Truth is a fascinating concept, the idea that there is one, that it is possible to find it, and that it matters — which circles around to the first two, an it to find and someone to find it.
Everyone seems to have their own version of truth. For the corporate executive that truth might well be different than the truth of the homeless man sleeping on the street. There is right wing truth and its mirror opposite held by many across the aisle. There is the truth of gun owners and those who want to see all guns melted down.
It’s not just the basic big ticket polar stances, truth tends to change as we age. When I was 18 I believed that 40 was old. Now I see 40 as quite youthful. We tend to become more conservative as we age as well, not me, but heck … I’m me.
What is truth? If we are only talking about ultimate truth we still can’t find just one. Christians have theirs. Followers of Islam have theirs. Atheists have theirs. Agnostics are waiting for a truth to be proven. You might say their truth is no truth, or anticipatory truth.
It’s raining outside right now. That seems to be truth, but to a non-dualist that would be questionable. What is outside and what is in? Is it rain or the appearance of rain? Yep … still no truth to be found.
I exist, I am, seems pretty safe. Is that the basic truth? Seems even that depends on how we define existence and what amness means. It means different things to different people, so how could something so relative be truth?
Could truth be relative? Wouldn’t relative truth disqualify it automatically?
Isn’t all that we can find here relative truth?
How about this is? Could that be truth?
While it seems undeniably true that This Is, what is This, and how do you define Is? We are back waiting for the starter’s pistol on the field of I-amness.
Maybe there is no truth, no real, bona fide truth other than what we say it is. What does that say about wars that are fought over what is true? Maybe everything we hold true is simply a way of asserting our truth is more important than another’s, of wanting others to comply with our way of seeing things, our way of behaving, a demand to conform.
We first experience this when we are little. Mom and Dad’s truth is different from ours. Our truth is play and fun and going until we naturally drop, falling asleep before we hit the floor. Left to our truth, that might not happen until well after midnight. Mom and Dad’s is bedtimes and schedules, and ritual, however unnatural it feels to us, forced conformity, creating stories we’ll later take for truth.
Today millions of people have sleep disorders, can’t get a good night’s sleep no matter how hard they try, no matter how well they follow a bedtime regime. That’s a new truth based on an old truth, the fallout of a another’s truth being forced on us, an unnaturalness overlaid on the more than adequate internal clock ticking a bit differently inside each of us.
When we grab our truth and shove it down another’s throat, it is silly to expect them not to vomit it back up. There will be resistance. Often it doesn’t just solidify the shove-ee’s truth but manufactures a new truth that is diametrically opposed to the one being shoved. They will make up an entire story to confirm the new truth, to make it real, to regain their threatened autonomy. It’s instinctual.
And war is declared.
When in reality, there is no truth to be found, unless it is in a game of Scrabble. There are actions and reactions that appear to create more pain and suffering and fear, and there are ones that appear to create more happiness and peace and love. Those that offer pain and suffering are not valueless. They are not a lie. With each new experience they ever more clearly demonstrate the consequences of our actions and reactions.
Continuing to divide the world into right and wrong, truths and lies, is painful, is one of the actions that maintains the world of warring differences. Maybe that is part of the current worldwide curriculum. Seems true to me. 😉
There is no appropriate bio for Amaya Gayle. She doesn’t exist other than as an expression of Consciousness Itself. Talking about her in biographical terms is a disservice to the truth and to anyone who might be led to believe in such nonsense. None of us exist, not in the way we think. Ideas spring into words. Words flow onto paper and yet no one writes them. They simply appear fully formed. Looking at her you would swear this is a lie. She’s there after all, but honestly, she’s not. Bios normally wax on about accomplishments and beliefs, happenings in time and space. She has never accomplished anything, has no beliefs and like you was never born and will never die. Engage with Amaya at your own risk. That said with a giggle, check out Amaya’s new book – Actuality: infinity at play, available in paperback and e-book at Amazon.