THE FINDING: A SHORT STORY
"He hasn't found himself yet," he heard his parents say to others while he was growing up. How desperately he wanted to "find himself" so his parents wouldn't have to keep saying this of him, especially by the time he got into his twenties, at which point he himself was saying to others, "I haven't found myself yet."
His solution turned out to be a forced finding himself. Thus, he "found himself" as a poet, then as a playwright, then as a painting contractor, then as an academic writer, then as another painting contractor, then as a stagehand, then as a story analyst for television, then as another painting contractor, then as a novelist, then as a proofreader and editor.
The trouble was, all these things that he had convinced myself, along the way, were him, were not him, or so he concluded. He had imposed himself on them, talked himself into them, and, in most cases, did them purely as a means of biding time until he actually did, for real, discover who he was.
Adding to the problem was his inability to understand exactly what finding himself meant. This would change, he assumed, when something came along that truly lit his fire, was his "bliss," as Prof. Joseph Campbell termed it. But then wasn't he inspired already by all the things he was doing in his life, even though they proved houses of cards in the end?
On the other hand, there was a lot to be said for houses of cards. It was found in psychotherapy when, for example, a patient had a sudden revelation that what he or she had been revealing to the therapist was, in the end, all a lie, not intentionally a lie, but a lie nonetheless. The result was a breakthrough. The phenomenon was found in Zen as well, where monks struggled to solve koans from the Master, until their intellects collapsed into the bliss of satori.
When, though, he reached retirement still not having found himself, he had a revelation, no less a satori. He realized that finding himself was only an idea put in his head by his parents. There was no such thing as finding himself. There was nothing he needed to find.
Besides, a person was not what he did but what he was, and he was that all along.
His solution turned out to be a forced finding himself. Thus, he "found himself" as a poet, then as a playwright, then as a painting contractor, then as an academic writer, then as another painting contractor, then as a stagehand, then as a story analyst for television, then as another painting contractor, then as a novelist, then as a proofreader and editor.
The trouble was, all these things that he had convinced myself, along the way, were him, were not him, or so he concluded. He had imposed himself on them, talked himself into them, and, in most cases, did them purely as a means of biding time until he actually did, for real, discover who he was.
Adding to the problem was his inability to understand exactly what finding himself meant. This would change, he assumed, when something came along that truly lit his fire, was his "bliss," as Prof. Joseph Campbell termed it. But then wasn't he inspired already by all the things he was doing in his life, even though they proved houses of cards in the end?
On the other hand, there was a lot to be said for houses of cards. It was found in psychotherapy when, for example, a patient had a sudden revelation that what he or she had been revealing to the therapist was, in the end, all a lie, not intentionally a lie, but a lie nonetheless. The result was a breakthrough. The phenomenon was found in Zen as well, where monks struggled to solve koans from the Master, until their intellects collapsed into the bliss of satori.
When, though, he reached retirement still not having found himself, he had a revelation, no less a satori. He realized that finding himself was only an idea put in his head by his parents. There was no such thing as finding himself. There was nothing he needed to find.
Besides, a person was not what he did but what he was, and he was that all along.
posted by Donald L. Simons at
12:16 PM
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