Years ago, I sat with my then teenage son at the window counter of a coffeehouse on Trafalgar Square, content to just people watch. He turned and asked me something like: “what are the odds I’ll see someone from my high school class in this throng”? Knowing he wasn’t looking for a response on the statistical probability, I smiled at my own thoughts triggered by that question – what are the odds I would even recognize anyone from my high school class if they were now walking by this window 35 years later? And then I laughed out loud – heck the entire class could be marching in front of me and I might not recognize anyone! [PLEASE CLICK ON THE TITLE ABOVE TO CONTINUE READING]
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My mind slipped back into neutral as I continued people watching, but only for a few minutes. Slowly the gears grinded their way higher as I considered a much bigger question – how many of these people walking by me were truly authentic, projecting themselves as they truly are? And, what does that even mean now? What struck me in this moment are the costumes and make-up we all wear at every stage of life attempting to tailor our image to a role, a model of who we think we are, or who we want to be, or even one that fits what others think us to be. At this age, it’s easy to see and laugh at the myriad looks young teens try on as they explore an identity that works for them. Perhaps it’s the extremes that make them so memorable – the hair, the clothing, how its worn, the accoutrements, the body hardware, the walk, the talk. I thought about me at this age and my parents’ reactions. This is all so natural, part of the process of growing up, of searching for and hopefully, finding an identity that fits. Do we ever really grow out of this stage and, if so, when? But what of the never-ending searching, the continuous and fluid costume changes as we stumble or are propelled through life? Those people now parading in front of me in their 30’s, 40’s and 50’s still wearing uniforms to fit a role. Is that role in which they are cast really them? Are they authentic in it? Can they even be their authentic selves in this or any role? If success is achieved in the role, the image associated with it only becomes fortified, confirmed. Does that make it harder or truer? Or is all this just a twist on the basic question of who am I vs. what I do? It’s sad to think that often this question does not even get asked -there is an unchallenged acceptance that they are in fact the same. I continue to watch as the blurred kaleidoscope of people now comes back into focus. I look at these faces and imagine all of them here at this point in time stripped of their costumes. Not naked, just kind of blank slates, like undressed mannequins. I wonder what it would look like, how much it would change, if there was some cosmic declaration that on this random Tuesday morning, it was “Come as You Really Are” dress up day. What would they each choose to wear? Would doing so be apparent on their faces? Would their determined and oh so purposeful marching the Square be more casual, more relaxed? Would they be friendlier, greet each other, smile? My mind races through the faces of the people who have known me for 40 or 50 years – do I appear authentic to them? How would they even define it? How do I? In September 2013 I wrote an article for this space entitled “Be More ___________”, encouraging the reader to think about and fill in the blank. I now think after all these years, “authentic” is as worthy an entry as any other. |