Telling the Truth

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?

 

 

Comparing

GUEST POST by Laura Miller

I’ve been reading posts, links & blogs

I started comparing.

That’s really good ,
it speaks to me
I’m not sure what the message is but I love the way she says it.
That was powerful
I wish I could write (think) like her
The stuff I post is mostly fluff
Well maybe sometimes not but
anyway it’s just for laughs

I compare –

and am dissatisfied and touchy,

and a bit green

Transparency and authenticity get tossed

Lock up vulnerability – too distressingly painful

The Divine Spirit speaks

Is your name Jane or Lisa, or Dana or Judy?
Have you forgotten your name?
Have you forgotten your life?
Is an orange any less a fruit than an apple ?
Is the hand any more important than the foot?
Have you lived in Jane’s body?
Or walked in her shoes?
Has Dana walked in yours?

But they see things I don’t

They’re transparent and authentic

They’re courageous and bold

It just seems to pour out of them without effort

They sound so sure of themselves

How do you know?
Is that for you to say?
Can you read their minds?
Were you there when I created them ?

* * *  *

You stepped over the threshold and through the open door
Why are you lying on the ground crying?

Because I compared and tripped.