Even more bewildering and frustrating is my wavering confidence that I am being authentic, even when that is probably the case. I suspect the reason is that being authentic reveals so many different conflicting feelings. Being authentic almost guarantees that you will sound inauthentic, or perhaps the better term is inconsistent (or by your detractors, hypocritical).
I've been practicing being authentic. It is hard work.
Last summer, I got in touch with one of my oldest dearest friends. We were childhood playmates and high school buddies. During the seventies, we engaged in long thoughful phone conversations daily. We parted ways when I left New York for south of the Mason Dixon Line. Since then, we have reconnected briefly, a phone call here and there. I was overjoyed when she flew down south for my wedding eighteen years ago.
So when our high school class started planning a 43rd Reunion (I suspect because we had all turned 60), my friend and I tentatively started to write emails back and forth. This led to weekly, then semiweekly phone calls. On the one hand, I experienced the cozy comfortable feeling of having someone in my life who seemed to have known me forever, who could anticipate my next sentence, and could empathize with with my unhappiness and my joy. On the other hand, we discovered we had grown into adults with diverging beliefs about religion, politics, and healthcare (holistic vs. traditional).
Over the course of a few months, it became apparent that my friend could not tolerate my authenticity. I tried to stay clear of the subjects upon which we had different beliefs, but that severely limited the scope of our conversations. Our connection broke one evening when I authentically told her about my religious beliefs, which are quite fuzzy. I suppose I consider myself an agnostic, or perhaps just aperson who accepts there are questions which will always remain unanswered. My friend is a follower of Sai Baba, a Hindu guru who died fairly recently. Since, from her point of view, he still exists, she is still one of his devotees, although she has found a new personal guru.
Although I always accepted whatever she wanted and needed to tell me about her religious beliefs and practices, and how they influenced her daily experience, she was unable to accept mine. In other words, there was no space for me to be authentic. I tried to maintain our connection because our friendship has such a long history, because I do care about her, and primarily because she was a wonderful friend in some important ways. Eventually though, I could not sustain the ruse. We no longer speak. We don't even exchange emails. I miss her, but I can no longer tolerate a relationship where I am not permitted to be who I am. Sometimes, being authentic has it costs. In this case, I suffered a loss of a friend (at least for now), but at least I have me.
Years ago when I was on a business trip in LA, I was in the company of another lawyer, a colleague from my parent company, and a colleague of hers who I'd just met. We were just chatting about things (I don't remember what; it wasn't related to business) and my friend said to the other person "Curtis is very open." I thought I was just being myself, but her remark gave me pause and made me wonder about how she regarded me, our relationship, and felt about normal everyday communication. I guess I was being authentic and the principal reasons I allowed myself to become a lawyer had to do with the profession's high ethical precepts. You're supposed to tell the truth. Similarly, for me the central Quaker "testimony" is the Testimony of Integrity. Apart from the fact that without honesty and integrity, there is no path toward edification, it's so much more relaxing to be that way. Your friend, sadly, went crazy and is somewhere up a blind alley looking in assorted distorted mirrors. When I've been faced with similar relationship disruptions, my former shrink (who I liked a lot) always said that the person simply wasn't meant to be in my life. It sounds simplistic, and I wouldn't have trusted it as a statement when I was younger, but I do now and it's quite practical. Curtis
ReplyDeleteHow fortunate you were to receive to such a compliment! At least I think it was a compliment. Actually, I had considered applying to law school in my forties. I was drawn to the idea that there were laws written down which clearly (so I thought at the time) stated what was true, and conversely, what was not true. Since I existed in a constant state of ambivalence and confusion, studying law seemed quite appealing. My father always seemed to be the embodiment of honesty and integrity. Those qualities were certainly part of the legacy he left to me and Jonny. I don't know much about Quaker beliefs and practices, but I am taken by the idea of a Testimony of Integrity.
ReplyDeleteAs for my friend, she actually is crazy, which is one of the reasons I tried to be there for her. Nell
Regarding the last part, everyone has their limits. And it's funny -- I don't think my friend Bonnie was complimenting me; my concern was what I perceived as some implied criticism, as if by speaking as I was I somehow had gone too far and made her look silly. It was all very mild, though, but the moment has remained with me. Legal analysis is enjoyable because forces you to try to find clarity in situations which are, for many reasons, unclear and to (at least in terms of what Jonny and I usually do), find practical ways for people to work together. Not all differences can be resolved but a lot can. Quakers have several core tenets called Testimonies, the best known and oldest being the Peace Testimony, the Testimony of Integrity, Testimony of Simplicity, and Testimony of Equality and Community. Recently, certain Quaker Yearly Meetings have added a testimony concerning the earth and environment. These don't take catechism or dogma form, but they do provide accurate backdrops into basic thinking. Anyway, for me Peace and Integrity are central and, as you can imagine, always challenging. In terms of Peace, people always (valldly) challenge you with the Hitler question. And Integrity is a daily challenge on every level. Curtis
ReplyDeleteFor reasons I can fully understand, no one has ever paid me Curtis's compliment, if that's what it was. "Keep the important parts to yourself" has always meant much too much to me. Only at an incredibly advanced age is it dawning that this might not always be the best plan.
ReplyDeleteI share Curtis's appreciation for the way in which the practice of law can involve bringing clarity and truth to a tangled and absolutely real situation. Of course, it doesn't always work that way, but that's the part that keeps me coming in to the office.
I also agree that truthfulness is much more relaxing than lying. Unfortunately, I find it can be even more relaxing (in a certain way) not to say anything at all.
If authenticity with friends is hard, how much more so with family members. Agh! Here the dilemmas become very acute.
Chris
Both of you have caused me to regret not studying law, since you have clearly defined the reasons why I had considered it and have added to my understanding of its appeal. I'm sure I'll be talking about my regrets when Dr. B. returns.
ReplyDeleteCurtis, Thank you for expounding on Quaker principles. It does sound quite appealing, although I think I would probably be a terrible Quaker; I'm much too obstreporous. But perhaps it might be something to consider for that very reason. (It's funny. All of my high school friends say I was so quiet and reserved back then, but I think that was probably a kind of PTSD).
Chris, It's hard to know when to share the important parts, isn't it? It can feel quite dangerous. I generally do keep them to myself, but less so than in the past.
Although in theory I agree that truthfulness is more relaxing than lying, I really struggle with it. I don't generally lie, but still find myself agreeing with people just to avoid conflict, or keeping my thoughts to myself.
I've tried to be with authentic with my family. It is extraordinarily fraught with potential pitfalls. Luckily for me, however, my most significant family member,my husband is very receptive, if not always delighted with, the authentic Nell.
Nell