The Bridge to Authenticity
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A few years back (OK, it was more than a few), Mrs. MZM and I suffered a moment of insanity, and decided to brave what we from the southern half of Texas laughingly call “the Frozen North” (which by definition means any part of the United States farther north than Dallas - click on the picture to see the whole map). Yep, we packed up the car and headed for Kalamazoo, Michigan (most often seen T-shirt: “Yes, there really is a Kalamazoo”).
Since it was only (!) about a twenty-hour trip, we decided to drive nonstop (this was back when we were still young… and stupid), and it was quite a drive! I’ll never forget the most memorable part of the trip, though: crossing this absolutely huge bridge.
OK, if I told you, “it was, um, real high”, somehow that phrase just doesn’t truly convey the depth of feeling; the sense of amazement; the… je ne sais quois we felt while crossing this thing – because I left out one important detail: we passed over it at night. It was a bit spooky, to say the least.
So as I said, we came upon this bridge (it was similar in construction to the one in this photo – all supporting structure was below the roadbed), and started going up… and up… and, er, still going up…. Gee, this sure seems like an unusually long bridge! After a few more minutes of continuous climbing, it wouldn’t have surprised me to see a Sputnik go by. Sheesh, I could imagine St. Peter standing up, getting ready to welcome us into the Pearly Gates….
Along about here is when that inevitable nasty little thought crossed my mind, “Hmm – I sure hope the bridge isn’t out. If we fell off, would they ever find us?” I mean, the headlights were basically pointing into empty space, and (because it was an overcast night) there was literally nothing in sight in any direction – no lights, stars; nothin’!
Well, finally we reached the top (and the only way I knew it was because the sound of the car’s engine changed), and as far as the eye could see, there was absolutely nothing but darkness in every direction. To add to the weirdness, the gentle curve on top of the bridge made it seem like the only thing in existence was that part of the bridge we could see by our own headlights; the rest of it disappeared into the inky blackness below.
In fact… we could’ve been floating off into space for all I could tell – if it weren’t for the solidity of the roadbed below us.
By now I’ll bet you’re wondering where I’m going with this. Well so am I.
OK, let’s talk about… authenticity.
Thanks to folks like Joanna Young, Rosa Say, Jon Swanson – and quite a few others for that matter, of late I’ve been thinking (that grinding noise you hear) about authenticity. In case you missed it (and exactly where have you been?) Joanna even kindly allowed me to guest post on the subject over at Confident Writing just last week.
Okay, so let’s take it as a given that writing with authenticity is important. No, come to think of it – it’s absolutely critical. But (and that’s definitely a BIG “but”) shouldn’t the real goal be, well, bigger than that? OK, why not try this one on for size: The goal should really be living an authentic life, don’t you think?
I mean let’s face it, life is fraught (hey, that word-a-day toilet paper really comes in handy, don’t you think?) with challenges, and knowing who you are is key to your success in life.
The fact remains that without that knowledge, you’ll never make it through the inevitable, well, let’s call it testing you’re bound to experience. So my question for you, my fine feathered friends, is this:
Even when you feel like you’re completely alone and on your own, what is it that provides you that feeling of being solidly grounded?
And for a bonus question: Does it work for you… all the time?
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16 responses so far
Middle Zone Musings is a comfortable place to stop, have a cup of coffee, swap a few stories and share practical ideas for the real world. I don't ask for much, just a bit of your brain every now and then. Have a seat, take a load off, and relax...
I was about to say “my friends”, and then I realised that didn’t really answer the question.
In other words, you’ve got me stumped. For the moment.
Mmm.
I don’t think “completely alone and on your own” really goes with “being solidly grounded”. Not for me, anyway.
Mark, I don’t know… but being truly alone certainly wouldn’t work for me! Personally, I really need to be connected to something outside of myself. I mean, I’m so limited…
Boy oh boy, Robert, you do hit us with some big questions - and I thought this was just going to be a witty travel piece!
I think my answer comes in part from the amazing Robyn McMaster’s blog this very day.
http://brainbasedbiz.blogspot.com/2007/09/nature-stirs-insights-and-connections.html
I look around me to the natural world. The ground beneath me is still: there. The trees are still breathing in, and out: there. Look about you and you will always find a sign of the seasons relentlessly changing.
I don’t know if it’s the same thing as knowing who I am, but it’s more like knowing ‘that’ I am, that I’m still here, the world is still turning, life goes on.
There’s a poem called “lost” that captures this for me, I believe it was a Native American poem adapted by David Wagoner.
It starts like this
“Stand still.
The trees ahead and the bushes beside you Are not lost.
Wherever you are is called Here”
It makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, doesn’t it?
Thanks for waking us up out of our comfort zones again!
Joanna
No problem, Joanna! Yes, I read Robyn’s piece this morning too, and can certainly agree that being “out there” in God’s creation can really give you a feeling of comfort than our usual urban surroundings.
Hi Bob,
Call it the Holy Spirit, the mindfield, whatever. We’re all connected all the time.
Yes, it does (when I have the presence of mind to remember that fact).
Mike
…and yes, that’s the second definition of Spooky Action!
Mike, not sure what you mean by “the mindfield” - never heard that one before. But I know the Holy Spirit and agree with you there!
I guess I never put the connection to the name of your blog, though. Thanks!
Hi Mike, looks like we’re hanging out together today!
Joanna
Joanna,
Didn’t I just see you in Chicago? You’re fast!
Mike
Joanna, Mike: hey, no problemo! Mike and I hung out at Liz’s yesterday and sneaked into her refrigerator for a couple of Klondike bars while she was busy (tee-hee)…
Would’ve gotten away with it too if Mike had remembered to erase our footprints from the butter dish!
Bob,
As a native Wisconsin boy I couldn’t erase those footprints. That’s butter-art!
Mike
P.S. The mindfield is a term some eastern types use for the collective consciousness.
Mike, I thought it was CHEESE-art you guys were famous for!
Love the goal Robert, it’s another way to say live with aloha: If everyone resolved to living an authentic life, all pretense would be stripped away, we would love ourselves, and things would be so much easier. But alas, it’s not that easy.
I’m with Joanna in her thoughts of sense of place, but to be completely truthful, place may give me comfort without authenticity at times. So I think my answer would have to be faith, not in the religious sense, but in the certainty of possibility.
By the way, your bridge story kept me enthralled. You are such a fabulous story-teller!
Rosa, you always leave such thoughtful comments! I think I know what you mean, too. For me, it’s definitely my Faith in my Creator, His Son, and His Word that grounds me.
Thanks for the kind words!
Hi Robert, your storytelling is reaching amazing heights the last few days!
Just wanted to add a ps that the sense of connection I was thinking of is possible in a very urban environment too - in fact sometimes it’s more fun that way - watching a plant curl up through the crack in the paving stones, the flying ants that swarm around Edinburgh twice a year when the temperature goes marginally over the ‘fresh summer day’ bar, a cat snoozing on the warmth of a parked car… it’s everywhere, you just have to - well I guess following on from today’s story you just have to switch your focus and look for it
Joanna
Joanna, what a great p.s. to your earlier comment. You’re absolutely right - those of us who dwell in urban or suburban areas may have to look a little harder to find natural elements.
But when we do, sometimes the interaction of man made and natural makes a sublime statement all its own.