Your Chairs Reveal Your Heart

And are the key to human bonding

In the movie Phenomenon, George (John Travolta) develops superpowers in the small town where he resides while chasing a local woman named Lace (Kyra Sedgwick) as a love interest. The townspeople are unsure how to relate to George after his transformation into a genius, and some criticize what they do not understand.

In an important scene, Doc (Robert Duvall) talks with a local man about love and relationships. Lace sells handmade chairs, and George has been buying them to further his chances with her. Doc, who is close friends with George, asks him if he ever has bought his girlfriend’s chairs like George did for Lace. Doc lectures him about the lack of success in his love life, arguing that “Every woman has her chair, something she needs to put herself into.”

The point here is that every person has something close to their heart. To become intimate with someone and gain their trust, and love, we must discover how to “buy their chairs.”

This is wise. I believe Doc’s words are close enough to the truth to ponder his words and apply them to any relationship. Also, what I am thinking here goes beyond romantic relationships to include any kind of unique bond with another person.

Don’t you want others to see your “chairs” and appreciate them? This is what you deem as simply part of you. Perhaps you cannot explain why, but your chairs define you as distinctive and symbolize how you see you either in reality or in some ideal future you imagine.

Though, there are a few issues with human beings acknowledging one another in the ways we truly want to be seen. Likewise, there is a problem in countless relationships with communicating who we really are at our core.

Many individuals are themselves confused about their chairs, what they are, and how to find them. Some are embarrassed to reveal the idols of their heart. Certainly, without understanding our own “precious” (LOTR reference), we cannot reasonably expect another person to find it.

With many, a family connection of some sort is that special something. With others, it is a “hobby” or some other thing we perform. I put hobby in quotations, because your chairs are never a mere hobby the way we talk about hobbies as a sometimes, when I get around to it, non-essential, activity.

Not all chairs are available for purchase. One might simply nurture a value, a relationship, an idea, a memory, or a place.

Unfortunately, I have never felt that people around me made much effort to appreciate anything I love. Writing is not respectable. It is old-fashioned at one end of the public’s judgement, and it is frivolous and a flight-of-fancy at the other.

Despite many opportunities, few people I’ve known in the past put in the tremendous work to click on a link and read for a few minutes. Bitterness? Yes, I have some. Doc was right about George. He found what his love loved, and he devoted a portion of his life to respecting it. That is real investment. The best kind.

It is possible to suppress the precious for an entire lifespan, and any person who does so likely develops some superficial fix to fill that hole in themselves. I am thinking of addictions, mostly. Though, this is certainly not the only option.

I know about substance abuse from personal experience, and now I understand how that emptiness must be addressed. If not, we will remain broken somehow no matter how much we suppress what really lights up our worlds.

I believe my chairs are artistic endeavors that affect other people. Somehow, that young child knew this and drew pictures, created stories, and occasionally entertained people with impressions. Then, all that died somewhere while still very young. Why? I honestly do not have all the answers.

Perfectionism was one culprit, without any doubts. I played guitar with dreams of greatness until realizing that my heroes were much better than me. There was nothing I could do to achieve their soulful expertise. Drawing was once my best skill, but after seeing how terrific others were, I believed I had no business ever picking up a pencil again. So, I literally and symbolically laid down all things related to art for many years.

Has anyone else allowed perfectionism to disassemble their chairs? I am sure some are out there.

We should guard against this, and I hope no person rips apart the chairs of someone else. To make my point, I will now reference another film: Dead Poets Society.

I talk about this film too much, but it is not that I consider it the greatest film ever or anything close to that. No, but Dead Poets features some themes close to my experiences and sensibility as a shy, romantic-hearted, HSP.

Robin Williams is Mr. Keating, the new, rule-breaking, free-spirited English teacher at an all-boys high school. He encourages his students to express their inner selves and write poetry.

Neil is one of Keating’s students, stars in the school play, and hopes to become a professional actor. Also, he is really good at it. Yet, Neil’s father forbids him to seek acting as a career and demands that he give it up for a more practical profession.

Heartbroken, Neil commits suicide rather than live as something other than himself.

His father probably had never heard of chairs at all. If he had, then he certainly thought of them like some child’s toy to be put away in adulthood. He did not take acting seriously. But, for Neil, acting had captured his heart, and he conceived his identity upon the idea of being an actor.

It is just a movie, yes, but good movies always reflect some bits of truth.

I would have welcomed and treasured a teacher like Mr. Keating, but sadly there were none in my young life. As a guess, I will state that most people did not have someone to help them search for their precious.

Now you do. Yes, no more excuses. Someone out there on the Internet is much like you, no matter what you are into, and will happily assist you somehow. The Internet has given forums to coaches, motivational-speakers, advice gurus, and artists of all types. I am not saying all that is good or bad.

For many, writing is that thing you must have; the beautiful precious at your center that nudges out self-harmful thinking and doing. For me, writing is more than writing. It is a form of expression that, I decided, some mystical forces more important than me bestowed upon me as a mission (and teaching).

Many others feel this way to some degree. Chairs must be preserved and manicured as if they are the blood that gives you life.

For many of us, writing brings pain and frustration more so than that job or hobby that is not mixed in with one’s blood. That is romantic and perhaps sounds silly. That is okay though. I am good with silly instead of hopeless depression.

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