January 24, 2015

Speak the Truth, Even if Your Voice Shakes.



The truth will set you free.

Yeah, I know…

But really—think about that.

Really. Because it might be an overused phrase said with a lack of understanding or integral intention but that is absolutely based in truth. Ironically.

Truth is the deepest, most transparent, balls-on-the-table, say-it-and-get-out-the-door thought.

It’s the cringing smile and the avoided eyes the next morning. It’s the parts of you that you lie to yourself about. It’s the things you know are there even if you don’t want them to be. It’s the thoughts and feelings we skip over with a smile or a conscious decision to keep shtum.

It’s the thing we’re not sure if we should say.

It’s not a reaction or even an instinct all the time. It’s not the nice face or the forced gratitude. It’s not organized doctrine. It’s not your body. Or the one you see in the mirror.

It’s not with intention, it’s void of decision and rarely contains any logic.

It’s not in a book, but it might be in music.

It’s dirty, it’s raw, it’s hypocritical. It shows us all up as a**holes, eventually.

It’s filth and offence and fear and tears. It’s wounds and memories and guilt and shame. It’s judgment and resentment and jealousy and rage. It’s lies that feel like truth and truth that feels like lies. It’s denial and hatred and ill-fallen love.

It’s tiredness and confusion and cruelty and small pleasures. It’s dreams and their meanings and nightmares and theirs. It’s hidden happiness and contained excitement. It’s the foundation of real intention and the slayer of dithering. It’s the “I just feel it” and the self-bullshit call.

It’s the light behind our eyes and it flips our belly. It’s the beauty and vastness and contrast of the heart.

It’s who we really are.

And it’s also the cure. It’s the key.

It’s my new drug and I’m addicted.

Because that, with an overwhelming amount of acceptance, has begun to heal parts of me I had almost given up on healing. Horrible, nasty parts that destroyed so much. That were so out of control and so irrational that I was close to giving in to the “coping” way of life. But they were seeking truth. Truth in me and truth in others.

And the touch of it on those parts makes them shrink away and cower.

But as soon as truth is lost and inauthenticity creeps back in, those parts roar back to life. They dance in the space created between my heart and my mouth, my soul and my ears.

I know that with enough truth I will not only rid those parts of their dancing shoes, I will rid them of the space to breathe and gain long desired peace for my own breath. And perhaps a better space for hers.

It’s a lifestyle. It’s bravery. It’s a choice. It’s peace. It’s an inner monologue and a choice of communication. It’s love.

And it’s heaven.



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Author: Andy Charrington

Editor: Renée Picard

Photo: Flickr: Duncan Hall

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