The Lives of Others
Nov 6 2021
The renovation is almost finished,
windows, siding, trim
a spruced-up exterior.
A warm and cozy house
a refuge from the world.
While my own renovation continues;
haphazardly
just as it began.
As if change can happen
from the outside in.
As if a forced smile
induces happiness,
dressing well
confers self-esteem.
As if this project of a lifetime
will ever be completed.
So, how to confirm
if this changes things,
the reinvention
is cosmetic or true?
Because even cupping your hands against the glass
and squinting in
you can hardly see,
at best
a fleeting glimpse
of what goes on inside.
Only later do you realize
that the interior life of others
is as deep and rich as yours.
That they are also plagued
by their own private demons,
the chorus of ghosts
who again and again
rise from the dead
and whisper into their ears.
That they, too, are unsure
insecure
whipsawed by emotion.
Subject to shame, guilt, regret.
As needy and unfulfilled
as the rest of us.
But who keep it to themselves.
Who, like hoarders
conceal their clutter,
the groaning joists, and gathering dust,
the snaking paths
between all the junk
they cannot bear to part with.
So who knows what goes on
behind the freshly painted walls,
the immaculate house
with the manicured lawn,
the happy family
and their handsome dog
lovingly posing before it.
Who, like you
are working from the outside in,
forcing a smile
composing themselves
keeping up appearances.
If only you'd known
and been less hard on yourself.
Hadn't idealized
the lives of others.
Had realized
the makeup that looks exquisite
from a distance
will look brittle and false
when the blood drains out.
Had recognized
that no two marriages are alike.
That every couple fights.
That each has its own private sorrows
and secret dialects.
And that you don't need to see
into someone else's head
to know it's as messy as yours,
a fleeting glimpse
when their eyes are unguarded
is more than enough to tell.
It takes a while to truly learn that everyone else has as rich and complicated an interior life as you do. And also how the most together, privileged, and accomplished people also struggle with doubt, insecurity, and who knows what demons.
Right now, I'm in the middle of an actual exterior renovation. It makes me think of how all the houses facing the street keep up appearances. And think, too, of what is concealed behind those impervious walls and ornamental window treatments. You can slap on some paint, but the electrical is still unsafe. You can curate a persona on social media, but your personal life can still be a mess. You can perform normalcy, but still be tortured inside.
I'm not sure the idea that change can happen from the outside in – the idea that if you simply compose your face in a smile, it will feed back to the brain to make you feel happier – has actually been proven by neuroscience. But I know what unpretentious actors say, and it makes great intuitive sense: that the character almost builds itself after costume and make-up have been applied; that the craft of acting works better from the outside in than does jumping through a method actor's psychological hoops of imagining a backstory, staying in character, and trying to fully feel the emotion instead of simply projecting it.
No comments:
Post a Comment