Decay

Photo by Kevin Basted. Source: Flickr.com

I have lied. I believe everyone has. Whether explicitly or implicitly, as in the "lie by omission" which I purportedly perfected. Yes, I have lied.

As a general rule, though, I simply tend not to speak. I learned long ago that silence is safest. Those who know me, though, know that I love to talk with people, and I have a deep-seated desire to make people happy. When those two traits are combined, the result is a person who struggles mightily to remain silent. With years of practice, I now am good at it. Oh, I talk, but I rarely share. I desire to but am very protective and am careful about choosing with whom I share.

Lying hurts people. I know that. I believe that most lies are told with good intentions. Most lies that have slithered from my mouth have been told because of some variation on this theme: I do not want the other person to worry about something that will never be an issue. The contradiction is astounding: Supposedly the concern for the person is so great that you feel the need to lie to "protect" them. Yet, your concern is not great enough to trust them with the truth. I am intelligent enough to recognize this. I am strong enough to be a better, wiser person, and am there.

I have been lied to. I believe everyone has been lied to. How can she look at me with such sincere adamance while she lies to my face? And it is about something trivial, meaningless. So, I let it go. The reality is immaterial and effects nothing, and I really do not care. I wish I had never asked the question. I wish I had never entertained the subject. It really does not matter. Only now, the lie exists. The reality of the lie is not trivial or meaningless. The lie matters.

Hypocrisy is a lie. Plain and simple. Speak one thing and do another. Be convicted of one truth and feel justified in acting, saying or emoting the contrary. However it is inspected, hypocrisy = lie. Thank goodness for justification! (A little sarcasm to lighten the mood.) I will leave hypocrisy and justification for another day. For now, what troubles me is the power of a lie. I ponder whether or not a lie is so powerful as to overcome years of truth. Then I sink deeper as I ponder that it is not. True, a lie may diminish trust. Trust can be rebuilt. The possibility that one lie can destroy years of truth does not sit well with me. The truth is glorious, liberating, and more powerful than lies. The truth resides in sunlight. If one lie can undermine years of truth, then something else, not truth, is being defeated. The truth still stands. Where is the weakness? What has lost in this battle? I lie no more, and I await the truth.