SOME of the most influential people in my life started as strangers at summer camp. For several years in High School my group of friends hit the jackpot as far as camp counsellors go. I'm still not sure if they stuck Angi with us because they thought we were the "problem girls" or if we were just lucky, but either way, we were envied by the rest of the camp (boys included). She was fun (when she caught us sneaking out of our dorms one night, we were reprimanded with "well if you're going, at least wear black"), athletic, beautiful, had fantastic clothes (she had the first tank-top with a built in bra we had ever seen. It was big deal.), was crazy musical, and she liked to hangout with us. I remember realizing how small a corner of emotion I had experienced when I heard her discuss a dimension to a person or a situation that I had never even considered before. And she cried openly for her campers when she was trusted with their challenges.
One morning the two of us sat together in the dining hall. It smelled like rising bread. Above our heads was a muffled rise and fall of conversation, the occasional scrape of a chair, and the groan of an old floor adjusting to a crowd of teenagers shifting in their seats. Behind my eyelids, the room was still and black, and the table-top where we rested our forearms was cool. I remember this moment not only because of specific words or ideas that she offered (we were praying) but mostly for the quality of person
that came through them. She spoke with such trust and love, genuine emotion and openness. She wasn't preoccupied with what I was thinking about her (or if I was thinking about her). There was no self-consciousness. It was both exhilarating and uncomfortable for me. I had never experienced such an honest moment with another person. It gave me the courage to speak frankly to God.
I love hearing people's stories - subjective experience is fascinating. Recently a friend from school was required to write his personal philosophy for an assignment. In it he discussed how he has formed his way of being. Using philosophers, pieces of literature, film, art, and music (he began the piece with a Radiohead lyric. He had me at hello.) he unfolded his reality. Projects like this one, from a student's perspective, can be scary. The idea of being "known" makes my palms sweat (actually, just the thought is doing that right now). It is so intimate. These days, vulnerability takes a lot of effort for me. As we discussed his paper and I questioned him, I realized (and not for the first time) that he didn't feel vulnerable. He was laid bare on paper for someone to grade and he didn't feel the shame of nakedness. I think it was because he felt he had nothing to hide. Like Angi who was baring her emotions and thoughts, he wasn't vulnerable, he was just being honest.
In my lovingly purchased paperback Penguin Reference Dictionary I have dog-eared the following (yes, I realize how nerdy it is that I have marked pages in my dictionary. And that I still use a printed dictionary.):
vulnerable (vulnerability n) 1 capable of being physically or mentally hurt. 2 open to criticism or censure. 3 open to attack or damage; assailable.
honesty 1a upright and straightforward conduct; integrity. b sincerity; truthfulness.
What does it mean to live honestly? And I'm not talking about morality, but about unabashed openness and transparency.
I have been taught that if you want someone to share with you, you should first share with them. This goes for sandwiches, as well as the slightly more complicated social/emotional realm. But I'm wondering if I have been going about it wrong. What I have felt around both my camp counsellor and my philosophy-paper-writing friend is different than moments of vulnerability, which have been marked by worry that I will be misunderstood or unloved, scoffed at or disliked, for example, if I reveal the trueness of myself. These two experiences with honest people made me feel unguarded and so I could just be. It didn't take great effort to own my thoughts or emotions or actions (or whatever) because they were so easily claiming theirs.
If honesty's transparency is so inspiring, isn't it a better way than the vulnerability's fear? Isn't inspiration always a better way than fear? So then why is it so hard to live honestly? What do you think? I would love to know. Please comment below.
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