Yes. We can build it. But not overnight. This is a long game. And not without support and a willingness to consistently remind each other and keep each other accountable to those dreams.
That’s why I’m writing today: to remind myself — and us — that in the middle of a “dark night”, progress is all about small steps. Leaps are futile. Leaps land us in hot water. Dark nights demand we look no further than today. No further than to the next right-feeling, intuitive action that serves to align us more with the person - or thing, or planet — we are becoming.
So in that spirit, I’m curious: what’s that small step for you today? What’s your edge? Where is the invitation to step a little more into the person you’re becoming, and sacrifice a bit more of your ‘previous self’ on the altar of what was?
For me, it’s all about speaking up lately. Not being passive. But being active in my willingness to put my energy out there. I’ve been in hiding too long, worried that I’m not polished enough, or that I have one more thing to heal, or to integrate before I can share the next iteration of my work — or myself — with the world. I’m worried I’ll be messy. When, in fact, messy — at least in my experience — tends to produce better results. God knows, we’ve all tried to be polished. We’ve all tried to be invulnerable. We’ve all hovered over ‘Send’ in a thousand collective ways.
How has that worked out?
So take it slow. Let it build. Feel it through. Let it settle. Ask for help. Say one thing you might not have said before. Feel one feeling an old version of you might not have felt. Take one risk. Then rest, and do it again tomorrow.
This is the dance of dying. And being reborn.
Let it be messy. Let it feel awkward.
Let yourself be in transition. Day after day after day.
Til you wake up one day and look around to see yourself standing in a room with a new view.
Sean