If you have followed my blog you may know that one of my utmost important values in my life is honesty. I have walked away from many a friend or family member who found it impossible to be honesty. Dishonesty by omission is not excluded in this value.
I can write a short blog post or Facebook status, but it would never perfectly described just how integral this core value is to me. I won’t go into the several reasons that could account for this lack of trust as, in truth, what would it solve to drag up past experiences that have shaped the person I am today? Today I try to live honestly in a sadly dishonest world.
The sad thing is I still have that childish belief that other people hold honesty in as much importance as I do. Awareness is marvelous until it extinguishes the hope that people feel the same way. I never cease to be amazed at the behaviour of humans and I came to the conclusion last night that some people are so afraid to live honestly in this world.
Art is a therapy, a friend. You can always trust in creativity and it never lies. Where else could you feel such love, such happiness than being completely and utterly at peace with a collograph or painting?
A friend messaged me this tonight. Your comments are appreciated.
Definition of Honest from Urban Dictionary
A divine attribute we often wrongly assign to one we admire, but sadly, like telepathy, honesty is a characteristic not inherent in humanity. To be truly and completely honest with someone, one must first be truly and completely honest with one’s self. Since our species is incapable of seeing past its own fears, desires, prejudices, convictions, emotional attachments, memories and flawed perceptions, man is not capable of viewing an unfiltered reality. Every single conclusion a person comes to is first carefully screened and reviewed through a series of subconscious unrelated facets of collective reasoning and thus all humanity is blind to all truth. Thus, no one is truly and completely honest with themselves and thus cannot be truly and completely honest with others. The most anyone can hope to give is their honest opinion. But that’s all it is, an opinion.
Write It For Her Anyway.
Wow, Stuart liked my last post ‘Goodnight Shirley’ which led me to read this wonderful tribute he wrote to his ‘nannie’. The post talks about wishing you had said such words whilst the person you write for, was still alive. How often have we used those well known words….if only.
Life can be fleeting and it takes something drastic or sudden to make you realise that. It can be a roller coaster at times and take unexpected twists and turns. It’s a common cry of the grieving person, ‘if only I had……’
‘Write it for her anyway’ reminds me of a question I was asked when I missed my mum terribly weeks after she died suddenly. ‘What would you want to say to your mum if she were here?’ I was asked by a counsellor whilst I sat facing an empty chair. ‘Imagine your mum was sat in that chair, what do you want to say to her?’
‘I did it mum!’ I said.
Such a powerful position to be in when you are desperate to just feel the love of a lost one and listen to their voice. ‘What do you imagine she would say to you Becky?’ He then asked? At this point I felt loved as I remembered my mum with her ever comforting voice saying… ‘I knew you would!’
Words can always be written or said. It eradicates the ‘if onlys’ and gets rid of that awful sense of guilt about the unspoken words or unfulfilled promises.
Today I can sit with my mum and dad and speak to them as if they were here. I can imagine my fathers sarcastic tones or expletives and imagine my mum laughing at some of my thoughts or behaviours. In truth I can face an empty chair and talk to them anyway…. And if I truly listen, I can hear their response.
Thanks to Stuart, I have remembered that this is something I can do and it’s healing power is amazing.
Apologies for the absence of my posts. There has been a bereavement among my ‘family’. It is difficult to know what words to say, to be sad for the loss or happy that the person who has gone has no more pain. Words seem insignificant and everyday happenings seem a little duller, almost an inconvenience. You struggle to know the right way to say goodbye or to comfort those still here.
My post tonight is for my ‘sister’ and for the friends and family in my ‘chosen family’ who will miss her terribly. Bless them all.
Death is Nothing at All by Henry Scott Holland
Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.
All is well.