I’m currently reading Debbie Ford’s excellent book The Dark Side of the Light Chasers, which examines those parts of our psyche that we reject and bury in our subconscious. She shows that it is possible to acknowledge and accept what we judge as our “weaknesses” – and that these qualities conceal hidden gifts and strengths.
I had an opportunity to meet one of these buried parts the other day when I was doing some coaching practice with a fellow human potential coach. It was a sneaky thing which hid itself away and didn’t say anything – but a smug, knowing grin gave it away.
I knew it was there, really – I just don’t like to give it much airtime. It was the part of me that is completely cynical, the part that says, “Well, you can try it, but it won’t work,” and metaphorically sits back with its arms crossed, waiting for me to fall flat on my face so it can say, “I told you so.”
I spent many years developing my inner cynic. Most journalists are professional cynics – and during my 30-year career in journalism I have often been paid to be cynical – as a rock critic, a gossip columnist, a maker-and-breaker of music careers.
There are some good things about being a cynic – the main one being that your bullshit radar is highly sensitive. Being cynical also gives you discernment so you’re less likely to buy into propaganda or mass-market lies.
But you have to be careful of the cynic. If it turns on you, it can be ruthlessly damaging. It can stop you taking risks and it can undermine your integrity.
So what might be the hidden strength of the cynic? I looked to the origin of the word for guidance, and this is what I discovered: cynicism, in its original form, was an ancient school of Greek philosophy. The cynics believed that the route to happiness was in a life of self-sufficiency that eschewed social convention.
The movement got its name for the Greek word for dog, because cynics were judged to be shameless and audacious – not bothering with society’s norms such as marriage, the pursuit of money, and even personal hygiene.
According to the cynics: “All that the ordinary social herd is interested in is getting on in this world. They flatter, they beg, they posture. Such people think that they are better if they can throw a big fancy party! How shallow! How fleeting! How ridiculous!”
Good for the cynics. I’m beginning to see the gift in cynicism now. They believed that all this surface keeping-up-with-the-Joneses took us away from our true nature. And with that, I couldn’t agree more.
So perhaps the gift in my cynicism is the ability to see through the veil, to connect with what really matters – which is the true self, the soul. So it’s OK – you can call me a cynic. I embrace my cynicism – it will no longer hide in a smug, knowing grin.
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