Who is my life for? Who are my people?

It has been hard to admit that I am, in large part, a jack ass. I hope I am less so now.

For so much of my life, I prided myself on volunteering and serving. And some of that effort was sincere. But so much, too much, was signaling to others that I was generous, kind, and other-oriented.

This became clear when Robyn and I married, because for the first time any selfless act I made was actually sincere. After marriage I began to actually understand what it meant to live for someone else, and put the needs of someone else before my own. I realized that what I thought was selfless before was merely signaling.

I hope this attitude has cross-pollinated to friends, family, and neighbors. Only time will tell.

And yet, even though I know that I have a tendency to virtue signal, my heart still yearns. To serve, it yearns. To contribute something beyond my own family and friends, it yearns. To leave an anonymous gift, with even a small, lasting impact, it yearns.

I used to wonder what impact I wanted to make. But I think the better question is for whom?

Who do I care about so much that I will take time and energy away from my family? Who do I yearn to serve so intensely that I will intently listen to them and humbly offer to help after really understanding them? Who am I that committed to? For whom does my heart yearn? Who are my people?

An easy answer would have been my heart yearns for people like me. I couldn’t even if I tried, because I have no tribe.

I am Indian, but not really culturally. I am a theist, but not baptized nor a practicing Hindu. No political party has a philosophical underpinning that sits well with my conscience, and if it does it’s priorities are not aligned with mine. I am male, but not particularly masculine. I am a minority everywhere in the world I land, even at home as a resident of a majority-minority City. I can’t help people like me because I am a misfit, always. I don’t even know who people like me are.

My life, I believe, is not my own. It is not for me. I don’t even know if I want it to be for me. I am the residual claimant on my own life, if anything.

And if I believe, my life is for people beyond my family - which I do - than who? Who is my life for?

This is the hardest question I have encountered in many years. I don’t even know how to start answering it, yet. But I can’t help but feeling that it’s critically important one. My gut tells me it is a question worth a struggle.