Sitting in a taxi this morning on my way to Edinburgh Airport, enjoying the freshness and extraordinary light of a 4.30 am foray into the Scottish landscape, about to exchange the Scottish summer for the Sydney winter – the only material difference, of course, being the longer day in Scotland at this time of year – I found myself musing on the question of identity. In between looking out for the rabbits who inhabit the roundabouts near the airport – a habit I have been unable to shake since the children were little, when part of the joy of going to the airport lay in looking for the ‘bunnies’ – I began thinking about a lively conversation with my parents yesterday, during which we were trying to work out who, exactly, we were. Are we Scottish? Part English? British? European? Human? Who are we, after all?
This is, I know, a common question for those of us who live and work internationally, and one that will resonate with many. People often ask me, “Where are you from?” and I never quite know how to answer, so I usually end up saying that I am based in Edinburgh, but that I travel a lot. And that is true … in part, at least. Edinburgh is home; almost certainly, it is the home to which I will return as the years pass and old age begins to creep in. It is not, however, the whole answer.
I know, however, too, that part of me lives wherever each of my children is. Part of me lives where my parents are, and where my in-laws are. Part of me lives where my friends are. Part of me remains in every place in which I have ever lived, worked, loved, struggled, laughed, learned or felt that I belonged. Part of me lives in Hong Kong; part of me lives in Sydney; part of me lives in Dubai. Part of me lives in all the places where I have formed a connection and where, in turn, those connections have helped to form me.
Perhaps, then, we carry our homes around with us. We unquestionably carry the accumulated substance of our past, present and imagined future wherever we go; we are never severed entirely from the selves we have been, the relationships that sustain us, or the possibilities towards which we are moving. Perhaps home is therefore less a single geographical location than a constellation of places in which we are physically present, emotionally invested, mentally engaged or spiritually at ease. We may be living out of a suitcase, or we may find ourselves briefly living in an airport lounge, a hotel room or a train station … wherever we are, though, we are living, and we are undeniably present. And that place becomes, for a moment or for a lifetime, part of where we are from.
It would, of course, be both culturally insensitive and rather daft to land in a new country and announce grandly, “I am from here.” Yet there is an element of truth in the idea that, as we scatter parts of ourselves around the world, we become an assemblage of all the places we have ever been. Our identities are unique because our journeys are unique. We are shaped by our origins, but we are also shaped by the people we meet, the places we encounter, the relationships we nurture and the futures towards which we are moving.
Perhaps the most honest expression of identity is simply this: I am me – past, present and future; I am who I have been; I am who I am; and I am who I will become. And if we can continue striving to become more consciously and generously ourselves – not only for our own sake, but for our families, our communities and the wider world – then that feels to me like a worthy endeavour.
So, these are my early-morning musings as I head off to Sydney, another one of the places I am from. I wish you well, today, in this moment, in all the places where you are, where you have been, and where you will be. May you find richness in the unique accumulation of places, people and possibilities that has made you who you are.
