New Year’s Eve is always a holiday of expectations.
We celebrate not the actual year that lies behind us, the experiences that shaped us and got us to the point where we are, but the anticipation of the new year and the symbolic fresh start it brings to our lives.
The future is bright, shiny and free of blemishes; the past is old, craggy and possibly on fire. There’s nothing good for us there.
Bolstered in this spirit of New Year’s revelry, I took the opportunity to visit an old friend in Athens, Ga., for my New Year’s festivities, a visit that would culminate in a New Year’s Eve party thrown by a multi-millionaire magician and bird enthusiast at his mansion.
“Awesome mansion party,” the Inner Voice said on the way to Athens. “There’s no way this can be bad.”
English major that I am, I should have remembered my Robert Burns:
“The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men/ Gang aft agley,/ An lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain/ For promis’d joy!”
Yes, instead of happiness and revelry, I engaged in what was possibly the most awkward, isolationist experiences I’ve ever had in my life.
Never in my life had I ever been a part of a group of people in which I felt so completely alone.
My presence seemed to not be scorned or maligned, but ignored altogether. Indifference is far worse than hatred. Hate I can take; it means I still have enough of a presence to make you feel something, even if it’s a negative emotion. Indifference is simply inhuman.
The kindest, most down-to-earth person I met all weekend was the multi-millionaire magician, a self-made man who seemed to value the collection of people gathered for his party far more than the wonderful possessions that adorn his palatial estate.
It was one of those alienating experiences that forces a certain amount of self-awareness and introspection.
And I’m so glad it happened.
We all want to be liked.
We all want to belong and make friends.
We all want people to think we’re interesting.
These things are true.
But, in the end, what should really matter is if we like ourselves.
As Editor Woods so often has said to me, quoting Polonius’ advice from Act I, Scene 3 of “Hamlet”:
“This above all: to thine own self be true.”
I get into a bad habit of wanting everyone I come into contact with to like me.
I analyze the situation I’m in and narrowly tailor myself to the version of Cliff that I think would be best suited to said situation.
Instead of being me, I channel one of my “characters” and muddle through it as best I can, keeping me from knowing them and them from really knowing me.
This ends now.
I’m finally reaching a point in my life where I don’t care what others think.
If you jell with me and my vibe, great. Let’s hang out.
If not, well — that’s great, too. Nice to have met you. Let’s move on to people we do want to hang out with, people who help us be the us we want ourselves to be.
The best of times is now.
Live and love as well as you can.
Make each moment last.
But, above all:
Be you.
AMEN!
ReplyDelete