THERE AND NOT THERE

Once he had “made a name for himself,” and then rather quickly discarded it, for it was false to him, he was false to himself, and the name that came to be on a small but real pedestal, the personage that he now fulfilled and had to keep fulfilling not unlike a balloon full-filled with hot air, had become an overinflated role that he could keep fulfilling or could just let the air out and walk away, which is what he did. As much as he enjoyed the power, the image he now had built, had earned even, he knew it was false and no longer to be maintained. He understood the meaning of “false images” and conceived that perhaps all such idols in the eyes of men are false. While he didn’t necessarily want to be invisible, he realized not been seen or known to be much closer to the truth of things: to be empty of self is truer than to be full of self, for self has its own way of claiming and identifying with power, thus becoming the role it plays, the masque it wears. We all become what we think we are, often to our great detriment, be it notable or notorious, famous or infamous. And now, in his old age, though he regretted his invisibility at times, he also relished it; for he could walk in the forest unseen and unheard, like a breeze among the trees, or saunter upon the beach in the surf, watching his footprints vanish behind him at each step he took. That was invigorating to him. For, in looking back, he could see so clearly now all the mistakes he had made in his life, all the hurts he had inflicted in his self-absorption. For he had been so blind to others and their needs, never knowing or caring who they actually were or how they cared for him. He felt this now, deeply in his heart, in his soul. And he could not “make it right” to those others. As for the sorrow within him, he didn’t know if it was due to his sins of omission or if it was a reflection of the great sorrow of humanity itself in its own lostness.