Who are you?

I recently worked on transferring a documentary that a friend of mine made about some old Indian guru person. The documentary was interesting. It raised a very, very, good question and I'd like to see if you can answer it, truthfully.

Who are you?

Who am I for that matter?

I'm a gay man, white, English. I'm an atheist. I am an historian. I'm a lecturer and a film maker (in the sense of video). I am overweight. I am witty. I am a son. I am a brother. I am a grandson.

That's not who I am. That's what I am, and the labels I've attached to myself. Or have let others attach to me. Since I present such a broad canvass it's not difficult for them to do so. Now these labels are all transitory. And transitory means that one day they may end, or that they never began with me, but were acquired later like some kind of excess baggage after shopping in the duty free zone of life.

I am a gay man. Really? All I have to do is sleep with a single woman, or admit that I find the female form arousing and that title is no longer mine. I can no longer use it to define myself. Sure, I'd need to be drunk, or perhaps just in one of my curious moods. I'd loose the one title and pick up another one - bi-sexual. I could never go back to being pure gay. I've already slept with same-sex partners and liked it, so the door on Hetro is closed forever.

I'm white - that's true. And to change it is difficult... or is it? Internet communications probably account for 40% of my social networking. Most of the people I talk to I've never met. I could be any colour and they don't know it. And, should the world turn dark because I go blind, or I meet someone who is blind, then my colour is irrelevant. (Pity more people can't realize this fact).

I am English? For a given value. Even that's a self imposed title. I speak English because I was born into an English speaking family who taught me English as my means of communication. Biologically, and mentally I wasn't born English speaking. I was born with the desire to communicate. English happened to be the first idea that was forced into my head.

I am an atheist. Until God walks upon the Earth, or I change my mind. I wasn't born unbelieving. I wasn't born believing either. Although it's impossible to convince a Christian of this (or any other religious person) if you'd been born in Calcutta/Central China/Outback of Australia/Peru you wouldn't be the believer you are today. It's a silly argument but from all practical points of view it's true. Also if you were born 3000 years ago your choices would have been very different. For sure at the moment now, with your alignment to your chosen icon of worship you feel as if there is no other alternative. Run the clock again and you'd be surprised. Or I would... but I doubt it. Nonetheless believers change.

As for my careers those are constantly changing. Sometimes I lecture, sometimes I make shows. Sometimes I don't do anything. Sometimes I look and wonder if I shouldn't change to something else. A job is not you. It's an activity humans invented, and one that you participate in. I'm fortunate insofar as I happen to love my jobs, and participate willingly. Perhaps I've bought too much into the system? Anyway, jobs are transitory. They are not who you are.

I am overweight. I'd like this to be transitory, but until I get off my ample ass, I am not likely to be able to redefine myself as skinny. However the physical is all transitory. A good looking boy turns into a handsome man who turns into a proud gentleman who crumbles into a decrepit fossil (unless his name is Sting or Sean Connery).

As for the roles - Brother, son, grandson - when my parents die, I'll no longer be a son. I will be a parent-less son. A Widson perhaps. Widoson? And should my sister perish before me - then I'll be a widobro... or something. It's a dark thought but it's a thought nonetheless. Should I ever - universe forbid - have offspring my role would be father. Or Widodad if an accident should happen.

OK - so the witty part. That's actually who I am. It's not something that I chose, or something that can be taken away. Sure you can lock me in a cell and hope that my mind rots, or torture me and try to burn it out, but I am intrinsically funny. Whether it's biting humour, cold satire, direct attack fuck-of funny, or subtle undermining sarcasm it doesn't matter. It is who I am. Why do I do it? Because it brings a little joy into the world. It makes me and people around me feel better. Pity it's so fleeting in times of crisis. If during a crisis I can remember to bring a little joy into the world then the world doesn't seem so bad. But I often forget.

By now the sharper ones of you will have run through your lists, rubbed out a lot of definitions for yourselves, and will be arriving at a fairly short list of qualities:

Funny

Artistic

Creative

Spiritual

Loving

Dedicated

Sexual

Isn't it a curious thing that these qualities all revolve around one thing? A single word? Happiness. To be funny is to bring happiness. To be artistic is to express emotions (possibly happiness) to be creative is to derive joy and happiness from the act of creation, to be spiritual is to seek happiness with the universe, to be loving is to share happiness, and to be dedicated means to one is committed to bringing about something - hopefully happiness. Sexual is all about happiness.

Oh and yes I can see all those eager hands rising with opposition to my statements even as I sit here naked and type these words. But happiness is of course most humans goal. There are some out there who feel that happiness is lost to them, or that it will be found in money or in God or in a shoebox under a bed. Those things remind us how to find happiness but they are not happiness themselves. Money makes it easier to exist on the planet, and the more you have, the easier it is to take time for yourself and your inner happiness. But it cannot buy it.

Happiness does not exist outside your head. Your head can 'forget' about being miserable for a time (My job is to do that often through TV and other distracting media), but it cannot be lied into being happy. We're strange, strange creatures - with the capacity to realize a simple truth, but with the total incapacity to act upon that truth or to accept it. Bizarre.

People have been reporting that I've become very calm and laid back over the last couple of weeks - on almost all but the most distressing problems. That's because I've taken a moment to look for the happiness. It's not easy. Or should I say - not to look for the happiness, but to allow it to happen. You can't find joy. You can experience it. And you can only experience it if you let yourself do so.

So who are you really?