introspection, pride and apologies

     

He woke up to the truth. The self lies were still there, but this morning he recognized a greater meaning of the term. The conviction plagued him throughout the night with attempted sleep while his efforts proved fruitless.

    He was left with the conviction that his perceptions of truth were not valid. He admitted that they were utterly self centered on his own made universe, a cognizance that held no merit. He realized they would vaporize because they, like so many other thoughts, were only ideas. The only substance to his philosophies and those he'd learned was in the thinking. They were no more real than all the other ideas that were borne on the wings of fantasy, dementia, neurosis, and the like.

   "One plus one will ever equal three." Not all, as Rene Descartes had long ago concluded, was as it  appeared. Reality was not always as it seemed. He could think of many examples supporting such a conclusion.

    He knew there to be many views of perception, depending on the angle of the viewer's sight and state of being. Perception was limited by the physical dimension. "But the truth is harsh in matters of relationships."

    "The truth is, I've been cruel to her regardless of the bullshit for my self justification. I need to apologize my offenses to her. I need to be careful what I say, even how I say it. The tone of words convey meaning."

    He admitted guilt on himself. He felt remorse for all the things he had said to her, all the things that had cut her deep and proved no worth, only to make him feel that he was in the right. He knew he was wrong. He well knew he could never make a wrong a right no matter how much he tried to bend the truth.

    The truth was that he had hurt her deeply, far past the arguments and the shouting and the violence of the outbursts on both their parts. He knew that the emptiness he now felt could never replace the peace he knew he could have had. If only he would acquiesce and say he was sorry.

    The question was: was he willing to drop the need to feel above her; the need to feel authority over her; the need to control her? Was he willing to let go, to relinquish these feelings over to her? Would he risk her turning on him in his vulnerability and her sliding into the helm of control over him?

    He considered trading these needs in place of the simple truth. He wanted peace. If only he would submit to the truth, no matter how painful.

    "Okay, i'm weak. She's more important to me than the need to feel I'm in control. Yeah, it hurts. Damn. Pride is real. I'd rather die than forsake my pride. Wow. Sounds really stupid.

    "How many have died 'cause of the stupidity of pride. How many opportunities lost? Well, yeah, it's necessary for survival. Without it and it's adrenalin, we end up being the prey. But, yeah, this is different. This is about love. It's about the woman I love. The one I'd give my left nut for . . . , the one I'd die for."

    He had chosen so many times before to live in lies. Like a coward, he had chosen life in the shadows rather than the pain of the truth in the light for all to see. He had chosen to be right in his own eyes and he was miserable.

. . .       . . .        . . .

    The religious leaders of  Jesus' time  had lashed at him, who had proclaimed himself the messiah. They bit and spat and threatened, they threw blows at him with vehemence.

    They ripped at him with venom and blasphemies, no remorse, followed their own course, felt so right in their own eyes.

    And where did it get them?

They died, turned to dust while the tomb of jesus remained empty. The cloth of Turin, his burial shroud lay there for all the world to see centuries later.

    They died, they tried to change the truth. They tried to solve their dilemma by killing him and did. But he rose from the grave.

    And where did it get them?

They died in their convictions,

but couldn't change the truth.

    "I could give my life for sake of the truth. Or, I could give my life up for a lie. I could die trying to fight the woman I love for sake of my own way, and where could it get me?

    Alone. I could choose to be right and be alone. I could fight for the truth but the truth doesn't need me to defend it. It stands on its own.

    He dropped his working tools, wiped the sweat from his face and went into the room where she sat at work and apologized.