I continue to be entertained and enlightened as I make my way slowly through Brian Doyle’s book, Eight Whopping Lies. Doyle has an uncanny way of telling a compelling story within about two pages. The stories originate out of real life and it is so easy to relate to the ordinariness of the story. And then Doyle drags us deep into profundity and that is where the enlightenment emerges. Wow, that is an amazing revelation is my normal response.
Still near the front of the book is the little story Doyle entitles, “Is That Your Real Nose?” I had no clue what this story would narrate. I suppose I had my doubts that it would be about real noses. So I eagerly began to read. Doyle has a charming, simple way to engage the reader. This entry begins with the cryptic question: “Best questions I have been asked?” (14) As a writer and speaker to many groups, I am sure he has been through his fair share of Q&A, as they are called.
Quickly, he tells us his favorite question. “The best ever: Is that your real nose?” I admit that this is a good one. It turns out he describes his real nose and the story that goes with it. Doyle had a second best question, which I will skip. His third best question set the stage for what he really wants to do in this essay. The context for this third question is an auditorium of high school kids to whom he has spoken. From up in the far reaches of the dark auditorium a young gal poses this question: “How do you retain your dignity when you know and we know that most of the kids in this auditorium are not paying any attention to what you are saying at all?” (15) Doyle was ready for this one. He had a good answer!
In the first place he tells us he was once a teenage, so he is used to not being listened to. He also has kids of his own and all of us with kids know the answer to this one! His third response inches us toward what he wants to teach us with this story. He says, “not to be rude, but I don’t care if you have the guts to drop your masks and listen to what I have to say.” In effect, he says that the ball is in the questioner’s hand and all the rest of the audience. He begins to elaborate.
He makes some great points. He tells the audience, “It took me the longest damned time to come out from behind my masks, it took me deep into my twenties, and if you want to be as stupid as me, swell.” (16) Then he shares a central message of the book. He allows “I am just an aging idiot addicted to stories, because stories matter, my friend, and if you do not catch and share stories that matter, you will have nothing but lies and sales pitches in your life, and shame on you if that’s the case.” Then he says something that surprised me. He tells us we should not feel compelled to listen to him or anyone else.
Now comes the key point for me. “You ought to listen to your own true self.” When I read that, I felt the need to sit up straight. It resonated with me. When I was in late high school and college, I think that is exactly what I was trying to do, but I had no language for it. At some point, I realized I needed to find people who knew things and could talk and tell stories so that I could learn. As the process unfolded, I also learned no one could tell me about my true self. No one could point out that true self, but they could help me know how to search and to find. That is when I began to learn that I needed others and needed community and the stories that communities generate.
I like how Doyle puts it. To the young woman and all the folks in the auditorium he says, “I can maybe help you tiptoe a little closer to that self by sharing stories that matter, but if you are too cool to play today, swell.” Doyle is smart enough to know he really cannot adequately answer the girl’s question. And he is smart enough to know the very best he can do is be a midwife to her own search and discovery of her true self. He launches into what is a remarkable paragraph that you will need to read to appreciate. I cannot do it justice by quoting it all.
Suffice it to say here that Doyle is talking about not only the true self but the true life. I assume that real life is what we all want. But too often we wind up with superficial, phony lives. But this is all lives lived hiding behind a mask can muster. We cannot have real life---authentic life---behind masks. That’s the good news that we can have this kind of life. The bad news is we will have to come out from behind our masks.
He concludes that life itself is “priceless and inexplicable.” This kind of life holds supreme worth. Life can be the most worthy thing on earth. And it is yours. But some of us don’t know it yet. But we can. That is the promise. This is what all the major religious traditions proclaim. And yet, behind masks---sometimes religious masks---we can get caught in religious games and miss the life that is promised.
In the end he asked the girl if he answered her question. She said, “Yes sir…Yes, sir, it surely does.” Thankfully, his answer to her helped me too.
Those of us who have read theology or, perhaps, those who are people of faith and are old enough might well recognize this title as a reminder of the late Jewish philosopher and theologian, Martin Buber. I remember reading Buber’s book, I and Thou , when I was in college in the 1960s. It was already a famous book by then. I am not sure I fully understood it, but that would not be the last time I read it. It has been a while since I looked at the book. Buber came up in a conversation with a friend who asked if I had seen the recent article by David Brooks? I had not seen it, but when I was told about it, I knew I would quickly locate and read that piece. I very much like what Brooks decides to write about and what he contributes to societal conversation. I wish more people read him and took him seriously. ...
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