On this last day of 2019, I found myself sitting on the
tarmac at Chicago O’Hare long after my scheduled departure time. Nearly an hour earlier, I had watched a frazzled
gate agent recite the clearly false information about delayed crew – a lie only
evidenced when, having boarded the plane, I saw the same crew that had been
there all along. Then came the de-icing
delay clearly falsifiable as I had already watched the plane being de-iced from
the comfort of gate F-20. Sitting motionless
at the gate nearly 30 minutes later, the pilot apologized for the fact the we
couldn’t push back because a de-icing form confirming that de-icing had taken
place was missing and without it, he couldn’t get ramp clearance to push
back. And then another 30 minutes of
silence before we started moving. For
this nearly 2-hour delay of United flight 4852, I mused about the fact that
several people had been comfortable reciting false statements to rationalize
what in fact was a cascade of human error.
And as I sat on the plane, I pondered the fact that for the next 90
minutes, my life was entrusted to people who had no apparent objection to
lying.
This is an odd way of beginning my annual Litany of Saints
post for 2019. But this year has been
marked with major league dishonesty. Some
of it we’ve all seen play out on the nightly news with caricatures of officials
clearly dismissing observable reality with false statements. Others have been profligate abuses of
business agreements I’ve made throughout the year in which written and
contracted expectations have been dishonored with predictable regularity. Most deeply painful have been personal
experiences in which assurances of love and relationship have been shown to be
weaponized and manipulated. In short, I
find that the well of gratitude that has marked many years of my life has been
deeply impacted by a drought. And, as is
always the case, I seek to examine this experience and see what I can learn.
My life was greatly enriched by Nic Wales who demonstrated
that, regardless of the challenges I faced throughout the year, his capacity to
persistently ‘show up’ as the genuine friend and colleague was as certain as
the sunrise. During many of my most
challenging times, his first-to-the-line spirit often rallied both my spirits
and those with whom he interacted.
My year culminated with an exceptionally deep appreciation
for my son Zachary who, in spite of several struggles throughout the year,
declared his intention to pursue his life’s passion resulting in his move to
California to begin his next pursuit as a golf coach. And, speaking of setting lofty intentions, my
daughter Sienna concluded that her academic and athletic goals included being
exceptional and, as a Freshman at Monticello High School – her first American
school year – was a member of the varsity cheerleading squad (winning District
titles) and has been achieving near perfect marks in her classes.
I observed my friend, colleague, and source of inspiration –
Amanda Gore – strive to achieve new levels of elegance and excellence in her
dynamic public speaking career and marveled at the discipline evidenced in her
relentless commitment to integrate perspectives she learned no matter how
uncomfortable that transformation may be.
And above all, I witnessed Kim Martin incarnate her stated
desire to break patterns of thinking and behavior that had restricted her
living giving life to a much more dynamic and vibrant person than the woman I
met nearly 5 years ago.
These – and others – earned my respect not for what they said
they would do, be, or manifest, but rather for the fact that they actually
did their truth.
Which leads me to my point this year. I’m afraid that truth – like many other
constructs – is a cognitive fallacy. Let
me explain. We are all sensitive beings
(in an apathetic sense). By this I mean
that as we transit life, we are aware of our lived experience informed by our surroundings,
our interactions, and our synthesis of stimuli.
The irony in my use of ‘apathy’ is that while we sense and perceive – that
which we sense and perceive is selective to our conditioning, recollection, and
implicit values. In other words,
the exact same experience does not and cannot be replicated with identity
in another. So, while we seem to
obsess about “truth” as a theoretical abstraction, the truth is, it
never exists. And by never
I actually mean that. That’s because by
the time reality is processed, it is selectively curated to form meaning,
understanding, or judgment. With the
passage of time, that selectivity is further narrowed to fit a narrative or
worldview. By the time we’re conveying
it, thinking about it, or judging it, IT no longer is the lived
experience.
I frequently comment about the monotonous goodness of
most of our lives and I often get quizzical looks. Think about it. Most next moments are both unimpressive and
basically good. While you’ve been
reading this, your heart has beaten several hundred times and, you didn’t do
anything to conspire to make that happen.
If you are reading this sentence, your optical nerve has already processed
5,140 characters and you didn’t care about most of them. While you were reading this, your computer
didn’t blow up, your house didn’t burn down, you were not tortured, and you
basically had it alright. What we
remember, too often, is the punctuations in the monotony, and far too often,
what focuses our obsession is that which is misfortune or challenging. But most of most of our lives is good.
What does this have to do with “truth”? Thanks for asking. By ignoring the monotonous goodness of life
and narrating our lives through the punctuated drama of either ecstasy or
suffering, we actually lie to ourselves.
We’re so obsessed with being interesting (both for good or ill) that we
curate a storyline that ignores most of our lives. When President Trump says that he “doesn’t
recall” prostitutes, bribes, or Russian blackmail, he may be telling his
version of his own selective recall.
Evidence, schmevidence! We can
make all the observations we want but if the selective curation of a narrative
is absolute, then everything that doesn’t fit ceases to exist. Evangelical Christians swear they’re pro-life
but applaud missile strikes on the infidel du jour. Capitalists want persistent economic growth
but seek to maintain exclusionary rights and privileges to prevent others from
growing. You name it, hypocrisy is
rampant only when you don’t share a common definition of truth.
Which leads me to my year end gratitude. I am grateful this year for all those in my
life who have turned truth into a verb.
Being genuine. Being authentic. Living coherently with their values. People who don’t need to ‘tell the truth’
because their too busy living it. To
those I’ve named and to the many who are reading this and knowing of our
interactions that were characterized with these hallmarks of integrity, I honor
you this year. Thank you and here’s to
living true in 2020!
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