The absence of fiction, the absence of nonfactual. The opposite of "lie". ..the state of being the case: fact (2): the body of real things, events, and facts: actuality (3) often capitalized: a transcendent fundamental or spiritual reality…as defined in Merriam Webster's latest evolution of vocabulary.
Let's dissect.
My truth is not your truth. It is unique and that which can not be challenged. My soul's provenance; to be cherished and respected above all else. The conflict arises from deliberate misrepresentation of one's own experiences. To be an actor, to honor another's story is not what I am talking about. We all borrow excerpts from those who mentor us, who train us, who offer us escape from our reality. We mimic, some of us more than others.
When does one's truth emerge? At birth? Upon one's first spoken word or utterance? On the battleground of one's first conflict?
How does truth justify conflict? Which side to blame if both are immersed in truth? I believe all world conflicts, battles, wars, genocides are the result of truth vs. truth; not good vs. evil.
I am six decades of truth; the composite heap of the good, the bad and the ugly. How the heap continues to expand will depend on mostly educated guesses as to the right path mixed with occasional I don't give a shit and full speed ahead.
Recently, my dreams have been vivid reenactments of seemingly inconsequential events in my life. Same people, a slight variation on the themes and all wake me right up, sometimes with urgency and rapid heart rate. What is happening here? My truth is changing. My repressed memories are my constant companions and it's not comfortable being me anymore.
So now, I have versions of my truth; I am conflicted. The benefit of age is not necessarily wisdom; in my case, it's acceptance of the truth and the acknowledgment that the conscious and unconscious are entwined. Memories, which are my soul's timeline, are the tools I use to debunk the "what if's" of my truth.
The accumulation of stored gray matter, which I thought to be locked away, is spilling from the trunks and boxes, closets and wall safes of my mind. What events have caused this chaos? Is it normal middle age muddle through and get to the next crisis stage of life? Does it present itself to everyone contemplating their golden years?
Chasing my own tail is not what I expected to be doing RIGHT NOW. Something is below the surface of my predictable daily existence…waiting…waiting.
I know what my gifts are. I know what my destiny is. I am warned to stay the straight and narrow. These revelations are my present truth. I must strive to allow the hidden to be revealed and wear them as badges of honor. To dismiss them would be disrespecting who I am.
Let's dissect.
My truth is not your truth. It is unique and that which can not be challenged. My soul's provenance; to be cherished and respected above all else. The conflict arises from deliberate misrepresentation of one's own experiences. To be an actor, to honor another's story is not what I am talking about. We all borrow excerpts from those who mentor us, who train us, who offer us escape from our reality. We mimic, some of us more than others.
When does one's truth emerge? At birth? Upon one's first spoken word or utterance? On the battleground of one's first conflict?
How does truth justify conflict? Which side to blame if both are immersed in truth? I believe all world conflicts, battles, wars, genocides are the result of truth vs. truth; not good vs. evil.
I am six decades of truth; the composite heap of the good, the bad and the ugly. How the heap continues to expand will depend on mostly educated guesses as to the right path mixed with occasional I don't give a shit and full speed ahead.
Recently, my dreams have been vivid reenactments of seemingly inconsequential events in my life. Same people, a slight variation on the themes and all wake me right up, sometimes with urgency and rapid heart rate. What is happening here? My truth is changing. My repressed memories are my constant companions and it's not comfortable being me anymore.
So now, I have versions of my truth; I am conflicted. The benefit of age is not necessarily wisdom; in my case, it's acceptance of the truth and the acknowledgment that the conscious and unconscious are entwined. Memories, which are my soul's timeline, are the tools I use to debunk the "what if's" of my truth.
The accumulation of stored gray matter, which I thought to be locked away, is spilling from the trunks and boxes, closets and wall safes of my mind. What events have caused this chaos? Is it normal middle age muddle through and get to the next crisis stage of life? Does it present itself to everyone contemplating their golden years?
Chasing my own tail is not what I expected to be doing RIGHT NOW. Something is below the surface of my predictable daily existence…waiting…waiting.
I know what my gifts are. I know what my destiny is. I am warned to stay the straight and narrow. These revelations are my present truth. I must strive to allow the hidden to be revealed and wear them as badges of honor. To dismiss them would be disrespecting who I am.
No comments:
Post a Comment