Living Inside a Hologram

One thing a lot of my past heroes and icons have in common is that they weren’t real. What I was exposed to, learned about, believed in and accepted, was in fact, an image that had been carefully nurtured, groomed and manipulated for maximum effect. He or she or it was really just an avatar.

Truth be told, I was looking through a hologram at an image cleverly presented in the best interest (and most of the time) in the only interest of the presenter. Any connection to reality was a side benefit, (again) only if it was in the best interest of the presenter.

I recently watched a fascinating documentary by Ken Burns on Ernest Hemingway. It reminded me of a slew of notable personalities in the world of literature, music, the theater, etc. - all of whom have created their own persona for their own personal gains.

The list is a veritable who’s who of personalities in the arts. Ernest Hemingway, Bob Dylan, Marilyn Monroe, Rock Hudson, Prince, Lady Gaga, Madonna and many more myth-makers.

As the documentary pointed out, the trouble with creating a new persona or image of oneself means that one has to live up to that illusion. In most cases, eventually the avatar will turn around and consume you. Living inside a hologram eventually wears thin as the real person starts to emerge.

Over the past seven or eight years, I have probably written more than six hundred plus blogs. Looking through the thin veil at my past life, I’ve tried to be honest about my experiences and the associated feelings but the temptation is always there to exaggerate just a little bit. I guess the only difference between myself and the masters like Hemingway and Dylan is that my story isn’t nearly as interesting as theirs.

The experiences I’ve written about include a plethora of real-world adventures. Like my time in the Service, living in Europe, trying to hitch hike to the South of France, trudging through the Amazon rain forest, hanging my boots over a cliff at Machu Picchu, and time spent in Palm Springs. They are all as real today as the day they happened. Those experiences can still conger up images in my mind; perhaps a little distorted but still there.

The experiences were real and did happen. My reaction to them, my memories and my recall have probably been a bit slanted and grayed on the edges over time. I guess the only difference is that I’m not as good as my heroes are at painting a more exciting picture of past events. But then again, I don’t have an image to worry about or a public to satisfy. It’s just me, old and gray and worn a bit around the edges, still telling my story and not minding if anyone is listening or not.

They are still my stories to tell and pretty damn close to the truth as I can truthfully remember them.