Distilling Identity: From Potential to Purpose
At birth, we are pure potential—an open system where every future version of ourselves is possible. Life, at this point, feels limitless, with no paths closed and all opportunities ahead. As a visual thinker, I often sketch an hourglass to visualize this thought which is included below. At the bottom, where life begins, possibilities are wide open.
Yet, as time passes, life necessitates the pruning of what could be. With each choice we make and every experience that shapes us, some paths end as the walls slope inward. The child who never put on pointe shoes will never become a professional ballerina. The narrowing of possibilities is inevitable, but our experience of this phenomenon depends largely on how involved we feel in the process and how we frame the things beyond our control.
Many experience life as a slow erosion of what could be—an army of possible selves thinned out by time. With this world view, understandably, feelings of loss and loneliness mount. So too will the pull of obvious futures—those that seem to be unfolding by default—become stronger. Opting out of a career or relationship many years in the making requires clarity and courage that are often in short supply. If you find yourself sucked down paths rather than stepping intentionally, use the clarity you have to find courage, or the courage you have to find clarity.
Passive narrowing can feel suffocating, like life is happening to you rather than growing out of you. But there’s a way to transmute fear as the walls close in. Instead of seeing the narrowing as a loss, it can be seen as an act of distillation. Some choices are made for us, others by us—but in either case, by actively accepting that which is pruned and that which is polished, we curate our identity, rather than becoming it’s passenger.
As someone who tends to grip life rather tightly, I make every effort to embrace that “everything happens for a reason”. Still, it’s hard to avoid the poignance of Jung’s proclamation, “when the world asks you who you are, if you do not know, it will tell you.”
Some may have stopped reading by now – my words missing the mark or perhaps hitting too squarely. The fact that you are still here, though, means that you are ready to step towards ‘the box’.
The box is the constriction in the center of the hourglass. It’s designed to have only enough space for one. For you, in fact. While it’s tempting to smuggle others inside through echoes of their opinions, this corrupts the process and can be dangerous. The box is where, utterly alone, you mourn what was and wasn’t; celebrate what remains; and revivify the rare but essential pieces of yourself that may have been left behind. It’s the integration of all that you are not—and therefore, all that you are. A glorious spring is coming; so remain in the box as long as you need to, for what comes next is expansive.
When your identity has solidified and integrated the aspects of yourself you’ve carefully chosen to hold or release, the energy that was once consumed by internal conflict is now available for outward engagement. You are no longer wrestling with unresolved potential. If doing so felt exhausting, you might feel rejuvenated by the realization that the person you are was far outnumbered by the many selves you are not.
When you leave the box, you leave with little by design. You pack light—only what you need. Unburdened, the spread of self occurs openly, freely, and with less friction. Perhaps most rewarding is the sharing of self with others. The friendships you form, the love you cultivate, the passions you stoke, and the adventures you take will be filled with people forever altered by their path joining yours. The edges of this expanse remain unknown and are yours to explore.
But this phase isn’t linear. While your simpler, more integrated self is free to flow, life—as you may have heard—isn’t a straight line. Thus, you must revisit the box throughout the journey—often.
As we share ourselves with the world, we also absorb from it. Every relationship, every new experience, every challenge and success is generated through both positive and negative space. This transference must be as conscious as possible, for growth and gangrene can sometimes be hard to distinguish. As you change the world—whether through deep love of another or through a large-scale project—the world and those in it will repeat its refrain: "Who are you?"
To answer truthfully, which should always be your aim, requires frequent reflection and even moments of pause. You must retain those indispensable aspects of self that have resonate most deeply and consistently. You must also amend and alter where necessary. Though it may sound like existential excavation, it’s really quite simple:
The box is portable—a mental space where only you can fit. There, you are alone, unburdened by worldly expectations, and its expectations of you. There, you can meditate, get lost in a thing you love, or otherwise tune inwards. And, sometimes, the box can be more literal—as I write these words, I do so from a small house in the woods (wouldn’t you be disappointed if I weren’t?).
By revisiting the box, you recalibrate your sense of self. The person who first enters the box in their relative youth may look very different from the one who reenters it for the last time decades later. Some pieces should remain consistent with your truest essence—principles, values, the traits that indelibly define you. Others will have evolved, changed by the people, places, and moments that have shaped you. Each change, when you revisit it, should bring a smile, a memory of growth or impact, and a reminder of the rich texture of a life lived in alignment with your chosen self.
If, on occasion, you discover a feeling or thought that seems out of place, trust your instinct. No one can see you.
If you’ve done it right, when they celebrate your life, the many voices will remember the same unwavering traits. And, together, they will braid memories and milestones that marked your growth, your evolution, and your impact. Should you have dared to share all that you are, you will have impacted others—and equally been impacted. But, then again, if you’ve _really_ done it right, you’ll be in a box, and won’t much care what they have to say.