It's that time, where, to quote Lisa Jo, aka the gypsy mama, we write...
On Fridays over here a group of people who love to go all out buck wild for the fun of the written word gather to share what five minutes buys them. Just five minutes. Unscripted. Unedited. Real.
Today's topic... real...
GO
What is real? It's a question a soft and smooth bunny once asked. He asked the old and worn and well played with horse this question. Perhaps the rabbit was simply making conversation... or, perhaps, he was seeking. Seeking something that seemed unattainable.
Real. I want it. I seek it. It often alludes me.
I think I want it. I think I want to be real... to show the real me... until I look in a mirror. What looks back is not what I want to be seen. Just as when I reveal the "real" me, what comes out is not what I want others to see.
Being real is a great catch phrase. It's a great excuse. It's not for the faint of heart. For being real requires courage... being authentic requires strength. Revealing the "real" me requires me to strip of the pride, self-righteousness, and arrogance that I clothe myself in to hide the naked truth... I am a mess.
What is real? For me... for such a time as this... real is the opposite of having it all together and acting as such.
It's much easier to pretend than to be real. Perhaps someone should have told the Velveteen Rabbit that all those years ago.
...but, then again, the old horse might have been on to something when he told the little bunny that though being real hurt, it was worth it because when you are real, you are loved.
STOP
