Your essay is as thoughtful as it is sweeping, like a soliloquy whispered across the canyon of human perception. And while I admire its existential grace, I’ll offer a slight reframing: yes, there are infinite versions of us scattered across the minds we’ve brushed against, but rather than lament the fragmentation, why not consider it a form of social cubism? Like Picasso’s “Girl Before a Mirror”, where truth lies in the interplay of angles, distortions, and reflections, not in any one faithful rendering.
We are, indeed, a mosaic of contradictions. But the idea that the only person who knows the “real you” is you… I must respectfully challenge that. Can one ever fully know oneself? Freud would scoff. Montaigne, that deliciously self-probing skeptic, might argue that our inner depths are no less mysterious than anyone else’s perception of us. We are unreliable narrators of our own stories. Even Hamlet (who had plenty of soliloquies to explore his inner world) remained a mystery to himself.
Take Nabokov, who once claimed, “I think like a genius, I write like a distinguished author, and I speak like a child.” Three different selves, coexisting. And I’d wager none of them fully knew the others. So yes, maybe we can’t control how others see us, but neither can we wholly trust how we see ourselves.
What I take from this eloquent meditation is this: authenticity is not a single candle in a dark room, but a constellation, glimpsed from many vantage points, shifting as the earth tilts. The art lies not in presenting the same self to every person, but in being coherent across those selves. Not polished. Coherent.
And if someone remembers you as the nose-picker at the bus stop? Let them. Maybe that version of you taught them to be less judgmental. Or funnier. Or more forgiving.
In the end, we’re all trying to piece each other together like blind cartographers sketching from touch. The miracle is not that we get it wrong but that, sometimes, we get it close enough to love each other anyway.
I wasn't aware that my perspective came across as a lament of the fragmentation. I guess my objective with this post was to bring awareness to the conversation in general. So I may have imbued my work with an air of lament, and for that I'm not happy, but regardless I'm honest of my perspective in the account above.
I actually agree with your addition of "social cubism," that being said, that perspective applies only to those who look in from the outside. From the outside, I'm seen as a serious of different selves based on all the different perspectives that observe me.
I'm also not confident that one can "fully" know one's self. However, I'm pretty confident that I can understand myself well enough to act faithfully in all accounts of myself. So, while we might not be able to know ourself in entirely, as we're forever changing and evolving, impermanent. The individual is the only person who can fully know if they're being faithful to themself with their actions, that's what I mean by "know the real you."
I'm pretty confident that I know myself, maybe not in entirety, but in each moment that I act I understand if I'm faithful to myself or not, which I consider to be "knowing the self."
I think we may have a pretty similar understanding of this conversation, however we're approaching the same conversation from different angles, which certainly confuses things.
As with any conversation on a topic lacking tangibility, it's important to clarify understandings along the way to ensure that we're seeing things from a more equal footing.
First, let me say: if I read a lament into your piece, I meant it in the highest sense, not as a complaint, but as a poetic register of awareness. Think Rilke’s “Duino Elegies”, not a diary entry on a bad day. A lament, when done well, carries the weight of recognition, of the bittersweet truth that multiplicity, while dazzling, can also ache.
I love that you brought in the idea of acting faithfully to oneself. There’s integrity in what you’re describing, the inner compass that doesn’t promise omniscience but insists on sincerity. You’re right: maybe “knowing the real you” isn’t about total self-mastery (which, let’s face it, is probably a Sisyphean gig), but about staying aligned in the flux. Like jazz — improvised, yet true to a theme.
Still, I’ll admit, I find something amazingly paradoxical in this whole territory. The moment we say “I am this,” we’ve already changed. Montaigne, ever the slippery eel of self-reflection, might murmur from the margins: “Que sais-je?” (What do I know?) And yet, he wrote “Essays” that circled the self like a curious falcon. So perhaps the pursuit is the point, not the capture.
Your image of different angles (seen from the outside) is strong. But I’d argue that the “social cubism” isn’t just an external gaze. Sometimes we catch glimpses of ourselves through others that we’d never see in solitude. A sideways compliment, a misread look, a childhood friend who remembers your laugh when you don’t. Aren’t those mirrors, too? Distorted, sure. But sometimes distortion reveals structure.
In any case, I’m grateful for this exchange. These are the dialogues that don’t need to resolve, only revolve, like planets in a shared orbit of curiosity. And in a world quick to flatten nuance, what a relief to find someone willing to complicate the picture.
So here’s to contradiction, to constellation-selves, and to the wildly imperfect art of being coherent in motion.
To be completely honest with you, I've been going through a lot lately, and there's probably just a subtle undertone of negativity running through my most recent pieces because of it. My whole life has changed in the past 2 months, and it will most likely continue to change for the next two, and with that has come some deep reflection, reflection which holds with it the lament of life's challenges. I try not to drag too much of my current life into my work, as often it's about experiences from the past. However, it's impossible to fully stop your emotions from influencing how you act on any given day. So, the topics I pick are obviously influenced by the way I've been feeling lately.
I guess from my perspective, I would say that's taking things too literally. I come from a more pragmatic outlook on life, in the sense that my concern is with actions and outcomes. So to me "to know one's self" is to act in accordance with one's self, not to actually know anything as such, other than the knowledge of if you're content with your choices, maybe "listen to yourself" is a better way to phrase the conversation. I'm not much concerned with the pursuit of knowledge, rather I seek to understanding how to correctly action one's self in the world. Knowledge for me is like a tool, if I know how to use it and what influence it will have, I'm not concerned with how it works or where it came from. So yes, I would agree, I'm more of a "pursuit is the point" kind of person.
I mean, they're certainly angles. And if someone mirrors a side of you that you haven't seen, they're bringing that "cube" to you, for sure. I guess it depends what you do with the cube, if you integrate that unseen perspective into your own, adding to the conglomerate of different views you hold on yourself, then I guess it just becomes a part of your view. But if you don't integrate it into your perspective, and just let it hang out in its own space, then it holds as its own cube. So sure, the perspective of the self is fluid and fragmented, even amongst the individual who observes themself. It's open to being built upon like Lego, or equally so removed from, using these theoretical cubes.
Absolutely! Conversation isn't a battle. It's not supposed to be won or lost, it's not supposed to convince or coerce, but rather challenge. Challenge in a polite way, by its mere existence. Like the cute old couple that makes you wonder what you're doing wrong in your relationships. Really, they're just existing, but it's you who is provoked by their state of being, they don't as much challenge you as you challenge yourself at the sight of them.
"Planets in a shared orbit of curiosity" is a fascinating way to put things, definitely might steal that one in the future 😂
Your essay is as thoughtful as it is sweeping, like a soliloquy whispered across the canyon of human perception. And while I admire its existential grace, I’ll offer a slight reframing: yes, there are infinite versions of us scattered across the minds we’ve brushed against, but rather than lament the fragmentation, why not consider it a form of social cubism? Like Picasso’s “Girl Before a Mirror”, where truth lies in the interplay of angles, distortions, and reflections, not in any one faithful rendering.
We are, indeed, a mosaic of contradictions. But the idea that the only person who knows the “real you” is you… I must respectfully challenge that. Can one ever fully know oneself? Freud would scoff. Montaigne, that deliciously self-probing skeptic, might argue that our inner depths are no less mysterious than anyone else’s perception of us. We are unreliable narrators of our own stories. Even Hamlet (who had plenty of soliloquies to explore his inner world) remained a mystery to himself.
Take Nabokov, who once claimed, “I think like a genius, I write like a distinguished author, and I speak like a child.” Three different selves, coexisting. And I’d wager none of them fully knew the others. So yes, maybe we can’t control how others see us, but neither can we wholly trust how we see ourselves.
What I take from this eloquent meditation is this: authenticity is not a single candle in a dark room, but a constellation, glimpsed from many vantage points, shifting as the earth tilts. The art lies not in presenting the same self to every person, but in being coherent across those selves. Not polished. Coherent.
And if someone remembers you as the nose-picker at the bus stop? Let them. Maybe that version of you taught them to be less judgmental. Or funnier. Or more forgiving.
In the end, we’re all trying to piece each other together like blind cartographers sketching from touch. The miracle is not that we get it wrong but that, sometimes, we get it close enough to love each other anyway.
I wasn't aware that my perspective came across as a lament of the fragmentation. I guess my objective with this post was to bring awareness to the conversation in general. So I may have imbued my work with an air of lament, and for that I'm not happy, but regardless I'm honest of my perspective in the account above.
I actually agree with your addition of "social cubism," that being said, that perspective applies only to those who look in from the outside. From the outside, I'm seen as a serious of different selves based on all the different perspectives that observe me.
I'm also not confident that one can "fully" know one's self. However, I'm pretty confident that I can understand myself well enough to act faithfully in all accounts of myself. So, while we might not be able to know ourself in entirely, as we're forever changing and evolving, impermanent. The individual is the only person who can fully know if they're being faithful to themself with their actions, that's what I mean by "know the real you."
I'm pretty confident that I know myself, maybe not in entirety, but in each moment that I act I understand if I'm faithful to myself or not, which I consider to be "knowing the self."
I think we may have a pretty similar understanding of this conversation, however we're approaching the same conversation from different angles, which certainly confuses things.
As with any conversation on a topic lacking tangibility, it's important to clarify understandings along the way to ensure that we're seeing things from a more equal footing.
Hopefully I've been able to do that :)
First, let me say: if I read a lament into your piece, I meant it in the highest sense, not as a complaint, but as a poetic register of awareness. Think Rilke’s “Duino Elegies”, not a diary entry on a bad day. A lament, when done well, carries the weight of recognition, of the bittersweet truth that multiplicity, while dazzling, can also ache.
I love that you brought in the idea of acting faithfully to oneself. There’s integrity in what you’re describing, the inner compass that doesn’t promise omniscience but insists on sincerity. You’re right: maybe “knowing the real you” isn’t about total self-mastery (which, let’s face it, is probably a Sisyphean gig), but about staying aligned in the flux. Like jazz — improvised, yet true to a theme.
Still, I’ll admit, I find something amazingly paradoxical in this whole territory. The moment we say “I am this,” we’ve already changed. Montaigne, ever the slippery eel of self-reflection, might murmur from the margins: “Que sais-je?” (What do I know?) And yet, he wrote “Essays” that circled the self like a curious falcon. So perhaps the pursuit is the point, not the capture.
Your image of different angles (seen from the outside) is strong. But I’d argue that the “social cubism” isn’t just an external gaze. Sometimes we catch glimpses of ourselves through others that we’d never see in solitude. A sideways compliment, a misread look, a childhood friend who remembers your laugh when you don’t. Aren’t those mirrors, too? Distorted, sure. But sometimes distortion reveals structure.
In any case, I’m grateful for this exchange. These are the dialogues that don’t need to resolve, only revolve, like planets in a shared orbit of curiosity. And in a world quick to flatten nuance, what a relief to find someone willing to complicate the picture.
So here’s to contradiction, to constellation-selves, and to the wildly imperfect art of being coherent in motion.
Your voice is clear. Keep playing the instrument!
To be completely honest with you, I've been going through a lot lately, and there's probably just a subtle undertone of negativity running through my most recent pieces because of it. My whole life has changed in the past 2 months, and it will most likely continue to change for the next two, and with that has come some deep reflection, reflection which holds with it the lament of life's challenges. I try not to drag too much of my current life into my work, as often it's about experiences from the past. However, it's impossible to fully stop your emotions from influencing how you act on any given day. So, the topics I pick are obviously influenced by the way I've been feeling lately.
I guess from my perspective, I would say that's taking things too literally. I come from a more pragmatic outlook on life, in the sense that my concern is with actions and outcomes. So to me "to know one's self" is to act in accordance with one's self, not to actually know anything as such, other than the knowledge of if you're content with your choices, maybe "listen to yourself" is a better way to phrase the conversation. I'm not much concerned with the pursuit of knowledge, rather I seek to understanding how to correctly action one's self in the world. Knowledge for me is like a tool, if I know how to use it and what influence it will have, I'm not concerned with how it works or where it came from. So yes, I would agree, I'm more of a "pursuit is the point" kind of person.
I mean, they're certainly angles. And if someone mirrors a side of you that you haven't seen, they're bringing that "cube" to you, for sure. I guess it depends what you do with the cube, if you integrate that unseen perspective into your own, adding to the conglomerate of different views you hold on yourself, then I guess it just becomes a part of your view. But if you don't integrate it into your perspective, and just let it hang out in its own space, then it holds as its own cube. So sure, the perspective of the self is fluid and fragmented, even amongst the individual who observes themself. It's open to being built upon like Lego, or equally so removed from, using these theoretical cubes.
Absolutely! Conversation isn't a battle. It's not supposed to be won or lost, it's not supposed to convince or coerce, but rather challenge. Challenge in a polite way, by its mere existence. Like the cute old couple that makes you wonder what you're doing wrong in your relationships. Really, they're just existing, but it's you who is provoked by their state of being, they don't as much challenge you as you challenge yourself at the sight of them.
"Planets in a shared orbit of curiosity" is a fascinating way to put things, definitely might steal that one in the future 😂
As writers we cannot help but bring our feelings into what we write…. I do understand you.
😊