Sticks, Stones, Broken Bones and the Deceptiveness of Truth

Remember the childhood rejoinder, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me?” If being called names or being made the butt of gossip were not a shared commonplace, there would be no reason for such a universal and universally childish chant.

Like everyone else, I’ve been called many things during my brief (in galactic terms) sojourn in this world. I’ve been labeled a dreamer, an idealist, a cynic, a visionary, a lady, a bitch, a good listener, an oddity, a mystic, the antichrist, brilliant, stupid, a conceited showoff and a run-of-the-mill showoff. None of these brief epithets are true or correct, yet all of them are. And, as is always the case when aspersions are being cast or compliments rewarded, the labels themselves say as much or more about the person slinging arrows or bouquets than they do about the object of their attention.

The truth that defines us in any given moment depends upon the totality of the person or persons with whom we are interacting, the issue at hand, the timing, and the experiences that mould us all. This is the deceptiveness of truth. It also shows the dangers and craftiness of making judgments based upon single instances or points in time, and puts the lie to the childish refrain about words never hurting us.

The dangers of rushing to judgment should be obvious, but when passions reign or visual acuity is strained through a sieve of anger, we don’t always realize the precarious nature of our stance or the long term damage to our own integrity. Objective observation and evaluation is discommoded by the jerking of our knee. Such reaction might be forgivable in the heat of the moment, but should that initial judgment continue to stand when sufficient time for reflection has passed, we have squandered an opportunity to ferret out truth for the momentary thrill of righteous condemnation.

Craftiness, however, is never a forgivable ploy although it is too often a consistently used weapon in the arsenal of political gamesmen determined to inflict the greatest pain and damage on adversaries. Truth, in such instances, is not even relative truth. It is instead truth’s exact opposite…a chimera wearing a camouflage costume of false piety and petty deceit.

The crafty, the sly, the devious among us are the most dangerous to the health of all of us. They are emotional predators digging stake filled pits to lure the unwary, baiting traps with innuendo and slurs, using poisoned bread crumbs as false trails to the tainted meat of warped thinking and the well told lie. Their actions and dark nuances warp the reality of context so that any possibility of discerning the actual story, the correct timing, the properly uttered word or reason for what we suspect was seen or heard or experienced requires revisiting time past as the distorted world moves rapidly on. The loss of truth defies wisdom, and without wisdom, objective vision and a nose dedicated to seeking an honest truth which depends on more than out of context fact, the lights we shine on history to better view today and all our tomorrows grows dim, like headlights on a long road trip turn muddy and debris ridden. We collectively crash against falsely erected walls and sharp edged boulders purposely strewn over the pathway that should lead toward peace and an understanding for the betterment of mankind.

All our views of truth may never exactly coincide because we are each shaped by our experience, the nuances of our lives, and the basic intelligence we bring to the party. But when we allow the crafty and sly to intervene in our perceptions of what is real and what is not, we have no real hope of becoming more than we are at that moment.

Sticks and stones may break our bones, the honest truth can never harm us.