Sunday, November 6, 2011
Truth (by anon)
“What is truth?” I want to say that I don’t know. But that would be partially incorrect. In the very question, if I take it to be the right question, I’m already saying that I partially know. I am saying that truth is a what, a something, some fact or person or path to take. But I may be in error already, in the very question.
“What is truth?” We all want to know. It is the seed of curiosity that wells from within and propels us toward a litany of candidates. Religion, science, subjectivity, objectivity, facts, logic, language. They are all part of a lottery drawing where the tickets are forever beyond our grasp, the ungraspable. Or it’s quite possible that the tickets are of our own making. A fake lottery. An invented lottery. The great lottery fiction where all the people who claim to be in the truth are their own main characters playing their own heroic roles. Little people playing little roles.
In some places, truth is a safe haven for those to feel comfortable as if it were home. It is a warm enveloping. To others, truth is an insatiable pursuit to find that which seems to be an emptiness in oneself. One has to find that truth, because it must be there, somewhere. Still others, truth is something to be feared for there are many who wield truth as a weapon to inflict it upon the untrue. If you are one of the unlucky untrue, you must beware for the banner of truth must be obeyed, so they say. You are either part of the herd and obedient or you will face just wrath. Conceptions of truth can be beautiful, driving, binding, ugly, even evil. It’s a wonder truth has persisted so long.
What I mean to say is that I’ve given up on the fantasy. A fantasy that has its face pushed against a void, is itself a void. It is more meaningful to ask about whom I love and care for. Who can I help? Who can I talk to? This is a return to asking about “who” rather than “what.” This is a return to humanity, to who matters. And that is all the truth I need.