> you're always going to have to see yourself as something.
I think this is indirectly a large part of the problem. The trend in society is that everybody must have totally unique and interesting identities, and since few people are in fact "special" enough to live up to that ridiculously high standard, they need to pile on everything and the kitchensink to get to some reasonable approximation. And you'll still wake up one day and dread that your identity is not, in fact, unique and interesting enough, which looks a lot like your "a lie" scenario. But in the meantime, you've set yourself up to spend a non-trivial amount of time fending off attacks, real and imagined, on any of the myriad of items that make up your identity.
In a past not too distant, our waiter-friend would be content to see himself as a good person, a good friend and a provider for his family.
I think we both agree that contentedness is the goal, but we disagree on how to get there.
To you, it might seem like 'fending off attacks, real or imagined', is a waste of time, when the waiter could just snap his fingers and suddenly be content with being a good person. But I don't think it's that easy. I think that mentally fending off attacks is a necessary component of becoming content. For the waiter to arrive there, he needs experience. He needs to have reasoned through his problems and put his answers to the test: what makes a good person? Is it living virtuously? Is it living according to one's values? What are my values? I value craftsmanship, yet I'm a waiter -- is that a conflict? In my opinion, the waiter needs to figure all of that out before he can become content. You might call it a waste of time, worrying about things that may or may not be consequential. I call it building up mental fortitude.
Becoming content, in my opinion, requires mental fortitude, and having a varied identity is one of the tools to help build that. I'm still struggling to see how limiting my identity to a single thing helps me be content in any way. Even if I limit it to something as simple as 'a provider for my family', what happens if I fall on hard times and can't do that anymore? It's going to hit me like a ton of bricks. I'd rather be able to weather that storm when it comes.
It seems to come down to a definition of what it means for something to be a part of your identity. All of those internal discussions the waiter has, he can have those productively, probably more productively, without making waiterism his identity.
The point of limiting your identity to the core stuff, like providing for your family, is that those are the things are truly matter. If you can't provide for your family, that will hit you like a ton of bricks, regardless of whether it's part of your identity or not. But if you let a nasty comment about your hairstyle, the viability of socialism or whether Jesus really existed bring you down, you can choose not to care because it doesn't really matter (in that isolated interaction, the questions may well matter in the grand scheme of things).
Also, nobody said this was supposed to be easy, something you just flip on and off. But it's something individuals can think about for themselves and decide whether their haircut or profession is really important enough to feel attacked if someone makes a nasty comment.
Yeah, I think you're right about it coming down to a definition of what identity is.
When I talk about broadening my identity, I guess what I'm really talking about is exploring new interests and testing out new ideas. The thought of 'keeping your identity small', to me, seemed as if it was suggesting I should never invest myself into anything lest I open myself up to criticism (which struck me as a fearful way to live).
If I instead think of it as deciding between what matters and what doesn't, and only truly caring about things that matter, that makes a lot more sense, and is actually something I agree with.
I think this is indirectly a large part of the problem. The trend in society is that everybody must have totally unique and interesting identities, and since few people are in fact "special" enough to live up to that ridiculously high standard, they need to pile on everything and the kitchensink to get to some reasonable approximation. And you'll still wake up one day and dread that your identity is not, in fact, unique and interesting enough, which looks a lot like your "a lie" scenario. But in the meantime, you've set yourself up to spend a non-trivial amount of time fending off attacks, real and imagined, on any of the myriad of items that make up your identity.
In a past not too distant, our waiter-friend would be content to see himself as a good person, a good friend and a provider for his family.