The Wounded Look
In my analysis of other people, which I have been doing for a lifetime, more so than analysis of myself, I realized early on that sincerity coupled with wholesomeness has great appeal. There is no denying that. And so I returned to an examination of other facets of righteous, forever smiling, beautiful people like those depicted in my Sunday School paper.
And what I came to realize is that Godly people, (and perhaps even the un-Godly), if they are sincere in their role of a beautiful person, must, as part of that dedication to being a ‘beautiful person’, be compassionate to the nth degree. That is a necessary requirement for the ‘beautiful person’ commitment.
So in my struggle for popularity, acceptance, and joy in life, why not forget about the foolishness of smiling and instead simply reveal my need for compassion. Life is too worrisome to smile all the time, so why not put on a glum, serious face, and in doing so, buy into the compassion of the beautiful smiling people?
After all, my Father is a beautiful person, and he is compassionate when I am sad. My Mother is a beautiful person and she is compassionate when I am sad. Even my siblings, though not exactly beautiful people, become compassionate when I, for a certainty, am sad.
The bottom line is if one must smile with insincerity or foolishly, for the sake of a smile exchange, wouldn’t it be better to adopt a wounded look that invites doting compassion. And then smile with true delight while bathed in the compassion of others? Somehow, that seemed like a loftier perch than the equanimity of foolish and rather meaningless smile exchanges.
Seeking compassion, and receiving it, it seemed to me, could create a situation touching for all, and for me, only me, a dramatic saturation of joy in all my emotional hot spots.
And so, with that realization, I took on this wounded countenance. This glum look. This unsmiling look. This look that begged for compassion. And soon it became a way of life.
NEXT POST: Wounded Enough to Smile
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4 comments:
Intriguing to say the least….
I find myself continually reading a paragraph or so and then glancing at the artistic rendering of you on your blog searching out just the hint of a smile. Then I will re-read part of one or the other of your posts and glance yet again. I think it’s there but I’m not sure so I will just keep on reading until I know the answer.
Thank you for reading along, Alan. You make me chuckle privately where no one will see my foolish smile. I chuckle because I'm no actress, but maybe I have the Mona Lisa's smile down pat. Could it be?
(Actually the artist asked me to shut my mouth - guess he didn't want the tedious task of sketching all my teeth).
ha! I did the very same thing along about age 13 and kept at it until I realized everyone was thoroughly tired of trying to cheer me up and so they left me alone. I had to learn to smile and be happy all over again. I was spurred by the fact that a fellow I had a crush on preferred my friend to me because she was "always happy."
Pauline, you know too much of this story. But nevertheless I appreciate you following along, and I appreciate your conversations as well.
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