The Bravest Act I Know
Many people sing the praises of amazing rescuers. People who run into a burning building to save a stranger, dive into a frozen pond to save a dog, or offer the last parachute on a crashing plane to someone else. And while these acts may not be résumé fodder for chickens I think there’s at least one act that is many times braver.
Tell the truth.
What? Tell the truth? That’s easy. Yeah, I thought so too. But the last several years have been teaching me that it’s not quite so easy.
Think about it. If you die saving someone from drowning, you’re the lady who died saving someone from drowning. Haven’t spoken to your parents in years. That’s okay, you were probably on your way to see them when you noticed the drowning person. And you were always an amazing daughter. Everything is erased.
And if you save someone from a burning building it doesn’t matter what you do after that. You’ll always be the guy who saved someone from a burning building. Get a divorce for no apparent reason. That’s okay, your wife probably didn’t deserve you anyway. You’ve got a clean slate.
But telling the truth. Hmmm. Try this. I was actually in the building when it caught on fire. I panicked and grabbed what I thought was my hockey bag full of Micheal Flatley Lord of the Dance dvd’s and ended up downstairs with a person. Uh yeah. Micheal Flatley dvd’s. Not quite as cool.
Or take it one step further. Mom, I’ve never felt understood by you. Dad, I don’t want to take over the family business. I was in the wrong when I got a divorce from my wife. Yes, I am particularly defensive when that topic is brought up. And I’m sure we could both think of several other items to add to the list. Truths that are hard to speak or express are not rare.
Not only is the act of telling the truth difficult, it rarely erases any of your past or future transgressions. In fact, it can make them appear worse.
Had a few extra drinks at the office New Years party. No big deal. Admit that you might have a drinking problem. Oops. There go your invites to any future parties. Never attend Wednesday night prayer meeting. That’s okay. Admit you might be an atheist. No more church positions for you. (But way too many visits from the pastor and the “well-meaning” deaconess). Realize you forgot your wallet at home after ordering your chai tea latte at Starbucks. It’s okay. Your friends got your back. Let it slip that you have a huge credit card debt and a shopping problem. No more free chai for you.
So why be brave and tell the truth? Why take such a large risk? Well, I’m not sure. I ask myself this all the time. In fact I’ve gotten pretty good at covering up my truths. Not just so other people can’t see them, but so that I can’t see them either. But this last year has been the beginning of me getting to know the truth again. And so far I’ve had moments of encouragement, sadness and sheer terror. And some other indescribable responses and reactions.
So is it worth it? Maybe. Depends on the day. But on my better days YES! YES! and YES! So for those days I’m going to keep figuring it out. Keep putting it out there. And I’m hoping to use this blog as a sounding board for part of that process.
No, No. I don’t need a medal. Or my picture in the newspaper. But if there’s any extra reward cash lying around I’ll definitely take that. 
But if the cash is “lying” around wouldn’t it inherently go against the fundamentals of your pursuit of the truth to take it.
Sorry, I am certainly not trying to make light of your outstanding post, I just wanted to let you know that I caught the pun whether it was intended or not.
In all seriousness, and as cliche as it may be, I think that often it is the greatest challenge to be completely honest with one’s self. I often convince myself of things that I initially know to be untrue. When put that way, it sounds like something that only a person with a split personality could do. Perhaps it is. After all, as a kid I did play H.O.R.S.E. with Me, Myself and I, and for some reason I really didn’t like Myself and always wanted Me or I to win. Somehow I don’t think that’s the real issue though. It’s actually rather incredible, I can, without the aid of any external influences, simply talk myself into believing an obvious lie. What a paradox of the extreme power and extreme weakness of the human mind.
Here’s what I’m getting at with my 2:30am rambling, I have been trying to be more honest as well, but my focus has been internal. However, perhaps a greater focus on external honesty would set a good precedent for my internal dilemma.
Reply to levitationI wish I had been that intentionally punny. Instead I will give the credit to my late night subconscious.
But your comment about the internal and external honesty is what I’m trying to figure out as well. How honest do I have to be on the outside (and at what cost) to try and find my inner honesty.
Reply to pebbleThe unwritten rules of politeness are among the strongest cultural forces out there. I think that the reason honesty can be so “violent” is partly because people just don’t want to know. If you tell me about the Michael Flatley DVDs or about being an atheist I might not know how to relate to you anymore. You slide into a different category in my mind, and that’s awkward.
But that’s why honesty can be such a powerful agent for change–it calls into question the unwritten rules of the game. Lies are often told to maintain a dysfunctional status quo. I’m looking forward to more honesty posts. Why lie?
Reply to willwindowSo your comment has totally fed future blog posts. Don’t worry. I’ll give you the credit.
Reply to pebbleI’m torn. Honestly. There is tension here for me about even the possibility of full disclosure–if it’s possible in the first place. The truth is rarely factual. It’s interpretation, it’s dynamic, it’s just one more filter for data, data that can’t exist without a filter.
But that’s not what you mean. That’s my baggage. I’ve come to believe that language acts as a buffer. It allows us to approach the messiness of physical reality. I don’t think that we can handle the existential reality that is presented to us each and every day. But our words buffer that reality. Language slows it down so we can take the world into ourselves in bite sized chunks. Truth is compelling to me, because it means that I’m tasting you when we talk, that I’m seeing world when I see, that I’m me when I look inwards.
But at the same time, I can only open my mouth so wide.
Reply to rekonstructWhat do you taste/see if I’m lying?
Reply to pebbleLevitation, I agree. I don’t think it’s any sort of mental foible to convince yourself of something you want to believe. That, or I just have the same character flaw. Still, why else would we like card tricks, slights of hand, or even watching cartoons or Lord of the Rings? We like to get tricked a bit.
While lying to yourself and enjoying a movie are definitely involve different emotions, I’d say they’re branches on the same tree of (coping with) life. Lying to yourself makes life easier in the short run and we lack the foresight, self-control, or ultimately, wisdom to refrain.
If I date Bianca now I don’t have to deal with the pain of pining after someone who won’t, as Josh Groban sang, “raise me up.” I can enjoy some creature comforts along the way and put-off inevitable emotional strife. When I watch Transformers I get some wonder restored to a dull and imperfect world, at least until the movie is over. Isn’t that why we get upset at bad movies? They deprived us of some small escape.
So, are lies–even the whitest ones–the sober man’s drug?
Reply to jurianweraaI smell what you are stepping in jurian, except I don’t know that we need to put it in negative terms. Is enjoying a rainstorm a way for me to get some wonder restored to a dull and imperfect world? What about swimming in a river in the summer? What about hearing a friend tell a really good joke? What about going to see Hamlet? Humans exist as part of nature. Why do we need to see enjoying movies as a way of being “tricked” and enjoying a sunset as a genuine experience?
Can’t stories and relationships (and anything else for that matter) function both as an escape from life and an avenue to experiencing life? It all depends on who, how, what, etc. To flip the prism a bit, what if the idea that certain creature comforts are lies that help us escape reality is really just a story we use as mental self-flagellation because we want to assuage our guilt, or punish ourselves?
Reply to willwindowIs it possible that instead of fooling ourselves by watching the magical, fantastical and unexplained we are actually reminding ourselves of the truth?
Reply to pebbleOoh, shizzang! Excellent points. I’m good at getting wrapped in my train of thought and hyperbole-ing. Lies = faux-drug? Perhaps that is extreme. Probably the condensed piece of what I was stepping in was that lying to oneself is escapism, similar to the escape offered by other experiences (which may not be bad escapes, but I was already in terms of lies, so a little of that lie-ght was cast on them).
You’re right, escape can be beautiful. Being awed, entertained, or absorbed can be focused learning, or just a good time. There is no wrong in enjoying rain (however boring the rain is
).
Reply to jurianweraaDo you mean, finding fault in faultless places could be rooted in a subconscious over-eagerness to have justice done upon us for other transgressions, merely perceived or not? Or just eagerness to be justiced in general?
Ah, now I really smell what you are stepping in, and it smells good! I was suggesting that finding fault in faultless places could be rooted in the part of oneself that does not love oneself. In other words, when I say “Self, you lie to yourself all the time to escape the world–for shame!” That is just another way of beating myself up.
But wait! I am not suggesting that it is bad to realize that you are lying to yourself, or trying to escape. That can be uber-important. To use Levitation’s language, I am just saying that often when Me and I go cosmic bowling, they use Myself as the glow-in-the-dark bowling pins.
Reply to willwindow