Truth and the Devil

Sometimes we lie to those we love. Little white lies, spur of the moment whispers that are soon and safely forgotten. Great big lies, like movie productions, with descreet beginnings…rising action…rehearsals! And then, sometimes we think we are making a white lie; a temporary stay of execution for a temporary problem. A temporary problem that overstays its welcome, that squats, molevolent, heavy with forboding, crashing on our figurative couch and eating all our food. Then the white lie cannot be forgotten, instead it is elaborated upon, built up with clumsy carpentry and lopsided pillars, ill-concieved and poorly planned extensions bulging out from what was once a neat, compact little home for our guilty conscience.

Now the real fun begins. More little lies are added to the big lie, plaster over growing cracks, attempts to mask a growing unease. Quick! A new board, a new panel to cover our slipshod architecture, to prop up leaning timbers and crooked doorways. Soon more time is spent keeping up the quaking edifice than is spent living within it. The lie has ceased to be a shelter and become a neverending burden. A wise person would lay down their tools of deceit, beaten but unbowed. They would realize their mistake and admit the lie, disassembling the structure before it fell of its own accord. A foolish person would continue building, adding more and more weight to their already strained foundation, unaware of, or perhaps ignoring, the harsh reality that soon new flaws will appear before old flaws have been succesfully patched. They will run this way and that, flinging morter and nails, trailing broken tools and extension cords, but it will be too late, and the great mass will collapse in upon itself, its craftsman trapped underneath.

I have never been a wise man, but I know people who are, and methinks it is time to lay down my tools.

Going “home” this weekend, hope to make it back.