hiding hurting artfully

"Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic."
Oscar Wilde - "The picture of Dorian Grey."

We have a painting in our dining room that is called "Dorian" in honor of the inspiration of both the artist who created the painting, and the artist who unwittingly inspired her with his classic creation of a tragic life. 

"The picture of Dorian Grey" by Oscar Wilde is one of my favorite books and it constantly reminds me of my own struggles with hiding the moral scarring of my inner visage, which is caused by the ramifications of my (and other's) ill judged actions and attitudes in an art form that is forever to be hidden from human sight. 

Like Dorian the issue isn't the marred visage of art that is hidden away, but the trooping around in public with an unmarred face that expresses our moral deceit through beautiful posturing.

My own world-view of Christianity has turned this type of hypocritical posturing into a high art form. To watch us parade through the entrances of our churches tomorrow, a spectator would be excused for concluding that there must be no pain or problems in our lives that could mar the beatific brow of our borrowed beauty. We have become maestros of the mystery of hiding hurt behind a mask of respectability and beatitude laden peace with ourselves and our world. As a sop to authenticity we have created wondrous opportunities to reveal a glimpse of the bleeding artwork of despair and disfunction hidden deep within us, through collective admission that such revealing art exists in our personal and corporate inner sanctums, but it is excused through blanket forgiveness and gracious avoidance of too much specificity. 

If you could see my inner visage perhaps you might recoil in horror? If the scars that criss-cross my inner self's ephemeral experience of today were to become visible would they enhance your opinion of me or deflate it? 

There is so much hurt in this world and almost all of it is artfully hidden behind a visage of coping coyly and copying slavishly whatever trend we believe is the current "right" attitude to take towards overcoming our "temporary" troubles.

I hurt. This statement doesn't require an exclamation point or a question mark. It is normal to hurt, and it is normal to ache in hope of that hurting having a temporary cessation, no matter how-ever briefly that cessation may be. If you have no awareness of hurting today then I'm delighted for you that you are in the midst of one of those brief cessations. But if you are like many people today, you probably are experiencing some form of hurt. 

If you are curious how I might reflect the depth and feelings of "hurting" during many portions of the days I have lived, the incredibly gifted depiction of a warped face at the top of this post is a pretty accurate reflection of the inner me experiencing my life on any given day. The one in my dining room is also a reasonable reflection of the inner me at repose. Intense, dark and more than a little distracting. The one above is rawer, jagged and has lost the refined edges of introspection and reflection that I normally attribute to any inner image of myself. 

I hurt. Why I hurt, and what, may, or may not relieve that hurt aren't topics for discussion in this post. Raw revelations of hurt ought not always to elicit a response of "attempted fixing" by the one blessed to be a witness of unhidden hurting. I don't need you to heal my hurt. I have a deity who has promised to work on that for me already. What I'd like is have more people in my life who are safe to be an unhidden hurting person with. If I tell you I hurt, all I want to do is share with you that hurt. I understand it will cause you to experience hurt when I share my hurt. But I felt your claim of friendship was permission to allow a measure of my hurt to bleed into your life so that my life would not always be lived behind masks of managing. 

Yet another essay on existence.... But if you have chosen to read my thoughts, then you have also chosen to trust me to choose thoughtful topics worthy of your time and attention. 

Do you hurt and who are the trusted witnesses to the dreadfully painful artworks that pain paints inside your soul?