Once upon a time a young man named Joe, having descending from his cloud, happened upon an even younger man reading a book called ‘The Art of Authenticity.’ This made Joe scoff.
The younger man, let’s call him Osman, looked up. ‘Passerby, pray tell me, why do you scoff?’
Joe pointed at the book. ‘Apologies, dear friend. I saw your book and had a question.’
‘Pray, ask it.’
‘Why are you reading a book on authenticity?’
Osman replied, ‘My reasons are twofold.’
‘Tell me the first.’
‘Pray, I will, if you will not interrupt me.’
‘I apologise. Pray, do tell.’
The First Reason
‘The first is this—I wish to understand why authenticity is so lacking in our world. Why there are so many fake people about.’
‘Ah, indeed, this is a sad truth about our world. Those people are out there. Now, tell me the second reason.’
The Second Reason.
‘The second reason is this—I am what is known as an open-minded individual. This means I must continually work on myself and be open to ways I might become more authentic.’
Joe inferred from this that Osman thought very highly of himself. ‘But young Osman,’ Joe walked forward, leaning an elbow on his knee, and his chin on the outstretched palm attached to that elbow leaning on that knee. He looked like the Thinker. ‘Aren’t you overlooking something?’
‘Pray, tell me what.’
Riddled with angst, Joe sighed.
‘Nothing is more inauthentic, than trying to be authentic.’
A vacant force took up Osman’s face. ‘Pray, tell me, what dost thou mean?’
‘Nothing is less genuine, than trying to be genuine.’
Osman still looked confused. Joe tried to simplify it. ‘My advice to you is this—stop trying to be authentic.’
‘Stop trying to be authentic?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s very inauthentic.’
‘Explain this to me, oh wise master. I beseech this of you.’
Joe shook his head. ‘I’ve said too much.’
‘But I beseech you!’
‘Oh, right.’
Joe sighed. He stood upright, rolling up his sleeves—for his hands were about to get dirty.
Joe gets his hands dirty
‘There are two types of inauthentic people in the world.’
Osman put down his book and took out his notepad and pen. Seeing this, Joe grew irritable. ‘No don’t write this shit down, just listen.’
Osman, without looking up, wrote in his notepad, ‘Just listen.’
Joe shook his head again. His head was sore because he kept shaking it. He rolled his eyes and continued. ‘The first type are persons of an outwardly and openly inauthentic nature. These people make no attempt to hide or conceal their insincerity. They don’t care they are fake, or don’t realise. They are who they are loudly and in your face. As a result, I cannot help but admire their shameless quality, however horrible or unwelcome their behaviour, attitudes, or beliefs.’
Joe paused so this could sink in. Then he took a sharp breath. ‘Then there’s the second kind—the secretly inauthentic.’
‘Ooh,’ Osman swooned.
The Second Kind
‘These are the people who know, deep, deep, deep, deep, deep down they are shallow—hollow—fake, self-centred, and so forth. But they don’t want to be (bless their poor souls), and so they go to great lengths to be good and genuine. They read profound books, seek wisdom, perform great acts of charity, but it is all… well… it reeks.’
‘It reeks?’
‘Aye, it reeks. It reeks and stinks and bothers the air about them with the foul odour of inauthenticity.’
Osman looked upon Joe as if he were speaking Sanskrit, Farsi, or some other niche language. ‘But, does that not make them… genuine?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘But why?’
Joe considered how best to put this. ‘The very nature of inauthenticity is projecting to be that which you are not.’
‘Right.’
‘And so, you can be quite sure that people who try to be genuine are anything but genuine.’
‘That’s… but that’s absurd!’
‘How is it absurd?’
‘But you s… I mean a… aren’t we supposed to be genuine?’
‘Why, young Osman. Of course we are! We’re supposed to BE **genuine, not try to be genuine. My word! Could anything be less genuine, than trying to be genuine?’
‘But… how can you tell the difference between one who is genuine, and one who is merely trying to be genuine?’
‘Easily. Can’t you?’
‘I’m not sure this makes sense.’
‘It makes perfect sense.’
‘I don’t see how that works.’
‘I just explained how it works.’
‘So what is an inauthentic person supposed to do?’
‘Be authentically inauthentic.’
‘Is that advisable?’
‘It’s preferable.’
‘Preferable to what?’
‘To being inauthentically authentic.’
‘That can’t be right.’
‘But it is. If it’s in one’s nature to be inauthentic, they should simply be inauthentic. Anything else would be wildly inauthentic, wouldn’t it?’
‘I fear you are making no sense.’
‘I am making total sense. This problem follows me everywhere. Everywhere I go, people see me—loving, witty, intelligent, caring, genuine. They wish to drop their inauthentic ways to try and be more like me.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’
Joe sighed. ‘I already explained—because it’s inauthentic to try to be like someone else. And mighty annoying for the likes of me.’
‘But what’s the alternative!? Who are they supposed to be?’
‘They should be themselves! Look,’ Joe, his patience wearing thin, took a solemn knee, ‘I didn’t ask for this—it was the good Lord who chose to make me genuine. I didn’t ask to be made sincere, honest, impervious to vices or temptation, caring, compassionate and so forth. This is just my lot—I take my lot.’
Joe continued, ‘These types, their lot is to be, well, insincere and so forth. Rotten, I know, but instead of accepting it, they wrap their inauthenticity with authenticity. They’re selfish, but wanting to appear good and virtuous. They’re egomaniacs, dressing themselves up as saints and scholars. Now what’s more inauthentic—blatant inauthenticity, or inauthenticity masquerading as authenticity? I tell you what, nothing irks me more than the pretence of authenticity. Nothing is so hollow, surely, as an insincere person who pretends to be sincere.’
‘I still don’t see what you propose they do?’
Joe was pulling at his hair now, foaming at the mouth, too. ‘If inauthentic people would only BE inauthentic, they would defy the odds and come full circle to authenticity! They need only be their inauthentic selves! To be the shallow, hollow, morally questionable scoundrel the good Lord made them! But, in trying to be authentic, well, they exhibit greater inauthenticity. Now do you understand? Now do you see?’
‘See what?’
‘Just read your stupid book.’
Osman picked up his stupid book, The Art of Authenticity, and wrote many notes. Joe left, and that was that.
To make matters worse, the book I did with Paul helps authentic people become more authentic, but inauthentic people more inauthentic (inauthentically authentic, to be specific).
I don’t know if it’s worth reading for you or not, even though it’s in audiobook, ebook and paperback versions.
The irony is that by trying to be authentic we make ourselves inauthentic. True authenticity shouldn’t be something that we have to consciously strive for. It should simply be the natural result of being.