Sprawled on the sofa in one of those 'enlightening-Oprah' moments, my eyes scanned across a concept that managed to attach itself to the filigrees of my brain. 'Breaking open', it was called. Not to be confused with tips for burglary, the prising open of that damn-awful jam jar in the back of the cupboard, or coming out, 'breaking open' referred to the emotional opening of one's heart during a time of personal hardship. Yes, you, the currently non-emotional person wondering when this post will get to the funny bit. Believe it or not, this may concern you.
At the time, I thought, 'Wow, how beautiful" (read: how also irrelevant to me and my glorious future). But it appears there always is a time when one 'breaks open', spilling their tears and ill-considered beers on the public pavement. We are all human, we are all mortal, and, it seems, we are all embarrassing. Yet sometimes what we perceive as embarrassing - our times of humiliation, badly timed tears and bursts of anger - are actually the most interesting, the most valuable parts of ourselves that we have to offer. These are the times when we are truly real.
We all like to think of ourselves as real. "Oh, I say what I mean", "There's no point in smiling when I'm not happy", and "I'll always tell you the truth" are all phrases we often hear ourselves saying. But in the face of the public, that all-judging public, would you be ready to bare your soul? Could you cry in front of your boss, rage in front of your grandmother's friend or outwardly despair at a professional gathering? Well no, you answer, of course not - it would be inappropriate to do so in each of those circumstances. Which comes the nexus of my next point: as real as we believe we are, we are often slaves to propriety. It is propriety which causes us to don those professional masks, conceal those dotted mascara lines charring our cheeks, and create a fake cheese for all to see. Propriety is our friend in many situations; but too much of it can turn it into our enemy.
At the time, I thought, 'Wow, how beautiful" (read: how also irrelevant to me and my glorious future). But it appears there always is a time when one 'breaks open', spilling their tears and ill-considered beers on the public pavement. We are all human, we are all mortal, and, it seems, we are all embarrassing. Yet sometimes what we perceive as embarrassing - our times of humiliation, badly timed tears and bursts of anger - are actually the most interesting, the most valuable parts of ourselves that we have to offer. These are the times when we are truly real.
We all like to think of ourselves as real. "Oh, I say what I mean", "There's no point in smiling when I'm not happy", and "I'll always tell you the truth" are all phrases we often hear ourselves saying. But in the face of the public, that all-judging public, would you be ready to bare your soul? Could you cry in front of your boss, rage in front of your grandmother's friend or outwardly despair at a professional gathering? Well no, you answer, of course not - it would be inappropriate to do so in each of those circumstances. Which comes the nexus of my next point: as real as we believe we are, we are often slaves to propriety. It is propriety which causes us to don those professional masks, conceal those dotted mascara lines charring our cheeks, and create a fake cheese for all to see. Propriety is our friend in many situations; but too much of it can turn it into our enemy.
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| Doris' Campaign Against Propriety |
The part I find the most beautiful about this death of propriety, 'breaking open', is the sadness element within it. For much of our rage, unhappiness, or concern is really stemming from a bed of sadness. If you are in this place, or have been in this place (don't lie), you'll know what I mean when I say everyone can see it. The guy behind the supermarket counter can see it. Doris' nosy nose over the fence next door can see it. Unfortunately, new clients and industry-ites can see it too. They can see it not so much through a look in your eye or your body language as through a sixth-sense, some sort of anthropological left-over from when strangers used to care about each other. And the most beautiful thing about this sixth-sense - wait for it - is that is takes us back to that humane time. Strangers will help you, smile at you, open your car door and not make off with the rest. Breaking open reveals the best that humanity has to offer, at the time when a subject of humanity most needs it.
To close (how do you close an aspect of humanity?), breaking open is one of the best experiences life has to offer. Whether you've broken up from the love of your life, lost your house, are unsure of your identity, or have killed your career, there is a little piece of love left over for you. It's waiting behind the supermarket counter.
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