William Shakespeare wrote, “To thine own self be true.” The wisdom of transparency. The possibility of a transparent life. In my own trials and tribulations: Love and forgive mine own self, too. Be kind to others and be kind to me. Have compassion for our humanity. That can more or less constitute a transparent life. At least that’s in the ballpark.
Werner Erhard said that as human beings, what we want most in life is to be gotten by others, that they experience what it’s like to be us. That we are transparent to others. Throughout my 59 years on Planet Earth, I’ve had to work on my transparency. I often feared being misunderstood by others, not being gotten by them. I constantly repeated myself in the fear of being misunderstood, of not being gotten for who I am.
Over many years, I was not the strong speaker. My narrative reckoning arose, when I failed miserably during a Design Review Rehearsal at work. I was nearly straight garbage presenting my System Requirements section. Someone else replaced me at the Design Review. In the aftermath, I enrolled in Toastmasters to develop my skills. I practiced the art of public speaking.
In Toastmasters, I unconcealed my feeble transparency. I didn’t speak with great clarity or confidence. I worked on my speeches with my dear friend mentor John King. John told me to talk to him as his friend, as I practiced my speech. Whether I spoke to 1000 people or just one, I still spoke to one person at time. I told my story to one person at a time. I shared myself with one person at a time. I got it. I got John.
John said to trust that the words coming out of me would be true. No, the words didn’t have to be perfect. After all, who would know? No one was reading my speech. Just saying.
I started forming the foundation for transparency. I practiced over, and over, and over again. Eventually, I stopped repeating myself so much. I became a good public speaker. I had fun, too. I practiced being my most authentic self as I spoke. I trained in transparency.
When I’m afraid, my transparency clouds, weakens. Fear is in the human design. Fear is biological, it’s how the brain and nervous systems operates and responds. Werner looked at what it is to be useful in the face of fear. In distinguishing fear, he asked, “What does this (fear) remind me of?” Fear can source in the anticipation of imminent danger or harm. Fear can also be the residue of unresolved fear from the past, from childhood.
In Aikido practice, Ishibashi Sensei demonstrated shihonage (arm bar technique) from suwari-waza, the sitting position. I attacked Sensei from standing position. The training focused on uke training, taking falls from shihonage.
I had to take a high forward fall from shihonage. In the past, I took a backfall from shihonage. Although I had relentlessly reinvented my falling technique over the past year, I was still afraid. Hell, I didn’t want to get hurt.
I grabbed Sensei’s right wrist with my left hand. He transitioned gripping my arm with both of his hands in front. Then Sensei threw me in his center. I moved quickly around Sensei to get into the proper position to take the fall. I took the fall. I did it. I got back up.
Sensei laughed, “That sounded a lot worse than it was.” I smiled, “Yeah.” Next, I grabbed Sensei’s left wrist with my right hand. I took that fall from shihonage, too. I entered my fear. I had fun, too.
A whole lot of my fear sourced from my childhood fear in not living up to Dad’s expectations. I feared that I sucked. I feared that I would never ever be good enough. That’s what I distinguished working with my Therapist Lance, to heal my childhood trauma and depression.
In Aikido, I enter my fear, getting under what I fear. That’s the safest place to be. I may always have that fear inside of me. So, I train to let go of my fear. I free me.
After class, Sensei and I discussed the training. He said that in Aikido, we train to release our fear, whatever that may be. My fear won’t all disappear at once. So, I take my baby steps. In my baby steps, I continually let go of my fear from the past, my fear of Dad. My transparency.
I just train. It’s not like I have to get somewhere. To mine own self be true. My fear may always reside within, in some shape or form. As I enter my fear, get under it, I can let go of that fear within. Way easier said than done. Yet, I practice that over, and over, and over again, because it’s meaningful to me. Releasing my fear is the possibility of a transparent life. The possibility of freedom. Amen.
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