Is it always better to know the truth, even when it hurts?
Pheweee! I’m looking forward to what people are gonna do with this one! So? Is it better? To know the truth I mean. There’s a blogger I’ve been tracking over the last two weeks who, to me, seems like he’s a danger to women. Not in the ‘I’m going to do something awful to you,’ way…far more sinister.
I read his words and I shiver. The words themselves are kind enough but…it’s like he’s talking about the most beautiful painting, the most delicate china and he wants it all to himself, in a cupboard, or a dark room, where he can go in every night and no! Not touch! Just gaze and gaze and protect forever. Just for himself. Just for him.
Now, I thought I might say something to him but I have not. I see his posts and pretend they were never there. Why? Is it because I respect that not everyone needs to hear the truth? But, what about SAYING the truth? Does everyone need to SAY the truth?
You’re fat. Is that the truth? Does it hurt, this truth?
You’re un-married, you’re childless, you’re penniless. Are these truth?
You’re a liar. You’re a failure. You’re a bore. Are these hurtful things to say to someone, or are they just the truth?
In the heady days of Graduate school, I was incendiary. Absolutely. And I didn’t mind being told to my face that I was arrogant, or had my head-in-the-clouds, or that I stank. So what.
Be mindful. Things only work that way when you’re on the top of the world. The world turns.
The most hurtful thing I’ve ever been told is that I THINK I’M DIFFERENT.
I had just attended this excellent life improvement seminar thing and got to write a letter to the Seminar leader and crafted it oh so carefully and presented it to him, and got an interview the next day, and went to it, ironed, crisp and perfumed and he said..”‘…you don’t get it. You think you’re different than everyone else and you’re not.”
If I were Spiderman….(take a look at this POEM I found yesterday on sallyrutheaves2’s blog)
Nobody can burn their suits, they’re all flame resistant.
Everytime, and I mean EVERYTIME, I’ve come across the truth about myself, or a situation, or another person, or a subject, or a plain fact, it has changed my life. EVERYTIME.
And these have been the best of my life.
Not a Scientist, an Artist. Not a Superstar, a Man. Not a Bad Man, a Good Man. Not a Liar, a Son. All the experiences that count are based on the truth, and I mean the cold truth of fact, not that funny other stuff (just as true by the way)…the spirit of the occassion…the intention behind the deed.
Without the truth, I am lost, for what good is shadow dancing except for showing off? Too whom? Who cares about all these things we care about? If I can’t touch and be touched by the truth, how will I write?
I’ve rambled enough I think, but I have a feeling that Saturday is going to see a couple more posts from me.
-visit my poetry blog – Tomatos, Oranges & Other Fruit–
♦photos – 123rf.com♦