Lies
Lying to the young is wrong.
Proving to them that lies are true is wrong.
Telling them
that God’s in his heaven
and all’s well with the world is wrong.
They know what you mean.
They are people too.
Tell them the difficulties
can’t be counted,
and let them see
not only what will be
but see with clarity these present times.
Say obstacles exist they must encounter,
sorrow comes,
hardship happens.
The hell with it
Who never knew
the price of happiness
will not be happy.
Forgive no error
you recognize,
it will repeat itself, a hundredfold
and afterward
our pupils
will not forgive in us
what we forgave. (Yvgeny Yevtushenko, 1952)
I had intended to use this poem as a catalyst for sharing some childhood experiences with truth and falsehood. I honestly do not know where to begin, or if to begin at all. I’m not quite ready for that just yet. My problem isn’t in telling truths, but knowing them. The lies I have been told are more omissions of truth than outright lies. Lies are disproved by fact, but without fact, even where some truth exists, there are nothing more than shadows of reality.
I spent my childhood living in those shadows watching others play under the lights, taking the things I knew to be lies, but could not prove as lies, to be realities. They seemed happy. I watched silently for a time. Then that time became a long time. Then that long time became my life. Then my life saw time becoming short. That shortness turned into urgency. That urgency turned into desperation. That desperation turned into courage. That courage became change. That change led to discoveries. Those discoveries imbued me with truths. Those truths awakened me. That awakening forced me to explore. That exploration drove me back into the shadows, and the process starts all over again.
There is clarity in the shadows you don’t notice until you’ve seen the light. It’s the search for the mystery you cannot solve. It is the challenge of facing irony between the bouts of escapism and your mundane existence. Happiness feels good, though never as satisfying as reality. I have learned something that I cannot speak in words, but may only come through tears. Are they tears of sadness? Yes. Are they tears of joy? Equally so!
Even when standing in the light I wonder, “Is it me casting a shadow? Or is the shadow casting me?”
Kol Tuv
2 Comments:
I often wonder why the few notice that we are being lied to from very early on, while the majority continue living, and propogating the lie till they are old men.
I cannot understand why I, from about age 11 or 12, began having major questions, while most people I know are pretty confident that they have all the answers. Is it something in my DNA? What is the catalyst that makes us into a skeptics?
Yoinoson,
THAT is a great question!
Here is a situation that probably sounds familiar.
Your father hits you for misbehaving. Your mother tries to comfort you by saying that father hits you out of love. You get angry and hit your little brother. Your father hits you for hitting your little brother and tells you NOT to hit your brothers, sisters, cousins, or friends because you love them and violence is unacceptable.
There are many possible outcomes here. The most likely are a) you think that violence can be an expression of love b)parenting doesn't have to make sense, or c)you will never trust anyone who claims to love you. Option C is the worst in my opinion.
In spite of your parent's good intentions (assuming they were good), you have just received a 'mixed message' expressed by a contingent truth, and meted out with irony. You have now discovered that something isn't kosher.
The 'father' here is also metaphoric for God. (My father o'h only hit me once and it didn't really hurt all that much.)
I still don't know the answer to your question. I think it comes from a social deficit, say some depression, loneliness, or anti-social behavior that puts you in conflict with the norm in some way.
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