Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning

Thursday, February 7, 2019

Don't Lie... to yourself

“Above all, don't lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.”
 Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

Jesus once said
“the truth will set you free”

I’ve wondered about that sometimes

I remember a card I once read

“I have abandoned my search for truth
And am now looking for a good fantasy”

I get that !
We have this idea that the truth is an inconvenient thing
That a deep dive into who we really are
Will always be, uncomfortable, disturbing
Perhaps even painful

But I have slowly learned a weird thing
The truth is not as painful as my attempts to avoid it

It is less painful to engage in this world as I really am
With all my shortcomings and failures
With all my rumpled past

It is less painful to truly be who I am
Than to try and live a lie

It takes a lot energy to lie to ourselves
And then lie to others

Lies are like a force field
That we must constantly keep in place
Lest others get in, and see who we “really are”

We must maintain them at all cost
And the cost, ultimately, is that we lose touch with ourselves
And we lose touch with others

Lies are like Spiritual hazmat suit
They isolate us

But not from bad things,
From all the richness of life

From growth and
Change and passion

But mostly from love
Above all from love

It must be painful
In a strangely numb way
To live inside a bubble of lies
Afraid to see the truth
Afraid that others will see the truth

Liars have terrifying eyes
Some of them are merely empty, black holes
Others are angry, or cold

We know those eyes
We see them all around us
We see them standing at the podium
Pink rimmed and cruel

We see them as we walk down the street
Those eyes that do not see

We seem them in the glittering glance of the
Abuser, the oppressor

We see them I suspect in the eyes behind the gun
As the mass shooter pulls the trigger

Yes, the truth has its own sort of pain
Its own sort of inconvenience
But the eyes of truth
Are the only eyes that can hold love

For in fact the truth does set us free
It does not set us free from pain and inconvenience
As much as it sets us free for love

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