A Cloak of Truth
by John Wolf
When I die, don't bury me, don't burn me, just let my spirit free. Just Sanferize me, and put me back into the closet where I belong. A man is what he wears. It is the clothes that make him valid. The cut of this old suit is unique, one of a kind. Some may say it's a clown’s suit, or maybe a homeless lawyer. Only time will tell, how these threads will hold up. Surely I could not be mistaken for a King with no clothes. No, for me clothes form a shell, a costume indeed that makes my life change much like that of the camellia. When I feel like I want to go home, I dress in jeans, an old blue cotton shirt, and shoes that are easy to walk in. When I want to be somebody else, I dress in a coat and tie. Ah, behold—‘a suit’. Suits have no personal identity. They have function. If they do anything, it is to give us a false sense of authority. Maybe the tie is man's way of showing guilt in that it represents a noose. A symbol that I've done something wrong, or maybe I am about to do something wrong; and if you catch me, well, here's the noose.
I have often thought that people, who have too many clothes, were the ones that were the most insecure with their lives. They can't really decide whom to be that day. They don't know who they are, so how can they choose the right outfit?
Clothes provide us with clues to the inner person. What about the shoe Lady of the Far Eastern Islands, Imelda Marcos? So many shoes. Do you suppose that’s her subconscious counting the people that died for her husband’s causes? All lined up like tombstones.
Apparel accumulates on a shelves like baseball caps. You try to wear one that reflects your opinion of the world. Your part of this team too, you are one in the same as the symbol on the cap. And what of the ones that wear theirs backwards? You can't see who or what they are promoting until they pass. In general, I guess they are saying ‘eat my dust . . .’
Bride's clothes demand to hold a marriage together for a long time, because of the effort and cost put into them and the purity of white—virginal, yes. Ah, but lace is thin and fragile. It is sad in a way, because it is the only day she is given. All the rest are for that groom, stealthily poised in his tuxedo, in which he won't likely remain for very long. Man has reached the apex there. It says I'm great, royal of virtue, and have no end of money.
There was a time when funerals were where you displayed all that regalia. You wore special clothes to show that you really had respect for the deceased. Even special underwear was required. Who would know?
Click on this: next column
This brings us to the plot behind this strange behavior of mankind, and that is money. Clothes provide the merchant the perfect commodity to guarantee big profits. Clothes satisfy Maslow's list of must haves. Clothes cover us from the elements, hide our inner self, project our self-esteem, and protects us from the rest, separates us from the ones we don't like, and some, can even be eaten. This product gives us what we need, and provides the seller the chance to give us what we think we need. We buy what style dictates, or what the peer group demands. Either way you will pay to belong. Woe, the man that's too poor to pay. He falls out of society. Ever notice that bums wear suits? The suit may not meet the needs of its previous owner, because it has lost its power by becoming tattered. The poor man has no choice. He is trying to say ‘I'm worth something. I'm wearing a suit for God's sake!’
What happens to one that throws off his cloak? To be sure, we change. Maybe become more passionate. The person is still the same, but different somehow. There is nothing to hide behind. Some souls cannot bear to face the naked truth. We loose the ability to just be human, when in this condition. Animalistic maybe? But we become something not well understood by modern man. We become something lesser than what we think we are.
When we don our armor of clothing, we become what our fantasies dictate. We conceal our emotion and masquerade as something much greater than we deserve.
|
|
|
Give me a topic, any topic, how to drowned rats and I can make a story out of it. Hopefully, I amuse the casual reader or maybe I get a guttural grunt of distasted, but it's all the same to me if you just keep reading. |
|
