Friday, March 24, 2006

fighting inertia

i don't like liars.

i won't say i've never lied, but i'm happier with myself when i tell the truth. i'm talking about my personality. i don't lie with my personality. i'm not ashamed of who i am. i recognize that there is a time and a place for everything, so yeah, sometimes i display facets of myself more prominently than others. for example, my professional me shows certain facets of my spirit more so than my chilling-with-my-best-friends me. but even when i may turn thisaway or thataway to offer my best angle to whoever's looking, what they're seeing is still me. pure unadulterated me. even when i tailor my words to fit a situation, what people are hearing is me. pure unadulterated me. i own my prayers and my promises and my profanity - all my syllables are heartfelt. all my intentions are heartfelt. it's not always easy to tell the truth about who i am. there are times when i front like i'm tougher or braver or more outgoing than i am... but i always either catch myself or my self catches me - either way, i always wind up back at the jump off. pure unadulterated me. if i did it, i'll own up to it, or at least offer a damn good excuse. if i say i didn't do it, or i didn't mean it, well then i didn't. i'm simple that way. i ain't the one to exhaust myself trying to keep up with a persona that isn't from the heart of me. even my fronting has a root somewhere in this heart and in my experiences. i refuse to waste the energy to come up with one thing after another to cover this or that false impression that i gave off of myself. when it's all said and done, i desire to be understood and loved for this real heart and this real mind, and not some foolishness i imagined.

this is why i can't stand liars.

we all have our moods. we all experiment with different facets of ourselves. most of us, myself included, have had intentions that were real to begin with, yet evolved over time. or perhaps we withhold certain elements of ourselves until we feel more comfortable with new acquaintances.

but how far are you willing to manipulate the things you say and do to convince someone you're someone that you're not? how many times can you offer fake concern for someone? spend time with people you wouldn't otherwise hang out with? come up with just the right things to say to get someone to believe some bull about who you really are? why would you do that? what is so compelling that would make someone - a supposed friend, a supposed lover, a supposed ally - be so deceitful about the contents of their mind and heart? why cheat someone out of the opportunity to love you for who you really are instead of for an illusion - or conversely, why cheat them out of the opportunity to distance themselves from a truth that they'd rather not be close to? is it not a waste of time and energy and effort to lie about who you are, and what motivates you, and what your idea of decency is, and what your intentions are? how do people who aren't themselves sleep at night? aren't they scared about what will happen when their slip starts showing and people come to realize who they really are? or are they so self-absorbed, so callous, so demented, so selfish, so voided, that they have no concern for the hearts of those people who've been deceived?

i can't help but to think of a scene from wednesday night's episode of black/white, when carmen, who is white and has befriended a black woman while appearing black, explains to the friend that she is really a white woman. the friend said something like, "i feel like my friend just died." that resonated with me, because i know how that feels. i've had that happen to me. you find out that someone isn't who they held themselves out to be, and it shocks you, and then it hurts you, and then you feel like mourning someone - this friend, this lover, this ally - who never really existed. you grapple with very palpable feelings for a very intangible fantasy, while looking into the eyes of a person who is now a stranger. welcome to the matrix - what you thought was real, really ain't real.

i detest liars.

i try to be the kind of person that people can feel comfortable around. i try (for better or for worse) not to be judgmental. i try to be empathic, open, welcoming - so that way, people won't be tempted to lie to me about who they are. i think that helps some. i intuitively believe that most of the people who deal with me don't feel the need to deal with me from behind a mask. but here and there, there are people who just give me a feeling. that's the only protection i have - my gut. and sometimes, because i want so strongly for people to be worthy of my best intentions, my gut is overruled by my desire for a questionable glass to be half full instead of half empty. and by the time i begin to realize i took a bad gamble, it's too late. i am left to mourn a ghost. facing a murderer. you see, liars create things, and when their lies fall like scales from a blind man's eyes, it's easy to see what they've killed. their beloved illusion falls at their hands, along side a bit of something even more priceless - someone's trust.

i blame liars for my need to write this blog entry. for my disturbing suspicion that a lifetime of liars requires a lifetime of healing. for my tendency to protectively front on people a little too often, flirting with liar status myself. for my need to read my mom's advice in the sunday blog time and time again, because i realize that if i don't absorb it, it will be wasted on me, and i will have lost my most important possession - my faith. such things distract us from our most meaningful usage of our time here. such things separate us from the love of the Creator. such things are a powerful tool in spiritual warfare, because they weaken the soldiers.

it is my imperative and pressing need to continue to apply healing balm to my wounds and keep it moving. pressing toward the mark. so says this woman whose feet can't rest, because stagnancy is not an option.