Yep, a day behind here. Doing Day 7's prompt on Day 8 and trying very hard to catch up tonight! Day 7 is on Faith.
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When someone asks me how to explain Faith, I think of the Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. They are embarking to find the Holy Grail, but there is this scene towards the end where Indy steps onto what seems just air. I was terribly young and all I could remember how scared I was that my hero was going to plummet to his death. Indy showed gumption, pieced all the facts together, and took a leap of faith. That's exactly what it is ... faith.
Because facts and science can only bring you so far, and faith, in my opinion, is that little bit of leaping that one has to do.
Faith comes in many different forms. We can have faith in a higher being. In both mono-theistic and poly-theistic religions, one entrusts higher beings to having control and we lay our trust in their hands. But to do so, one has to take that leap of faith in believing in those higher beings. I'm keeping religion here wide open because I don't really want to get into any debates about one or another...
Then there is faith in others. Having faith in our spouses, parents, siblings. I know this one is sometimes tough for me to do. I was taught to be resilient and independent - my parents always wanted me to be able to do everything on my own. So having faith in others requires trusting them first, and then taking that extra leap that when it really matters they will be there.
Lastly there is faith in oneself. Sometimes we read all the facts, or sit in a class room and learn all the teachings and instructions. And then it's time to go forth with that knowledge and do something great. Trust that we have the skills to navigate through a new experience or a new adventure. Have faith that we are adequate enough to overcome an obstacle, or fill a new role, or tackle a new situation. After all, if we don't place faith in ourselves that we can do something, who will?
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Monday, October 8, 2012
Sunday, October 7, 2012
[The #30WriteNow October Writing Challenge] Sin...
Day 6's prompt, if we choose to use it, is Sin. I know I'm writing on Day 7, but here I am hoping to catch up on both assignments. Work hasn't been exactly my friend...
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So the dork in me saw this writing prompt and I started thinking 1 / cos. And then I started seeing graphs and all of school came flooding back. I kind of miss this.
To get started on this topic, I decided to look up the seven deadly sins:
It's not a easy list to digest. In fact, I'm not even sure where to start.
In my childhood, these were things that my parents brought up. Not always in those same exact words as those listed here, but they would remind us in different ways.
Don't hunger after those things that you can't have. It could be anything, like those riding lessons that my friends had, or the newest toys or pencils. Just be content with the things we have and be grateful for them.
Everything in moderation. My brother and I learned a few times how we should have probably eaten those candies in moderation. But do we listen? Well the upset stomachs were enough to prove it.
Don't be greedy. Leave some for others or share. It's never worth it to hog everything to yourself. The rewards in sharing and sharing those experiences with other are many more rewarding that experiencing them on our own.
Be tidy. Be cleanly. And don't be lazy. Laziness never gets us far. It's only by hard work that we can be rewarded. If we wanted something, we had to earn it. I think this was truly evident in the music portion of my childhood. With some hard work and some perseverance, music became more beautiful. After unlocking the difficult passages and those horrible rhythms, the whole piece would unfold itself like a different world & lyrical language.
Be kind and cool. Always give people the benefit of the doubt. My parents would tell me to let things sit. And I never understood why this was so important. Until I was much older.
Stop envying other people, because they probably have other issues and other hardships that we can't see. We have ours, they have theirs, but stop wanting what they want. Be happy & grateful with what you have.
Be humble. Don't brag. It's not becoming (or attractive). Being prideful meant we block ourselves from learning new things and seeing things how they really are. There were always these stories of a prideful peacock or some swan...
This certainly is the reader's digest version of the reader's digest version of our upbringing. It took many years to cultivate these lessons into us, and we are not always perfect in following these to the tee, but we certainly have been taught to know the right from the wrong. And to know when we edge into the warning or danger zones of any of these. But aside from consistent upbringing and hand-on parenting, I don't know of a good way to be educated on these sins. How would you tackle understanding sin?
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So the dork in me saw this writing prompt and I started thinking 1 / cos. And then I started seeing graphs and all of school came flooding back. I kind of miss this.
To get started on this topic, I decided to look up the seven deadly sins:
- Lust
- Gluttony
- Greed
- Sloth
- Wrath
- Envy
- Pride
It's not a easy list to digest. In fact, I'm not even sure where to start.
In my childhood, these were things that my parents brought up. Not always in those same exact words as those listed here, but they would remind us in different ways.
Don't hunger after those things that you can't have. It could be anything, like those riding lessons that my friends had, or the newest toys or pencils. Just be content with the things we have and be grateful for them.
Everything in moderation. My brother and I learned a few times how we should have probably eaten those candies in moderation. But do we listen? Well the upset stomachs were enough to prove it.
Don't be greedy. Leave some for others or share. It's never worth it to hog everything to yourself. The rewards in sharing and sharing those experiences with other are many more rewarding that experiencing them on our own.
Be tidy. Be cleanly. And don't be lazy. Laziness never gets us far. It's only by hard work that we can be rewarded. If we wanted something, we had to earn it. I think this was truly evident in the music portion of my childhood. With some hard work and some perseverance, music became more beautiful. After unlocking the difficult passages and those horrible rhythms, the whole piece would unfold itself like a different world & lyrical language.
Be kind and cool. Always give people the benefit of the doubt. My parents would tell me to let things sit. And I never understood why this was so important. Until I was much older.
Stop envying other people, because they probably have other issues and other hardships that we can't see. We have ours, they have theirs, but stop wanting what they want. Be happy & grateful with what you have.
Be humble. Don't brag. It's not becoming (or attractive). Being prideful meant we block ourselves from learning new things and seeing things how they really are. There were always these stories of a prideful peacock or some swan...
This certainly is the reader's digest version of the reader's digest version of our upbringing. It took many years to cultivate these lessons into us, and we are not always perfect in following these to the tee, but we certainly have been taught to know the right from the wrong. And to know when we edge into the warning or danger zones of any of these. But aside from consistent upbringing and hand-on parenting, I don't know of a good way to be educated on these sins. How would you tackle understanding sin?
Saturday, October 6, 2012
[The #30WriteNow October Writing Challenge] Fear or not to Fear?
Today's prompt, if we choose to use it, is Fear. So I got home from work last night at 10p and pulled a 14 hour work day at work. Kinda just crashed, so I a making up Day 5 of this writing today ... I hope it still counts ;)
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Source: http://en.proverbia.net/
Fear is something that goes hand in hand with courage. I suppose one can break down facing fear into multiple steps: First, acknowledge the subject matter that I am fearing. Two, muster enough courage to face the fear. Three, follow through...and don't chicken out.
Usually I have Steps 1 and 2 down. I manage to hype myself up so much and am energized, and somehow somewhere half way through Step 3 I am kind of faltering. Sometimes the results can be quite rewarding when we come out on the other end all unscathed. On the other hand, the fear can infest itself and grow deeper roots within the person when the experience ends badly.
Take this for example:
I hate roller coasters. I hate how they make they throw me around, and how I lose the orientation from where up and down is. They literally make me puke after I get off. The last time I rode a roller coaster before this event was over 10 years ago. And the last time before then, maybe also 10 years.
So here we were all at Six Flags. I managed to convince Swen & Florian to wake at 630a, to drive down to come watch me run a 5K, that was hosted at the Six Flags ground. In return, we'd go to Six Flags after. So, boys being boys easily went for this deal. Who wouldn't want to play afterwards? To sweeten the deal I told them I would ride one roller coaster with them. Any one of their choosing. In hindsight, I should not have offered them such a big blank check, because days on out, they kept joking about making me ride King da Ka. So much of overcoming fear. I think I was rather worried...Seeing that coaster in person wasn't any better.
I tried to tell myself that roller coaster are fun. After all, why do so many people get on them? And then ride them over and over and over again (like my brother). And these structures have to be safe, otherwise they wouldn't be allowed in parks. We certify and inspect everything in the US, right? We care about safety and well-beings; or at least we care about avoiding lawsuits and damaged reputation...so I'm sure these are safe. So with all these thoughts racing through my head, I was accomplishing Step 2 quite well. Psyching myself up to all the reasons why I was being silly.
So my not so heartless friends said, let's go warm up. So went onto a kiddie roller coaster. HA! It was one of those little wagon wooden ones...no loopies... nothing. I remember telling Florian that he has to sit in the same wagon with me. So off it went, slowly at first. Chug chug...chug chug... and the first horrible drop...wooosh! (Ok call me a hypocrit, but I love riding those wooden log rides with water, because there is only one horrible drop and then it's all over, but I hate roller coasters) Not quite sure how the rest of the ride went, except that my heart was racing when the wagons pulled back into the start position. Florian mentioning that I have crushed every single bone in his hand and that he went deaf. I swear I was held captive on this ride for what seemed like hours, but rationally I know that was not possible.
Then we took a break, walked around and decided to go on another kiddy roller coaster. About half an hour later when my heart rate decided to settle to a more normal one, the guys manage to convince me that my horrible experience was due to the wooden wagons. It wasn't a smooth ride, jerky and not fun. So off we went on another kiddy coaster. Except this one was metal, had rails and has a few loopies.
All these excited kids were running up to this. I didn't see what all this fuss was all about, but hey, if they survive and they had fun, then why won't I? So off I went with all the courage and then some. Somewhere around the second loop it all went away. Florian came out more deaf, and this time his other hand had all bones crushed. At least I evened things out for him, didn't I?
I looked so pale when I came off the coaster, and proceeded to see the whole world colliding together. My legs felt like jelly...I just remember waking up to the thought "No more roller coasters. I am allergic to them"
The one good thing of this is, I faced my fear. And I have comfortably rid myself off of the mystery and gripping power they had over me. Now I can easily say "I can swear of roller coasters because they aren't for me, and not because I am fearful of them."
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The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.
Franklin D. Roosevelt (1882-1945) Thirty-second President of the USA.
Source: http://en.proverbia.net/
Fear is something that goes hand in hand with courage. I suppose one can break down facing fear into multiple steps: First, acknowledge the subject matter that I am fearing. Two, muster enough courage to face the fear. Three, follow through...and don't chicken out.
Usually I have Steps 1 and 2 down. I manage to hype myself up so much and am energized, and somehow somewhere half way through Step 3 I am kind of faltering. Sometimes the results can be quite rewarding when we come out on the other end all unscathed. On the other hand, the fear can infest itself and grow deeper roots within the person when the experience ends badly.
Take this for example:
I hate roller coasters. I hate how they make they throw me around, and how I lose the orientation from where up and down is. They literally make me puke after I get off. The last time I rode a roller coaster before this event was over 10 years ago. And the last time before then, maybe also 10 years.
So here we were all at Six Flags. I managed to convince Swen & Florian to wake at 630a, to drive down to come watch me run a 5K, that was hosted at the Six Flags ground. In return, we'd go to Six Flags after. So, boys being boys easily went for this deal. Who wouldn't want to play afterwards? To sweeten the deal I told them I would ride one roller coaster with them. Any one of their choosing. In hindsight, I should not have offered them such a big blank check, because days on out, they kept joking about making me ride King da Ka. So much of overcoming fear. I think I was rather worried...Seeing that coaster in person wasn't any better.
I tried to tell myself that roller coaster are fun. After all, why do so many people get on them? And then ride them over and over and over again (like my brother). And these structures have to be safe, otherwise they wouldn't be allowed in parks. We certify and inspect everything in the US, right? We care about safety and well-beings; or at least we care about avoiding lawsuits and damaged reputation...so I'm sure these are safe. So with all these thoughts racing through my head, I was accomplishing Step 2 quite well. Psyching myself up to all the reasons why I was being silly.
So my not so heartless friends said, let's go warm up. So went onto a kiddie roller coaster. HA! It was one of those little wagon wooden ones...no loopies... nothing. I remember telling Florian that he has to sit in the same wagon with me. So off it went, slowly at first. Chug chug...chug chug... and the first horrible drop...wooosh! (Ok call me a hypocrit, but I love riding those wooden log rides with water, because there is only one horrible drop and then it's all over, but I hate roller coasters) Not quite sure how the rest of the ride went, except that my heart was racing when the wagons pulled back into the start position. Florian mentioning that I have crushed every single bone in his hand and that he went deaf. I swear I was held captive on this ride for what seemed like hours, but rationally I know that was not possible.
Then we took a break, walked around and decided to go on another kiddy roller coaster. About half an hour later when my heart rate decided to settle to a more normal one, the guys manage to convince me that my horrible experience was due to the wooden wagons. It wasn't a smooth ride, jerky and not fun. So off we went on another kiddy coaster. Except this one was metal, had rails and has a few loopies.
All these excited kids were running up to this. I didn't see what all this fuss was all about, but hey, if they survive and they had fun, then why won't I? So off I went with all the courage and then some. Somewhere around the second loop it all went away. Florian came out more deaf, and this time his other hand had all bones crushed. At least I evened things out for him, didn't I?
I looked so pale when I came off the coaster, and proceeded to see the whole world colliding together. My legs felt like jelly...I just remember waking up to the thought "No more roller coasters. I am allergic to them"
The one good thing of this is, I faced my fear. And I have comfortably rid myself off of the mystery and gripping power they had over me. Now I can easily say "I can swear of roller coasters because they aren't for me, and not because I am fearful of them."
Friday, October 5, 2012
[The #30WriteNow October Writing Challenge] On Invisibility
Today's prompt, if we choose to use it, is Invisible. I forgot to look up what the prompt is, since I have been working wee into the night. And am shocked that it is almost 130a. I guess time to speed write...
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If someone stood up in a crowd
And raised his voice up way out loud
And waved his arm and shook his leg
You'd notice him
If someone in the movie show
Yelled "Fire in the second row
This whole place is a powder keg!"
You'd notice him
And even without clucking like a hen
Everyone gets noticed, now and then,
Unless, of course, that personage should be
Invisible, inconsequential me!
Cellophane
Mister Cellophane
Shoulda been my name
Mister Cellophane
'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there...
I tell ya
Cellophane
Mister Cellophane
Shoulda been my name
Mister Cellophane
'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there...
Suppose you was a little cat
Residin' in a person's flat
Who fed you fish and scratched your ears?
You'd notice him
Suppose you was a woman, wed
And sleepin' in a double bed
Beside one man, for seven years
You'd notice him
A human being's made of more than air
With all that bulk, you're bound to see him there
Unless that human bein' next to you
Is unimpressive, undistinguished
You know who...
Cellophane
Mister Cellophane
Shoulda been my name
Mister Cellophane
'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there...
I tell ya
Cellophane
Mister Cellophane
Shoulda been my name
Mister Cellophane
'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there
Never even know I'm there.
Hope I didn't take up too much of your time.
Source: http://www.lyricsondemand.com/soundtracks/c/chicagolyrics/mrcellophanelyrics.html
I still remember distinctly watching Chicago, the famous Broadway musical. Some of the songs I heard once and stuck with me for a lifetime. One of them is the "Mr. Cellophane" song. It was so brilliantly sung and acted out, it described in multiple levels of emotions what it means to be invisible. He just swayed back and forth with his hand in front of him, palms outward to the audience singing "Cellophane, Mister Cellophane Shoulda been my name."
I remember how ironic the song felt, but yet how empathetic I felt towards this character. Even after leaving the show, that little annoying twinge came back in the most unexpected moments: watching a child cry on a busy New York street, because she thought she had lost her parents; how a brilliant violinist was playing in the subway, but everyone just walked past him without a token or nod of appreciation. I wondered if they felt invisible.
After all, a person has basic needs towards feeling loved, appreciated and remaining relevant. It's a question that most of us face at one point or multiple points in life - am I relevant? do I matter? what's my purpose?
And when those questions are hard to answer, we become more self-conscious and can start doubting ourselves.
To take it one more step further, I ask myself what's my impact? How do I influence or make an impact within my team, my company? Or what kind of social impact do I make onto my family, friends, relationship? Or even society?
Except there is one key to impact and influence: gain visibility. It's the actual opposite (or negation) of invisibility.
That's all I have for now. I'll go chew on that for a bit. Maybe I will finish my thoughts out here in another post....but for now... Good Night!
_____________________________________________________________________
If someone stood up in a crowd
And raised his voice up way out loud
And waved his arm and shook his leg
You'd notice him
If someone in the movie show
Yelled "Fire in the second row
This whole place is a powder keg!"
You'd notice him
And even without clucking like a hen
Everyone gets noticed, now and then,
Unless, of course, that personage should be
Invisible, inconsequential me!
Cellophane
Mister Cellophane
Shoulda been my name
Mister Cellophane
'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there...
I tell ya
Cellophane
Mister Cellophane
Shoulda been my name
Mister Cellophane
'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there...
Suppose you was a little cat
Residin' in a person's flat
Who fed you fish and scratched your ears?
You'd notice him
Suppose you was a woman, wed
And sleepin' in a double bed
Beside one man, for seven years
You'd notice him
A human being's made of more than air
With all that bulk, you're bound to see him there
Unless that human bein' next to you
Is unimpressive, undistinguished
You know who...
Cellophane
Mister Cellophane
Shoulda been my name
Mister Cellophane
'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there...
I tell ya
Cellophane
Mister Cellophane
Shoulda been my name
Mister Cellophane
'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there
Never even know I'm there.
Hope I didn't take up too much of your time.
Source: http://www.lyricsondemand.com/soundtracks/c/chicagolyrics/mrcellophanelyrics.html
I still remember distinctly watching Chicago, the famous Broadway musical. Some of the songs I heard once and stuck with me for a lifetime. One of them is the "Mr. Cellophane" song. It was so brilliantly sung and acted out, it described in multiple levels of emotions what it means to be invisible. He just swayed back and forth with his hand in front of him, palms outward to the audience singing "Cellophane, Mister Cellophane Shoulda been my name."
I remember how ironic the song felt, but yet how empathetic I felt towards this character. Even after leaving the show, that little annoying twinge came back in the most unexpected moments: watching a child cry on a busy New York street, because she thought she had lost her parents; how a brilliant violinist was playing in the subway, but everyone just walked past him without a token or nod of appreciation. I wondered if they felt invisible.
After all, a person has basic needs towards feeling loved, appreciated and remaining relevant. It's a question that most of us face at one point or multiple points in life - am I relevant? do I matter? what's my purpose?
And when those questions are hard to answer, we become more self-conscious and can start doubting ourselves.
To take it one more step further, I ask myself what's my impact? How do I influence or make an impact within my team, my company? Or what kind of social impact do I make onto my family, friends, relationship? Or even society?
Except there is one key to impact and influence: gain visibility. It's the actual opposite (or negation) of invisibility.
That's all I have for now. I'll go chew on that for a bit. Maybe I will finish my thoughts out here in another post....but for now... Good Night!
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
[The #30WriteNow October Writing Challenge] On Hunger
Today's prompt, if we choose to use it, is Hunger. I'm shooting for 3 out of 3...Not sure where I will go with this prompt, but let's see.
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hun·ger/ˈhÉ™NGgÉ™r/
I guess I wasn't sure where to start with this, so I went to look the definition up.
So here's a fact with me... I get cranky when I get hungry. I get headaches, feel lousy, and get really, Real.ly cranky. Food is tied to very strong emotions. Florian and I had numerous conversations if food was a cumbersome routine or symphony experience of the five senses. If a pill was invented that could keep a person nourished and not hungry, Florian would opt for that version. I would cry. It is definitely an efficient way to go about your day. The amount of free time that would open up, but I would not want it that way.
I love shopping at super markets. I love picking fresh produce, picking them out, rotating them in my hand, smelling and seeing the vibrant colors. I relish in the idea of trying new ingredients; it's like going on an adventure and not knowing how it will turn out.
My deep relationship with food comes from the way our family treated food and dinner time. My parents instilled an appreciating for food and gratefulness never to experience hunger.
Not everyone is as fortunate. It's evident in the soup kitchens and food banks that are everywhere across the country. There are always heart-breaking stories of children trying to sneak out their lunch, because they wanted to bring a roll back for their sibling, who is hungry. But the teachers have a job to make sure that they eat their one hot meal completely. Heart-wrenching.
And these are kids in a neighborhood less than 20 minutes away from where I live. It's a surreal picture: a wealthy middle to upper class neighborhood border by a low income neighborhood. The contrast is quite drastic and all separated by one thing: hunger.
And the worst part is that people don't choose this.
_____________________________________________________________________
hun·ger/ˈhÉ™NGgÉ™r/
| Noun: |
|
I guess I wasn't sure where to start with this, so I went to look the definition up.
So here's a fact with me... I get cranky when I get hungry. I get headaches, feel lousy, and get really, Real.ly cranky. Food is tied to very strong emotions. Florian and I had numerous conversations if food was a cumbersome routine or symphony experience of the five senses. If a pill was invented that could keep a person nourished and not hungry, Florian would opt for that version. I would cry. It is definitely an efficient way to go about your day. The amount of free time that would open up, but I would not want it that way.
I love shopping at super markets. I love picking fresh produce, picking them out, rotating them in my hand, smelling and seeing the vibrant colors. I relish in the idea of trying new ingredients; it's like going on an adventure and not knowing how it will turn out.
My deep relationship with food comes from the way our family treated food and dinner time. My parents instilled an appreciating for food and gratefulness never to experience hunger.
Not everyone is as fortunate. It's evident in the soup kitchens and food banks that are everywhere across the country. There are always heart-breaking stories of children trying to sneak out their lunch, because they wanted to bring a roll back for their sibling, who is hungry. But the teachers have a job to make sure that they eat their one hot meal completely. Heart-wrenching.
And these are kids in a neighborhood less than 20 minutes away from where I live. It's a surreal picture: a wealthy middle to upper class neighborhood border by a low income neighborhood. The contrast is quite drastic and all separated by one thing: hunger.
And the worst part is that people don't choose this.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
[The #30WriteNow October Writing Challenge] Truth is...
Today's prompt, if we choose to use it, is Truth. I didn't have a very "out of the ordinary" idea or day to inspire "out of the ordinary" thinking, so I'm going to just write on and see where this takes me... Feel free to abort if you get bored ;)
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Truth is...so easy, but yet so difficult. It's so black & white, yet so gray. Truth is solid as a rock, steadfast, but yet it keeps moving. Funny how a little five-letter word can be so hard to describe.
We were asked to memorize the Declaration of Independence, and this line always stuck out to me
But let's just step back a bit. Truth is a concept we are taught at a very young age. If mum asked "Did you eat that cookie," I know she wanted me to spit out the truth. Never mind the fact that I had a half-guilty look, smeared chocolate across the mouth, sticky fingers and crumbs all over my wee t-shirt to proof the crime. Evidence? What's that? We were too young to piece it together. So when mum keeps asking the same question until I cave and finally nod, it reinforces that our parents must be super smart and all-knowing. Never ever lie to parents - another "truth" I was taught in household. It's disrespectful, shameful, dishonest, disgraceful and just plain bad. And when you're a child that wants to please her parents (still do to some extent!) then it's unacceptable to lie to them. We equate truth to factual events that happen and we equate truth telling to pleasing our parents, as well as learning "it's a good thing."
Six or so years later, I had a sibling! This is where truth gets fuzzier. Of course I had to learn that I couldn't quite hoodwink my way through everything too early on. After all, my brother had to be old enough to eat a cookie or have hte legs to walk him to the crime scene. So if mum asked if I ate a cookie, I would sheepishly deflect and answer "Ren-An ate a cookie." After all, looking at the facts, that is what happen. And by this time I had the know-how to wipe off the crumbs (here you go, little bro) and wipe off my fingers (Here hold this paper towel, lil bro) So what if I did eat one or two myself while persuading my little, innocent brother to join me in my act of crime? Deflecting and telling one half of the truth will get me off the hook, right? Deflect, deflect, deflect ... i'm still telling factual events here. So while my mum is reprimanding my brother and me, but more so my brother... cogs start turning. A kid learns new powers -- the power to bend things. And a new type of truth is born: white lies are kinda almost truths. And the grey begins...We manage to convince ourselves that we still told the truth, even if it means omitting a few crucial facts.
Ok, let's fast forward to those more fuzzy logic...
The worst parts are when people start caring about your opinion but ask this of you: "Tell me the truth, do you like this dress on me?" When you know your best friend saved hard to get this dress by working after school and she's been swooning months over it, then comes out strutting her stuff in this dress that just makes her look like a glittery christmas ornament. What if her eyes are all lit up with pride & "I told you I can do this" look...I am not heartless. So can I just bend the truth or just bite down on my tongue? If she was my bestest friend I would try to muster up all the courage inside of me and let her down easy. After all, I rather her look stunning then make a fool out of herself on her date. But what if it's a person in passing and you could make their day by just nodding and smiling? Does everything have to be so blatant truth if it's hurtful?
So that's a lot of chewing and mulling of us to do ... Where do you stand on the whole truth thing? Never told a lie? Told a few white lies? Or told a horrible lie that will get you fired or disowned from your family? No details about the lie (this is not a confessional), we're just here to discuss thoughts on truth and if it's black & white for you or gray...
_____________________________________________________________________
Truth is...so easy, but yet so difficult. It's so black & white, yet so gray. Truth is solid as a rock, steadfast, but yet it keeps moving. Funny how a little five-letter word can be so hard to describe.
We were asked to memorize the Declaration of Independence, and this line always stuck out to me
"we hold these truths to be self-eivdent"I had no idea what it really meant. Or how about the Truth campaign for anti-smoking? Remember those? Truth, Truth every where...
But let's just step back a bit. Truth is a concept we are taught at a very young age. If mum asked "Did you eat that cookie," I know she wanted me to spit out the truth. Never mind the fact that I had a half-guilty look, smeared chocolate across the mouth, sticky fingers and crumbs all over my wee t-shirt to proof the crime. Evidence? What's that? We were too young to piece it together. So when mum keeps asking the same question until I cave and finally nod, it reinforces that our parents must be super smart and all-knowing. Never ever lie to parents - another "truth" I was taught in household. It's disrespectful, shameful, dishonest, disgraceful and just plain bad. And when you're a child that wants to please her parents (still do to some extent!) then it's unacceptable to lie to them. We equate truth to factual events that happen and we equate truth telling to pleasing our parents, as well as learning "it's a good thing."
Six or so years later, I had a sibling! This is where truth gets fuzzier. Of course I had to learn that I couldn't quite hoodwink my way through everything too early on. After all, my brother had to be old enough to eat a cookie or have hte legs to walk him to the crime scene. So if mum asked if I ate a cookie, I would sheepishly deflect and answer "Ren-An ate a cookie." After all, looking at the facts, that is what happen. And by this time I had the know-how to wipe off the crumbs (here you go, little bro) and wipe off my fingers (Here hold this paper towel, lil bro) So what if I did eat one or two myself while persuading my little, innocent brother to join me in my act of crime? Deflecting and telling one half of the truth will get me off the hook, right? Deflect, deflect, deflect ... i'm still telling factual events here. So while my mum is reprimanding my brother and me, but more so my brother... cogs start turning. A kid learns new powers -- the power to bend things. And a new type of truth is born: white lies are kinda almost truths. And the grey begins...We manage to convince ourselves that we still told the truth, even if it means omitting a few crucial facts.
Ok, let's fast forward to those more fuzzy logic...
The worst parts are when people start caring about your opinion but ask this of you: "Tell me the truth, do you like this dress on me?" When you know your best friend saved hard to get this dress by working after school and she's been swooning months over it, then comes out strutting her stuff in this dress that just makes her look like a glittery christmas ornament. What if her eyes are all lit up with pride & "I told you I can do this" look...I am not heartless. So can I just bend the truth or just bite down on my tongue? If she was my bestest friend I would try to muster up all the courage inside of me and let her down easy. After all, I rather her look stunning then make a fool out of herself on her date. But what if it's a person in passing and you could make their day by just nodding and smiling? Does everything have to be so blatant truth if it's hurtful?
So that's a lot of chewing and mulling of us to do ... Where do you stand on the whole truth thing? Never told a lie? Told a few white lies? Or told a horrible lie that will get you fired or disowned from your family? No details about the lie (this is not a confessional), we're just here to discuss thoughts on truth and if it's black & white for you or gray...
Monday, October 1, 2012
[The #30WriteNow October Writing Challenge] On Self-Esteem
So I stumbled across this "Just Write" challenge via a fiery & passionate friend. I follow her twitter feed and she has a lot to say...Usually I just read & listen, nod slowly while I process, and nod some more. Yep, she's one passionate writer and one that I don't get around to reading as much as I would like to.
So when I stumbled across this #30WriteNow challenge that she put out there, I thought why not? It's hosted by Nicole Blades and Bassey and it sounded like a great way to stretch myself. I haven't really written anything creative or persuasive since oh maybe freshmen year in college? And I'm not telling you how many years ago that is...
When it comes to writing, I write a lot of requirements, specifications, technical mumbo jumbo. The same stuff that I detest reading... I know, the irony...Don't choke on your chuckle...Go ahead, let it out!
So here is my attempt in tapping into that creative side that's dusty and dormant...The prompt today is Courage and I am taking a spin on it...
_____________________________________________________________________
"Hello?"
Those words echoed through the dark, cold cave rather eerily. It was barely audible, almost a whisper, but the sound was unmistakably from a young girl, no more than eight years old, wondering where she was. The cavern was engulfed in darkness, so that she couldn't see her hand in front of her. She felt lost. If she walked in circles, she could not tell. If only she could reach out and touch the side of the cave and just inch along, but the wall never appeared. It always seemed just beyond her fingertips. Just one huge cavern of dark that never ended.
In anticipation she held her breath; maybe there was someone else here, or another living being. If only there was a sign of a mouse scuttling by, or a bat swooping through...but it was just dark - a vast vacuum of lonely.
Exhausted and scared, she finally sat down. The cold, rocky ground sent a shiver up her spine. If only she had a way to make fire; if only she had a way to warm her ice-cold fingers; if only her friends or her family would come rescue her; if only...oh - if only so many things...
Sunlight came crashing through the blinds, flooding the bedroom with golden rays of warmth marking a new day. The alarm clock went off, while E mechanically hit the snooze button. Laying awake, E counted the seconds that would slowly pass until she hit 300...the mark of when the alarm would sound again. As if on auto-pilot, E put on her suit, straightened her hair, and gave her whole assemble one more check in the mirror.
After taking the train into the city, she finally got off her stop and walked into a huge, black-marbled building...When the receptionist looked up quizzically at E, all she could muster was a "Hello?"
So when I stumbled across this #30WriteNow challenge that she put out there, I thought why not? It's hosted by Nicole Blades and Bassey and it sounded like a great way to stretch myself. I haven't really written anything creative or persuasive since oh maybe freshmen year in college? And I'm not telling you how many years ago that is...
When it comes to writing, I write a lot of requirements, specifications, technical mumbo jumbo. The same stuff that I detest reading... I know, the irony...Don't choke on your chuckle...Go ahead, let it out!
So here is my attempt in tapping into that creative side that's dusty and dormant...The prompt today is Courage and I am taking a spin on it...
_____________________________________________________________________
"Hello?"
Those words echoed through the dark, cold cave rather eerily. It was barely audible, almost a whisper, but the sound was unmistakably from a young girl, no more than eight years old, wondering where she was. The cavern was engulfed in darkness, so that she couldn't see her hand in front of her. She felt lost. If she walked in circles, she could not tell. If only she could reach out and touch the side of the cave and just inch along, but the wall never appeared. It always seemed just beyond her fingertips. Just one huge cavern of dark that never ended.
In anticipation she held her breath; maybe there was someone else here, or another living being. If only there was a sign of a mouse scuttling by, or a bat swooping through...but it was just dark - a vast vacuum of lonely.
Exhausted and scared, she finally sat down. The cold, rocky ground sent a shiver up her spine. If only she had a way to make fire; if only she had a way to warm her ice-cold fingers; if only her friends or her family would come rescue her; if only...oh - if only so many things...
Sunlight came crashing through the blinds, flooding the bedroom with golden rays of warmth marking a new day. The alarm clock went off, while E mechanically hit the snooze button. Laying awake, E counted the seconds that would slowly pass until she hit 300...the mark of when the alarm would sound again. As if on auto-pilot, E put on her suit, straightened her hair, and gave her whole assemble one more check in the mirror.
After taking the train into the city, she finally got off her stop and walked into a huge, black-marbled building...When the receptionist looked up quizzically at E, all she could muster was a "Hello?"
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