Monday, December 7, 2009

The Real You



 "Yes, you are right -- I am a moralist in disguise; it gets me into heaps of trouble when I go thrashing around in political questions."  -- Mark Twain

You absolutely cannot be exactly whom you would like to be. You may have great intentions and have even better plans for future transparency, but you will inevitable fall short of whom you want to become. Whether you believe you are a natural phenomena, a spiritual being, a chunk of some divine cosmos, or an unknown entity, you will find yourself not fulfilling the blueprints of your mind and soul. You are treading somewhere between your first and last destination, neither chosen by you, and you are unique in your self conception of every breath from birth until death. And, a lonely journey it is.

Even if you could understand yourself, you lack the means of expression to transmit the message. No words can identify your entire being. And, no actions can account for everything you represent. Often, you fool yourself into thinking that someone else will understand you completely, so you diligently search for an imaginary soul mate who matches your identity. Close encounters exist, but, in the end, no one can discern who you actually are. "Soul mate" is a mystical concept rooted in hopeless romantic theory. Chemistry and matter, along with purpose and desire slosh around within your coat of skin in indiscernible, uncontrollable  motions. Exact duplicates of the composition just do not exist.

An occasional crystal moment of strictest intention escapes you and wanders into your hollow environment only to break apart against the sharp forms of those around you. These masked familiars ask you why you laugh, cry, want, act, love, hate, and you search for the image, the word, the gesture to answer. But, finally, in sacred truth you answer, "I don't know." As the words leave your lips, you begin longing for some instinctual understanding and empathy for their utterance only to discover soon that these things never come. You soon learn to accept your own inept paralysis and provide false sounds that may as well be silence.

You want to be honest, yet the honesty that inhabits you is complex, both black and white, and also gray. Others seek your Golden rule, but to present reality, you would have to expose the tarnished nature of its internalization -- the stains of gut reactions and acidic mistrust. What good is a shady truth to someone other than yourself? To accept yourself as a gray being is easier than sharing the the darker part of your heart with others. Deception soon lends itself to your mysterious secrets of allure.

As they give freely of their great perceptions, how proudly some profess to possess the answers other people need; however, they stand behind the words of scholars and profits whose words they monotonously mouth. While the beautiful simplicity of their design seems strong and centered, their own true souls dare not venture far from their inner bounds. Wise, cautious, and willing to console, their spirit clings to tethers of hope in the written word. They dare not explore the recesses of their interpretive beings because they have felt the bruises of reality upon their valiant egos. Often lost in denial, they accept and believe that they are exact and righteous proponents of glory, not simply natural agents of their creator.



To be exactly whom you would like to be would require unknown abilities of transparent expression and behavior. In terms of sales, you would have a lifetime "satisfaction guarantee" of specifically stated performance and dependability. The "think" and the "do" would be one perpetually flowing stream. All human frailties stripped, you would become the naked truth -- not necessarily a beautiful being, but one completely understood inside and outside.

This notion of total self revelation is absurd. So, the real task of living is to be content with what little knowledge you gain of yourself, to embrace the loneliness of your unique makeup, and to expect little in return for your love and understanding of others. No one's words of description will ever disclose the person you really longed to be. If you are lucky in this life, you may find someone whose touch grazes the shell or your soul and call them a "best friend." But, in reality, they barely knew you.


3 comments:

pellinore said...

Profound and convincingly communicated. Your third paragraph conveys my thoughts on the matter so effectively it's as if i could have written it myself.

Frank Thompson said...

Pellinore, Thank your for your kind words. I found this tough to write with the proper diction and sentiments, but easy to release once my mind wrapped around the entire concept.

Frank Thompson said...

Britt, forgiveness for natural actions seems unnecessary. No one is to blame for inabilities to project the soul -- art constantly attempts to give it voice and face. I appreciate inadequacy. Are you saying you should not forgive the sins of your creation?