The irony of hiding the dark side of our humanness is that our
secret is not really a secret at all. How can it be when we're all
safeguarding the very same story? That's why Rumi calls it an
Open Secret. It's almost a joke - a laughable admission that each
one of us has a shadow self - a bumbling, bad-tempered twin.
Big surprise! Just like you, I can be a jerk sometimes. I do unkind,
cowardly things, harbor unmerciful thoughts, and mope around
when I should be doing something constructive. Just like you,
I wonder if life has meaning; I worry and fret over things that I
can't control; and I often feel overcome with a longing for
something that I cannot even name. For all of my strengths and
gifts, I am also a vulnerable and insecure person, in need of
connection and reassurance. This is the secret I try to keep from
you, and you from me, and in doing so, we do each other a grave
disservice.
Rumi tells us that the moment we accept what troubles we've been
given, the door will open. Sounds easy, sounds attractive, but it is
difficult, and most of us pound on the door to freedom and happiness
with every manipulative ploy save the one that actually works. If
you're interested in the door to the heavens opening, start with the
door to your own secret self. See what happens when you offer to
another a glimpse of who you really are. Start slowly. Without
getting dramatic, share the simple dignity of yourself in each moment -
your triumphs and your failures, your satisfaction and your sorrow.
Face your embarrassment at being human, and you'll uncover a deep
well of passion and compassion. It's a great power, your Open Secret.
When you heart is undefended you make it safe for whomever you
meet to put down his/her burden of hiding, and then you both can
walk through the open door.
Elizabeth Lesser
from: Broken Open
~
...the person you think of as "yourself" exists only in you, and
even you don't really know who that is. Every person you meet,
have a relationship with, or make eye contact on the street with,
creates a version of "you" in their heads. You're not the same
person to your mom, your dad, your siblings, [that] you are to
your coworkers, your neighbors, or your friends. There are a
thousand different versions of yourself out there, in people's minds.
A "you" exists in each version, and your "you", "yourself", isn't really
"someone" at all.
Commentary on a chapter in a book called
One, No One, and One Hundred Thousand
by Luigi Pirandello
