Open Kimono

I first wrote this piece for my book Morning Musings, and it still hits home today. Now it's part of The Unfinished Journey podcast — a reflection on how much we really know about each other, and how much we choose to show.

🎧 Listen to the recorded version: https://azsongsinger.podbean.com/

I find myself considering a comment on my Facebook page that stated that until this person started following me, he didn't know I was such a deep thinker. Being me, I immediately jumped to the conclusion that this individual must think he knows me. Then two other thoughts jumped in, the first being, "Dang, I wonder what he thought of me before?" Yeah, I always worry about what others think of me. I'm trying hard to break that habit. The second thought was about how little we really know one another, and whether Facebook is even a place to figure someone out.

Speaking for myself, I suspect if one were to read my Facebook posts over, oh, let's say a month, they would likely get some deeper insight into what I'm about and what I'm not. On the other hand, based on the printed word, which only goes so far, you might wrongly end up assuming I'm one way or another because of what I've written.

I used to use the phrase "open kimono," which simply meant nothing withheld, everything literally out in the open, what you see is what you get. I don't use that term much anymore. I learned my lesson with that one. I used it once many years ago. The results were a complete disaster for me in almost every part of my life. It got so bad that I came to where I believed I had only two choices left. In the end, the choice I made was to give all my guns to one of my sons-in-law. To this day, I no longer do the "open kimono" thing with anyone other than three trusted people who have never disappointed me.

You and I don't know each other, though we think we do. Hell, my ex-wife didn't know me — not completely, anyway — and we lived together for twenty-five years. She had an impression of me based on our high school days and what other people said they knew about me. She never asked, and I always tried to be someone I thought she wanted me to be, which, of course, never works out.

Though I appreciate the comment that person left for me on Facebook, I don't really know if it was said with condescension or with, perhaps — dare I say it? — a touch of admiration. Then again, I don't know the first thing about the person who left the comment. Truth be told, I don't know that much about anyone, including myself, and sometimes that's not a bad thing.

A dash of mystery can add a touch of spice to the mix we call life.