For one who is dear to me.

A revelation, a truth told, and the earth shifts a bit on its axis.  Rising up come the hurts, the confusion, the relief, the questions, the reassurances, the sense that things have irrevocably changed.

Who are we, if we do not rise to the challenge of courageous truth-telling?  What people do we become when we choose to repress the truth of our lives, or conversely, to express it?  The cost can be so staggeringly high, either way.

Far be it for me to presume to advise others on what is right action.  How well I know that there are few clear-cut answers or guidelines for how to behave, how to relate, in this world.  The nuances, the factors, the considerations are endless.  Nevertheless, I feel compelled to affirm that telling the truth, even when it hurts, even when the consequences are unclear, even (or especially) when it’s difficult, is an act of great love, undergirded with benevolence.

When we dwell in authenticity, when we overcome the barriers of secrecy or shame or just plain fear of causing pain, when we make that commitment to ourselves and everyone around us, to be truthful, to not live a lie, despite all the risk of censure and misunderstanding, we become free.  We take our discernment and our souls in our hands and declare, with great tenderness, I will stand by this.  I know what and whom I love.  I can rest in the guidance of this truth.

May we recognize the bravery all around us as truths are spoken aloud, and offer our unconditional love in response.