Who else!

In the end, who else can we be, identifiable and predictable, but ourselves: conceived in a womb, at the intersect of two people, who themselves were products of billions of permutations and years of evolution.

David Brooks opined that we – human being – have yet made much progress on self-awareness. We can re-frame our selected narratives. But self-awareness? Illusion!

In short, we are pretty much programmed, like a garage light automatically flipped on as motion is detected.

My brother doesn’t eat beef or fish. It’s not in our family’s menu or to his liking – a chicken & egg riddle i.e. my mom did not cook them knowing his preferences, or because my mom did not offer them, that led to his habitual avoidance. Perhaps it’s his mental imprints during the 1945 famine up North (VN), where cows and fish were rarities.

At age 82, he doesn’t fly and hasn’t been for quite a while.

His limited self-awareness clusters around fear of flying and of eating fish.

By now, we’ve figured out what we don’t like (negative trumps positive). Once burned twice shy, after numerous mistakes in choosing a mate, a major or a mascot (ITT students got some loan cancelled. Lucky for them).

Self-deceit lasts as long as the honey moon with one’s self; after that, it’s we whom we have to live with 24/7 (no one else to blame ). If in retirement, we learn quick about intrinsic values vs individual contributions e.g. babysitting grandchildren, that there is only one “you”. In and of ourselves we remain Numero Uno. So, do the world a favour: be yourself always. This makes it easy to I.D, easy to predict.

Identified victim No 1 of 9/11 was Father Mychal Judge, NYC Fire Department Chaplain. A Franciscan. First to the other side to meet and greet the next 3000, among them falling men and WTC jumpers. Who else? Born to run- as a fire fighters’ chaplain – against the crowd, up the stairs.

With a heightened self-awareness, he was aware of his higher calling, what he was made-of and what his vocation demanded of him. Father Judge was meant to be, for that notable end. It’s us who are unsure, easily swayed: “buy this, buy that…then you’ll become this and that” , easy marks for Con America.

For me, I learned an awful lot at an early age: picking up broken pieces of rice bowls under our dining table (during my parent’s fights). I learned people don’t get along 100% of the time. I learned people were made of different genes, hence different temperament and strength ( weakness not withstanding). I learned conflict is a big part of life (heck, I am a refugee) and it does occasionally erupt, like volcanos. Someone said we’re either in a pre or post-war era.

So I developed humility and compassion, emotional and social intelligence, the hard way; under the shadows of four adults who rushed out every morning in search for food (hunters/gatherers). I saw both their shame and social grace. Who else could they be, besides themselves. Me, who else can I be? Father Judge, who else could he be, what ending was he to have, on that fateful morning. After all, ships aren’t built to dock in a harbor forever and fire fighters are to run toward, not away from burned buildings.

They say “Pick your battle”. As if we had choices. Often times, it’s the battle that comes to us, given who we are, where we were situated and from: born at the intersect of two different people (even in an arranged marriage of two equals as in my parent’s case).

Back to the contrast between my brother and I. I enjoy a hamburger and an occasional glass of wine. He wouldn’t touch either one. And guess how I was able to get back and forth to/from Vietnam? Who else can I be, once under our dinning table in my youth then to be up in the air using those Boeing arm-rests for dinning support!

After a long time away, I was back to watch the same Vung-Tau sky, once dotted with 7th-fleet war ships. In its absence, I ended up projecting out and adopting a 7th-fleet like saviour/guilt complex for coping mechanism.

We, geography seekers (they have just discovered a footprint of 23,000 years in New Mexico), are so outward-focused at the expenses of our interior space; only to come home and discover ourselves (our own worst enemy) for the first time. As David Brooks observed, self-awareness eludes us and our quest for it, an illusion. Good for those who in the end realised who they really were and were made of (intrinsic worth).

Numero Uno victim of 9/11 sermonised and embodied his message til the end, in quite contrast to the 19 , who wanted whatever they had been told (via rote learning) so bad to voluntarily give up their lives for it. Their acts of terror triggered a war of a different dimension (action, reaction and inaction) killing our Fire Department cleric, with face toward the Sun and ending with OBL, their chief strategist, with body disposed of in the thick of the night.

Identifiable with predictable end.

Who else!