Authenticity

I have a friend who is dying. It is painful and slow. He is showing incredible fortitude. I like being around him because his courage is contagious.
What he seems to regret most is the bullshit he complied with in his working life. Playing by the rules instead of using common sense and compassion. Speaking comfortable lies when the truth was apparent, but denied.
The authentic life is difficult, but in his last days my friend is living it. He speaks about his pain, and his imminent death calmly and openly. Despite his pain he is still able to, and does, help others.

What I find most disagreeable in my own life is brought into sharp focus by my friend's courage ; I am more interested in looking like a person who cares about things, than in actually being one.

But the disconnect hurts me. Every time I step out of authenticity into pride my spirit cringes. But my spirit forgives. I know that fear is at the heart of ego. Hubris, putting myself in the place of god, is born of my fear that god is not powerful enough to help.

I am lucky enough to have experienced despair. It is only then that I am courageous enough to be authentic