Why are we surprised when our personal truth offends someone?
I find that the truth stands alone. Not that it is lonely; but that it has a universal quality which can be recognized once it is breathed in, settled down, and asked to stay for awhile. And, the beautiful thing about truth is it doesn't belong to anyone. It is here to serve. The only matter at hand is whether someone chooses to invite it in and share a moment with it, or not.
The truth changes things.
A piece of truth undercuts bullshit like nothing else. I find many people don't like to change things. They want their comfortable cloud of existence to remain secure to all storms on the horizon. They can't share a moment with truth because it would rock something so deep within them they fear they may not recover. They may even have to feel humiliated for believing a lie for so long. They fear that the humiliation may even kill them.
Is that so scary that you would rather live a lie?
I have had bigoted, homophobic, murderous thoughts. Admitting this is easy for me because I know they came from somewhere and are just thoughts. They are not of me. To know this is personal freedom beyond all measures because I don't have to pretend for anyone. I can see something I consider awful pop up in my head and go ewww, that just doesn't sit right with me. I can take it out to examine it, traipse it out for discussion, meditate on it, share it with my therapist if I feel stuck, and then discard any ugliness I don't want hanging around. It remains a tangent which never digested but just came by for a visit. If I ignore it, if I ignore you and your truth, well then life seems a bit more hollow to me.
The alternative seems too comfortable.
A life where everything fits neatly all the time, where there truth is concrete and stagnant, may look good on the surface, but I wonder what is fanning out through that person's guts, regurgitating in a way that will develop into a cancer and actually kill them before they are willing to take a look at it. How many different ways can we go through life trying not to be offended?
Thank you for offending me.
Not in the fuck you bitch kind of offensive way, not blatant, I am a person who likes a level of personal respect, but in the way which pokes at my unfounded beliefs and allows me to wrestle with ideas which can become part of the bedrock of who I am or pass on through to be excreted out like a big old poo. Yes, I just said poo. If you are speaking the truth, then you have evolved to a place where I haven't, and it is a great blessing that I can learn from you.
Truth takes time.
Truth comes in chunks, and when I hear it, I know it. It shakes me up a little, slaps me around, and says time to wake up a little more. If it came at me in big heaping spoonfuls I think I would sink. The weight of all the misgivings which I have labored under would feel like an anchor tied to my ankle. Instead, I find life shoots little pellets of truth over the bow of my consciousness, just enough to poke at my soft spots which need a little firming up. I am grateful for this - the challenge and the resulting evolution.
So, if I offend you, you can thank me later.