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being real

Writer's picture: t.noblet.noble

Another "article/prose" piece. Older work re-done and stored here for historical purposes (and reading).



I was thinking about connection, about authenticity, about being “real”.  I was wondering what Real actually meant, meant to the world at large, and what it meant to me.  What did Connection mean to me? I was thinking about Social Media and how there is this illusion of connection all the time, but in a way, we are more separated than ever. We are more lonely. I am more lonely.


Lets talk about the masks we wear through Social Media. We always wore them before but now we can be far more clever. We can weave and carve and create illusions of ourselves we always wanted to be, through meaningful quotes attributed to incorrect people, through artificial intelligence that hides our flaws our changes our bodies.  We make ourselves as products.  The moments of vulnerability are scoffed and scorned as needy, and for the weak.  We post meaningful quotes about being vulnerable, yet never actually be vulnerable in that world.  We mask our vulnerability with another quote.  It is a perfect place to hide.


We break up with our significant others via text messages and emails.  It’s easier that way. We don’t have to see the pain we have caused. We can walk away, not feeling the guilt, or ever know our part or lay claim to our part in the destruction of a relationship.  We can hurt others anonymously, as a troll, as a joke, as a gang of hating monsters – because we never have to see the impact that hate has on the victim.


I was thinking about all this bullshit distraction we surround ourselves with so we feel alive and connected. At least, we think we do.  We cut ourselves off from any inkling of boredom or feeling anything real as soon as it happens, as soon as that itch in our bellies tell us something is wrong, we’ve ignored ourselves too long – we take a drag off a smoke, a long cold drink, a glass of wine; we eat a donut, or two, or three – we talk to people we barely know to pass the time.  All to avoid the pit in our souls that, in all our consumption, is left unfed.


We create plans, plans that never come to fruition because lives are too busy. We have friends we never see.  We create a lack of time to feel anything real. We create an emtpy, meaningless sense of "busy".  It’s another way to stop that part of ourselves that simply wants to shout and say STOP.


Stop. Please. Be still.  Be still among the trees for hours or even days.  Sit on the moist, the cold, the frozen, the pure Earth.  Run soil through your fingers. Feel the breeze caress your face on a warm day, and bite your cheeks on a cold one. Frolic with abandon in snow.  Be still beside an old tree and feel the wisdom of a Millennia seep into your soul.  Let the inside of you speak for the first time, let it have it’s say.  Let feelings of loss and sorrow saturate you and take over. Let the tears run. Sob like you have never sobbed before.  Come to meet yourself.  Know yourself. Don’t come with expectation of loving yourself or feeling grateful or anything else. Leave the social media quotes to live on social media.  Just come to be.  Sit in Nature and just Be.  No expectations. No masks. Let your soul speak it’s truth.  Let it have it’s day in the sun, beneath the moon, under rain, or snow.


Come to the Land to feel the truest and most beautiful connection there is.  Take it with you.  Touch another.  Touch another’s heart with your hand. Feel the heartbeat. Look into their eyes and see them for nothing more than who they are. Destroy their mask. Destroy yours.  Turn off the phones.  Turn off the tablets. Let the TV, the Internet, the games, let them rest. Be with me.


Really BE with me.  I want to feel touched by you and I want to touch you. I want to see your soul and I want to hear it speak.  I want to feel that visceral connection with you.  We need not speak, in fact, I hope you don’t.  Words are lies. Words are there to distract. Words are your nervousness, your fear, your wanting to hide yourself.  Don’t hide.  Never hide.  You are too amazing to hide.


This is what connection is for me.  This is what is Real.


We are far too fleeting a moment to waste time on these distractions.  Embrace me, and let us walk in the forest together, connected to each other, to all around us – in this moment, now.


It is all we have.

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Trish Noble

Writer, Artist, Dreamer.

I design, write, and generally have fun

experimenting and creating things.

Even if I suck at it.

I am a Jungian enthusiast and avid dreamer.

I have four cats.  They all think I'm crazy.

© Trisha Noble - all rights reserved.

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