I’ve been thinking about authenticity.

. . . that I’d rather be real than good.  I want to enrich that place in the center of me that knows who I am and why I’m here, and then live this out with integrity. Living like this is more important to me than putting my life in line with someone else’s idea of what I should do to be good, with some creed or code of conduct or a set of ethical principles that come from somewhere outside of me. More and more, I find myself living from the inside out and caring less and less about being measured from the outside in.

“More and more, I find myself living from the inside out and caring less and less about being measured from the outside in.”

I know the dangers of this mode of life.  If I listen only to myself, I’m vulnerable to my narcissistic self-interests, to finding “truth” only in those things that are echoes of my own often selfish and self-deluding desires. 

So I place myself in a few intimate relationships and in a community of friends with whom I live as transparently as possible.  And because they both know and love me, they do not hesitate to point out when my “authenticity” feels more like an expression of being self-absorbed than an expression of who I really am.  They hold me accountable to whom they know me to be at my best.

Somewhat to my surprise, being real has not turned me into a moral mess; actually, I’m still a pretty good person.  I’m kind and generous, I’m mostly honest and occasionally courageous, and I love and am loved by a host of family and friends.  Authenticity has not stamped out my goodness; it’s just taken away the burden of checking someone else’s measure of me, and freed me up to live exuberantly from the inside out.  For me, this focus on being real rather than being good has proven to be a wise choice.

That’s what I think.  What do you think?