Maybe this is hyperbolic. I’ve been known to be dramatic.
But I’m pretty sure I have come up with the greatest theory in the world.
I’ve put it under a microscope and tested it in dozens of imagined contexts— personal and political, marital and municipal, surface-level and serious. And I just can’t seem to disprove it. It is, so far as I can see, a flawless theory. Maybe no longer theory at all, but an unbreakable universal principle that I dare say is fact.
In a gift shop one summer at a camp in the mountains at 17 years old I bought a silver ring that said truth.
There were other words on other rings: love, joy, hope, peace— you know the type. But in the chasm between high school and college, in the space between the persona I crafted as a tool for likeability and the one that would (hopefully) be less persona and more authentic existence, the word “truth” spoke to me most.
I had spent so many years telling so many lies to spare so many people’s feelings, including my own. And what identity-searching girl-soon-to-be-a-woman doesn’t? What American culture-groomed female has been spared the quiet lesson that we are the moderators of others’ experiences? A skill we are born with is later honed to perfection as we learn to sense others’ feelings of rejection, reckoning, isolation, doubt— any icky feelings that are wrinkles in a fabric supposed to be smooth. Wrinkles we learn to just lie away on behalf of others and ourselves.
We’re born and bred to lie about how we feel (I‘mgood!howareyou, like it’s one word) how hungry we are (No thanks, I’m fine) what we like (I love it!) what we think (It’s totally up to you) what we want (oh nothing, I’m good) all in favor of keeping things smooth.
It is a deference to what’s true in favor of what seems most comfortable for others. The feminine skill of imagining what other people want, how other people feel— weaponized against us.
But the older you get, the more uncomfortable the lies start to feel.
A Self can only be squashed so long.
And the more love and connection you crave, the more tightly you bind yourself to another, the more you see just how much those lies work against the thing that makes you feel most loved: being seen up close and wanted nonetheless.
And so I chose the ring that read truth and set off on my pursuit of it.
In moments where I wanted to white lie, I felt the zing of the Operation tweezers bumping the metal side of the wishbone shaped hole reminding me of my pursuit of truth.
In a career that left me anxious, lifeless, me-less: I remembered my pursuit.
In racks of clothes and shelves of home decor, torn between conventional style and my own: I remembered my pursuit.
In hard conversations when I didn’t know what to say (or did but feared it): I remembered my pursuit.
And I did not always choose it, but I always felt bad when I didn’t. Truth was my compass, though I did not always follow it.
This is how I developed my one and greatest theory of the world. of life. of people. I lived it first. I tested it for myself. I am testing it everyday.
Hasn’t broken yet.
Still holds water.
Has gotten me through many a trial and tribulation.
My theory for all of life and all the living is this:
→ What’s true is always the answer.
What’s true conquers all.
What’s true is all any of us are able to give. Nothing more. How could we?
What’s true cannot be taken from us, cannot be argued against.
What’s true is not the same as The Truth, however. What’s true is sometimes a temporary truth.
What’s true does not have solid, sharp, immovable edges. It is not a square. Not even a circle.
What’s true has open, fluid, wavy boundaries. What’s true is a cloud, a wave, a plume of smoke.
What’s true is just what’s true for us right now, in these circumstances, on this day, with this perspective and these tools. What’s true is always there, yet always changing as our circumstances, days, perspectives, and tools change, too.
But what’s true always works.
Which is why when you have writer’s block or lover’s block or griever’s block or teacher’s block— however you are blocked— what’s true will always get you unblocked. Maybe we don’t know what to write, how to love, what to say, how to explain. But we always know what’s true.
My best friend’s mom passed away silently on a random day while we lived in separate random cities living our separate random lives.
Your mom was hilarious and so full of life, I told her. I can see how much like her you are now that I know you both. I can’t believe life happens like this. This shit sucks. It’s so hard. I don’t know how I can be here for you, but I hope you know I am, and that your mom touched my life, too. I love you.
What is one to say in times that exceed our human comprehension?
What is one to do when one finds themselves in the forest for the first time?
How are we to handle situations unknown that are larger than our capacities?
We say what’s true. We do what we know.
What is the other option?