I invite you to join in a community-building exercise. A community is a place where you enjoy authentic human connection. What does it mean to be authentic? It means to be genuine, true and real. The question then is: can you be authentic with others when you do not know who you are or is it only through our interactions within a community that we discover who we are? Do you know who you are? Do I? I’ll go first.

I am a wife, and a mother of two children, one who has passed on too soon. I am a city girl who now lives in the country (and hugs trees). I am Canadian-born and of Lebanese descent, a culture I celebrate particularly with the cuisine though my heart dances to the beat of the doumbek, the Lebanese drum.

I think about life — a lot. I question and read and wonder. I have always been interested in psychology, particularly psychodynamic theory. I wrote a book about happiness.

I love to knit and to sew things by hand, not by machine. My hands are seldom just resting. My first business was a calligraphy business. I have been self-employed my entire adult life. I enjoy a challenge and celebrate victories but at times I rail against the problems. I love our family business (mostly because it is a family business). I know I am successful; I wonder if I will ever be successful. I’m stubborn, determined, driven.

I cherish my friendships. I am happiest when everyone is on the dance floor. I love to gather people to talk about life. I am a community builder.

I am getting older but I do not believe in aging. I have always been intrigued with the placebo effect and am so happy Dr Joe Dispenza has written a book about it.

I know I am a spirit in a body but sometimes I forget. I know how to heal others but often I neglect myself. I’m on a life mission, I know, but I’m still working out the details. I wonder if the best of what I’m going to do in this life (raise two amazing children) is already behind me. But I am still here.

I love to sit by the lake in our summer place in Cape Breton; it restores my soul. I try to meditate at home but without much success. Sometimes I sit and stare. I raise my eyes so I do not fall into despair. I miss my son.

Often I feel separate from everyone else; different. I see myself in the way I imagine others see me but they do not, even now, know who I am.

I am grateful for this adventure called “my life”.

Who are you?

If you are a blogger I invite you to respond with a blog post and leave a comment here with the link to it. If you are not a blogger I invite you to take as much space as you like and answer the question here in the comments. Or join in spirit by simply challenging yourself to answer the question, whether you write about it here or not.