...quiet, about a lot of things...
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Carry a Lie: for Sunday Scribblings
I find myself emailing and very assuredly reminding this friend.."This is not WHO you are. Don't get caught in illusions. Remember WHO you are."
It's easy from the outside looking in. A point of perspective, I suppose. Sometimes we are to close to see the whole picture. We just fixate on that one eschew, crooked detail. We let that detail become a focal point, instead of incidental. This is when we need friends to tell us to back up a few inches, and refocus. "You are missing the mark. Back up and look."
How many times have you wished you could help someone you love SEE themselves? It's as if they are standing next to two mirrors. One, all convex and contorted...like a fun house mirror, in bad lighting. The other, crystal clear, with just the right ratio of reality to mood lighting..with a bit of beautiful amber human tone, the light of which, makes flesh almost eatable. The roses; rosier..the blues; deeper, the creams; softer. Reflection from this mirror is the reflection of love.
So your beloved, be it friend, lover, daughter, son or spouse, stands in front of these two choices, right smack in the middle of them. They turn to you and ask you which is true. Being honest, you tell them, that they are both illusions, as all skin deep reflections are. Still, the illusion of love is more true. The most true. The best version. But they can not see it.
Perhaps someone very early on, polluted their eyes, ruined their vision. They feel only drawn to the warped and clownish rendition of themselves. The more you point their shoulders towards the love, the more they turn to the hate. The more you see the good, the more they find the bad. In love, the uniqueness of their character, makes them priceless. In loathing, it makes them a freak, distorting all differences until they are hideous and unbearable.
But few things are truly unbearable. So for all you effort, when the lights go out, their money all gone, their paid time through, the image fades. All is black.
They turn and face life again. They carry the reflection with them. They carry the lie. They bear it. In time, they will no longer even feel it.
So you wait for the next chance. You wait for them to gather the strength to look again. You hope against hope, that you will be there with the right words to help them see.
(You hope that you will not be too busy gazing at your own illusion to notice that they need you.)
And after it is all said and done, and this dream is finally over,you hope that in the end, as in the beginning, you will join with them. With laughter, tell them, that in this shell game of life, you never once lost them. Through all the crazy costume changes,in all the hide and seek, you always could find them. You always could see them. You always will see them.
"Oh what a game! Oh what a silly, silly game. Thank Goodness it is over. We Are Through."
More Beasts of Burden at Sunday Scribblings