In therapy session with Lance Miller, he asked, “When do you think you are your most authentic self?”
I thought about it for a moment. Then I said, “When you’re doing what you love.”
Lance smiled. He agreed with my answer. It’s not the most singular right answer, either.
I said that when I went fishing with my late Dad in Alaska, I got to be with him when he did what he loved: fishing. I remember watching Dad fish for his limit of sockeye salmon on the Kenai Riverbank across from our fishing lodge. Dad patiently cast his fishing rod along the river current for hours until he caught his last fish. And he always caught his limit.
When I was a little boy, Dad truly scared the hell out me. Whatever I did or didn’t do only made him so angry at me. My childhood was my no-win scenario.
Still, I loved this man who I sat beside on the fishing boat while we fished for king salmon. Dad was his most authentic self in Alaska. There was none of the bullshit, none of the fear inside of not knowing how to raise me. Dad could be his most authentic self, doing what he loved most on Planet Earth: fishing. I loved that man, loved that Dad.
Unfortunately, neither my Mom nor Sister got to be with Dad when he was doing what he loved, being his most authentic self. I did. For 17 years, we spent a week together fishing for salmon on the Kenai River. I also learned to love Dad, when he was not his most authentic self, when he was imperfectly human. I learned forgiveness and compassion. I learned not to be an arrogant asshole, too. We’re all imperfectly human. All of us.
When I train and teach Aikido or when I write, I am my most authentic self. I love doing them. I’m never more alive or more free to be me than when I’m doing Aikido or writing.
Maybe, the real question is: How can I be my authentic self all the time? And really how can I forgive myself and others when we’re not our most authentic selves?
Over the years in working with Lance to heal my childhood trauma and depression, I forgave my Dad for not knowing how to be a father and husband, for being afraid inside, and for being imperfectly human. I forgive myself for not being strong enough as a little boy to stand up to Dad and protect Mom. I forgive myself for being imperfectly human, too.
In Aikido, I practice creating space between myself and the attacker. I don’t aggress against aggression. I don’t oppose the attack. I invite the attack. If I defend, I can be defeated. It’s ebb and flow, much like life. I either match up with the attacker or create space, create distance. O-Sensei Morihei Ueshiba said, “True victory is victory over oneself.” It’s only me against me. I work on myself, not on the attacker. There is no fight. There never is.
In the space that I create, I invite the attack. Offer no resistance. I let the attacker and the attack just be. If they want to attack me, I let them. I wait it out, then enter the attack. I bring the attack to my center. In the center of the attack, in the danger, I can let the attack pass or end the attack. The attacker can take the fall or stand down. I can give forgiveness or not. The attacker can accept my forgiveness or not. We both choose what we do and who we are in the space between us.
Like with my Dad, I create the space between us for Dad to be himself. In that space, Dad can be his most authentic self or not. He chooses. I choose who I am and what I do in that space, too.
When I create the space for someone else to be themselves from love, they have the freedom to choose who they are going to be. They can be their authentic selves or not. In that space, I choose to be my most authentic self, rather than some selfish dick whenever I can. Again, I choose. Again, I try.
We all can create the generous space for others to be their authentic self. In that space, they choose. And let the chips fall where they may. I really have nothing to do with what goes on inside someone else. I do have a say in what goes on inside me. In any given moment, I choose who I am and what I do.
Although I may not always be my most authentic self all the time, I try to be. Rather I always choose to be. Sometimes, I fail. When I do, I get up and try again. I love myself for who I am and forgive myself for who I’m not. Maybe, that allows others the space to be their most authentic selves, too. And the world is a better place for that. That all starts with me and you. We can all give that a try.
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