Trying to write a piece on a topic that sounds like a disease is complicated. It’s not exactly a draw card, eye catching or essential reading; nor would it be a hit on the Top 10 Blog charts. When the phrase in focus, ‘Terminally Unique’, offers up an oxymoron, the reader is more likely to develop interest in a burnt piece of toast than sort out the conundrum of expression. But unlike charcoal toast, there is nutritional value in unpacking the paradox.
For many of the technologically challenged like me, remembering passwords is like recalling the national anthem. My portal confrontation starts with a subtle process of login conviction, a move to mild annoyance and finally to ultimate remonstrance and surrender. Messages of “Username already taken” or “Incorrect user ID” spurs keypad clobbering and vehement castigation. Short of offering my unique details, the vault remains unwaveringly bolted. A deep dive into notebook archives leaves me digging for my unique credentials, the perfect password, my classified code. It’s some crazy combination of upper case, lower case, non- alphanumeric characters. My digital distinctiveness.
Therein lies an odd but obvious contradiction. It seems we unquestionably accept the requirement for cyber singularity; but ironically spend most of our lives as digital hackers. Cloning or stealing selfhood. Ignoring, burying, discrediting or sabotaging our personal scripted specialness. We ride high and low in our search for self- truth; our alter egos shouting crude distractions and deceit over the soul whisper of belonging, place and worth.
Anchored inside the dark web of identity denial and the intranet of self- derision; terminal uniqueness wraps itself lithely around our doubt. It ensnares personal insecurity, swallows shame and overshadows ambivalence. Its source code unfolds diversity, discovers delight and musters confidence. It clobbers lies and smashes the ceiling on our mainframe of mediocracy. Terminal Uniqueness – the Spirit’s script of wonder and possibility; the Creational directive of eternal, inescapable and indiscriminate un-likeness. A password of raw truth about you, me, him, her, them, us.
So, I’m loading up my firewall, locking out identity hackers, protecting my username and one- off Creator’s code. With determination I’ll resist password reset, yielding to the ‘yes’ of the gospel truth of my inherent uniqueness. Running a virus scanner against malware and the deep-seated infiltration of untruths, I’ll embrace Shakespeare in his, “This above all: to thine own self be true” and hold steady to the Psalmist who penned, “Wonderfully Made.” And being the only version of me, I need to get with the program, lock in the password, live with intention and always, always, remember to pop up the toast.
THE WISDOM COLLECTOR 