Not Subject To Change

Identity is found in location. I am an American. Identity is found in family. I am a daughter, a sister, a granddaughter, a niece, and a cousin. Identity is found in activity. I am a fencer, a singer, and – hopefully – a future architect. Identity is found in beliefs. I am a Christian. Identity is found in many things, but where does it exist in us? Where is it found in the person seeking identity? Is it found in the soul or the mind? The heart or the stomach? Passion or fleeting obsession? My identity is different than the person I share a moment with in the elevator. It is found in an ever-changing flow of thoughts and encounters, and it is something set into motion that I may or may not ever be able to affect. It is something held by the Fates measuring, measuring, measuring until the thread reaches its end. Identity is found in many things but it exists in the soul.

Once the home of identity is established, I have to ask myself what makes up my soul. This question has plagued the human mind since the dawn of time. Even the ancient Egyptians believed man to have a soul that was weighable after death. Though they had decided upon its existence, they did not know of what it was composed. As a high school graduate, I can adequately explain how different organs of the body are composed and what their purpose is, but the soul has no composition. It has no place. The soul is the essence of the person. It is the identity; not just where the identity is found. 

The things that make up one’s identity are those things which make the soul quiver, leap, soar, and still. Architecture makes my spirit soar. It is the essence of design that is in everything. Nature reflects it, buildings either reveal or reject it, and everyday objects omit its essence. Music and singing make my soul leap. The simple notes plucked on a guitar make me want to dance, and singing lifts my mind into a euphoric world of simple loveliness. Words make my spirit shake and quiver, whether they are words to a song, a novel, a movie or play script, or even spoken words. The ability of the human tongue is captivating. All of these things make my soul move, but beauty – true beauty – makes my soul still. True beauty is the thing that makes my breath spill from my lungs. It calls for me to sit and take in its intoxicating scent. It can be anything, but true beauty is the thing that quiets my soul and makes time, space, and life stop.

 All these things affect my soul in a way that they will never affect anyone else’s. While the different subjects may touch others’ souls, they do not move their spirits in the same way. This is what makes it my identity. The fact that architecture, music, words, and true beauty are embedded in the essence and fibers of my soul, makes my identity an “architecture-music-words-true-beauty-lover.” This will never change. The things I find my identity in are subject to change, but my soul is not.