What is the “truth,” really?
There are as many “truths” as there are perspectives, and each person has her or his own perspective, so there you go.
No one, single, universal reality exists. Your reality is ultimately different from mine, though there may be many similarities. This “radical” idea, presented to me by a brilliant man teaching an Honors Rhetoric class, blew my little mind in undergraduate studies in the late 1980s. I have spent the years since trying to pull the pieces of my mind back together.
This blog, much like me in the last few years, has been all over the place.
From the earliest posts, which are an ode to the Regency Era and Jane Austen to later posts more serious and socially minded to a confessional, this platform has chronicled my progress of growing up in public.
It is OK to change.
Change is a constant. The next moment will be different from the present. That is a given. But growth—ay, there’s the rub. Growth results when I respond to the present moment with enthusiasm, excitement, energy. Hope. When I respond to circumstances with a sense of possibility, rather than a feeling of dread, I allow the “present” to travel smoothly into the “future” with very few bumps during the journey.
However, my often racing thoughts and volatile emotions can easily interfere with my forward movement, forcing me to a standstill or, even worse, to roll backward down the hill.
Two cats snuggle against me as I write this. My three cat friends are not so much bothered by wandering (and wondering) thoughts as I am. Instead, they breathe their presence completely into what they are doing or experiencing at each point in time, staying focused on “right now.” Soft and warm, content and satisfied, they are good teachers.
Just like the radical idea once presented to me that truth is fractured into as many facets as there are human minds, the cats show me that it is not only OK but indeed desirable to be fully present with all I am doing, in every moment.
This is to be alive.
Anything less is a sort of half life, lived on the fringes and prone to fear, doubt, and other such predators.
So how will I stay present today—present right now?
- Focus intently on my five senses. What do I see? What pleasant scents tickle me? What do I taste? Which instrument is taking the solo in my beloved jazz or classical music? Am I really noticing the sumptuousness of a faux fur blanket?
- Remove the word “should” from my vocabulary. “Should” conjures up impressions of fear, of serious duty void of joy, and, depending upon my mind set, even a sense of fate settling firmly upon my shoulders and pressing down with insistent cries and whines, removing from me my right—my very ability—to choose. Instead, I will ask for guidance and listen intently to what my inner compass tells me to do next, then do that next right thing.
- I will not judge—merely observe and experience. As Shakespeare said: “Nothing is either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” Why the need to lay my opinion on everything? No—depression or joy, activity or stillness, company or solitude—I will be a student of this life, of this moment, rather than struggling to direct everything. When I surrender to what actually is, then I get out of the way of my own awareness.
And that is good. Helpful. Getting out of the way of my own awareness is growth. Removing limited and limiting parameters on the universe, of which I am familiar with only a tiny fragment, opens me up to what actually is. No fantasies. No fairy tales. Instead, only the present as it unfolds.