Things I generally lie about are: my weight on my driver's license and how long it will take for me to get somewhere when I am already late. For some reason, even when I know I need another thirty minutes, I say it will only take fifteen.
How could an innocent baby be held accountable for the actions -- or lack of actions -- of some stupid adult? There was some mistake. Nervously I stood and I asked, "Sister, are you sure this is right? I know God wouldn't do this."
My daughters are still so young. Their greatest concerns are about wearing a dress with tights to school vs. leggings and a sparkly shirt. They'd like to string beads on a necklace, but they can't decide between pink and purple or green and blue. Please, can I just press pause?
As I walked out of my mother's room in Mt. Sinai hospital that summer day in 1982, I ran into my cousin, who was a surgical resident on her floor. My mother was recovering from the second surgery in six months. The cancer could not be stopped.
All friendships have limitations and boundaries, some more extreme than others. We can and do choose to happily reside within such limitations. When we are honest about what we need, the response forces us to look at the truth of the friendship, its limitlessness as well as its limits.
Being polite often means not communicating how we really feel. We swallow the truth to keep our jobs, our friends and to maintain the peace in the family. It's likely better that way, but when it comes to figuring out next career and life moves, half-truths will keep you stuck.
I cannot in my own good conscience merely write about truth, awakening, supreme peace, or presence. I must live in alignment with my very noble notions. I must personally live out and percuss with my pleas for a more enlightened way of being. In other words, I must walk my talk.
Telling the truth, like any act of courage, is a risk. But it is a risk that I am more than glad to take. We get very little time on this earth and to waste it either telling lies or believing in them is a terrible shame.