What Is Candor and How Might It Benefit Us?

For one, it points us toward self-acceptance, and perhaps then, toward new iterations of ourselves.

Wave Hill, The Bronx

November 2020

Author Alain de Boton in his book The School of Life 'An Emotional Education,' says that candor "determines the extent to which difficult ideas and troubling facts can be consciously admitted into the mind, soberly explored and accepted without denial."

He goes on to ask, candidly, a series of questions which have helped me understand that I've been developing candor in these past eight weeks:

• How much can we admit to ourselves about who we are even if, or especially when, the matter is not especially pleasant?

• How much do we need to insist on our own normality and wholehearted sanity?

• Can we explore our own minds, and look it their darker and more troubled corners, without flinching overly?

• Can we admit to folly, envy, sadness, and confusion?

These are quite the journal prompts, and they are my way to check-in about a writing exercise that I undertook for my application to the P.D. Soros Fellowship for New Americans. As part of the application, I was required to write two essays about my experience as an immigrant, as a new American, as a law student, and to explain my personal background and future career plans.

The writing process forced me embody candor. It forced me to soberly explore and accept without denial the truth about my life. This is something I can only articulate in hindsight because in the process of brainstorming and consequently writing these essays, all I could reflect on were the essay prompts, which touched on my soft spots. I immigrated to America in 2014, after a longwinded and not-so-glamorous journey bouncing from Ecuador, to Canada, back to Ecuador, and finally to New York. I have not been candid about this journey to the extent I was this time, especially on my first essay. Prior to writing them, I had dusted the old essays I wrote for my law school admissions applications intending to use them as a foundation for the new ones. Then I had a dear friend read them and when she asked me questions about a particular scene relating to my parent's turbulent marriage, I began shaking with anxiety as I elaborated on that memory. Those sentences and words were sanitized and in sanitizing them, I brushed over the deep wounds I thought I'd healed from an event that happened eleven years ago. You see, I thought I'd metabolized my childhood wounds without knowing that the body stores trauma. (My therapist actually recommended the book The Body Keeps Score, and even though I have not read it yet, I now have a clue what it might be about). These essays made me reflect about my upbringing and life up until now at another level, and in the process, I have found healing.

In the weeks that followed, I continued this sober exploration. I did not start with a set outline for either of the essays. I wrote to think and thought to write all at once, for two months. I poured emotions into the initial drafts because, in them, I was uncovering my own vulnerability, which, in and of itself was healing. Then the process of sharing it with others began, where my friends doubled as my proofreaders and my professors, bosses, and mentors as my cheerleaders. This process reassured me that I felt safe, loved, and supported. Those feelings haven't come easy to me. They are the result of my courage to confront my own demons, my confidence to write down my reflections regardless of how wordy they were, and my trust in others, all of which are practices I constantly struggle with.

I have found healing in the process of writing my story, synthesizing my *overly* dense thoughts, pin-pointing my future dreams, and sharing these with others because in doing so, I came to admit those things to myself. Was I able to explore my mind and look into the darker and more troubled corners without flinching overly? Not really, I flinched a few times. Can I admit to folly, envy, sadness, and confusion? Yes, especially the weekend after submitting my essays. In spite of feeling so proud that I produced some of my most authentic and candid pieces of writing, a part of me felt so sad that I even had so much craziness to write about. I was confused, and I was envious of people with less complicated stories. I felt isolated in my uniqueness, and as if I did not fit the mold of normality. So, how much have I needed to insist on my own normality and wholehearted sanity? A lot, since that weekend!

I think now that I have those two essays in front of me, I am being called forth to accept everything in them, without denial, unequivocally. Huge task... but rewarding since I already feel happy about that I've understood in hindsight what this process was all about – it was about my exercising candor. I feel as though I've released a chunk, I have exceptional clarity about myself and am ready to embrace the next emotional challenges. Now I am ready for the new iteration of my story, my thinking, my desires. After all, how could I have ever accepted my story without having clarity about it in the first place? Prior to these essays, I only had crystal clarity on bits and pieces of my story. I accepted some and gave a blind eye to others. Other pieces were half-thoughts (my second essay is full of these half-thoughts, elaborated thoroughly and authentically). Now, I have all the pieces in front of me, and I can only choose to accept them without denial, with candor! So, how much can I admit to myself about who I am even if, or especially when, the matter is not especially pleasant? After two months of this funky writing process, a whole lot!

What about you, where are you at with these questions?

Stay curious. Stay open to healing, to exploring, to accepting. Stay candid. xx Sulafa

If you are in grad school and fit the criteria, I recommend giving this scholarship a shot:

https://www.pdsoros.org It could help you or someone you know in your journey!

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References:

de Boton, Alain.The School of Life "An Emotional Education". London, The School of Life,

2019, pp. 51.

van der Kolk M.D., Bessel. The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing

of Trauma. New York, Penguin, 2015.