Identity - Crisis

It is curious the effect of names and the power they wield in shaping behavior.  It is not the words themselves, but the idea and connotation behind them to the listener and speaker.  Communication is an everyday wonder taken for granted. I am most aware of its' power in the absence more than the effectiveness.  I could continue down that path in greater detail, but other events sparked me to post again.

It was something so simple as a vacation.  I enjoyed having a couple days off with my family, without the interference of internet access, which is more often a distractor than an accomplisher of tasks for me.  When I returned and checked my microblog on Twitter, I was dismayed to discover that I'd been hacked. Phantom me had posted false links to my feed and direct messaged others.  Three followers inquired as to the veracity behind me contacting them in that manner.  I apologized to the three, and proceeded to delete the offending messages.

When I checked back later, I discovered that, although my feed was unmolested, False Falchion Malacandra had not desisted the latter attack.  I changed my password and deleted twitter access on my mobile device and things have calmed since, but it raises a larger question?  I, who use an alias online as a passing amusement, witnessed the ease that someone else can assume my cloak and mask.  How much time, effort, and personality did I invest in my account?  Truthfully, I enjoy the access to people that twitter offers - an opportunity to speak a timely word of encouragement or praise to writers, performers, and friends whose work I admire.  It allows me to contact people quickly on their mobile devices, ask for opinions and availability.

Who am I?  How many reflections do I reveal in my own life? How many excuses and ideas do I hide behind? How much of me is truly self-created?  My current answer is a great deal of the source material may belong to the inspiration of another, but my understanding and implementation of it is my own.  The glory of free will, work, and options.  Like a hypothetical body, each interaction between intention and action is an exercise in my continuing evolution of character manifested.  As a creature of habit, my choices will become a routine, my actions do shape the course of my life and the abilities I will be able to offer to those around me.

As I rejoin the legions of the plugged in generation, examining the live feed of interactions of others on a grand stage, I believe that as people age, they reveal more of their true colors. As life progresses, people become more of themselves, only with louder actions and brushstrokes.  Inaction is also a choice - I am sometimes tempted to fade away into a shadow, observing the lives of others instead of contributing my own part to present histories.  On my own, I shall not change without monumental and superhuman strength of will and belief, I need a Savior to transform my life into something greater than I could ever dream or comprehend.

In the end, my identity's importance isn't who I am, but in whom it needs to be found.  My life is hid in Him - Fearing, loving, and worshipping Him with all I can muster now, and beyond as I grow in His grace.