An Unforgettable Lesson

It was our ninth grade creative writing teacher, who made us realise that each one of us was unique, with our singular way of looking at life and the world, if only we cared to observe ourselves in a moment of quiet contemplation. One of the first assignments we were given was a three-part study:

1. What people think of me

2. What I want people to think of me

3. Who I really am

On the surface, it sounded simple. But more than the writing skills, objectivity, utter honesty and sincerity were three requisites needed to dive into ourselves and fish out the answers to complete the essay.  

Such an exercise exposed us to our own self, and its many onion-like layerings.   The first two parts highlighted our role as interactive individuals within a socio-cultural context,  eager  to express ourselves truthfully as well as anxious to impress others. This unambiguous analysis of the multi-levelled self helped us gain an insight into our own being: the timid deeper one vs. the projected one. While the former remained inherently ours in essence,  and therefore steadfast, the latter was the result of constant chiselling, and thus, in  a continuous process of change.

Having gained a better understanding of  ourselves, we were now prepared to set out on a journey of self-discovery, where we would learn to identify and listen to our own voice, thoughts, emotions, and the wisdom latent to every individual, instead of penning down what was expected of us, or even worse, what sounded 'pretty'. 

I was reminded of this exercise recently, when asked to send a photograph of myself to accompany the write-ups, to be published by a burgeoning website, which believes in empowering its audience through in-depth articles, mainly related to health, spirituality, and nature. Unfortunately, I am a near nincompoop when it comes to posing in front of a camera: I don't know which way to look, how to smile, what to think...resultantly, the confusion reigns supreme in my entire persona. The tug-of-war between trying to be simply myself, and having to say, 'cheese' and pose, is apparent in virtually everyone of my photos. 

However, owing to the confession I just made, I usually like to steer clear off  viewfinders, lenses, and clicks. To cut a long story short, since the editor insisted that I send my photo to accompany the articles, I embarked on a 'selfie' mode, clicking away from different angles, while trying to visualise happy situations and places to give my smile the semblance of genuineness. I experimented with  indoor/outdoor lightings, and all the in-built editing options to finally come up with something I liked being associated with.  Here, as I was to  realise soon,  I had consciously committed myself to the second part of my school days' assignment: What I want people to think of me.

Even though I sent the photo to the editor, I was angry, both with myself, and with the publication for subjecting me to such a terrible ordeal. Why was it so important for me to make an impression on others? Just as, why do many of us stand in front of the mirrors and see which smile suits our face best? Like trying out a dress in a showroom! Why are there dentistries promising the customer 'that perfect smile'? Smile is not something which is perfected by polishing one's teeth and exercising the right muscles, but a spontaneous manifestation of the inner joy, or joie de vivre. A real smile simply unleashes itself from the depths of one's soul, and doesn't require a launchpad of even, ultra-bright teeth.

Why was it, I wondered, that a mere preojection of myself through a lens  had taken up such disproportional significance in my  mind. instead of being comfortable with who I was, I ventured out to be someone others would be comfortable with.  Is it, that the search which had begun in a creative class so many years ago, was still on, and will continue to be so? Being and becoming will coexist in over-lapping veneers?  Perhaps,  gregarious beings as we are, we will learn to concur  with all our different epiphanies, even revel in them... as long as we don't lose track of our real Self.