In catholic school, my teacher made me redo my Easter picture. She felt that a Roman Centurion would worship and revere Christ rising from the dead. My picture had them running in fear, a massive word bubble of “MOMMY!!!!” rising over his head.
While, over the years, I’ve found myself espousing the virtues of spirituality as it applies to wellness, the doctrines of religion have never, ever been my thing.
So, when tearing down this line of advice, it’s odd that I find myself turning to the bible for meaning.
John 8:32 – “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”
You serve a lie from the moment it escapes your lips. You have to live it, support it, do everything you can to keep it alive because for as long as it lives, it protects you from the truth. Lies are cannibals – they gorge on themselves and get bigger. Lies rely on you to supply them and that is work. Doesn’t take long until all you are doing is serving the lie. Sooner than later, it gets too much and you have to enlist others to support the lie, and it goes on and on and eventually, it falls into too many pieces to sort out and all that is left is pain and distrust.
When you know the truth, you are free. You serve nothing. You are only being a representative of what happened. And it doesn’t take any work.
How about the opposite. Act so that I have to lie about how you act.
Using that reasoning, If a friend came by to say “Hey” then asked, “Why you here so early?”
I’d then be embarrassed about what I’m doing, slam shut my laptop and say, “No reason. I wet the bed.”
Then we would laugh, and maybe exchange a few words before we went on our respective ways.
So, how am I am acting right now? Can I tell you the truth?
“Hey man,” this mythical friend would ask. “Why you here so early?”
“Because I write every morning.”
“You look beat,” they might say.
I would sight and nod and say, “I’m tired.”
Writing is the last thing I should be doing. I went to bed at 10:30PM and I’ve been up since 4:00AM, worked out for 57 minutes – 580 calories burned, peak heart rate of 149 for 1:32 seconds and averaged 120 bpm for the whole workout. But I want to write for a living and you can’t only write when you feel like it so I better get to work.
“But I’m having fun.”
The truth is, I really hope that the twelve or thirteen people that read this enjoy what I’m writing. I do think of you, which is why I try to keep this 500 words or less.
And, all else aside, writing gets me going. Always has. There’s no feeling quite like it. Especially when I stop caring about everything and just dive deeper and deeper into what I’ve created. The only two things that come close are a good work out and a good drunk. The former is something I’ve come to sincerely enjoy, the latter is something I avoid these days (unhealthy on so many levels).
So, that’s my truth to my mythical friend. They might ask to read what I’ve wrote or respect my space and leave me be to get in contact later.
In the first example, I would have to carry on my story in a way that would have been awkward, because I like to think we would both know something was up but neither one of us would be comfortable with that truth.
In the second example, the one that has so much more potential, we carry on sharing truths and generally have a better time. And, I’d like to think I would have something more to write about the next day.