It’s curious how one person driving a Porsche Carrera looks cool, and another looks like a dick. Brad Pitt eating all the time in every movie – looks cool. Someone else does the same, and it looks gluttonous. Ted Danson – no commentary about his toupee – actually, people think that’s his real hair.
What is it that has us accept certain behavior no matter how bad, yet with others, one little infraction and we are all over it?
One person can wear a t-shirt and jeans and look great; another wears the most expensive suit and looks like they slept in it. Some people look good in hats – others, not so much. Sunglasses are universal; we all need to wear them.
Not everything works on everyone. To be in perfect relationship with the world you live in, and the planet you live on, is an art form. And this idea of being in perfect harmony with your life cuts a wide swath.
It’s not that you use cultural opinions to determine the validity of your life, but there can be some grist in those opinions that offers much-needed reflection. Why did we celebrate George Clooney’s marriage, while Jeff Bezos’s is being protested? First off, Bezos is being heralded as part of some fairy-tale romance, when – predictably – that marriage has a shelf life of three years. This isn’t a cynical point of view; it’s a prescient prediction.
Somehow, we know what’s right and what isn’t. We know when something is heartfelt, and when it’s promotional. We have all kinds of slang for when it comes to being in perfect harmony – in perfect relationship – with the content of your life: “in the zone,” “staying in your lane,” “authentic self.”
We respond and connect when someone is true to themselves. There is the macro aspect of what works: “Is this hat wearing me, or am I wearing this hat?” but then there’s the greater lesson – where significant loss is a major character in discovering your true self.
King Lear, after he has lost everything:
No, no, no, no! Come, let’s away to prison:
We two alone will sing like birds i’ the cage:
When thou dost ask me blessing, I’ll kneel down,
And ask of thee forgiveness: so we’ll live,
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
Talk of court news; and we’ll talk with them too,
Who loses and who wins; who’s in, who’s out;
And take upon’s the mystery of things,
As if we were God’s spies: and we’ll wear out,
In a wall’d prison, packs and sects of great ones,
That ebb and flow by the moon.
Sometimes it looks like it takes a lifetime to get it “right,” and just when you do, you’re gone.