Tag: dishonesty

  • Honest Lies

    Honest Lies

    Dishonesty is the worst form of disrespect. It’s a show of disrespect to yourself before it says anything about the value you place on others. Far too often we convince ourselves of the need for the lesser of two evils to justify the dishonesty, but in the process we set in motion a sequence of events that undermines the very same greater good that those lesser evils are supposed to serve.

    It is so easy to shy away from being unpopular while claiming to uphold good relations. White lies aside, it’s the dark truths that we don’t have the courage to utter that convinces us that anyone else would have done the same thing; protect ourselves from vulnerability or weakness at all costs, because everyone does it, so it must be right. Vulnerability or weakness is only that if we care about appearing inept or incapable of fulfilling an expectation that others have of us. We start out by convincing ourselves that we dare not disappoint someone special and thus step on the slippery slope of dishonesty, instead of accepting that it is in fact our pride in not wanting to appear inept or incapable that we chose to hide in the first place.

    But why hide it? Surely if they’re so special they will understand and love us for the weaknesses we hold within? Perhaps it’s because we made them special before they earned such stature in our lives? We build the pedestals that we place them on and then curse them for tumbling down from the top of it. We build those pedestals for them because believing that they are deserving of it feeds our need to be associated with such amazing humanness. It is the curse of needing validation and inclusion. That feeling of acceptance and not being alone. Too many sell their souls to fill that gap only to realise that the gap filled with lies and pretences evicted their soul in the process. It’s the easiest path to losing yourself to the world and then wondering why the world has no sweetness left in it. Perhaps such idealism has no place in a society that has normalised dishonesty.

    The veneer of who we are is infinitely more important than the substance below the surface. That’s why so many are crushed the moment the veneer is stripped away and the substance of who they are is laid bare for them and the world to see. We polish the image and embellish it with intricate details, convinced that the detail is the substance, but still forgetting that it’s only for the facade. It only reveals the prettiness of the aesthetic while concealing the bitterness within. The bitterness spawned by failed relationships, dysfunctional homes, judgemental social structures, and a lack of authenticity in a life unlived.

    Not everyone experiences life this way. There are some that have wholesome relationships, a healthy self esteem, and contribute meaningfully towards those around them with a healthy dose of gratitude in return. But given the level of rage in the world, the masses that hide from responsibility and seek abdication instead are by far the greater of the two groups. Given the trinkets and distractions that have formed the wealthiest industries in the world, the wholesome ones are few, and insular. Insular from fear of contamination, I suspect.

    But reality is what we experience it to be. Lies or not, we’re all frogs boiling in the proverbial pot, adapting to the delusions as they form thick and fast around us, while becoming expert navigators through its jungle of deceit without noticing the life that such proficiency denies us. We ascend to the top of the canopies of that jungle and look down around us feeling triumphant and fulfilled, not realising that true fulfilment lies at the edge of the jungle in the sun-kissed fields waiting for us to sow the crops that we wish to reap, rather than reap the thorns of the jungle of deceit.

    We lie with sincerity more often than we care to accept, because it’s the lie often spoken that becomes the truth. Our belief in it being true lends our sincerity to its telling, but does not in any way convert a lie to the truth. We’re all honest liars at some point in our lives. Problem is, those some points become many points, and eventually become the norm for too many of us. That is why the world is now a daydream that ends in a nightmare more often than it is a nightmare that ends in a pleasant awakening.

  • A Legacy of Beauty

    Reminiscing about childhood is a popular pastime. Idyllic recollections of a life that never truly was is bolstered by time that is kind to us . It allows us to forget the harrowing details as we protect our fragile souls from the harsh reality of life. Those that treated us harshly often became a memory of those who cared, especially when their harshness was all we had access to. We become captives of the weakness of brutes because our submission is the only significance that they may feel in life. I sometimes wonder how many realise that their self-worth is based on their ability to subdue others.

    Time creeps by, as time tends to, while I find the present moment to pale in comparison to my selective recollections of a childhood that never was. Moments of peace that were in fact moments of isolation, and collective laughter that was often exclusive by nature. I speak of this as if it’s my own, but the incomplete smiles around me suggest that it is a shared reality that is often denied.

    As time morphs the pain into beauty it also morphs the beasts into angels. Those that manipulate the vulnerable suddenly appear as the downtrodden when their loss of control is lamented as a betrayal of love or affection. I sit with morbid amazement as I watch kids who are barely teens reminiscing about childhood and the wonderment that went with it as if it’s a long lost part of their lives, and I feel sad. The sadness deepens when I witness how their recollections embellish events to make it more wholesome or inclusive than it really was. The disease of the adults appears to have transcended a generation that used to be symbols of hope. Those symbols of hope are quickly becoming reminders of despair instead.

    The torch bearers have handed over the soot but retained the flames that should have been passed on as generational wisdom to guide the next. The next appear comfortable to accept the association with the soot as a gift of love while not noticing it is the self-love of their captors and not the love of their captors for them. That distorted reality shapes a distorted world that they set out to change, not realising that their efforts to change it merely taint it.

    I looked across the bathroom at the mirror from behind the shower door and suddenly realised how many would see the mirror as foggy while ignoring the steamed door in front of them. Those that are living an assumption of reality would seek to clean the mirror, while those that embrace reality will open the door.

    We all need to believe that our contribution, even if not appreciated, is a wholesome one. When we are deliberately offensive or destructive, we convince ourselves that it is needed to restore balance. When it works out in our favour, we believe we were right, and when it doesn’t, we believe we were wronged. The selective views we nurtured through life in our efforts to establish our significance and self-worth betray us with such subtlety that it leaves us convinced that we’re the misunderstood or unappreciated while everyone else is self-indulgent and ungrateful of our efforts to uplift them. Accountability rarely features for the distracted ones because it erodes the fantasy that has become their reality.

    Our collective subscription to such distraction leaves us sympathetic towards this feeble state in which we find them. If they weren’t echoing our own weaknesses so loudly, perhaps we would be able to see beyond their feigned sincerity and disrupt the fantasy just enough for reality to peep through. But that would rob us of our legacy of beauty that we have to believe is our contribution to this world. Without it, we become that which we despise, so we find kindred souls that are equally tainted so that we are secure in the fact that any effort on their part to expose our weakness will be rendered incredible simply because the kettle cannot call the teapot black. In there lies weakness in numbers.

    [I set out challenging myself to write a post about something beautiful and uplifting. My alternate view of reality insists that I achieved it, because if anyone sees this as dark, they don’t appreciate my beauty that I offer so selflessly to the world. So the darkness must surely be in them and not in me.]

    P.S. If you can understand this ramble, or worse, if you can relate to it, I question your sanity, and pray for your peace.

  • Sincerely Dishonest

    I’ve always believed that dishonesty is the worst sign of disrespect. I just wish I could dismiss it as pure dishonesty that easily. That burden of awareness can really weigh you down at times like this. Being aware of what drives others to be weak enough to be dishonest makes it nearly impossible to shun them.

    The reality behind the dishonesty is that we’re weak enough to believe that the truth of us will repulse those around us, and so we create alternate realities to court the affection of others, forgetting what a dark web it spins for us. I can only imagine how dreary those quiet moments must be when we are faced with the stark contrast between our life and the life we present to others about ourselves. It can only tear away at your self-respect even more, which is the irony of it all because it was that same low self-worth, or lack of respect for your self, that drove you to create that alternate reality in the first place.

    I’ve often looked at scum bags, really low life schmucks that are blatant about their immoral or underhanded behaviour without any concern for the perceptions of others. I wondered as to whether that is a reflection of confidence or a total disregard for acceptance, or perhaps it’s the total abandon of hope in receiving any such affection which makes the entire purpose of their life a protest against the wholesomeness of that which they’ve been denied.

    Provide those same scum bags with a teaser of hope in being included in something larger than themselves, and withhold it the moment they edge towards it, and you’re likely to see a level of anger and bitterness that drives them to violence. Violence in such cases is the ultimate form of protest while at the same time being the deepest cry for compassion. But the risk of any such compassion being temporary or unfulfilled is so real based on the past betrayals of their lives that they are more likely to spurn it rather than embrace it, because protecting themselves from loss is better than having and losing again. Or so it seems at the time.

    But I started out writing this post with a very different angle to this that played on my mind. I thought that only the most deliberate of lies must reflect disrespect, because you can’t possibly lie to someone that you claim to respect. While I believe there is truth in that, I also believe that a greater truth lies closer to the fact that it implies that your disrespect for yourself is greater than your respect for that person that you claim to respect, and when that dynamic comes into play, you’d rather sacrifice your standing with that person than reveal the ugly that swims around inside of you. Hence the lie that follows.

    Our response to that determines a number of things about us, not least of which is our commitment to the one that lies. Are we invested in raising their level of self-respect more than we are in gaining our rightful respect and appreciation from them, or is our investment in our rights greater? But it’s not that simple, because at some point the investment may cause a denial of rights to others because we have a limited capacity, both emotionally and materially. So we find ourselves in murky waters feeling contaminated by the murk while also feeling undeniably attached to it. Pulling away to save ourselves spawns the burden of guilt or responsibility that goes with such a decision, while remaining tethered weighs us down because of the lack of sweetness from such an investment. Any sweetness that it may hold is on hold until our investment pays off. If ever. And it’s that gamble that gnaws away at us in the quiet moments when we don’t have the distractions of life to save us from its contemplation.

    I am convinced that the liar holds more self-loathing than any loathing we may hold for them. I also think that we spurn their weakness because it can easily spawn similar weaknesses in us when we find ourselves faced with difficult choices. In those difficult moments, it’s easy to justify a dishonest response because ‘everyone’ else does it, so it is entirely understandable. But such justification only provides some peace as long as we’re convinced of its truthfulness. That’s when we choose to surrender our principles in favour of ease, or we grudgingly hold on while also denying the reality of our weakness. That creates the tension within us that drives us to seek distractions around us, eventually leading to chronic ailments of the heart and the body that robs us of our sanity and self-respect as we grow older.

    My thoughts are almost entirely incoherent this morning, so this is my attempt at seeking sanity among the insane. I guess it’s also entirely possible that scum bags are not really scum after all, and that the true scum bags are the ones that betrayed their trust (probably at an early age) that resulted in their loathing for this world, and anyone that represents the warmth that they’ve been denied.