Naked and Nameless Fears
It’s one of those indoor days that would often leave me frustrated back in Canada. However being in the subtropics, and having a roof of sorts over my head, a roof of grass thatch, I can still find outdoor time here in Mexico. My photography of late has been poor in my opinion as I use the tablet to take photos with a significant drop in photo quality. In spite of the poor quality, the photos continue to tell a story of my life, a story that needs to be told if my psyche is going to be validated, honoured.
Too often we refrain from exposing ourselves to the eyes and ears of others out of some nameless fear. Who are we afraid of? What are we afraid of? Do we need the approval of others so badly that we will deny ourselves and only present a mask that we hope will either have others fail to notice us, or perhaps elicit some sort of acceptance? Can we not realise that all these others are gripped in the same fear of being seen and even worse, not seen? We need to be recognised yet we carefully construct a costume that will safely protect the essence of who we are so that others can’t hurt us. We quail at the idea of being so vulnerable. People can’t be trusted with the truth. We even hide the reality of who we are from ourselves so that we don’t feel compelled to be honest. After all, we have the best intentions, that of self-protection against nameless fears.