Is Identity Just a Coat of Paint?

In Which We Learn that Our House Is Not the Color We Thought It Was

Hello. This is Shy Guy Meets the Buddha, and I’m Don Boivin. Thanks for being here. If you like what you are about to read, or hear, please consider a small token of appreciation; a tip or paid subscription would be so generous and so helpful. Thank you! 🙏

Photo by Greg Rosenke on Unsplash

You’ve been telling everyone your house is blue. “Take the third right and we’re the blue house on the left.” Of course, it’s an easy way to direct visitors to your address, but do you really think your house is blue? If so, I’m sorry to have to break this to you:

Your house is not blue.

I’m not trying to be glib or cryptic. Perhaps a little pedantic, but I promise it’s to make a helpful point.

That layer of blue paint on your house is four one-hundredths of an inch thick (.004”). If you removed this paper-thin veneer with some good stripper, the dross would fill no more than a trash bag or two.

Does that bag-full of blue gunk get to define the whole house?

Think of the heaps of non-blue stuff that make up the majority of this building: joists and studs, sheathing, drywall, roof shingles, concrete, furniture, appliances, décor, not to mention the volumes of empty space. Even the outside of the house, where that deceptive layer of blue paint fades and blisters in the sun, hosts dozens of non-blue items; windows, roof, porches, foundation, chimney, trim....

In fact, the siding itself is not even blue, as much as it appears to be. It’s likely reddish brown or tan or gray, depending on the material it’s made of (vinyl siding would be homogeneous in color, but at .04 inches thick, it wouldn’t change my point.)

And I won’t even go into the sciency side of things; the fact that color is only our brain’s interpretation of a particular wavelength of the sun’s energy reflecting off an object.

Your house is not blue.

Why, this indigo illusion is not even your house’s predominant hue. The ratio of substance to surface—substance being everything behind that razor-thin layer of paint—is like a million to one (forgive my clumsy math). Blue is just the concealer your house is wearing today. Next year it might go for a more conservative shade of creamy white, or soft yellow. So, let’s give the poor house some credit and stop defining it by its least important, most changeable feature!

Which leads me to the real subject of this essay; Who or what lies behind my outward-facing surface? Who is Don Boivin? I mean, I can give you his address and tell you what he looks like, what he acts like; but is the image that he presents to the world as thin as a layer of paint?

Consider my labels; carpenter, writer, American, husband, father; my fashion preference and the way I wear my hair and beard, my age, my title, my credentials. Is this my entire being? Do I think I know who and what I am because I can sign my name on a deed or a work of art, because I can post a selfie on social media, because I have passionate beliefs or strong opinions? Am I not discrediting my vast and complex true nature by clinging to a name and a personality?

Look at it this way. If a blue house could gaze in the mirror, it would see a blue house, and would thus receive confirmation that it is what it thinks it is.

Likewise, we bring our self-image, our projections, our conditioned beliefs and expectations, judgments and assumptions out into the world and the world reflects them back to us. We go home affirmed that we are what we think we are. But all this really tells us is that the world is a mirror. Is that mirror reflecting the truth, or only what we want or expect to see?

Who’s going to look through that looking glass to the truth behind it, if not the one who is enjoying—or despising—its reflection? And how do we see past these distorted impressions?

Well, how do we know the house is not really blue?

We open the door, step inside, and look around.

We look closely, we pay attention. We walk quietly and slowly through each room, keeping our eyes and our minds open. We don’t want to be fooled by shadows and ghosts, so we remain calm, keep our imaginations in check, and try to stay focused on what’s in front of us.

If you haven’t guessed by now, I’m actually describing the practice of meditation and mindfulness.

Mindfulness is just this; taking the time to look deeper. And, in order to see more clearly and be more open to what’s real, setting aside all of the things we believe or think we know—about God and morality, patriotism, the definition of success. Putting aside those conditioned beliefs and habitual views is a mind exercise similar to stripping the house of its blue paint.

Only then can we see what color the house really is.

So, the next time someone asks you what color your house is, you could say, All colors, provided you know your friend is ready for a stimulating conversation about the true nature of reality. Or you could just say, It’s blue, while remembering for yourself the real truth: that you are not defined by your name or your personality or the things you believe. You know you are much more than that.

Your house is not blue, and neither are you.

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