Not Self Centred Enough

There are those that stiffen when threatened, but there are others that give themselves up entirely.

These puppets and puppeteers never learn who they truly are; only ever feeling valuable, when they are accommodating and pleasing others, or expecting others to accommodate and please them. They only feel alive in a nexus of need. They need to be needed, or need to be needing...with bulging eyes aimed at an other. They may feel bereft of meaning in their lives when those others, who play their parts in this drama of need, leave for one reason or another. The puppet flops to the ground, the puppeteer feels obsolete.

In the wake of separation the distraction evaporates, the reflection is left still, and the face is not recognised, or found to be repulsive.

The emptiness gets filled with tokens, trinkets and charms, chosen over and against the terrifying possibility of discovering who they are, and what they want. Terrorised by the thought, that they may discover an insatiably hungry soul for which no satisfaction could be found. It is a far easier thing to know or guess what someone else wants and to attempt to satisfy that, even if the attempts chronically backfire...than it is to go on the journey of knowing what you want. Alternatively, others look to someone to hold responsible for meeting their needs; others who will be scape-goated and blamed when those needs aren't met.

These positions are maintained with a toolbox of blind-spots and self-ignorance. Preferring to write stories of trust and betrayal, hope and paranoia, than attempt anything like discovering the truth. The truth about themselves...the truth about the world out there. Their stories are laden with power dynamics and agendas...control, trust, manipulation, obligation, duty. All of which are stories that provide a scapegoat at the ready; a sleight of hand to avoid what is really going on under the surface.

For some, this surface is dead calm, an eerily dead calm, that has no life or animation about it. It may come across to some as a lovely peaceful demeanour, or for others just entirely bland and uninteresting. A façade of calm that hides inner-rages and venomous bites.

For others, it is a turbulent surface, with squalls of giddiness and and a flurry of emotional gestures, which often attracts people with its curious texture. But, what lies underneath could be anybody's guess, the storminess utilised as a distraction to avoid the still reflection.

How do we relate to others?

What relational habits do we have?

Do they work?

Are these questions we want to ask, or ones we want to avoid?

How far would we go, to avoid asking these questions of ourselves?

Do we stiffen when we come into contact with others...or do we give ourselves up and over entirely...is there another better way?