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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 is gay he is not a priest. When he makes a Jew, he is something else. But, under all these labels, it is completely authentic. The most important thing for him is that none of the positions are sticky. He knows himself very well and is not so trapped in the various masks that he cannot take them off. He knows, under all these public faces, who he really is. Naturally.
We build these masks because people have judgments and without the face they might throw out the message. I have worked with amazing rock stars and the person I meet is completely different from the person they appear on stage.
Reality does not mean coplanar and boring as hell. It means that we can change, change, put on the different masks that help people get the message that we share, however, problems become disasters if we believe that the masks that are true.
When I was 5 years old, I idolized superman. In those days, we read about it in comics. One day, I put on a pair of clean undies, a small white sleeveless single, put a tea towel over my shoulders for a cap standing behind the living room chair and jumped head first out the window of the second floor in my Nanna’s house.
I woke up in the doctor’s surgery as the excruciating pain of having my broken nose put back in place shot through my body. Blood everywhere, I had not flown. And luckily for me, I had gone down and cracked my nose on the windowsill before rather than after leaving the room.
I carry that reminder now, outwardly at least, 3 major operations on the inside of my sinus restored my ability to breathe through my nose again. It is a strong reminder that, unlike my gay, South African, Jewish, Hindu priest, it is better to take off the labels and masks at the end of the day.
I admit, this childhood experience didn’t translate to that message until 30 years later, but, looking back, the lesson was there, if I wanted to learn it.
When people ask me, “So Chris, what do you do?” I have always been shaking. I have fallen through the complexity of the mental noise created by my Ego face, 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 tycoon .” Cripies, what a job.
Not that any of these were wrong, but I mistook those brand labels for authenticity. I had put on clothes but I didn’t remember who I was before I dressed myself in those faces.
No one is a Christian, but some people believe in Christianity. A person is not 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, positions and any kind of mathematical label just shows how far we are separated from God or from ourselves.
That’s why Self Help doesn’t work. In the end people understand that there is no one who needs help, it is just the face that needs help and that is like a cat chasing its tail.
I loved my first real business as a newborn. I liked the logo. I loved what we stood for, loved our design, believed in our product and invested our family’s life savings to become an Australian Licensee for it.
We built a factory, we hired people, we made money. I was training, working, learning, respecting and believing in what I did, because I liked that product and what it did for my clients.
I was uncertain about his future, so I stayed away from him. I invested my heart and soul in making it work, but the business was not mine, and I was not the business. Who wants to tie themselves to a sinking ship?
And, because I was not connected to it, because I loved that product and the brand, my clients loved that product and the brand. You cannot break such a divide. The success of my company was assured. It grew, it grew, and it grew.
When I met my first wife I was in love with her. I couldn’t relate to her because she was an independent person who made choices that were beyond my control. And because I was separated from her, I loved her completely with all my heart and soul. Then we got into a relationship and ditched the whole thing. As our destiny together became more certain, the more I was attached, the more we are attached to someone, the less we can love them.
In the end, my company, my work in the company, my ability to handle the pressure of my work grew, and then I hated it. I blamed everything on that change, but really I was stuck 5 years behind the business. Then I lost confidence in myself and finally in the brand.
The more the business grew on goodwill, and the more certain they were that I had a future in the business, the more there was a connection between the business and me.
But first, I would come home to my wife and say “I worked on the business today” and despite the hardships I feel 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 is tied to that business just like, as a child, I was tied to superman. Now, I was really stuffed. When 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 make skin incisions. They take a piece of plastic, or real skin, and place it on top of a wound. The imported skin will finally connect to the real skin and bingo, you will barely see the difference.
When I became attached to my business, and began to be with him, I made a “life graft.”
I created a fake identity with myself and got a new product, look good, feel good. And as things continued to escalate, it was a great, great connection. To me.
But for my family, for my wife, for my health and everyone else who depended on me to go up in my other suits, I couldn’t put off the business owner suit. It’s like standing on top of a mountain looking at the view wondering how much it would cost to buy Mount Everest. It’s just ugly.
More than ugly, it’s downright painful. Both for the person trapped in the suit and for those around them.
So, I had gone from Superman, a member of the street gang, a sports champion, to a man, a businessman and a rich entrepreneur. Soon I would be a businessman Divorced, a former sports champion, a poor failed entrepreneur. Tied like a yoyo on a string, my “life grafts” stole the joy out of everything I did.
“You don’t look too happy Chris,” people would say this unsolicited. Damn, I really thought I could fool him. But the same thing happened at home. My wife said, “You don’t look happy, Chris?”
I ran around looking for the bastard who was running around me telling people before I arrived, but there wasn’t one.
While the future was still uncertain, I remained humble, detached and therefore able to put my heart and soul into whatever I did, 1,000%. But the moment he started to show signs of success, I would do a “life graft” and attach myself to whatever was there, including my children, and steal their 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 every breath. I loved him because I couldn’t relate to him.
I had no experience with babies, so every second he was there was a miracle. It was made worse by the fact that he fell out of the car bassinette and hit his head a little on the pavement when we brought him home from the hospital on the 4th day of his life. If ever I was going to be reminded of the fragility of life, this was it.
And because I was vulnerable, because his life was uncertain, I could not connect with him. I could only love him. Love like nothing I’ve ever known. In that moment I knew there was a God.
Six months later, Simon was a healthy, noisy, needy and hungry baby laughing, pooping. His life had become better and therefore, he had more ability to connect.
I was about to take another life when my wife came in and reminded me that she, not me, was in charge, that she was grafted onto her flesh, it was time for me to go back to work. It was the biggest blessing even though he didn’t feel that good at the time.
Stephanie was the third child. By the time she arrived we were very confident about her journey so the second she was born I was attached to her. I didn’t understand the difference between love and attachment, so, I buried her in my skin.
A proud father, after two boys, suddenly lost his composure, every breath was tied to her, her rise and fall. I could not separate myself, it became a tug of war between her mother and me, and I lost. Again, congratulations on learning how to make love without attachment.
These days I am like Joseph in the old Testament with his coat of many colors. I have the color of work, the color of play, the color of love, the color of fun, the color of money, the color of social responsibility and my spiritual color.
I can take them off and put them on whenever I choose because I know how to go to the top of a mountain, take off the whole coat and just be quiet, connected to all of nature without any doubt. recognition, opinion, belief, thought, idea, expectation. In that state I have no skin to graft, no attachment to doing things right, no need to be “something.” It’s just time to be.
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