The Truth: The Truth for Ourselves
No other word has a harder go of it than truth. Identified as a noun, truth is defined as “the quality or state of being true; that which is true in accordance with fact or reality; a fact or belief that is accepted as true.” Synonyms include: fact, verify, certainty, certitude, verity. These definitions and similar words neither clarify nor add to a conversation about it. We are left to define truth for ourselves.
So…what is truth, and how do we know it is? In my experience, truth was equated with routine and expected behavior norms to follow…protocols if you will. These became my truth, and as long as I adhered to them, I lived a “truthful” life. Never mind this life lacked authenticity, creativity and vision, what mattered was I followed the norms, fell in line and accepted the narrative foisted upon me as reality, a.k.a. truth. It has not been a bad life, not particularly difficult either, and I must admit following prescribed notions of how to live it have served me well. I function and am able to support myself comfortably. So why the hang up? Why did I seek truth when the truth I consumed sustained me? Simple. I was nowhere to be found in this truth; I was at the mercy of it.
There is no certifiable truth. No one or entity has exclusive rights to it. In our world, those that have the loudest voices have an advantage over our meeker, more humble brethren who live their truth in peace and harmony. This collective projects its truth on the rest of us, and we allow it. Take a good look around your community, state and nation, even globally if you can and see the prevailing “truth,” and then sit down, quiet yourself, close your eyes and listen to your body and its still voice. Is what is being touted your truth? If it is, then bless you. If it is not, ask yourself, “why?”
My truth accepts people are divine beings having a human experience, and it is through these experiences we grow in love and closeness to the Creator, God or Infinite One whose love for him/herself pulsates through our veins. He/she knows self through us. Our life on this planet prepares us for ascension into the higher dimensions to fulfillment and self-actualization. The Christ taught us how to do this and invites us to walk with him, for he is our brother; we share divinity.
My truth may differ from yours and this is okay. The point is to find your truth and live it. I do caution you, though. It takes time to get to it; personal truth is not fixed, one grows in it as life is lived, and it is not judgement or shame. These belong to the deceiver who is anti-truth.
Each day I make the decision to live my truth and at times, I struggle and am confused, but I persevere knowing the experiences that come to me are intentional, so I can choose to grow through them. When I do not make the best choice, I forgive myself and learn from it. It is all good…we are loved by the universe.
xox
It is much easier to write about myself in the context of a story, but I will give it a go here and hope for the best. I miss New England springs. The air is crisp with a hint of warmth, sweater weather, and I remember the lovely collection of them I had throughout my childhood and adolescence. Daffodils and tulips pop dramatically because they are eager to display their beauty after months underground. This is not the case in my beloved Virginia. Winter teases spring bulbs here with warm days followed by cold snaps that freeze their vulnerable, emerging foliage. I do not miss northern winters, and I still recall the mornings I sat on top of heating vents to stay warm. New England at mid-life is romantic: cozy cottages on Cape Cod, brownstones in Boston, fall’s canopy of colors and historical homes whose stories capture my imagination. These images are what’s left of my life there.
Many years were spent moving hither and yon, and I dreaded it, but I adjusted, settled in and learned to appreciate what was offered in those communities I called home. Living a transient life did have its perks, including the choice to sit back and observe life.. I did a lot of this, storing sound bites and pictures in long term memory. They lay dormant and perhaps, one day they will be used in a story. We made our home in Virginia after 19 years of service, and it was here I stopped observing and participated.
I began teaching students with special needs and came to understand that they were the teachers, not I, humbling to say the least. I had many lessons to learn over the ten years we shared a classroom. Even now when I look back I hope they know I love them and tried my best to love them when they were with me. I still teach, but I work with other students who endear themselves to me but also try my patience as my children did. I once said, “They keep me young,” but I’m beginning to feel my age and wonder how much longer I will be able to keep up with them.
Knowing me is knowing I have three grown children. They are my closest friends and the best of me. It was easy to be their mother; though at times they tested limits, they helped shape me into a well rounded woman, and I am a better person for having reared them. I have grandchildren too, lovely cherubs whose smiles bring joy and tears, and when I watch my daughters with their babies, I am filled with pride and admiration for them. These emotions are one of the many gifts of grandparenting. An acquaintance once told me being a grandmother is an amazing experience, and it is, but it more; it is an opportunity to be a shining star, a loving example of humanity. This is where my heart is, and it is at peace.