Being Real


Are you real?

Am I?

Are they, all of them?

I`m afraid you know the answer. We all do. Something terrible had happened to the human race and as much we know deep down, what we should be, how we should behave, and what world we should live in, it never seems to happen. Not fully, at least. Yes, there are some who are closer to the truth – those are the happy few about whom books are written and songs are sung. They were fortunate enough to see themselves for what they were and the world in its beauty and in its sickness. Often, that knowledge and the actions that followed came at a great price. Those were the men and women we call heroes today. They were that real, authentic self we all long to have and be…

Hemingway once wrote: ‘If people bring so much courage to the world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.’


We are all made for more. Deep down we know it, and that explains our miseries, as Pascal once said. Yet, instead of rising up and being who we were meant to be, we hide, ever lurking in the gloom of the dungeon built by the world around us and presented to us as the home we should live in.

The chains can be broken. The walls can come down. Our spirits can raise up and breathe the free air again.

Alas, most of us refuse, shrinking back into the hole from which they had never had the courage to crawl…

Sad are the days of those whose souls are great. Those who are blessed and doomed to be human. We live and die in hope, fear and pain.

But those who seek will find that which seeks for them.

You are not who you think you are. I am not. You are more, and you know it. You are made for more and you crave it. Look at your fears, your hopes and your compulsions. You see?

I want to see. I want to find that which I seek. And I am desperate. Desperate to the point of following the call of the wild and, against all my natural instincts, do that which most avoid doing. The more steps I take out of my comfort zone, the more of myself I find, and with it, more of that which I was made for.

What made extraordinary people what they were, was not that they were more talented or gifted than me and you. The world may indeed want us to believe that, and act, play roles, and hide our real selves deeper and deeper behind our masks. But there`s the rub, as Hamlet said – the very people whose lives we try to imitate, imitated nobody. It was their uniqueness, their raw, untamed goodness, which made them who their were – defenders, discoverers, teachers, mothers and fathers to us all…those people were the few humans who truly knew how to be themselves.

It was that desire, the longing to become myself, which drove me to the Scottish Highlands.

There, under the formidable presence of the looming mountains, I was broken and I was rebuilt. I was wounded and I was healed. The story is long and the story is precious and it will soon be told. But it is not about the story. It is not about the search. Rather, it is about what we are finding and what we are becoming.

Am I real?

More so now.









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