Rainbow Bones
Numbers-22
Posted by Paul Ricciardi (Rock Hill, United States) on 14 January 2007 in Miscellaneous.
Once again I find myself in a state of self reflection in regards to my identity. How do we know who we are? How does one define oneself? As children we learn to puff up our chests, point to ourselves and say "My name is ___" and then hold out four fingers and say "I'm four years old." That is our identity. We form our self image and our identity by what the preschool teacher tells us, by who our mommy and daddy (if we have both) are, and by if we like PB&J or not.
As we mature and as we grow, we form our identities by other things. In middle school identities are often formed by what kind of clothes you wear and which group of kids you hang out with. High school thus elevates this already vicious animalistic hierarchical society. In high school one is identified by their music, their classes, their hair style, their makeup, how pretty they are, their level of popularity, etc etc. It's a waste of four years of social development.
College students identify themselves by their fraternity or sorority, their major, which school they go to, and how much pizza and beer they consume.
Adult life leads to identities formed by race, religion, and of course socio-economic status which manifests itself in the clothes worn, the cars driven, the parties attended, and the desirableness of their spouse.
Which leads me to the inevitable question of "How do I identify myself?" Or furthermore, "Who am I?" The haiku is a reflection upon this search for identity, this conflict of religion, history, race, parents, social status, environment in which I was raised, and, ultimately, the utter rejection of it all. I have no identity, I am faceless, nameless, raceless, ageless. Through my life I have come to realize that it is far better to simply "be." I am not Paul Anthony Ricciardi, nor am I Paulo Antonio Ricciardi. I am not Italian. I am not American. I am not dark haired and dark eyed. I am not 17 years old. I am not an atheist from a Catholic family. I am not a photographer. I am not anything. I simply "am." And thus, I am capable of producing art.
The timeless "I think therefore I am" comes to mind, although perhaps a permutation of it would be better.
I think therefore I am not. I am not because I am. I am and I am not so that I may create. I create so that I may be.
22:
Mute virgin watches
illegitimate love child
for whom god lies dead.
