I Cannot Tell A Lie

How silly.  Of course, I can tell a lie.  I just did.  I have told lies in the past and I will live to tell more. Even though I always remember my mother’s dire admonishments about lying. To anyone and especially to her!

Most, if not all, of my lies are slight exaggerations or are of “the dog ate my homework” variety.  Either way, they are intended to fall into the category of  “First, Do No Harm.”    

Surely, it’s better to say “Wow, you look great” rather than “That last botox treatment obviously went seriously wrong and I hope, for your sake, that those lips settle down some time soon.”   

Little white lies – “Wow, you look great” – are meant to ease the angst, to avoid conflict.  They are opposed to lies that aren’t so white or so little.  Often, it doesn’t take much to slip over to the dark side.

I, personally, feel besieged by lies these days.  There are few touchstones to ease my angst.  Conflict is everywhere – on all sides.  I weary of the need to fact check.  No wonder that I get headaches and my foot hurts.

I accept that differences exist.  That perspectives vary.  That everything gets spun.  But I long for more of those softer, little, white lies instead of the over-the-top, spare-no-punches, ultimately divisive lies that currently consume our attention.