To Thine Own Self Be True: A Case For Authentic Living
I wasn’t expecting to have an existential experience as I climbed the crooked rust-red extension ladder toward the second-story window that early spring morning. But from what I can tell, much like lightning, we don’t get to choose when these profound moments will strike.
We can only sit back and enjoy the mysterious beauty, watching it unfold before us without any sense of control.
Nature lives on its own terms and we are left only to appreciate it’s offerings.
Yet there I was at 8 a.m. atop that crooked ladder with a 100 ft. hose slung over my shoulder, trying to balance myself as I waited for the window to open up above my head.
A few moments passed, then suddenly the sash popped open and I found myself face to face with the saddest soul I have ever seen. Lifeless blue eyes stared down at me from an emotionless face.
Perhaps it was the innocence of the moment, the absence of preparation for such a meeting that allowed for our seemingly instantaneous connection to unfold. But somehow I did feel connected to the sadness of his soul, and as I handed over the hose to the man in the dull grey hazmat suit, we started to talk.
Groundhog Day
Chris was young. 22 actually. And he was trapped. Working as the insulation applicator for his father's spray-foam insulation company. As 1 of only 2 employees, Chris had nowhere to run. After all, it was a family-owned business and he couldn’t say a thing to his father about it.
It was groundhog day for Chris.
Every morning he loaded the 55-gallon drums of insulation chemical into the work trailer with his dad and sped off to the job site. He put on the same dull grey hazmat suit that hung in the trailer and made sure to duct tape the sleeves to his lime-green chemical resistant gloves.
After prepping the job site, Chris zipped up his suit and put on the full face gas mask that was his safety cocoon for the day. He looked like a first responder to a rare disease outbreak preparing to meet all levels of uncertainty.
By 9 am he began the chemical process, and at 4 o’clock he emerged from his shell, not as a beautiful glimmering butterfly, but as a soaking wet prune who had aged far too quickly.
Chris mentioned that he hated every moment of it. He felt meaningless. That his job was pointless.
He never imagined that this would be his life.
But there he was. Day, after day, after day.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find out what Chris had envisioned for his life during our window conversation, but as I climbed down the shaky ladder that morning I couldn’t help but think about who Chris dreamed he would be.
Disconnected
One of the foundational precepts of existentialism argues that freedom is at the root of creating a meaningful life. Part of this argument relies on the notion that in order to be truly free, one must be authentic.
Of course, we then need to understand what authenticity means.
“Authenticity defines a condition on self-making: do I succeed in making myself, or will who I am merely be a function of the roles I find myself in?” — Steven Crowley
This conception of authenticity suggests that to be an authentic individual requires us to be the narrator of our story so to speak. It means that we direct our lives according to our will, actively choosing our roles in life rather than allowing our condition to be chosen for us.
It means that we act in accordance with our own values rather than those imposed upon us externally.
When I met Chris that early spring morning, I sensed that he was so deeply disconnected from his authentic self that he had slipped into hopelessness. Familial loyalty separated him from authenticity, thus spawning an existential crisis and a moral dilemma.
Should he remain loyal and dutiful to his father at the cost of sacrificing his ability to find fulfillment and meaning through authentic living?
To better understand this conundrum I turned to the writings of professor Steven Crowell, a philosopher who authored an article simply entitled Existentialism for the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.
His writing provides a nuanced philosophical breakdown of this situation.
Crowell writes,
“In keeping my promise I act in accord with duty; and if I keep it because it is my duty, I also act morally (according to Kant) because I am acting for the sake of duty.”
In Chris’s dilemma, we can view his ‘promise’ as his conscious loyalty to his family. A promise (either spoken or unspoken) that he will remain loyal to his father’s wishes of working in the family business, and by upholding this promise he behaves morally according to his sense of duty.
But is it not also morally corrupt to disconnect oneself from one's own authenticity for the sake of duty? And does this form of corruption trump a moral duty?
Crowell continues,
“Existentially there is still a further evaluation to be made. My moral act is inauthentic if, in keeping my promise for the sake of duty, I do so because that is what “one” does (what “moral people” do).”
The question then becomes, which choice is more morally correct for the individual? To remain loyal to the father’s wishes, or to remain loyal to one’s authentic self?
For what good can come from a sense of duty that creates resentment and hostility toward the one who requires such a dutiful act?
Where is the morality in that?
I find it to be terribly immoral that one would prevent another from fulfilling their duty of living a life of authenticity. And while it can easily be suggested that an individual has free will to design their life in spite of external pressure, I find it conveniently confounding, considering the significant influence a father has on a child.
Furthermore, if an individual has been raised under authoritarian parenting, how will they come to understand this free will if they have not been properly exposed to it?
When we consider the morality of choosing loyalty to authenticity over loyalty to the family, it is valuable to review the necessity of such familial loyalty.
Necessity
Looking at this moral quandary through the lens of necessity can help us to develop clarity, and through this lens we find that Chris’s role in the family company is actually not necessary.
The existence of the business is not predicated on his participation. In fact, his role is easily replaceable. Other individuals would likely jump at such an opportunity, and based upon my knowledge of employee performance, would most likely excel at such a role given that they had freely chosen to engage in this profession.
It is easy to understand Chris’ sense of obligation, wanting to live up to the hopes and desires of his father. To carry on the established legacy.
However, it is decidedly more difficult to understand his father's sense of ownership over his son, which nearly anyone could clearly see was the cause of so much misery.
There are many underlying reasons for maintaining this sense of control over another individual, but I will not be focusing on this particular matter at this moment.
Rather I wish to address a possible course of action for the oppressed to express their need for authenticity.
This is no easy task. Especially considering that freeing oneself from this predicament requires the individual who has potentially never experienced such freedom to speak up for their own needs and desires.
Navigating this situation is a delicate dance. One I have danced before.
To Thine Own Self Be True
Years ago, before I began my journey toward a degree in Psychology, I worked as a carpenter for my cousin's construction company. 10 years my senior, he was more of a father figure to me than anything. He had taken me in when my parents kicked me out of the house the day after I graduated high-school.
He taught me how to live. How to survive. How to pay bills and not be a shithead.
I respect the hell out of him. Honestly, to this day, it’s tough to imagine anyone that I respect more. My loyalty to him was one of my greatest values in life. And after having worked at his company for a number of years my sense of duty was unparalleled.
But there was a problem.
I wasn’t a carpenter, and I never would be. I never felt authentic in this pursuit. They say to fake it til’ you make it. But even after many years I felt that I was still faking. It just never fully clicked for me. And having this realization became burdensome because I began to develop resentment in our relationship.
I wanted out but didn’t know how to make it a reality. Let alone, how to start the conversation. Eventually when it did bubble to the surface I was guilt-tripped into staying on the job. So naturally, the resentment continued.
Eventually I discovered the proper way to convey my needs as an individual.
The, “it’s not you, it’s me” cliché is quite fitting. Learning to respect myself as equally as I respected my cousin allowed me to recognize that the path of the authentic self was a requirement, not simply a whimsical desire. I recognized that uncovering the authentic self was my duty, and that despite the uncertainty and the uncomfortability of engaging in this dialogue, it had to be done.
Speaking from this perspective of mutual respect laid the groundwork for understanding, and in the end, led to an even stronger relationship in which both of us were able to grow and benefit from this new reality.
Eventually, the pursuit of authenticity led me to the study of Psychology, and what's more, the opportunity to work part-time for my cousin while developing this new path. An opportunity that I believe was only made possible through mutual respect for one another.
It was my cousins dream that I would one day take over the company and continue the legacy. But it was not a shared dream.
Perhaps what I find most interesting about this experience is that when we eventually were able to speak openly about this, it led to greater prosperity for both of us. It allowed him to move on and find employees who shared a similar vision, whose commitment far surpassed my own. While simultaneously allowing me to pursue my dream of attending college and helping others to find themselves.
Hope
It was only a few months into this new personal journey that I met Chris on that ladder. That’s why he was so willing to share his secret with me. I was a mirror unto his misery.
Honestly I feel forever grateful to have met him. To have shared a moment together.
That was the first and only time I spoke with Chris. But I often think of him and wonder who he is today.
I wonder if he was brave and spoke his truth.
I wonder if he is pursuing a life of authenticity. One that only he can live. Whatever that may be.
I wonder if he has found himself at last, despite the odds.
My sincerest hope is that Chris is living his best life. That he is honoring himself and choosing his journey based on his needs and desires. That his father came to understand this necessary journey that his son must experience.
Much the same, that is my hope for you.
It is my experience that the world benefits exponentially when we honor our authentic selves. It is as if the world is waiting for us to embark on this personal quest so that it can somehow bestow upon us the reward of such a commitment.
Something strange happens in this process. We gain an unwavering strength of purpose that keeps us steadfast and able to weather any storm. We feel connected, valuable, and develop an undeniable sense of meaning for existence.
And having tasted this sweetness, I look back and find the alternative too sad to bear.
While we have not all been trapped so literally in a hazmat cocoon such as Chris, many of us have been constrained to some degree by external pressures of socially imposed conformity. Bending to the will of others, our parents, our friends, our bosses, and colleagues. This existential threat infringes on our ability to live authentically and the freedom to pursue a life of meaning according to our unique values.
But this slow, agonizing, painful surrender to hopelessness does not have to be a reality.
It doesn’t have to be the way.
Living authentically is not without its difficulties, yet I find it to be a necessary foundation for the pursuit of a meaningful and fulfilling existence.
Please choose the path of authenticity.
