Classification Essay

When my husband first stumbled onto my path, he asked me if I'd made "Ruby Tuesday" my theme song. Do I bounce through life quietly humming to myself, "who can hang a name on you?" He says, I never know what to expect with you, you keep me on my toes. I know you intimately and I don't know you at all. Am I that much of an enigma? The eighth world wonder, an old boyfriend said. Yet, with every montage, with every collection of seemingly random pieces, there is always a pattern, a theme. Keep with me long enough and you'll see there are three main unwavering aspects to my personality. I am spiritually based, doggedly headstrong and always mischievous.

Spirituality is as essential to my daily life as the air I clutch in my lungs, as the hot blood in my veins. Whatever path you take, let God guide you down it, my father would say. Only He knows your heart, not man, so let only Him be your judge. But, this part of me is not one-sided. It was common to see the Koran meeting covers with the Holy Scriptures touching the Dhammapada. And, lord help us, there was The Book of Mormon, too. I've loved a Muslim man, a Buddhist man, a Jewish woman breaking free, and a nihilist who took me to Paris. Yet, I always come stumbling back to the god called Jehovah, a child again, needing love. I try, so hypocritically, so sensitively, to integrate these pieces into the spiritual whole of who I am, remembering my father quoting scripture, "If He cares enough for the flowers of the fields to clothe them in beautiful colors, so surely he will care for you." I have, for so long, tried to remove the clothes of God, but they are stuck as permanent as skin.

The second layer of that skin is my headstrong nature. Stubborn, my father says. Bull-headed. Obstinate. I call it ready. There is a fantasy in my mind that I came into this world ready to overcome challenges, obstacles, barriers. I'm not living if I'm not conquering, if I'm not intensely engaged in a silent battle of wills within my own walls, if I'm not finding out my own Trojan horses. And when I find them? I break them down and build a raft to sail the uncharted seas of my abilities, my mistakes and aspirations. I may be bullheaded, but I find it to be a quiet discipline, a sturdy foundation. I come back to this nature again and again, find strength in it when the world has whipped me, to gather up all my defenses and try again.

However, it's not all tyranny within myself. There is a third consistent element. Another ingredient that cuts the occasional bitterness and ferocity of the other two. A propensity for mischief that allows for a loose playfulness, as easy as linens in a breeze. It's the eye of my hurricane, tempering the winds I travel in. And, during well-placed moments, it acts as the inspiration for otherwise dull, tedious environments. Stacking the votes for the employee of the month charade at work. Walking nude around my house with all shades open. Receiving a baby lovebird for a wedding gift, loud, obnoxious, darling lovebird because I liked the word connection. A wrap-around skirt in the wind. Chasing after frogs in the summer, thigh-high in murky water. Cheap wedding rings my husband and I replace at random and at will. All such little things that mend my heart.

When my spiritual foundation, headstrong nature and mischievous soul are delicately threaded together, the tapestry of who I am is revealed. Look at it awhile; you can not take it all in with one glance. I must be examined from many different angles. I'm a mosaic influenced by rich history, composite parts of heritage and clashing cultures. I'll spend my whole life attempting to seamlessly integrate in one body. One day the Ruby Tuesday persona may disappear and I will have a name I can hang onto.