August 28, 2008
Imposture – a way to succeed in life
Mr. Marius Ghilezan
As psychology has shown us, in each individual lies a dual part, one religious/fanatic and another rational one. The monster within each can be tamed. Subconscious reveals states but the conscious controls attitudes and this way the Ego is protected. It is said that each of us has four faces: the one shown, the one felt, the one we believe to be the real one and the real face. Hypocrites know they know how to polish their face and how to communicate non-verbally.
In the good sense, the human is a flexible and perfectible being who understands that what really exists is not necessarily what seems. Ancient wise-men talked about doubt. “I know I do not know anything” said Socrates in the Agora. Later, Brancusi would describe the difference between smart and wise. We should not fear the ones that have wits but that ones that act as if they had. The rational person makes mistakes and learns from them. He wants to educate his drives and relieve his desires because, as we all know, the deal from home does not match the one from the market. Modern world’s pragmatism covers the mystery of loving the fellow men, of loving God, in the filthy shroud of contract, doctrine, becoming by any means. The act of talking to the world about the sense of life and death, about confession and repentance, about humbleness and Christian mission is an act of conservationism and not one of resource cultivation, fertilization of the flowers from the Spirit’s garden, without existential humus, regarded only with sterile mercy.
Portraying the new world is an axiological action. If one were to X-ray the modern society one could see first a long series of principle-empty skeletons, some weak cartilages upon which lays the adipose tissue of forms that have no background. The positive caloric balance is given by the pleasure growth hormone. At maturity, the natural cells modify less when demanded and more because of the context. The environmental factors influence imposture which becomes a compartmental chronically deficiency that tends to become a disease especially in the transition societies even though phallus, division and masks existed since Antiquity. Not every liar can be an impostor.
This type of individual needs a lot of dexterity. He knows how to imaginatively prepare his attitudes, his behavior, position and wealth. By humbugs declarations made with a certain tint of credibility he presents himself with a different identity having a delusive stylistic biography astounding his solid connections with the highest spheres of one area or another. He has no limit. His seduction techniques are diverse. Such an individual can gather around him the hopes of gull people that are eager to obtain all mundane advantages. It is only when the virtuous careless walks and the competent waves his hand in dislike, that the insolent character appears on the stage.
One can easily recognize the “perfect” man by his top-pointed shoes brought from Milano, by this sweet-pricking perfumes, his exhibitionist way of dressing and of course his serious way of talking. He currently uses English words, even though he doesn’t understand them all. A snob, he likes being the center of attention, toadied and praised. He leaves the table only after having belched, a sign that the meal has suited him. One can recognize him by his thick neck and the big belly that disgorges over his belt. It always throbs towards as a sonorous jet. His voice is usually affected. He suffers from megalomania. Has personality crisis and is also paranoid. He sees everywhere enemies and trusts no one. Outside, on the street, always awaits him a limousine “4x4”. He is always flanked by bodyguards.
This type of woman is in a perpetual rush for image. She always has airs. She groans that she never finds her favorite ylang ylang perfume and that she is tired of the same holiday beginning in with the morning breakfast in Baden-Baden, lunch in Strasbourg and ending with dinner in some castle on the Loire Valley. Shopping on Champs-Elysees bores her. Same products, nothing new, cheap-pearls finesses, fashion houses not at all creative as she would desire. She would like to show off somewhere on a private island, but she hasn’t decided yet. Back at home she is tired of milk baths, cucumbers on her eyelids and the servants that do not wash her feet that gently. Her men are too metrosexual. She would like something smelling more like sweat. That’s why she keeps thinking about going away. But she does not know where. Maybe somewhere in the country where she could feel the breeze of fresh cow dung and hay cock, or on some yacht with some black servants or she could take her girl-friends on “Queen Mary 2”, but she’s all fed up with sword-fish, crispy lobsters, sea swallows and fresh monkey brain. Last time she caught a flu because of the breeze and the Turkish sauna. The butler was not all that kind and helpful. Thalassic-therapy did not suit her. The warm air armchairs, the pillow aromas, the vibrating matrices, the not-at-all-discreet Amazonian space-surrounding challenged her a bit too much. She complained a couple of times to the board about the smashed ice in the shakes and the fish eggs a bit too jelly and not black enough.
She desires something more for her soul. She is disturbed by the gossip newspapers in her country but when she is not in the attention of some television channel she becomes agitated, mincing and with her purse filled with sedatives. Life is hard, especially when ones habits don’t let one breathe normally.