March 3
The true worth of a person lies in how they act when no eye sees them. What someone does in secret is what they really are — the rest is performance.
The Spectator (freely rendered)
Listening mode
The true worth of a person lies in how they act when no eye sees them. What someone does in secret is what they really are — the rest is performance.
When you're alone, you might eat standing up, straight from the pot, and leave the newspaper lying open on the chair. When visitors come, you set the table, ask questions and listen. It's tempting to take the first version for the more honest one, because it doesn't have to prove anything to anyone.
But carelessness is not in itself truth. When you're alone, often all that's missing is the occasion, and from the inside tiredness easily looks like authenticity. Conversely, not everything you do in front of others is a façade. Patience you once summoned in front of someone is sometimes there for you later, even without witnesses. Some things you learn only because someone sees you.
A different distinction is harder. In front of others you can be kind in order to look good, or simply because the other person is there. From outside the two look the same, and even you don't always notice the difference in the moment itself.
You're rarely entirely unobserved, by the way. Even at the kitchen counter someone watches you put the pot back. And that someone doesn't necessarily judge more gently than your guests.
