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Perspective: The Face of Authenticity

It feels good I guess, to make a choice in acting. In playing the role with full knowing that it is the compromise of either to be in and awake or in and asleep. To own up to the faults and the wins in every scene and every clip in this movie and every other. The continuation of such in the hopes, amid making it complete and useful and intentional and valuable. A life that is worth... the angst and stress and confusion of being in and awake or in and asleep. You have had the privilege and the responsibility of choosing a role. And playing the role of authenticity is ironic. Because on the spectrum of illusion, you choose what is closest to transparency, yet it is not so. To be tainted, saturated or diluted by the reflections and angles that may enhance and direct your move. It is your guide and your muse. Your teacher and child. To become what was presented to allow what showed you the way, to walk with you, trying on the cloth and the soles and the skin. Prying and hugging and begging and demanding that all that is you is also what acts in your favor. Remember me. Bringing it's life to your light and awarding its act as though it is you. Your role, it's the role of what was before you and... Authenticity is true to the being that becomes so. It is the space and the place but not that which dwells there. The role. The experience of that is notable and brave and wise, the key to transition into what may be kept sacred, secret. Learning what it is to protect then by default, the doorway to what is kept in the dark, what gets hidden sometimes. Because what can be authentic is what can be accepted. If it is so true, who is willing and able to perceive it. The one. Just the one. No secret is ever shared between another. That's the point. The role of authenticity is the role of ignorance and of naïvety.


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