Comfort in variability

Fixation is the way to death,
fluidity is the way to life.
(Miyamoto Musashi)

I feel most alive when I change. I came to this realization at a fairly young age; around thirteen or so. My father was in the military and I was forced to move more often than I care to remember. I was perpetually the "new kid", always the easy target for bullies. Luckily, my disconnected attention-deficit nature protected me from developing too much of a complex from these constant attacks.

I'd just zone-out and continue on with my day.

When I wasn't counting the endless holes in the perforated ceiling tiles or avoiding stepping on the cracks in the pavement, I'd watch the kids around me. I'd also watch the teachers. Always observing, never really piecing it all together but still watching.

What made some people comfortable with each other? What type of clothes made the teachers treat you nicer?
Patterns, tendencies and their exceptions.
Never really a solid set of ideas in my head but certainly a notion that affected my actions to come.

Being forced to move was a continually painful experience. It meant giving up your entire world. Your best friends, hiding spots, favorite bike paths - all would have to be replaced. But there was an upside. It also meant an opportunity to become someone else. It meant that no one knew anything about you.

I used these opportunities to play with different things. How would I dress? Who would I talk to first? Where would I choose to sit in class? Where would I sit in the lunch room? And as I thought, each change produced different outcomes. Sure, sometimes I felt funny with a new haircut or wearing something I wasn't used to wearing but I knew that no one else knew that.

I found comfort and entertainment in change. It became part of who I was.

In highschool this gave me to mobility to become friends with people in social groups that normally wouldn't overlap.

It took me several years later to put this understanding into words.
I am not the appearance I project, the clothes I wear or the haircut I have nor am I my hobbies, my interests or my beliefs.

All of these things are merely expression. Expression of self, but not identity itself. They are evidence of a self. And the ongoing narrative of their changes is proof that my "self" isn't dead. It's alive - active - aware.

These ideas weren't entirely comforting at first, especially the notion that I wasn't my hobbies, interests or beliefs. Buddhadharma lead me to be comfortable with this truth, as well as the truth that "self" is an illusion. Along with the understanding of no-self came an appreciation for emptiness. Not emptiness in a nihilistic way, but the kind of emptiness that holds potential - pure possibility.

So, with the combination of these experiences, realizations and other self-discoveries I've arrived at a point where I can consciously act upon them.

I believe that the future will hold infinitely more possibility for change, especially in terms of our outward appearances. There will come a time when any physical attribute can be modified as easily as one can alter their avatar in Second Life today. Some people will arrive at what they consider their "perfect" selves and never deviate from that appearance. Yet, I suspect many others will choose to explore the bounds of physical self-expression.

I don't intend to wait around that long.

Coming soon...
What I hope to learn. How I hope to develop. What future dangers I hope to avoid.
Next Post: Posthuman Psychological Peril Prevention Planning