On Truth and Possibilities

Brown skinned feet with red toenails on green grass.
Me, enjoying a moment of sunshine and introspection.

Just told the truth about something. Risked quiet criticism disguised as questions, but told the truth all the same.

In the past I might’ve eventually gotten there. Perhaps.

It would’ve taken forever to word it the right way, couching it to ward off potential negativity. I might’ve given a partial answer, obscuring the whole truth for an unsatisfying omission. But the truth was the truth. My truth. One I’ve known for a long time, but didn’t have, or create, an opening to share it. And finally here was my chance. I took it.

I mentioned Brené’s work yesterday and I think it’s part of the reason I responded as I did. She encourages you to be courageous, and embrace vulnerability, “the feeling we get when we feel uncertain, at risk, or emotionally exposed.”

As a thoughtful, shy, introverted adult, I think a lot, but I don’t share my thinking much. Only with those who know how to listen. Really listen. And in the past couple of years, I’ve become even less inclined to share for one reason or another. But this practice of silence has resulted in a diminished quality of life – wasting time on things that don’t bring me joy, and don’t create value. Sure, there are times when such work is required, but if a few moments of vulnerability can remove hours of meaningless shit, well isn’t it worth the effort?

Not too long ago, I might’ve said no. Might’ve found that toiling away on nonsense was worth the safety, the security, the silence of certainty. But we live, and hopefully, we evolve, and when the time is right, we make new choices. And when the risky, scary moment ends, possibilities begin.

Puzzle Pieces

lotus-304976_640If you pursue a question or an idea and are open to the myriad whispering voices in your midst, it’s almost miraculous how you’ll begin to receive information, encouragement, something to bring you closer to understanding.

Almost miraculous, but on further reflection, it seems more of an equation. The first part, of course, is the question itself. The curious mind, the curious heart, desires to know; to understand. If there is no desire, even if the information is close at hand, it remains invisible. Undiscovered. Present, but ultimately useless. It’s a glass of water for one who has no thirst presently, and none approaching.

So a seeking spirit is the first key.

Aside from the question, there’s the matter of receptiveness. This is related to a curious heart, but it’s a separate consideration. Many people express interest in this, that or the other, but due to trauma or maybe ego or the like, they can’t receive. She thirsts. Water is plentiful. But it’s as good as invisible. She cannot drink.

So openness/receptiveness is the second key.

But what of wisdom? It’s of no use to to seek jewels and collect them, never realizing their true value. This is when one foregoes the offered water in favor of something sweeter or bubbly, but ultimately unsatisfying. It may be yummy, but does not quench the thirst. You must be able to discern the truth when it comes, whether you read it in a book, hear it or overhear it in conversation, or simply come to know it in the silences of your mind.

So wisdom must be the third.

I jotted these ideas today over lunch, after receiving a few puzzle pieces this morning. What, if anything would you change or add?