un dressed

Someone, whom I love and respect, once said that sometimes people know us better than we know ourselves. I often think about this. We are far more predictable, transparent, obtuse, and fragile than I think we think we are. But is someone "knowing" us only their knowledge, and consequently, their opinion, of our behaviour and speech? Then do they know us, or just see us differently than we see ourselves?

Like most people, I am sure, it is a pleasing, uncomfortable sensation when someone starts talking about how they see you, particularly when people are complimentary. Why is it so hard to accept a compliment sometimes? I don't mean flattery, but a genuine, thoughtful compliment? Why is it almost instinctual to cringe, brush it off with self-effacing remark?

Beyond the compliments or encouragements, though, I always find it so weird to hear how people perceive me. I met with the director of my department today to talk about where I was at and where I should go in terms of professional development, and it was a very strange thing to hear how he knew me. It's just so different than how I see myself, and one has to wonder what is the most accurate perception.

There have been people I have known who have so brilliantly deceived themselves about their own persona it's terrifying. Or maybe it was just that I thought they deceived themselves into believing they were many things that they in fact were not, but the reality was that they led people to believe the act they put on to cover gaping insecurities.

We live in a world of medicated reality, where the true and basest parts of "us" are couched in a manner swallowable. We find the politically correct ways of saying things, talk in circles, edit our photos, wear a lot of makeup, and pray in a different kind of language. I have heard Martin say that some of the most beautiful prayers he has ever heard were raw, first prayers, complete with expletives.

Which leads me to this reality: My God knows me better than I know myself, better than any other knows me, better than I will be ever known by human or by self. And what does he see? He sees me falling asleep when I should be praying, knows those moments where explosive anger is simmering and spitting on those around me, how I don't like some parts of the Bible, how sometimes fear of what happens after death paralyzes me. And he knows my heart's desires. Do I even know my own heart's desires?

Ah, well, much rambling thought with never any conclusion. How do we come to know ourselves? A good question for which to find an answer.