I hadn't read my friend's latest blog entries, and when I did, I was oh so thankful that his words had not been sanded down and white-washed with a mask of finesse. He poured out his heart with deep, profound, raw honesty--with a bravery I only wish I had. The fluctuations from sections of polished rhyme and meter to lines that read more impulsively--like the not yet edited results of brainstorming--became it's own form that illustrated uncensored feeling.
doubt, hurt, pain, regret, suffering...
were the tags to describe what he shared with anyone who would read his blog. His words welcomed me into his pain and caused me to feel.
Some people flee such emotion, but I've learned to treasure it. It is connection. It is what I believe being human is all about. If we learn to disconnect with others over the hard things in life, then the connection will not be strong enough to deliver the full impact of joy or love. We are a society so well-practiced at deadening our connections, at making them superficial, at managing them with finesse.
Mirriam-Webster defines finesse as:
- refinement or delicacy of workmanship, structure, or texture
- skillful handling of a situation: adroit maneuvering
- the withholding of one's highest card or trump in the hope that a lower card will take the trick because the only opposing higher card is in the hand of an opponent who has already played
Desiring to be an artist, definition #1 is definitely a compliment. Compliments are nice and all, but they often sit at the superficial level of communication. Even delicacy and refinement speak to me of restraint, withholding (which, of course, there is a place for, but all in balance. All in balance.)
Definition #2 compliments the business sensibilities of the artist, "Look at how clever you are! You just might be able to pull this thing off." It makes me think of a race car driver, maneuvering the road, yet not really touching it, locked in a shell of protective metal.
Definition #3, however, can definitely be taken more than one way. In the game of life, we are told we must be smart, we must be clever, we should always be looking for the best deals, the greatest bargains. Applied to business, and applied to games, definition #3 is a good thing. It's the kind of behavior that gets us ahead, brings success. In relationships, however--in connections with our fellow human beings, definition #3 smacks of deception and usury. Definition #3 makes sense in the world's economy, but in God's economy where it is better to give than to receive, and the last shall be first, and we are blessed through the conduit of blessing others, finesse can be nothing but an excuse for being selfish.
It was in definition #3 that I met my challenge, my admonition.
Having two blogs, one public and another private, is a good way to manage one's image. Pour those things that are unsightly and humiliating into the private blog, and carefully edit what you publish on the public blog--it's as simple as that. Finesse, baby. Finesse.
And yet, for all the hiding we do, I believe there is a desire deep inside every person to be known and to be accepted. Finesse has us often so focused on the "accepted" part that we may overlook the "known" component. Our hearts know the difference, though, and finessing my way into being accepted for something that isn't truly me will never be fulfilling.So, why do we hide, why do we shrink back from connections? I think it's largely due to a fear of pain. Not only do we avoid the "Debbie Downer", not wanting the bad mood of someone else to spoil our day, we also don't want to be that fount of negativity. We live in a world where everyone knows The Secret is positive thinking. We hear it referred to as law:
- "The Law of Attraction"
- "Name it and Claim It"
- "Blab it and Grab It"
We're so afraid of a little pain that we build whole philosophies and religions around this gospel of prosperity and positive thinking, positive energies, and often ignore the richness of what is true and what is real. I'm not saying that we should entertain negativity, but I am saying that I think it is actually a negative thing (can we even go so far as to say it carries "negative energy"?) to deny what is real and what is true in the moment that we live it. It is negative because it doesn't foster connection. If my reality is merely a construct of what I think, and yours of what you think, then where is the bridge between the two?
Maybe that negative impact of (false) positive thinking is why so many disciples of The Secret and other such philosophies still have to keep their weekly appointments with their psychiatrist and still feel so unfulfilled even when the Law of Attraction is blanketing them with shiny, pretty shrapnel.
So, what does all of this have to do with the alleged finesse of my blog?
Even before my friend issued that compliment/accusation, I had already been thinking about how, in sorting out which things I blog about publicly and which I retain as private, I have been withholding some of my greatest life lessons--those grown in the soil of my deepest pain. If keeping our pain to ourselves is a generous thing to do, why is there such relief in learning that we're not alone--that someone else understands our struggles? Maybe it's because we were never intended to carry the pain alone.
"Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ."
Galatians 6:2
How can sharing pain be a beautiful thing? I think back to loosing my sister. There was a lady in my church who lost her brother very close to the same time. All she had to do was come up to me and squeeze my hand and say, "I know," and a bridge was built. Once that bridge was built, a simple meeting of the eyes would reinforce the bitter-sweet connection. We weren't alone. Life was real. It wasn't simply some bundle of energies that I made up within my mind. She gave me the grounding I needed, and I'd like to think it was reciprocal. Even now as I think of this, my eyes well up with tears and a knot in my throat nearly chokes me. I'm not going to run from it, though. I'll embrace it. I'd sooner feel the deepest pain than not feel at all. Numbness is like being alive but not really alive.
I thank my friend for, perhaps unwittingly, opening my eyes to the façade of my finesse. I'm going to try to incorporate more of my "private blog" material here. No promises other than that. I'll try. I'll try because I do long to be known for who I really am, but I'll also try because that is the generous thing to do. There may be those who will never know that they are not alone if I don't find the courage to accept what is true and what is real, whether it's pretty or not.
