Written by Carioca Da Gema
Truth is crucial for our lives to remain real. It is the solid foundation where we built everything on it. But yet, we inflate it with fiction.
We justify our necessary fibs in many ways:
To achieve better social status many will fabricate reality if the truth places them in a bad light.
We lie to our elderly to not worry them.
At the end of a hectic day, while you are passed out on your couch, gathering strength to finally get to bed, and your child asks you about ‘the birds & the bees’, you will most likely avoid the long dragged-out truth and get to bed.
We constantly battle disinformation at work, gossip from neighbors, and propaganda from our trusted news networks.
Lying is a flowing common behavior with real effects.
The truth is like a book, has limited pages, size, weight, and most importantly, stays put.
Lies are like an octopus that has grown arms at will. The octopus body (is the liar), and the arms are each lie told. The arms keep extending in many directions. The liar cannot grab it, nor stop it, and in the meanwhile, the book (or the truth) rests undisturbed on the shelf waiting for the next search.
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Ohh, this, this yes@ made me think 🤔
I often wonder, as someone who attempts to utilize facts, evidence and the like in my life…how often do we humans even really know ourselves? And. If we do not know ourselves, how can we know truth?
🥰
Apologies, this post got my thinker running