I wonder if I would ask myself this question if I never had any doubts that I was a truly well intended person…I guess it’s safe to say the answer is well and truly no, so maybe I don’t need to write any further towards this entry.
At the same time though yesterday I spoke with someone who in someways reminds me of me. Our conversation peaked my interest when he spoke about wanting to be a better person despite the fact that he seldom feels any empathy for his perceived foul or wrongdoings.
I left our chat wondering how I felt about where I stood on the all mighty scale of morality, and realised that where I convinced myself that I’m a good person, I actually hid certain aspects of my character that are ugly to look at in the mirror.
I see now is I once thought I was an awful person. I did awful things and so I did what I could to change. I did change, and began to feel that after a long period of self introspection and development, I became a good person.
However that was a subtle form of denial, because in truth by telling myself that I’m a good person, I excused any further need for improvement, and accountability; I pretty much left myself open to the same cycle that made me an awful person in the first place.
I’m reminded of my brand and what it means. The strong use of red in everything visual that I put out there: The heard, the child, the ego, or ID as the psychologist Freud would have put it.
I’m reminded of the reasons why I started writing in the first place. To search within, and find meaning, purpose, but most importantly understanding in myself.
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