Behind the veil

“Between what is said and not meant, and what is meant and not said, most love is lost.”

These words by Lebanese-American artist and writer Kahil Gibran have been at the forefront of my mind recently. 

Part of the allure of this statement is the dooming romanticism of it all. I imagine the lovers in orbit, circling each other as they dance back and forth. They are so close to touching something real, to enmeshment perhaps, but the dance ends with neither person able to lift their veils and reveal what’s really underneath. And so the love is lost until (if) they attempt to try again. 

Kahil Gibran - from “Sand and Foam” (1926)

In some rare instances one is lucky enough to meet someone who can see behind the veil. Who can see beyond what is said and not meant and what is meant but not said without needing a verbal explanation. Their understanding and love exists without explanation. But even then, someone in the pair must be willing to make the first move. To remove their veil and reveal the truth and depth of the soul underneath. 

I hinted at this veil when talking about the performative masks we wear in my last newsletter. The things we do to get other people to like us or see us a certain way. But what about all of the ways in which we make sure other people don’t see us? All of the ways in which we don’t say what we mean and don’t mean what we say so people don’t see the full extent of us. You can take off the mask, but the veil can still remain, obscuring and blurring the real depth of what’s underneath- the flaws, imperfections, and rawness… the truth. 

I think that maybe instinctually, some of us are more afraid of fully lifting the veil and exposing ourselves, of being truly known and maybe misunderstood, than we are of risking the potential of authentic love with someone or even with our entire experience here on Earth. Because what does this require? Not just the lack of performing, but conscious direct exposure of ourselves. It demands constant interaction with vulnerability, or the ability to easily be hurt, attacked, or harmed. Perhaps the most difficult part is that it requires direct confrontation with the rules we’ve created and been following over our own lifetimes and beyond generations to keep us safe and make sense of world we really can’t control. 

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Kahil Gibran - Untitled (1912-1916)

And it’s not just romantic love that I’m discussing here. This applies to any aspect of life that demands authenticity and vulnerability for fullness and richness in return. The relationship we have with ourselves, our environment, our friends, our family. It most certainly applies to the life of an artist or anyone attempting to live a truly romantic existence engaged with life. 

To live this sort of life, to say the truth of what’s in your head without pretense or illusion, demands the breaking of your own internal rules. We romanticize the nonconformist who rebels against society, but that’s really only a true expression of love and authenticity if it’s also a translation of them defying their own internal limiting rules. If your rebellion against society doesn’t confront anything within yourself, how confronting is it? 

I’ve got a whole list of rules I recently realized dictate how I speak and what I say. A list of assumptions on what I can and cannot do, what I can and cannot say. I’ve recently been noticing it most in my romantic life, but they apply to other categories as well. I wanted to stop performing, but it’s extremely difficult when there are rules I’ve always assumed were standard procedure running in the background. 

I operated with the assumption that I can’t text first. I can’t ask them to hangout. I can’t let someone know I may like them. God forbid someone know they have some sort of effect on my emotions. Just act cool.

These are just some of my dating rules and they may sound silly, but it hasn’t been until recent recent honest conversation with people that I’ve realized that other people aren’t following the same rules. They’ve got their own senseless rules, but I’ve been adhering to a one player game for a long time. 

Which raises another deeper question: Where else am I applying rules that make it incredibly difficult to interact with love and life in the way I want? 

Make it stand out

Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Kahil Gibran - Untitled (1903)

I think the reality is that we all have different versions of these rules to keep us safe, to shepherd us like a parent when we’re all grown up and on our own so we don’t get hurt. It’s something that guides us when all the lights are off. 

What I long for, and what I think others long for, is for someone to come along and read behind my veil without me having to pull it down. I could have that kind of luck where I meet someone who knows what I say and don’t mean and what I mean and don’t say without me having to actually risk anything. 

But I think that’s hoping for a lot of reward with very little risk. If that’s how you interact with life, in how you approach loving all parts of life, you’ll be waiting for a long time. 

And what beauty you may miss in the meantime. What love, what conversation, what connection could be lost by your waiting instead of breaking the rules and simply saying what you mean. 

With love, 

Zoë