Versions

We all have different versions of ourselves that come out at various times to play. It's fascinating how many of us try to push away the various "we's" because we're afraid of what they represent or what they say about us. I talked about this a lot with Margot, back in Corvallis. She and I both like a certain visualization theory, where you think about the five-year-old you or the twenty-year-old you or even a version older than the current you....You hold this you's hand, you comfort him or her, you try to understand why he/she is speaking up. I used to believe that I could divide myself into the child Nathan, the adolescent Nathan, the grown-up Nathan, etc. That sure would make Life a lot less blurry; I could say, "That was me and I'm no longer at that place," or "This is me, aren't I spiffy being all adultish?" But heck, I still feel like a clueless teenager half the time. And the rest of the time I'm this scared twelve-year-old whose father walked out the door; the young boy starting kindergarten; the eighty-year-old sage who knows how to comfort. Really, we can't even divide ourselves into seconds, let alone identities, personalities, or versions.....so we're all infinite. We are different than we were this morning when we rolled out of bed. We are certainly different than we were when we were born. Yet, I have these billions of Nathan's chillin' in my Soul-Ether--and sometimes when I'm shy, scared, elated, hopeful, nostalgic, apathetic, cruel, or friendly, I look at this Nathan, take his hand, and say: "Okay, you fucker, come on out. You're going to keep knocking on my heart until I just yank open my ribcage and let you do your business. So what the hell are you trying to say?" Usually I calm down after I realize that the current Knocking-Nathan just wants to make his--or hell, her--message known. This message is usually a desire for empathy and self-actualization, fitting those Glitter Puzzle Pieces together. We are all children and teenagers and middle-aged men and ancient crones. Time collapses and life goes by in a snap of the fingers. So, yeah, I'm not really sure who I am today. Today I think I'm Sexy Nathan. Blue-eyed-stare-at-me-I'm-hot Nathan. By tonight I might be cryin'-and-want-to-be-coddled Nathan. Tomorrow I might be a Psychic at some Divine Carnival, guiding souls in my candy-colored tent of Knowledge, where Tori plays on the radio 24/7. Speaking of, Tori says in her song "Tear in Your Hand": "Maybe she's just pieces of me you've never seen...." Hmm. I wonder, in my relationships with family and friends and lovers, what pieces--what Nathan's--they've fallen in love with, and why. Maybe they see versions of me I don't, and I find that amazingly comforting and beautiful and mysterious.