Who is the authentic you—person, man, woman, other? Be the authentic you, be true to yourself, be real. But what does this actually mean?

I remember, many years ago, being told that we are like a window pane, split into four parts: what you know about yourself; what you think you know and others recognise; what others know and you recognise; and what others see in you that you are not conscious of. This idea has stayed with me for decades. So when we talk about “the authentic self”, what exactly are we referring to?

Sitting here, it seems there are other elements shaping this endless discussion. When we are asked—or decide—to be authentic, are we talking about the person we once were, the person we are now, or—more often, I suspect—the person we would like to be? And what happens if you simply do not have the innate attributes to become that imagined, ghost-like version of yourself?

Pontificating at my desk, I suspect this tension lies behind much of the pain and dissatisfaction we see—perhaps especially in the Western world, where people are constantly bombarded with promises of what their “authentic self” should look like. The gap between the actual self and this hypothesised self is real, and likely insurmountable. The ideals we are given are not only idealised but illusory. Film stars, politicians, and religious figures—those we are encouraged to compare ourselves to—are, in many ways, constructed versions of themselves. Even they have not crossed the gap into this nirvana-like state.

To complicate matters further, the authentic self is not fixed; it is ephemeral. Right now, I might want to be an authentic writer—perhaps even believe, in some quiet corner of my ego, that I am one. Yet an hour later I may want to be a great businessperson, or a guru, or a parent, or a child. These identities are not always compatible, and it is here that the value of “being authentic” begins to feel uncertain.

At its simplest, authenticity probably just means being true or genuine. But the moment we begin striving towards a future, idealised version of ourselves, we risk losing that genuineness.

Perhaps being “authentic” is not the goal we think it is. Perhaps what matters is being true to the present moment—responding genuinely, without projection. If there is such a thing as authenticity, it may only ever exist there: in the now.