Un-layering
August 27, 2006 | 12:00am
What is it about truth that is so difficult to face? Every crisis, illness included, is a profound invitation to face the truth: about oneself, our choices, our sexuality, our relationships, every little detail about the life we’ve made. I was recently asked what I meant about living an authentic life: it’s peeling the layers of untruth – as far as we can – until we get to who we really are, stripped of all external and worldly trappings. It is a lifelong process, a process developed over lifetimes.
I know people who lie and live exclusively in compartments. They will tell you that they do it out of love – so as not to hurt others. What they don’t realize is that the pain inflicted by any form of lie and betrayal is far greater than any kind of pain that is borne out of truth. Truth, no matter how harsh, confers dignity upon its recipient. Compartmentalization is not the answer. Integration – a deliberate striving for it – is.
My first conscious experience of being lied to happened when I was a teenager. The culprit was someone I loved and revered. The lie slammed into my belly, rappelled through my limbs, and caused such an ache in my heart that when I think about it today, a chill courses through me. I didn’t understand then how a lie – that I felt then had nothing to do with me – could hurt so much. I thought myself silly for feeling such blinding anguish. But now I know why. When you lie to someone, you are telling that person he doesn’t matter, that he isn’t worthy of the truth. That’s why the pain of betrayal is annihilating. It is a direct attack on your sense of self. The content of the lie hardly matters. It is the lie itself that wounds.
I didn’t understand my pain then. I didn’t see it as the message. I was a teenager in a dark place. Instead, the betrayal taught me that lying is inconsequential. If someone so dear could do it to me (or even around me), then it was par for the course. So I learned to live in the shadows and attracted others like myself. If someone asked me out and I didn’t feel like it, I’d spin a story. If someone drew me into a lie, but between us we had truth, I rationalized it away. It took years and many trials for me to see that truth is the simplest way to live.
It was only when I became a mother that I renewed a conscious allegiance to truth. Later, through a crisis of crushing magnitude, it became crystal clear that the only way out of any kind of darkness is to speak and live truthfully. Or die trying. I did it not just for my healing, but so that my children could have a head start at wholeness. My life – not just what they see of it, but my life in its entirety – is their teacher. I cannot impart the value of integrity if I don’t live it. I work on it every moment and constantly ask myself: Did I act truthfully? Was my migraine the real reason I didn’t want to engage in conversation? Or was I angry? Was it anger or hurt? Was I really tired or just lazy? It is a process of un-layering, a constant reminder that truth cannot be rationalized.
I realize now that I have been in situations where I have had to unconsciously deal with layers of untruth. Looking back, I know I felt it from the onset – a heaviness I couldn’t put my finger on – a sense that I was always swimming against a raging but invisible current. Any form of lie weakens that imperceptible moral ground our lives stand on. Over time it takes its toll, not just in our physical bodies (causing illness), but also in the fabric of our life stories.
A friend knew her partner was lying to her for years, but each time she asked for the truth, he kept silent. She told him she felt the cracks beneath them beginning to grow. They separated shortly after. The cracks had reached their mark. Though they are apart, he continues to live opaquely. His lies still cause such a violent reaction in her because her wounds are so deep they have simply not healed.
Lies never shield from pain. They breed the worst kind. Lies rob others of choice. It is insidious. It’s not just verbal lies, but lies that have to do with the very way we live. If we function in layers – one for when we are with our parents, another for when we are with our children, still another for church – we live out of a very unhygienic inner space, energy murk that we unwittingly unleash on others. Our lies pollute others in the level of the soul, only they are helpless against it because they do not see the full picture and are therefore unable to make clear life decisions.
I’ve observed that people who lie have difficulty receiving truth. You can go blue in the face trying to bring clarity into the picture, but they are so muddled within that they see only what they choose to. Only their truth is valid, a familiar shadow to hide behind. Truth is a mirror they cannot look into because it demands change. But you cannot be touched by truth and remain the same. If you recognize and accept it, you can never walk the same path again. It could mean monumental loss, mostly of the material kind, but the spiritual gains are immeasurable.
People say they cannot tell the truth because they are embarrassed, ashamed and afraid. Though the emotions are valid, choosing to lie is selfish. The minute you realize that every lie is a chain around someone else’s freedom – not just yours – you will find the strength to stop thinking just of yourself and step boldly into the light.
So you have a heavy secret. Keep the secret and you are its prisoner; come clean and those affected will probably be disconsolate. They could hate you and hurl their rage at you. It will get ugly. You probably deserve it, too. But now you are in that sacred, well-lit place of authentic possibility – the only chance to begin anew. That is the gift of truth. And just like that, you are free, owned by nothing and no one. Just like that, you have given others the chance to be free. But first, you had to get over your self-centeredness: fear, shame, embarrassment were all about you. Truth opened your heart and grace leapt in. Now everyone can begin to heal. (Hello, Malacañang?)
Truth is the highest recognition of the other. It is a most sacred offering, a measure of mature love. You may still lose someone you love, or she might decide that a person of integrity is worth forgiving. But you were human enough to present the full picture because people you care about are worth it. That is love. It is the only way to make it right. I imagine the heavens playing a special tune each time a patch of darkness on earth is turned to light even if it doesn’t mean a conventional happy ending. What joy!
Truth is the Christ-path. It is eternal. In a way, that’s why it is frightening. It is daunting to let go of all your worldly habits and transform yourself. It means being faithful, true to every word you say, responsible and accountable for every deed. It means living resolutely towards wholeness. The light of truth can be harsh and blinding and that is difficult to face, but it is the one sure path to freedom.
It is part of the human struggle, I know. Perfection of the soul is not attained automatically, in a single lifetime, and never without pain. It is precisely through this struggle that we can slowly begin to integrate. I think it a beautiful, if difficult, process. It is through peeling the layers that we come to the whole. It is through fragmentation that we can become renewed. It means loss but also spiritual redemption – and only the clear light of truth can show the way.
Join us on Sept. 2 and 3, 8:30 a.m. to 5 p.m. at the ISIP Center, 6241 Palma corner Mañalac Sts., Poblacion, Makati City (near Ateneo Law Schools at Rockwell Center). Fee is P500 per day, light snacks included. Please note that you can come just on Saturday as the module for that day stands alone, but Saturday attendance is a prerequisite for the Sunday lecture.
Call Raquel at 895-8421 OR 0906-435318, Mimi at 721-8053, or Grace at 371-3502.
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