Now that we’ve deconstructed achievement and the performance of authenticity, I’m going to ask you to look at the very foundation of your mind: the narrative you’ve built up about your life. If you can’t trust your achievements or your “brand,” can you even trust the stories you tell yourself about who you are?
For instance, take someone that is afraid of public speaking. It is maybe not so much the actual physical part of speaking but more so the anxiety that comes with standing in front of a room full of people that are analyzing every word they’re going to say. They probably have practiced that speech in front of the mirror a hundred times. They look at themselves, straight into their own eyes, and tell themselves things like “you’re brave” or “you’re confident,” as if they can talk their own ego into being this desired version of themselves.
But that’s not how it works, is it? If a person is confident they just act with confidence. They don’t need to tell themselves to be confident; they simply are. We cannot tell ourselves to be something, just like we can’t tell a dog that they’re a cat, because that isn’t what they actually are.
Architect of the Past
A lot of the time when we try to remember how things were or how we acted, we edit that version of the story. If you can recall back to some time in grade school when a rumor was passed around or something told a story like whisper down the alley, by the time it got around the class it was a totally different version of itself compared to how it started. We do this same thing with our memories, at least to some degree and some of the time.
Think about a story that you have told yourself over and over again. If you can, think objectively about how the original event transpired and see if there’s a difference in how you’re telling it today. Most people try to tell a story in a way that makes them seem like the hero, or sometimes they tell the story to make it seem like they’re the victim, but they never tell a story that makes them sound like a villain, do they?
I’ll tell you from personal experience that I handle a lot of civil litigation cases. They always involve someone’s negligence, always. Someone has to be at fault, otherwise there wouldn’t be a claim, but I could probably use my hands to count how many people told me they were at fault directly. Because it’s always something or someone else’s fault; they say things like “the other person was speeding” even though they ran a red light, or “the bushes were overgrown so I couldn’t see around them” even when they could’ve moved forward much more slowly.
It’s because society has instilled in us this fear of being ‘wrong’, so people will lie or bury the truth in order to not seem like they’re wrong. Why do people do this? Because of their ego, because they don’t want to be branded as someone who did something wrong. They feel that their safety or continuity is in jeopardy should the tribe brand them as someone who is at fault.
How it Happened
People seem to have developed selective memory, which is when you forget something that doesn’t align with your brand or what you’ve presented as your self. They only tell the good parts of the story that make themselves look great. It’s sort of like social media; people will post all of the glamour, like the vacations, the spa days, the new car, or the new job; but very often omit the bad news like getting laid off, or when they miss a bill, or when they accidentally hurt someone.
Truth is all about perspective. Two people can have the same exact experience and tell two completely different versions of what happened. I see it all the time in my claims handling. Sometimes there are many people involved and they all have different versions. Who do you believe in situations like that? Usually an uninvolved witness, if there is one, but even then they might have certain biases that influence them to respond a certain way.
Therefore, the “truth” of life is often just a matter of perspective. We may be looking at things too closely or with a far too powerful lens, or even from too far away and without enough understanding of how things really work. This is why I am not against any particular religion or any particular way of thinking. I don’t have all the answers and I never will, but what I do know is that we are a part of nature and this universe, and so is whatever allowed us to be here. The beautiful part is that everyone’s right and wrong at the same time.
Now, where the anxiety comes from, is believing your story is the right one. When a true believer is questioned they become very defensive. If their story is challenged, they feel attacked, and I mean personally attacked, as if you had smacked them across the face when you said you don’t believe them. This is because they’ve confused their very existence with a story.
Living Without the Legend
There is a great freedom in saying “I don’t know.” Maybe not to every single question that is asked of you, but when you stop trying to justify your life with a backstory there comes relief.
You are the observer of the thoughts, not the thoughts themselves. This is a key takeaway from Act II. Take each moment as it comes to you, and draw your energy from the here and now. The past is a story and the future is a guess; the only real thing in this world is what is happening right now. Drop the “story” and find stillness in motion. There is no safety, there is no assurance that everything is going to be held together. Things will change and fall apart; there is death, decay, movement, and alterations but there is also birth, growth, dancing and love.
Reflection
Pick a “defining moment” from your life and then imagine if it had never happened. Who would you be without that story?