Window Shopping

When I was an intern for the consulting firm in Reston one of my favorite things to do on my lunch break was window shop. I loved to walk by the stores and see the wares they peddled in new and exciting outfits, see the life they pretended to sell because most of the time I'd find myself wanting it to some degree or another (but usually it made me dislike what I already owned). I liked the life they showed me.

That's what window shopping is, isn't it? It's selling a life and a lifestyle; it's this perfect dream world where the most fashionable clothes fit in all the right places and no one is ever alone. And it is separated from you only by a pane of glass; something clear and virtually invisible keeps you from the life you might want. Window shopping introduced something into our conscious we hadn't known before: suspended gratification. Not instant to be sure, but suspended and we live in it daily. I'll be happy when I have a nicer car, I have a newer phone, I have the best Mac, the best outfit, those shoes. “I'll be happy when I have...” joined our lexicon. We let happiness be suspended in front of us like the carrot in front of the donkey.

And we don't just do it with material items, we do it with ideas and immaterial goods. I'll be happy when I have the boyfriend/fiance/husband, the best job, the perfect kids, this big project is done, summer finally comes, the best group of friends, the most adventurous Saturday night, whatever it may be. “When I am prettier, when I am more popular, when I am better off, when I am respected then I will be...” and we fill in the blank with every good emotion we can make up. We window shop ideas and ideals. We let ourselves believe that The Next is what is bringing happiness and it never does; we somehow put all of our worth in our immediate happiness. We do this much more quietly than I am referencing; most of us aren't that blatant.
I am completely guilty; I put worth and hope, time and energy into potentials and I window shop at the storefronts that Hollywood and 5^th Avenue sell me. I am sold those lies and I dutifully take them like communion.

I have to say that one of the happiest times in my life was when I didn't own much more than what was on my back, I was single but in a community and thus rarely alone and my work stayed at work and my life lived the rest. It had nothing to do with stuff or what my stuff said about me, it had to do with me and that's it. My worth truly was in Christ. I wish I could get rid of all of window shopping and finally get back to this business of simply being wholly gratified with right here.

Multitudes

I've been in email banter with my ex recently, which is a blatant bad idea. That being said, I love email banter, and he is very good at it, so it's been enjoyable in that baby-pool depth that is banter sort of way. The other day he said I was inconsistent, and I agreed, saying that I found people who weren't inconsistent not only boring but liars (and aren't boring liars the worst kind? If someone is going to lie to me I'd much rather have it be a great story than something mundane and banal). But then I started to think about the comment about being inconsistent. I believe it was Walt Whitman that said, “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.” which I have always loved and found to be true. Of course I contradict myself, of course I'm inconsistent, of course on some issues I stand firm and others I waiver sporadically. Of course I can beat you at a carbomb and then talk to you about the gospel; they are not mutually exclusive and neither am I. I contain multitudes; I am much. I think that's what being a dynamic person is about; part of being a true person is understanding the contradictions and inconsistencies that make up who they are and then being able to reconcile or apologize for them. I am not saying inconsistencies are reflections on the best of us; hardly, they often make clear the cracks and crumbles within. And I have many that require explanation and many more that require apology. I guess that is the burden that comes from containing a multitude.