Telling the Truth

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So, I do an art journal page every day. 

I’ve managed somewhere between fifteen and thirty pages a month for the last three years.  Which is a whole lot of pages, and images, and thoughts.   Which means I could have a daily post for you, something new coming up all the time, something pretty in your inbox or feed.

 

Thing is… this is my art JOURNAL.  That means I’m writing, journalling, putting down what happened in my day, recording a snapshot of me on a given Friday…. not just playing with images to express my feelings.  And some of those feelings are dark, are hurting, are full of tears or anger or despair.   Some of those pages, besides me, only my counsellor has seen.  Or my mother, for whose loving wisdom I’m always thankful.  But most of them are between me and God.

So, when there are pages I think someone else will get something from – will enjoy, will appreciate, will connect with – I share…but only if it won’t hurt me or the people I’m in relationship with.  Like, yes, the same relationships that are so difficult.  

I want transparency, and authenticity, and honesty.  I want to be able to open up and speak truth (the truth, the whole truth, and nothin’ but the truth) but if I did that, the world *would* break open.  At least, my world would.  My environment would radically change, my situation become very different.  I hate that it’s that way, and I wish that truth wasn’t something to be feared.  

Can you see, feel, get what I mean?  What *you* say is truthful, for a given value of true, maybe, but not…not ALL the truth there is to be true to?  Is there truth that you don’t dare let out of your lips?  And what would your world look like, if you did?

 

 

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