Who are you without your identities?
This week, I listened to astrologer Chani Nicholas talk about the eclipse season beginning next week.
Eclipses have long been associated with what is hidden, obscured, or brought into view.
Throughout history, different cultures have interpreted them in different ways—some as omens, others as disruptions, turning points, or moments of transformation.
What spoke to me wasn’t the prediction.
It was the metaphor.
Chani took the conversation a step further and invited us to think about the identities we take on—the roles, titles, and labels we begin to associate with so deeply that they become who we think we are.
And that is where the eclipse became such a powerful metaphor for me.
Because if these identities are not who we truly are, then who are we underneath all of them?
What part of ourselves has been waiting beneath the titles, the roles, and the labels we’ve carried for so long?
What might come into the light if we loosen our grip on them?
One question she asked has stayed with me.
Who are you without your identities?
Maybe this isn’t about becoming someone new.
Maybe it’s about remembering who you’ve been all along.
It sounds like a simple question.
But when someone asks us who we are, how often do we answer by naming what we do?
I’m a coach.
I’m a mother.
I’m a teacher.
I’m a lawyer.
I’m an entrepreneur.
I’m retired.
They tell the world something about us.
But do they really tell the whole story?
I’ve been thinking about my own life.
Over the years, I’ve been a travel agent, a yoga teacher, a yoga mentor, and now a coach.
Becoming comfortable calling myself a coach took years.
At first, it felt like a title I had to grow into.
But over time, I realized something.
Coaching is what I do.
It’s also part of who I’ve always been.
Long before I had a name for it, I was listening deeply, asking questions, and seeing possibilities people couldn't yet see in themselves.
And still...
I’m so much more than a “coach.”
What I appreciate most about Chani’s invitation is that she isn’t asking us to reject our identities. She’s simply inviting us to create enough distance to see them.
Some of our identities are ones we’ve chosen.
Others were given to us.
Somewhere along the way, we simply accepted them.
We stopped questioning them.
We stopped noticing we were wearing them.
What if, just for one week, you gently took off one identity?
Not forever.
Just long enough to notice what it feels like without it.
What if you weren’t...
...the one who has it all together?
...the caretaker?
...the good girl?
...the successful one?
...the strong one?
...the people pleaser?
...the perfectionist?
...the one who always has the answers?
...the black sheep of the family?
...the disappointment?
...the failure?
...the one who never quite fits in?
Or even the title you use when you introduce yourself.
What would it feel like to hang that identity by the door for a week?
Not because there is anything wrong with it.
Not because you have to give it up.
But because stepping away from it, even briefly, might help you see what has been waiting underneath it.
If every title you’ve ever held disappeared tomorrow...
What would still be undeniably true about you?
I don’t think this is a question we need to answer quickly.
Maybe we simply carry it with us for a while.
Notice what comes up.
Write about it.
Let ourselves wonder.
As the light shifts in the sky next week, perhaps allow something else to shift, too.
Not who you are...
But how you see yourself.
You might discover that beneath every role, every title, and every label you’ve ever worn...
You were there all along.
With love from the desert,
Cathy
