Smoke and mirrors

nature outside insect macro
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“OH!  Stupid social media!”  I exclaimed when I looked at the clock. I had plenty of time to ready myself for work when I opened facebook but somehow it’s voracious appetite had eaten too much of my time. I now had 20 minutes to climb in the shower, dress, put my make-up on and drive one mile to work. I ran into the dark bathroom, shedding clothing as I ran. I dropped them on the floor and reached in to turn the water on so that it could warm as I reached for a towel. I twisted the handle to hot and pulled my hand out to get the towel. I screamed. Something large had attached itself to my hand. Frantically, I danced to the tune I was screaming. It took a few seconds to stop dancing, even *after* I discovered that the culprit that viciously attacked me was a headband that Greyson, my six-year-old grandson had hung on the shower. I specifically remembered who had it because I mentioned that he should return it to his mother when he was through with it only moments before.

I scolded myself! “Silly girl, if you would have turned on the light, you could have seen better! You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble.”

So this is what precipitated my thoughts for the morning. It was simple. Turn on a light to search for truth.  A profound question presented itself to me. “What is the truth?”

blue and white smoke digital wallpaper
Photo by Rafael Guajardo on Pexels.com   

Truth has become as elusive as the famed unicorn. No one knows how to find it.  We do a search on google and think we have received divine interpretation, only to remember that someone wrote that definition too. Dare we believe even that?

We live in a world of smoke and mirrors. Hollywood glamorizes life to the point that people are not content with what they have, but crave the cushy life. The political arena picks and chooses whichever side they want to be on that will benefit them, or their friends, the most. Then, if it is more profitable, they switch sides. They have an uncanny ability to argue their new stance with fervency and passion, all the while hoping that their delivery was so good that it erased the memories of those that heard them defend their opposite stance the first time.

When I was younger, the truth was measured in black and white, except for little white lies. Some deemed that those could still be white.  The worst lies were the big fat lies. And then it began. It was just a drop of darkness here and there added to the pristine truth. Slowly but surely, with sleight of hands, the white was diluted again.  It wasn’t added so dramatically that one could really tell that it had changed, so each drop became the new acceptable. Through the years, the blinding white truth morphed into a murky color so that even a trained eye would have difficulty identifying the wrong. The new grey matter is so much more palatable now. 

I’m an old woman now. Even though I respect everyone’s truth as they see it,  I miss my version of the truth.

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