The Real Thing
Somewhere, sometime, a little old man or maybe a verbal child coined the word authentic. The real thing. Which implies there are false things. Fake things. Unreal things.
I've been musing about this because my friend Mary DeMuth just wrote a book called Authentic Parenting in a Postmodern Culture. (God bless her. Sounds like a true challenge.)
Anyway, I'm wondering, what does it mean to be authentic, real. Not just as a parent, but also as a friend. Or maybe as an artist or a writer. I'm puzzling... do we have a sense of things being "true or false"? Authentic or inauthentic? Why does this matter to us, or doesn't it?
Maybe it's time to start a new word revolution, if everything we see, touch, taste, think, do is just as real as the next thing. Maybe the word authentic needs to go the way of the dodo bird. Or not.
Plastic Cup photo, by L.L. Barkat
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For more thoughts on Mary's book, check out Spaghettipie's current blog tour