..And Nothing But The Truth...

Why is it so hard for folks to tell the truth?

This was an issue that came up in discussion with a friend last night. It really doesn't matter what prompted it: they were fairly trivial events. However, it served to press that one button of mine marked: “What are you, twelve?”

I asked people, on two different occasions, to simply tell the truth. They were legit requests, but I was as interested in the nature of the responses as I was the answers themselves. Everything would be OK. (In other words, it wouldn't turn into a “confronting mum” moment. We've all had them: “ Did you break your sister's glasses? Just tell me the truth. It will be OK.”

“Yes, Mummy, I did.”

“What the HELL were you thinking? Do you think money grows on trees? You children have no gratitude, no concept of hard work, or how much it takes to provide..etc.” ...You get it.)

No, this was a simple, “Tell me and I will understand.” One did as requested. With the other, I got crickets. Oh, yeah... there may have been a tumbleweed in the background. I wasn't quite sure.

No one welcomes argument. No one that I know seeks emotional eruptions or a war of barbed, verbal arrows (especially since most of my friends are past menopause). A request for the truth may appear to be an emotional trap, which might illicit one of several reactions:

• Lie like Hell
• Take the victim route and try to turn tables
• Hide in silence (see above crickets/tumbleweeds)
• Tell the Truth

 

The Truth is hard. It requires Courage, something we seem to possess in ever diminishing quantity. Yet, as people on a spiritual path, isn't Truth and Honesty – each according to our hearts – aspects of the Wisdom towards which we strive? Is it that hard to drop the mental gymnastics, (Do they really want to know? Am I going to hear about this for the next 6 months? How can I make this go away?), speak your Truth with Compassion, and accept the consequences? Is hiding behind silence the decision of a mature adult, or more akin to a kid ducking behind the bushes when their parent calls them by their full name?

 

Little white lies, lies to placate others, lies of convenience... who hasn't told these? Hey, I'm not throwing the first stone. But just because it's common doesn't make it right. When someone requests the Truth, we should put honor before evasion.

We all feel betrayed when Washington makes promises, refuses to speak fairly, when “politician” automatically drums up images of snake oil salesmen. We detest the eternal waves of dishonesty and blame-laying. We ask how these people can behave this way.

Look in a mirror. As Pogo says:

 

Thankfully, other conversations this week weren't quite so weighty. I was demonstrating the singing bowl for a friend, especially in connection with the vibrancy of crystals.

Afterwards, I was contemplating how vibration, frequency, and tonality were so vital in my Wiccan practice. In fact, music has woven itself into the very fabric of my life (and not just ritualistically).

I'm a Wagner fan. I often wonder how I can be, given the man's personal philosophy. I've come to the conclusion that no soul is 100% evil, and his music is the expression of what Light he possessed. As such, I'm amazed how certain of his musical creations can elevate my emotions and my connection to a Higher Good. Chief among these is Tannhäuser, specifically the Pilgrim's Chorus. ( Ah yes, those of you who know me sense where I am heading...yes, Susan, YOU...)

Here is The Pilgrim's Chorus. You obviously don't have to listen to the entire thing; just enough to get the flavor.

This was forever altered, one Saturday morning, when the above indicated SUSAN called me and, in a voice that rang with tense immediacy, said, “Hang up and put on channel 5...NOW!”

I did. That was the moment that changed everything.

That's right – Elmer Fudd. He's serenading Bugs Bunny's “Broo-hilda” using the Pilgrim's Chorus score. Do you know what I think of now, when I hear the Pilgrim's Song? That's right , “Oh, Broohilda, you're so wov-ly...”

Someday I will repay the favor, Susan. Just watch me. I have infinite patience.

And now, Chuck Jones has been incorporated into my spiritual practice.

 

Grand.

Just Grand.

Meanwhile... the new issue of Fate Magazine is out, with my “Glastonbury Tale” article. Those of you who signed up for a comp. Copy at Para-X: your names have been passed on to the publisher, and you should get your copies soon.

HOWEVER, here's a cover I like even better!

I've always said there were people I consider “my kids” regardless of their biological origins: Jennifer, Keith William, and - since 2010 - Benedict Cumberbatch. I'm not a swooning fangirl; I always felt totally maternal towards this talented man, who is younger than my other kids. I want him to find the right gal, have the children he wants – be successful (I backed the right horse there) – as any mother would. Then I saw the above cover.

Maybe I need to revisit the “truth” of those maternal instincts because -

holy moly – Mama like...

Have a good week, my poppets!