Authenticity

I’ve taken to daydreaming more than usual. I can’t describe it, but my mind seems to easily wander. I’ve noticed that light is the biggest catalyst to fancy for me. The way a light can permeate through the back of a leaf is magical. The green illuminates and the veins of leaf turn into etched glass. In all my daydreaming I began to think about authenticity. What does it mean for something to be authentic? So much of our relations in the world are anything but. My wife asked the question best when she asked me why people can’t be honest, honest about the welling up inside. After all, we all dream; don’t we?

I took a taxi home from work and had a Nigerian cab driver. Honestly I really didn’t much feel like talking. I had a long day at work and was caught between stress, exhaustion and for all intense and purposes felt done with the world for the day. However, I made conversation. I wanted to hear a different voice anyway and started talking. I asked him where he was from and he told me. I know a couple of things about Nigeria, when I worked as an assistant nurse right out of university most of the nurses were from Africa. They had come from Sierra Leone, Nigeria, Uganda and Zimbabwe. They were always happy to talk about their homes and I was happy to listen. I had never been to Africa and other than the standard bad PR that runs in the press I really didn’t know that much. So, to show my cab driver that I knew a little more than he might expect I flexed my muscle and started reeling off facts about the country. Standard sorts of facts about the main tribes, population and regional religious differences. It was I who was most impressed.

We started talking about life, people, marriage, family, religion and well almost all the things in between. It was amazing to see such humanity in a man I had just met, but most of all wisdom. Now I’m not sure he was the brightest person alive, but then I have no way of knowing. What I do know is that he was happily candid about the fact that life aint easy for none of us, neither me nor him nor you. For him the true test of love was your ability to hold on, not let go and he knew why. As for all those republicans who claim to be Christians, well he had a thought or two for them.

I’m writing about this because I was genuinely touched by our conversation. I was touched by the fact that he was old enough to have a conversation with me. For the most part I meet people who are impressed by your ability to make small talk, not by the sanity of your vision, the authenticity of the feelings that can, that really can bridge the gap. I wonder, is it chaos people are afraid of. If they are I suggest a healthy dose of psychotherapy. I’m sure that a few months of probing could brake most people. Enough pragmatism can make you wander off the edge of a cliff; a chalky spirit is as bad as a gushing one.

But I found out something about myself talking to this guy. Nothing I didn’t know but maybe something I had to remember; that is that I value humanity, I value all the humanity I have. What I value are the edges that sit around the perfect picture and crack it up. There is something to be said for breaking up the world into pieces, being just a little destructive, destructive enough when things get too shiny, or too stiff to remind the world that something out the ordinary can make you laugh. More than that, it can remind you that there are horizons far broader than your view, whoever you are and wherever you live.
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Alex Crockett