You don’t need fixing.
Wake-Up Call #2
The texts rolled in.
“Dude, have you seen this”
“OMG, mind officially blown.”
“I was sobbing, and you know me, I’m not a crier.”
These came over a period of months. Not because of anything that happened in the news. They were in response to a show called In and Of Itself on Hulu.
Everyone kept asking, have you SEEN IT?!?!?!
Short answer: yes, but not on TV.
I was in the audience at the live show in Before Times, snuggled into a small black box theater just east of Union Square in NYC in 2019.
It’s nearly impossible to describe what In and Of Itself is, beyond “it’s a revelation.” A one-man show, led by Derek DelGaudio that drops you quickly into another world. The stories, DelGaudio’s grounded, quiet, contemplative, melancholy presence walks you into the experience and never lets you go until the last second of the last minute.
So, why the tears? The sobbing. The barrage of texts asking if I’d seen it?
Because there are a few moments that hold the potential to wreck you.
And you never see them coming until you’re in them. Yes, they’re couched in mind-blowing illusion, complete and utter sleight-of-world, there is a confounding level of magic happening.
But more than that, Derek does something we so yearn for, we so miss, especially now, that it leaves you breathless.
He sees you.
Into you, holds that essence with his gaze, then proclaims you, as you are, to the room.
And, he does it with every single person in that theater.
I won’t reveal the details. You need to experience it yourself. It was stunning to not only witness, but also be among those seen in that little theater not so long ago.
To be seen, truly, is so rare these days. Including, by ourselves.
In the altered reality that has subsumed so much of these recent years, so many of us have unwittingly become strangers to ourselves. It was happening long before the pandemic. A mad, often media-and-tech-enabled rush to publicly position ourselves in a particular way. Or, to our families, friends, colleagues, lovers, and community.
It’s not just that we took on a persona when moving through the world. There is, in the right contexts and applications, some value to that. It’s that we, ourselves, lost track of the human behind the veil. Or, we just decided, unwittingly even, that they didn’t matter as much as the illusion.
It’s no way to live.
When we lose the thread of our true nature, we’re no longer living life, we’re performing it. All the accolades, love and belonging will never make us whole. Because they were directed at the husk of an identity we crafted for the world, not the essence that was lost to vapor along the way.
We’re in a moment, bundled with an invitation to know ourselves—to see ourselves—more honestly. To become reacquainted with the stranger within us. To show up more as that person. And, if we’re brave enough, to let others into what’s been revealed.
But instead of doing the work to reconnect with who we really are, and allow that person to represent us in the world, we tend to do something else. When we feel the pain of disconnection the current season has brought to so many of our doorsteps, we look to “fix” ourselves.
Truth is, for most folks, the problem isn’t that there’s something wrong with us, something in need of repair. It’s that we exist, in part, to know and be known, to see and be seen, to embrace and be embraced. When that doesn’t happen, we suffer.
We don’t need to be fixed, we need to be seen.
By others, sure. Even more, by ourselves. Not as we could be. Not for our potential. Not as we dream to be. Or we project ourselves to be. But, as we are. Behind the facade. When we lower our shields. And step into our elemental selves.
In that act, vulnerable beyond words, lie the seeds of reconnection, not just to others, but to ourselves.
Before you try to fix, see. Then, be.
Wake-up Call Prompt:
What would happen if you paused long enough, created the space for the real you to emerge? To be seen. Not so much by others (yet), but by you? Unvarnished, #nofilter, no one else is looking. What does that person look like? Who are you? What do you love, hate? Where do you find joy, sorrow, peace, laughter, meaning, and connection? What are you great at, terrible at? What gives you pleasure, what breaks your heart? Where do you find purpose? What makes you lose time in the best of ways? Who are you when you let yourself be seen?
Don’t think, just feel. Then write.
And, DO NOT DO THIS UNTIL YOU’RE DONE WRITING, if you’re inclined, share what comes through you with someone you trust, someone who is safe, someone by whom you’d love to be seen. Or share in the in our comment community (full access members).
Okay, I’ll share mine in the comments to get us started…
I’m a father, and a husband. I love my wife and daughter so much, and can never have enough moments with them. It’s almost hard to remember life before them. On more reflective days, when the sky is heavy and the rain falls (like today), when I think about a someday where I’ll no longer be in physical form, I care less about my own final page then I do about the pain it will cause to those who remain and the fact that I’ll no longer be around to help ease it. Can’t go there without crying. So I just come back to the moment, get present and savor it all. They are my everything.
My innate mode of moving through the world is that of a maker. I open my eyes and see possibility. Things to be made. Sometimes, annoyingly so. And, while I’ve spent many years creating in the digital realm, what moves me most is working with my hands, lost in the process of shaping physical materials that lead to a touchable object. I painted as a kid, built bikes, businesses, and houses in college. Even when it comes to words, I still prefer the form of a printed book than digital or audio. When I can’t live in that space, I get, well, a little bit ornery.
I feel things. A lot. Cry at Hallmark movies. And, dear God, totally lost my shit at the end of One Day. So much that my wife thought I was making fun of her, instead of sobbing my own uncontrollable tears. When I hold myself open to it, the world tends to pour into me, and sometimes tear through me. So, I often move through it in a heavily boundaried way. Good thing, bad thing? Yes to both. It’s more about self-preservation. As a longtime friend once told me, “you know, it’s brutally hard to get to know you.” #duh.
I’m a slow processor, and an introvert. It’s probably why, for so long, I favored writing over talking. I’m the one who’d leave a conversation and, in the car ride home, find the perfect comeback. Which is weird, since so much of my professional life has been behind a mic or lens, or on stage. But, those are controlled scenarios, drop me into a cocktail party and I run toward snark, or the door. Often, in that order. Both are protection. I’m working on just being okay as the quieter one in the room. Likely will be for life.
I find joy in family, friends, music, art and nature, and in making. Sorrow in both lived and vicarious loss. Peace in movement, water and woods. Laughter, more often than not, in wildly inappropriate things, jokes, and moments. Nearly pee’d myself listening to David Sedaris worshop essays that, but for his self-deprecating wit and delivery, would’ve landed as wildly offensive. I find meaning in love, and seeing those I love flourish. And connection in equal parts solitude and doing anything and nothing with those I can’t get enough of.
I’m what some might call quirky, tend to see people, moments, the world a bit differently. This caused issues as a kid and young adult. It made me a little weird. My sixth grade nickname was Freaky Fields. But the further into life I get, the more I realize what makes me different is also what draws people, the right people, to what I create. My offerings become a window into how I see the world and piece it into patterns and things, and an invitation to participate in that vision.
I try to be present, but spend a lot of time living in my head. Though, through some strange yet thankful quirk, not often in the form of self-doubt, anxious spin, or chatter. Maybe it’s delusion, but my head time is more about being in the space of what can be.
I struggle with my body, not so much from a place of shame about what it looks like as I lean toward 60, but with how it sometimes betrays me, and the sense of uncertainty that comes from owning where it’s been, working with cards I’ve been dealt, and how much agency I have in where it all heads.
And, yes, behind closed doors and off the page, mic, or camera, my NYC shows in a pretty dry, snarky, f-bomb-laden, but hopefully never mean way. Working on finding the courage to bring more of that to the forward-facing me. Not for shock or show, but because it’s just who I am. And I’d rather not keep hiding behind $2 words when fuck is what I really want to convey.
Jonathan - thank you for being you - the maker, feeler, introvert, quirky observer of the world. I see you! As more people follow your lead, the world will shift from alternate reality to truth. Instead of "Asleep at the Wheel," we are awake, alive, and aware.