Being understood was the subject of my last post. Lets balance it a little. Constantly being understood must surely lead to a degree of boredom and mediocrity. Can I really become so predictable and calculable that not an ounce of mystery or obscurity resides in me anymore? Can my persistent plea for understanding take me down a road of eventual irrelevance? I think it can.
Lets face it, a dash of incomprehensibility now and again keeps the fires of mystery burning and we certainly all need that. After all what is relationship without a degree of mystery. Oscar Wilde put it beautifully: “I live in terror of not being misunderstood.” Think about that. 🙂