Woke up about an hour ago with the notion of ’truth’ flapping in the breezes of my mind.
One thing I have come to trust: truth is flexible and depends on our intention and point of reference.
I’ve always found ‘truth’ to be such an interesting concept. Before I can come to truth, I have to experience a perception. And before that perception can be given weight, I must assess it against some standard within myself. So, it would follow, that truth is some expression of an internal standard that is of my own unique design. Will a truth still hold when my inner landscape is changed?
‘Truth’ has been getting me into trouble (meaning: irritating others around me) for as long as I can remember. We have a social convention that says that one truth is acceptable when another is not; but change the social convention and that same truth becomes willing to be heard and ultimately, embraced. Clearly, truth is not an absolute but a wide-ranging expression of possibilities.
I long ago discovered that the legitimacy of a truth could be easily detected by the degree of irritation that surrounded its revelation. The more annoyed, upset, angered, etc one might become, the more evident that something was moving beneath the smooth surface of pretence; and whatever it was, only in its revelation and expression would peace again be found.
Guy McPherson presses a lot of buttons… a reminder to me of the degree to which ’truth’ revealed is a deep irritant to ’truth’ hidden. Not because of any content factor but because of our common cultural process of hiding truth. It does not really matter what the content is. When hidden, it will resonate with all others kept in that same, dark place. In our desire to hide, we have become glaringly transparent.
The first time I got myself into trouble with ’truth’ was so long ago I can’t even recall. I know I had not yet started school. The expressed moment of hearing one thing in one place, and a different thing in another. Dissonance. The jarring quality of the mismatch between the word and the sound it makes when it’s said. Face and body revelations. Guy’s truth will agitate inside someone whose other truths grate on the veneer of their seemingly well-ordered existence.
Perhaps that is why truth is so hotly contested and so vitally compelling: Truth is the platform on which stands defined and declared reality – and what constitutes reality validates our way of living… our way of being… as the right one.
Because I don’t believe it, does it make it untrue?
Because I do believe it, does it make it true?
The answer is yes – and only in my reality
I was introduced to Guy McPherson’s work through someone for whom I have great respect and in whom I have great trust. It was not a leap for me to relax into what Guy shares as I experienced his ‘truth’ as a sharing of my own. What he could describe and label, I already knew intuitively through my own observations. As much as I knew his truth to be my own, the model of the world from which I live made it possible for me to be without fear. It simply is what it is – and there is not much that I am going to do about what is unfolding ‘out there’.
What we want will not matter. Who we choose to be, will.
I consider it a waste of time to debate climate change. Being angry about it (like we might be when diagnosed with a terminal illness) is only useful when moved through. When lingering, it becomes part of the illness, itself.
In my experience of it, the more unclaimed truth we carry, the more easily annoyed we become at the expressed truths of others. The more I withhold from myself, the more annoying Guy McPherson becomes as he chooses to simply and consistently be his authentic Self. I may be able to mask my personal, internal truths more easily than I can a truth that speaks to the very context of my physical existence: habitat in my material world. Some contexts are bigger than all of us and climate is one of those.
I love the light as we move toward the end of the day. Not so bright and stark in its revelations; fewer grey/blue and more gold/orange/yellow hues. Easy on the eyes. Maybe truth is like that: easier to look at when we soften the light of our inner reflections.