Posted by: silverback | 2012/08/05

dichotomy

It always comes down to a choice, doesn’t it?

I’m in the midst of some BIG shit – some life-changing, reset-button shit. Everything that I believed made up the basis of my life has changed. My foundation has undergone the proverbial seismic shift. Some of it is self-inflicted, some seemingly catalyzed by forces far beyond my control. The upshot is that I get to make some fresh choices. The problem with that reality is that as a human, I’ve got an epic internal battle steering many of my choices – that of my ego versus my true self.

The ego wants what it wants – it sees itself bigger than life, drop-dead sexy, irresistible. He’s a master at justifying the most selfish, ridiculous acts merely by muttering the words, “You deserve this.” But he’s shallow, driven by the short-term game. He wants to get in, make a killing, and get out with a stack of cash. He wants to bang the strippers. He’s more interested in the instant gratification that comes from an outside stimulus – a pill, a dollar bill, or a blowjob. He’s willing to live with the consequences of self-destructive choices, so long as it feels good RIGHT NOW.

The true self, in many ways, has been imprisoned inside the walls that ego has built. He occasionally puts his face to the window and feels the sunlight, but mostly he’s remained quiet for a couple decades now. He’s pensive, grounded. He’s not afraid to show his talents, and they are many. He has no shame for the person he really is – the artist, the loving partner, the sensitive man. He desperately wants an intense experience, a deeper life than Birth-School-Work-Death. He feels everything so intensely it sometimes sends him running back within the safety of the walls. He’s terribly insecure, and needs to surround himself with people who encourage him to reach higher, to stay true.

His ego has been in charge of choosing the friends. The problem with ego is that it’s self-strengthening. If he gets to run the show, the walls become even more fortified. He decorates them with the remnants of the armor of his enemies, the bits of lingerie of his conquests. He paints them in garish colors to distract passersby from the fact that there’s a deeper soul hidden in there. If anybody ever should ask why all the baubles? he regales them with hilarious stories of his adventures. He takes over the conversation in any moment of contemplative silence, telling bawdy jokes and laughing too loudly.

Meanwhile, the self sits inside, shaking his head. Wondering why he doesn’t say something. Wondering what happened way back then to allow these walls to go up? It’s possibly the most bizarre manifestation of the Stockholm Syndrome ever witnessed. My clear intention in this moment is to attempt a permanent escape from the captivity of my insatiable ego. To walk away from this self-imposed prison and become.

It’s scary as hell.

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