This month's topic is "Authenticity."
It's an interesting subject, isn't it, for how often are we really "who we are"? Can we ever really know ourselves? Or more difficult yet, can we truly know someone else and they us?
Eden divides people into two groups: those with "the strength, the stability and the staying power" of a mountain, and those who "seem to be a constant flowing river rather than a mountain. They seem to twist and turn at a whim. And what may seem one way about a person at one moment, might change without warning in the next second."
The mountain, she says, is "what it is without exception, without explanation, without apology. No more and no less than what it is. The mountain is not difficult or complicated."
The mountain doesn't try to be what it is not, trying vainly to fit someone else's mold, expectations or ideals. The mountain does not apologize for what it is; neither does it care what others may think of it. It just is.
Like people the mountain may change over time, its peaks and valleys carved by the wind and water, yet still it remains steadfast. Sturdy. Strong. Sometimes I wish I were more like that mountain, resolute in who I am and my place in this crazy world. And many are the times I wish I could say to someone, “this is who I am, like it or not…accept it or not.”
But I’ve never been that strong. I’ve never been the mountain, standing up for my thoughts, opinions and beliefs…for who I am, what I am.
Being “me” has never been easy. Sometimes I don’t know who I am at all, if I’ve ever known or ever will. And maybe that’s because, for much of my life, I’ve had to pretend to be what I’m not in order to fit in, to be accepted by friends and peers, to escape the bullies and hypocrites. It’s easier to meld into the woodwork, to appear to be “just like everybody else.”
Who we are often hinges on the people with whom we associate.
“You’re so different when you’re not with your friends” someone once told me. And thinking about it later, I realized he was right. We act different with one group of people than we do another. It’s easier to be a part of the crowd than it is to be an individual, to act as the crowd expects you to act. Being part of the crowd means going with the flow, accepting things as they are, no questions asked, just letting the current guide you along. It’s much easier than fighting the current, swimming in your own direction. Much easier than standing up for what you believe in, than speaking out against perceived injustices, no matter how slight; for taking a stand against the things you cannot, in all good consciousness, do or abide.
Yes, letting the current carry you along may be easier, but the effort to swim in the other direction – your own direction – can be well worth the effort, despite the pain you might experience along the way. Sometimes you have to stand up for who you are – or at the very least a facet of who you are – and stare down the bullies and hypocrites in the world. You have to be the mountain, if only for an instant.
Why is it that’s so much easier to talk about than to do? Why are we so afraid to stand up and be different – or accept those who might look or think different than we do? What do you do when you discover that someone isn’t who they purport to be, that they aren’t “authentic”? How do you deal with the two-faced nature of some individuals, people who pretend to be one thing, then turns out to be another? And how do you deal with someone who believes you to be something or someone you are not?
It can not only be disappointing to find out someone isn’t who they seem to be – a friend, a parent, a mentor – but it can also be damaging. How do you learn to trust that others won’t turn out to be the same way? Harder still, how do you learn to trust yourself again, your own judgment? Do you trust again at all?
I’ve been in this position, more than once. It’s made it more difficult for me to open up to people, to share how I really feel and who I really am. There are facets of my personality I keep hidden, emotions I try to bury. To feel is to trust, and to trust is to be betrayed. Again.
How do you learn to be that mountain – that confident, resolute mountain standing steadfast against adversity – yet not be eroded away into nothingness by that relentless river, its waves battering you from every direction as it tries to carve out your soul? Can standing up for who you are, your authentic self, truly be worth the effort?
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To read the entirety of Eden’s essay on “Authenticity,” visit her website and look for “Monthly Garden” in the sidebar:
1 comment:
Hey Heather! If you ever find the anwers to those questions, pass 'em on to me, will ya? ;) Very thoughtful post.
(((Hugs)))
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