Rogue in Porcelain – Virginia Street

“Why rogue?” he insisted with Mrs. Mountstuart.
“I said—in porcelain,” she replied.
“Rogue perplexes me.”
“Porcelain explains it.”
“She has the keenest sense of honour.”
“I am sure she is a paragon of rectitude.”
“She has a beautiful bearing.”
“The carriage of a young princess!”
“I find her perfect.”
“And still she may be a dainty rogue in porcelain.”
-The Egoist, George Meredith

Ever since my first perusal of George Meredith’s incredible study of human nature in The Egoist, I have been enamored with this idea that a woman can be all things right on the exterior, and yet harbor an interior more befitting of a rogue. Having spent the majority of my life, trying to fit into the impossible porcelain mold, I find an incredible freedom in the idea of embracing the rogue in me as well.

I have this need to dabble in the art of being who I am not. Sometimes it leads to a discovery of who I am, and sometimes it simply underscores the truth that I am in many ways a complacent person. Complacence can be a cancer, inhibiting me, misdirecting me, keeping me from the discoveries that I believe my Maker has for me. He wants me to explore this uninhibited part of life [insert line about only really knowing the light when you’re in the dark]. Through the contrasts of life experiences, I become more open-minded and more open to everything this earth has to offer – both what I can and can’t explain.

That’s why I savor the path of the rogue. For those tiny glimpses of the excitement that only rogues can experience, I shuck my porcelain exterior. And even if it’s short-lived, I feel that it is a small sort of accomplishment.