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Being Real – How to Create a Better Relationship and Still Be Successful at Work
My friend is a gay, South African, Jewish, Hindu priest. When he becomes a priest, he is not gay. When he becomes cheerful he is not a priest. When he makes a Jew, he is something else. Yet, under all those labels, he is completely authentic. The key to it is that none of the roles are sticky. He knows himself very well and is not so caught up in the different masks that he cannot take them off. He knows, under all those public faces, who he really is. Of course
We build these masks because people do have judgments and without the facade they might just dismiss the message. I’ve worked with some amazing rock stars and the person I come across is a complete contrast to the person they present on stage.
Authenticity doesn’t mean bland and boring as hell. It means we can transform, adapt, put on the different masks that help people receive the message we share, however, problems become disasters if we think those masks are real.
When I was 5 years old, I idolized superman. In those days, we read about him in comics. One day, I put on a clean pair of panties, a little white sleeveless top, strapped a tea towel over my shoulders so that a cape stood on the back of the chair and jumped head first out of the second story window of my Nanna’s house.
I woke up in the doctor’s surgery as the excruciating pain of my broken nose snapped back into place throughout my body. Blood everywhere, I didn’t fly. And lucky for me, I went downstairs and cracked my nose on the window ledge before leaving the room.
I wear that reminder now, on the outside at least, 3 major surgeries on the inside of my sinus restored my ability to breathe through my nose again. It’s a stark reminder that I do best, unlike my gay, South African, Jewish, Hindu priest, to take off the labels and masks at the end of the day.
I admit that this childhood experience didn’t translate into that message until 30 years later, but, in retrospect, the lesson was there if I wanted to learn it.
When people ask me, “So Chris, what do you do?” I was always shaking. I stumbled through the complexity of the mental noise that created my Ego facade, my identity. “Oh, I’m a Christian, oh, I’m a Buddhist, oh, I’m an entrepreneur, oh, I’m a spiritual teacher, oh, I’m an engineer, oh, I’m a Porsche driving business magnate.” Cripies, what work is all that.
It’s not that any of those were wrong, but I mistook those brand labels for authenticity. I would put on clothes but couldn’t remember who I was before I adorned myself in those facades.
No one is a Christian, but some believe in Christianity. No one is a Buddhist, but some people believe in Buddhism. No one is a Porsche driving entrepreneur, but some people drive Porsches and do entrepreneurial work. Branding ourselves with beliefs, ideologies, occupations and any form of mathematical labeling only reveals how far we are separated from God or self.
That’s why self-help doesn’t work. Finally people realize that there is no self that needs help, only the facade needs help and that is like a cat chasing its tail.
I loved my first real business as a newborn baby. I loved the brand. I loved what we stood for, loved our design, believed in our product and invested our family’s life savings to become the Australian Licensee for it.
We built a factory, employed people, made money. I trained, practiced, learned, respected and believed in what I did because I loved that product and what it did for my customers.
I was uncertain about the future of it, so, I remained detached from it. I put my heart and soul into making it work, but the business wasn’t me, and I wasn’t the business. Who wants to tie themselves to a ship that could sink?
And, because I wasn’t attached to it, because I loved that product and the brand, my customers loved that product and the brand. You can’t fake that kind of detachment. The success of my company was guaranteed. It grew, it grew and it grew.
When I met my first wife, I really fell in love with her. I couldn’t get attached to her because she was an independent individual who made choices beyond my control. And since I was detached from her, I loved her completely with all my heart and soul. Then we got into a relationship and messed it all up. As more certainty about our destiny together arrived, the more attached I became, the more we are to someone, the less we can truly love them.
Eventually, my company, my work in the company, my ability to handle the stress of my job outgrew me and then I hated it. I blamed everything on that change, but really I was 5 years behind the business. I then lost faith in myself and eventually in the brand.
The more goodwill the business grew, and the more certainty I had that there was a future in the business, the more connected I had between the business and myself.
While at first, I would come home to my wife and say “I worked in the business today” and despite the difficulties I felt nourished by the effort, I would eventually come home and say, “I’m doing great, my business is growing.” I lost the ability to take off the suit, and put on the lover’s clothes.
My wife lost her partner and got a business manager. My identity attached to that business just as, as a child, I was attached to superman. Now, I was really stuffed. When the business went up, I went up, when it went down, I went down, and I mean this to have a double meaning, if you know what I’m saying.
Surgeons perform skin grafts. They take a piece of plastic, or real skin, and place it on a wound. The imported skin finally merges with the real skin and bingo, you can barely see the difference.
When I attached myself to my business, and began to identify my being with it, I made a “living graft.”
I grafted a fake identity with a real me and got a new, look good, feel good result. And as things continued to rise, it was a great, brilliant association. for me
But for my family, for my wife, for my health and all the other people who depended on me to show up in my other outfits, I just couldn’t take off the merchant outfit. It’s like standing on a mountain looking at the view wondering how much it will cost to buy Mount Everest. It’s just ugly.
More than ugly, it’s downright painful. Both for the person stuck in the suit and for those around them.
So, I went from Superman, street gang member, sports champion, to husband, businessman and wealthy entrepreneur. Soon I would be the Divorced ex-dealer, ex-sports hero, poor failed entrepreneur. Attached like a yo-yo on a string, my “living grafts” stole the happiness out of everything I did.
“You don’t seem too happy Chris,” people would say this unprompted. Damn, I really thought I could fake it. But the same thing happened at home. My wife said, “You don’t seem happy, Chris?”
I ran around looking for the bastard who had been running around ahead of me telling people before I arrived, but there wasn’t one.
While the future remained uncertain, I remained humble, detached and therefore able to put my heart and soul into whatever I did, 1,000%. But as soon as it started to show signs of success, I would do a “living graft” and attach myself to whatever it was, including my children, and steal the joy.
My children were born 3 years apart. The first, Simon was the scariest experience of my life. It was a normal birth, but from the moment he appeared on earth, I counted his every breath. I loved him because I couldn’t tie him.
I had no experience with babies, and so, every second he existed was a miracle. It was made worse by the fact that he fell out of the car seat and hit his head on the pavement when we took him home from hospital that 4th day of his life. If ever I was going to be reminded of the vulnerability of life, this was it.
And because I was vulnerable, because his life was not guaranteed, I could not bind him. I could only love him. Love like nothing I’ve ever known. At that moment I knew there was a God.
Six months later, Simon was a healthy, noisy, needy hungry laughing, poopy baby. His life became more predictable and therefore, had more potential for attachment.
I was about to do another life graft when my ex-wife stepped in and reminded me that she, rather than me being in charge, she grafted him onto her flesh, it was time for me to go back to work. It was the biggest blessing even though it didn’t feel so good at the time.
Stephanie was the third child. When she arrived, we were pretty sure about her journey and so, the second she was born, I was attached to her. I didn’t understand the difference between love and attachment, so, I grafted her into my skin.
A proud father suddenly, after two boys, completely lost their objectivity, clung to her every breath, to her ups and downs. I couldn’t separate myself, it became a tightrope between her mother and me, and I lost. Again, a great blessing to learn how to love without attachment.
Nowadays I am like Joseph in the Old Testament with his coat of many colors. I have the work color, the play color, the love color, the sports color, the money color, the social responsibility color and my spiritual color.
I can take them off and put them on whenever I want because I know how to go to the top of a mountain, take off the whole coat and just be in silence, connected to all nature without identity, opinion, belief, thought, idea, expectation . In that state I have no skin to graft, I have no attachments to do things right, no need to be “something”. There is only time to be.
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