While I was growing up, we had a room we referred to as the ironing room in our house. Yes, that was where the ironing table was, and that was where we ironed our clothes, but that wasn’t all there was to the room. It was also a dressing room, and for this cause, a good number of our clothes were in this room (us children). The clothes were scattered everywhere; in all the layers of the wardrobes, and on the mattress. Not neatly folded nor stacked, but mostly rumpled.
There were times Mom charged us to make the whole house presentable before she got back from an outing, so to hasten the work, we’d fold a few clothes, arrange ’em neatly in the first two layers of the wardrobe, hang a number of them (just 5 pairs maybe) in the compartment designed for that purpose, and then roll up all the other clothes to the bottom layer; all clothes on the bed and elsewhere, then cover the mass of them with a bedsheet… Then the room was done, with wardrobes closed, bed laid, and floor sparkling so it would appear clean and orderly. But who were we deceiving? We knew deep within that we did next to nothing.
Beyond the surface of the skin, there’s an unsightly network of veins and arteries.
Beyond the surface of an electrical conduit, there’s a not-so-beautiful fabric of multicolored wires.
Beyond the surface of a shiny computer or handheld device, there’s a mesh of miscellaneous semiconductor devices that combined together wouldn’t give pleasure to the eyes.
Beyond the surface everyone presents, there’s a story, then some more. There’s Goodness, then distastefulness. There are great ideas, then idiotic ones. There’s orderliness, then chaos.
There are two things I think one needs to do for oneself. The first is to ensure one has real substance beyond the mask that the outer man is.
The second is to pay attention to:
What people don’t show
What people don’t say
What people don’t do.