Truth or dare!

We seem to be in a "truth" crisis. It seems impossible to turn on any form of media without some fact checking and media storm about a politician lying. Yet, lying politicians are not new - maybe now just more brazen. It's hard to miss the lying businesses, advertisements - indeed lies seem to be everywhere. The old game of truth or dare is turned around to I dare you to tell the truth.

One of the more challenging truths about truth is how much we lie to ourselves. We create family history that is unreliable, twisted in some way and, at times, fantasy that has no factual roots. We lie about our feelings because there is a depth to them we may not be ready to face.

What do you see? If I see it differently who is telling the truth?

There are many times we aim to tell the truth but memory has failed to accurately record what happened. Human memory is quite fallible. There is lots of psychological and neurological science to confirm that. Eye witness testimony is often thought of as the least reliable.

Part of why our recall is so prone to error is partly related to the emotional state we were in at the time - happy, angry, frightened, traumatized, depressed, joyous, distracted. It can also be affected by loyalties to self or others. Harsh truth may be hard to tell about someone to whom you have a strong connection or a sense that being faithful to their image or memory is necessary.

Many lies are quite deliberate; many just poor recall and some related to avoiding. Yet, how we think things are (our perceptions and memories) impact the choices that we make unless we are able to be in the moment, deciding then what must be done. It's a challenging task because so much behaviour is driven by latent memory, interpretation, beliefs and loyalties.

So how does meditation fit in? It is the time when we can allow ourselves to feel what is there - not interpret, not change, nor fabricate or alter - just be with what is - be with the truth. Even if only for a few minutes. Slowly it makes it easier to be non-reactive to the behaviours of others that in the past would create anger, jealousy, sadness or even happiness that is not linked to reality.

Truth

I promise to tell the truth, 
I swear the oath.
What is truth?
Will I ever know for sure?

the whole truth, 
Is this even possible?
The whole truth, is there partial truth?
When is it just a lie?

nothing but the truth.
Who knows the truth?
Do I?
Each memory called forth
contradicts the one before.

I swear to God.
My oath is a lie
I see the past so clearly
Yet it must be a fiction

Please state your name in  full.
I can do that
Is that really me?
Or is it just a character created at birth?

To know for sure I need the truth
But it is not there
Fragments, semblances, hints or pretence
Life is reality in half truths.

Blink away, what was there is no longer - was it true?

Which image will you remember?

Which will be true?

© Peter Choate 2017

What we recall - memories of our past

Memories of our past form part of conversations, our thoughts and the basis of many off our actions. We firmly tell people about things that have formed who we have become. Some are just factual - "I went to school at..." "I graduated from ...." "I married..."

Many memories rely on emotions to put the story together meaning that we rely less on factual detail. Smells, tastes, sights and sounds all play together making up what we recall and when. What is that we see in our mind's eye, unsure perhaps, but an historical fiction created in the moment bearing resemblance to truth.

This all came to mind when I was recently sent a collection of photographic slides my father had taken throughout my childhood. As I looked at them, it was clear that certain events had not happened in the way I recalled them. I also saw family relationships unfolding in ways that did not conform to how I had told the stories. Was I lying? No. This is an example of what happens when we mix emotions, events and the passage of time.

Some events are very clear to us. There was something stark about them. I can tell you precisely where I was when I learned that my mother had died.  I cannot do the same for my father's death yet I would say I was closer to him (and the old photographs detail this).  I can tell you exactly where I was when I learned of Kennedy's assassination and 9/11. Where was I when John Lennon was shot - no idea. Yet, I loved the music of Lennon (still do). Memory is a fickle thing.

This is important in meditation. When we come to understand that what we truly know is the present moment, we are less burdened with the various versions of history that we hold within us. Such a way can help in managing the impact of trauma. In my case, I can look back on the trauma but then I can also step away from it knowing that, in this moment, I can decide what, if any power I will give the trauma.

Now to be sure, meditation is not the only tool I use to manage the impact of trauma. None the less, meditation is powerful in keeping boundaries around its impact. I can also slip into very brief meditation to help when a situation has triggered an emotional, traumatic memory. This allows me to be in the moment and to have more "control" on my behaviours. Certainly, I am imperfect in this but each moment allows me a new opportunity.

Neuroscience tells us that memory is imperfect to varying degrees in varying ways. Eyewitness testimony has been shown to be quite unreliable in many cases. Situations influence how we recall and frame a memory. If that is the case, maybe we might ask why is it important to become strongly attached to a memory. The answer is only as a learning tool not as Scrooge's weight of Christmas Past.

Memory's Script

Robbie Robertson tells tales of
Rocker years gone by.
We sit, listen, reminisce,
Place ourselves into his stories.

None of it is true
While all of it is.
We gloss or demonize, romanticize or terrorize
All that has gone before.

We would take an oath
To its veracity.
Yet asked twice
The story would vary.

No matter,
In our core it is as we recall.
The fictions many times retold
Each with new scenes.

Life is a drama,
with no script.
Memory is recall,
Without prepared lines.

© Peter Choate, 2016