The Graves of Our Identity

I have been in LA for just shy of two weeks now and there is so much that I want to say. In fact a couple of days ago I wrote a blog saying what I thought I wanted to but postponed posting it for some reason. It was missing something, but I couldn't figure out what it was until now, stories. If I had to pick one word to describe my experience in LA thus far, it would be stories; the ability to listen to each other’s stories, the courage of sharing our own story, the willingness to listen to God as we shape our own stories. I consider sharing our stories to be a vulnerable and spiritual act, something that connects us as humans and connects us to God.

I think that’s what I love most about LA, everybody is so diverse and everybody brings a diverse set of stories with him or her. (Unlike where I’m from where most of stories are very similar.) I like hanging out with the people we met and having them show us the city through their eyes. I am overwhelmed with joy at how much hospitality we’ve received. However, I felt like there was something missing in LA. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but part of me missed orientation. While I don’t exactly miss waking up early, sitting in the same chair for eight hours, mentally and emotionally stretching myself. I do miss the people there, the conversations we had, and the safe space created. While I was at Stony Point, I felt like I was safe in my own little bubble, not so much here in LA.

For the longest time I wondered why that was, and then it dawned on me, the reason I’m not as comfortable in LA compared to Stony Point is because I don’t know my story. In New York, I knew my story, I knew who I was, but in LA I feel like I am still scratching the surface to figure who I am and how my story plays apart of this world. I have been struggling to figure out my identity. I’m a YAV but I’m also a Dweller. I’m not a local, but I’m not a tourist. I’m not a missionary, but I’m doing mission like work. I’m in the middle of a bunch of gray areas, and I do not do well in the gray.

These are some thoughts I was pondering when I visited the Hollywood Forever Cemetery during my free time on Tuesday. As awesome as my housemates/fellow Dwellers are, I needed some alone time to explore and reflect on my experience. I picked a beautiful day to visit a beautiful cemetery. The place was practically empty because I went on a Tuesday morning, and the only people I saw for the first half were employees. For a minute there I felt like I did something wrong for entering near the Jewish graves. I thought maybe I entered the staff only entrance and when I explored my first of three mausoleums I kept thinking, “Am I allowed to be here? Where are all the tourists? This is Hollywood Forever Cemetery, right?” I was surprised at how calm it was there. I did not realize this at the time but when I went to the cemetery I instantly labeled myself a tourist.

These thoughts were put on the backburner as I tried to navigate myself through the cemetery. One emotion that presented itself was “should I take pictures.” I wanted to take pictures, but I have not done so that much because I did not want to look like the average tourist. I want to live among the people of LA. I was so concerned about if I would be labeled a tourist or not, I did not have time to enjoy the cemetery in the beginning. Navigating between tourist and living among LA has been more difficult than I thought, mainly because I’m near Hollywood, a hub for commercialism and tourism.

When I saw people who were local to LA place flowers at the graves, I knew I should hide my phone. I feel like it does not take someone a year of service to know not to take a picture of someone visiting his or her relative’s grave, which is extremely disrespectful. Then when I saw some tourists take their picture next to Johnny Ramone’s statue, I thought, “Ok, I can take a couple pictures here.” It wasn't necessarily that I was wearing the label of tourist there, but I decided to not focus on defining my identity so much that I miss out on Hollywood Forever Cemetery. That’s how I think I should approach this city, not focus all my energy on defining my identity that I loose focus on how beautiful this city is and the people in it. I think it’s very selfish if I focus all my attention on defining my own story that I’m not able to listen to others’ stories with an open mind. 

During a very low-key worship today, I thought to myself, “Does anybody know his or her identity?” Our identities are always changing, our stories are always developing and to say something is finite within ourselves is actually putting a lot of limits on us. I was reminded that it was ok not to have the ending to my story today. The idea of “Happily Ever After,” is quite stupid, not because we don't get happily every after but because we get happily ever after all the time. I believe by the grace of God we get happily ever after yesterday, today and the days to come, so why should we pin point happily ever after on one point of our lives, when our happily ever afters are infinite?

So what identity should I wear, tourist, missionary, local, volunteer, Dweller, YAV? I think the answer is simple; I have a year here in LA, why should I worry about labels and enjoy the time while I’m here. As long as I am respectful and understanding of other ways of life I think I should be fine. Everybody has been extremely friendly, I want to focus my energy on being present with them and not worry about how I should define myself. I know that if I do that I will enjoy my time more when I’m in LA. Part of my story involves being present in other people’s stories, and I can learn so much from their stories as well. So as a listener of stories, how do I honor and respect the story and paths of others who are different than me? I don’t think I need an answer to that question, if anyone did have an answer to that question religion and politics would look so differently in today’s society. But that is a question that I hope to be intentional about this following year.