Speak your truth . . . or as much of it as you want to share

The invocation from my mentor and long-time friend as he would convene the opening evening of personal growth group gatherings. Usually multi-day ‘intensives’ that would see a dozen or so of us collect in various venues over the years, attending as our time and needs would allow and dictate. Some vets, some ‘newbies’. All with our stories in search of a forum to share and process. Less looking for answers — which we trusted and knew would emerge — more, the opportunity to say aloud and clarify an evolving narrative.

Truth has become something of an obsession in recent times. All the more so as its antitheses have gained more and more traction. Call them what you will — lies, ‘alternate facts’, fake news, fictions, conspiracy ‘theories’ — there has been a relentless erosion of, an assault on. . . truth. Regan’s imperative, trust but verify, continues to be figural. The challenge increasingly is how and where?

I suppose, naively, I’ve tended to think of truth as an absolute. Something is either true. . . or it isn’t. Right . . . or wrong. A little reflection, of course, puts pay to that fantasy in short order. What I have more difficulty acknowledging is that this certainty may not exist — anywhere. If we could just drill down, discard the BS, there it would be. Constant, unchanging. . . absolute. Some magical place where two plus two will always equal four. The point of reference that allows one to measure just how far one has ventured off course; offering the option of a correction, a moral reset button.

My disabuse has been a gradual process. The past half decade, needless to say, has provided a turbo boost. Prevarication has first become ‘main stream’, then legitimized; now, increasingly embraced as, well, truth. Lying is no longer the purview of spies, psychopaths, internet trolls, and politicians.

As a psychologist, I’ve occupied a space that fundamentally is built on ‘evidence’ — the practice of testing an approach, ultimately a theory that is predicated on the reliable, the replicable until it wears the mantle of ‘fact’ — truth, as it were. Re-run the same, controlled experiment a sufficient number of times, obtain the same result and, presto, we have truth. Or at least as close as a 95% confidence interval will statistically support.

Where things have begun to wobble is that ‘evidence-based’ has increasingly become a tag line, a ‘good housekeeping seal’ that gets stamped on all manner of opinion and perspective; effectively short-cutting, short circuiting the hard fought for rigour of my sacred scientific method. One now believes what one wants to believe, seeks out ‘support’ for a position, and then propagates . . . and propagates all the way to a belief.

Back to John and Ron (that would be said mentor and Number 40). Is it possible that we are needing to establish a different point of reference. Perhaps it’s time to abandon the absolute and reaffirm the relative. We may just have passed a point of no return, crossed a threshold where no amount of fact, theory testing, indeed science will return us to the sacred sum of 4. Just possibly this ‘post-truth’ Rosetta Stone is our personal narrative.

As straight forward, self-evident. and singular as one’s own story may seem to be, I’ve come to understand that, like our shape-shifting truth, there are versions — even within the individual. Equally, another statement of the obvious is that these stories change, morph, evolve.

In his teachings and writings, John drew on many sources. He was fond of the image of a ‘community of selves’, acknowledging that we are all ‘multiples’, housing sometimes competing, at times conflicting agendas. We behave, to our peril, by failing to give voice, consideration to these ‘opinions’, preferences. A decision then becomes a matter of conversation, dialogue. One’s ‘personal truth’ is more about discussion, alternate perspective taking; less about convincing, arbitrariness, controlling, dominating, rationalizing. All within the ‘community self’, within the individual.

Such conversations almost always require space, room to air things out; clarity and courage, to hear what the ‘other selves’ have to say; and finally, non-judgmental witnessing. A long time devotee of Taoist wisdom, John’s view was that, with these conditions in play, ‘the way’ (Tao) will emerge.

Perhaps the work then is more about asking different questions. Not ‘is this the truth?’ More ‘is this my truth?’ ‘Who am I now?’ As outside observers, our role then becomes one of honouring this process, welcoming the appearance of a ‘new truth’ — be it ours . . . or no. The individual bears the responsibility of ensuring that this ‘new narrative’ is authentic, genuine. without malice or agenda.

Two thoughts. The first is from George Leonard, sometime writer, editor, and teacher — perhaps best known as cofounder of the Esalen Institute, a centre for the study and practice of alternate therapies, founded on the principles of Human Potential.

When confronted by any attack or problematic incoming energy, the Aikidoist doesn’t strike, push back, pull, or dodge, but rather enters and blends. That is, he or she moves toward the incoming energy and then, at the last instant, slightly off the line of attack, turning so as to look momentarily at the situation from the attacker’s viewpoint. From this position, many possibilities exist, including a good chance of reconciliation.

The second is a seminal principle from the teachings of Shinzen Young, an established mindfulness teacher and author. His writings are largely centred on the application of meditative interventions in the management of and co-existence with chronic pain. Young has constructed an equation that, in its elegance, embodies an essential truth about relationship in general.

S = P x R

A bit like E = MC2, some elaboration might be needed: Suffering = Pain x Resistance — with the emphasis on the R, Resistance. Push back, opposition . . . as an automatic and immediate response. Like Leonard, Young is underscoring the self-evident: that there are options, there are ways of mitigating, reducing our ‘pain’ — literal and metaphoric. We simply pause on the push back. In essence, taking the ‘R’ out of ‘suffer’. The felt discomfort is not eliminated. But neither is it amplified, unnecessarily, often arbitrarily, by the results of our own, ego-driven actions.

Sadly, George and Shinzen seem to be beating a counter-intuitive drum. We’re evidently programmed not to pause and reflect, observe and consider, conciliate and cooperate when challenged. We’re primordially preloaded to strike or skedaddle. Nowadays, more commonly, the former. Absent any middle ground.

My wife and I currently live in what is euphemistically called ‘community’. Loosely, this is a collection of GITs (geriatrics in training) with a healthy (or maybe not so) sprinkling of those that have passed the bar — into full blown geriatricity. Our compadres have paid their dues and been provided their share of entitlement stamps — by virtue of having been contributing and generally successful members of various business and professional circles. In short, a respected and worthy lot, just on the south side of best before dates. Not so far over the line that the savour of power and influence is lost; but far enough to be left more with the memory than the substance.

The container for said community is a stylish, twelve storey condominium on the edge of Lake Ontario. Now three and a half decades young, the building’s frayed collar and shiny elbows are starting to show; necessitating some significant (and costly) refurbishments. The expectation, for both building and occupants, that of an easy ride into complacent sunset years, has been drawn up a bit short. And, with a new sheriff in town (aka, a smart, young, property manager with an economics degree and more than a flicker of OCD), some hard truths are being introduced.

Perhaps it should come as no surprise that, with imposition of said truths, sides have been quickly drawn up, colours shown and flown. We’ve all been round the course a sufficient number of times that (virtually) no one has entrenched in a ‘no way!’ posture. Life has taught that sticking out one’s lower lip and flatly refusing is not an option.

That said, a distinctive Hatfield and McCoy tenor has emerged; albeit expressed in diminished ways. A loss of control is no more palatable in this ‘community’ — than being told to pony up a bunch of cash. And so the great divide began (or perhaps was already there, just hiding in the wings). And that critical variable in Young’s equation, the multiplier ‘R’ rears its discordant head.

The decorating committee is pared from five to three to two. The carpet that no one wanted (save the Hatfields) is ‘selected’, arbitrarily — once the resistance is banished. The result: variously described as army fatigues, yogurt left too long in the fridge, or a dog’s comment on a poorly digested breakfast. In the interest of ‘the hotel look’, seasonal door decorations are banned. Pitched battles over a tenant’s access to ‘common elements’ trigger epithets from octogenarians roused from torpor and hurled over Zoom airwaves (is that still a term?) — before nodding off again. Petitions are circulated. Mutterings of rebellion animate quiet chats in the recycle room. Passive aggression is rampant. And ‘our side of the street’ defines one’s allegiance. Entitled impotence is evidently a force to be reckoned with.

But I may have digressed. The compulsion to oppose has become a universal ‘tic’. A reflex that informs most every aspect of human interaction. To allow, to pause, to ‘sit with’ and consider and reflect continue as options. But evidently ones that are synonymous with a surrendering of ‘one’s rights’, a relinquishing of control (which may never have been present in the first place, more delusion than reality — and certainly a choice that flies frequently in the face of common sense and even self-preservation). Our institutions (if it’s fair to even identify them as such) have increasingly become about domination and holding power. Getting one’s way. Less about ‘community’, compassion, and the common good. Debate is healthy. Derision, dismissal, domination are not. Perhaps time to quote another John: ‘All we are saying, is give peace a chance’.

Here’s a disturbing ‘fact’:

Facts are a small part of the truth. Much more important than the facts is the interpretation people give to the facts.
Janice Stein, Munk School of Global Affairs and Public Policy, U of T

The Toronto Star’s announcement yesterday, signalled the launch of its fact-checking oversight of federal election candidates’ claims and pronouncements. The article went on to cite Ms. Stein:

Politicians need to be motivational, need to mobilize people to do things. . . and sometimes that means shaping the narrative to work in their favour; [acknowledging that] post-truth politics [in America]. . . have made it easier for leaders to claim their own supposed ‘version’ of the facts.

My, my, my! I love prepending pretty much anything with a ‘post-’. It somehow makes it all sound so immediate, so now, leaving its predecessor to eat dust.

Having become all too familiar with the fountain head of ‘alternative facts’ over the past five years in the political arena, I was moved to consider just how universal this whole spun process seems to be. Assert something with sufficient authority and confidence, in the (immediate) absence of corrective reference, and presto. . . you have a ‘new truth’. Sprinkle liberally with social media, garnish with a bit of drama and gossip, let ‘proof’ in a warm, dark place over night (any old troll’s basement with an internet connection should do it) . . . and you have a freshly baked (or more properly, half-baked) loaf of ‘truth’.

The other piece of the Stein interview, I expect when she sensed that she may have swung a bit wide and was scrambling to correct her orbital wobble, was that ‘despite the limited power of facts, . . our democracy cannot survive without them. They’re essential for reasoned debate and worth fighting for’. I’m not sure that’s particularly reassuring. When we preface something with a ‘limited power’ rider, it does tend to undermine trust in the rest of the statement. But, in the spirit of this ramble so far, it does reflect an obvious ‘truth’.

Take Anthony Fauci for example. His relentless pleas to ‘follow the science’ (the facts) have fallen on deaf ears. He has implored any and all (above the age of 12 anyway), to get vaccinated. He has backed his pleas with the dire statistics that show what happens when one ignores science. You die! Still he is roundly challenged, even vilified, by the ‘post-truthers’ who prefer their ‘version of the facts’. This would be somewhere around 30% of his target audience.

And we’re not just talking politicians. No one is particularly surprised when a member of that group exercises his or her ‘binoral’ rights and privileges — aka, talking out of both sides of one’s mouth.

Yesterday as well (not an overly good day for ‘un-spun versions’ on a number of fronts), I found myself sitting with a small, socially distanced, contemplative group of parishioners. Our local Anglican church had re-opened its doors to the ‘real, face-to-face deal’ after many months of Zooming and streaming. This was an early morning, bare bones Eucharist which means it’s as close as we Canadians come to engaging a four centuries old practice. No music, no hymns. Just words. Time for reflection, reaffirmation. With my dozen or so companions, I recited aloud, in much the same archaic language, those elements that were voiced by adherents some four hundred years ago. And, in those quiet moments, as often happens, I was compelled to examine an essential paradox that surfaces for me. These words were a literal statement of belief, commitment, intention, even confession that, when taken literally, attach to an absolute, a fact, if you will.

If I allow myself to stay in the mystery and the emotional pull of the moment, stay in the ritual, I remain insulated from the myriad ‘truths’ that lobby against a literal acceptance of what we were all quietly intoning. The forty minutes works, becoming a meditation that simply calms and resets.

Nevertheless, I am reminded that this remains a version of a (possible) truth. A story created to an end and for a purpose. (Albeit a much less cynical and shamelessly transparent fiction than one finds in the political forum.) A story acceptable only when read as metaphor and ritual — especially when set up against those pesky little ‘facts’ (like the fossil record). One that came out of a need for an interpretation that suited the particular agendas of a particular era. Henry created the Church of England to get a divorce. Luther nailed his ninety-five points to a chapel door to piss off the papacy. Stories. . .

All this seems to beg the question: How do you solve a problem like Post-truth (or Maria, if you’re writing song lyrics)? I suppose fact-checking provides a bit of satisfaction — but frankly that’s a solution that seems to have a point of diminishing returns. Trump’s 10,000th lie was no less heinous than his 10th — but no one, by that time, seemed to even much care; and the adherents were no more persuaded by the facts. Creationists are still committed to a 5000 year old earth. The ‘Truthers’ will continue to pedal conspiracy theories. So go for it Toronto Star, if it sells newspapers.

Or perhaps, if I can presume to extend Ms. Stein’s self-correction, something radical like critical thought could be an option. Reversion to fact, rational discussion, debate, ‘slow thinking’ (I’m still beating that drum), eyes wide open (and not mind slammed shut) might allow me to continue to meditate on some early Sunday mornings — without having to reconcile the irreconcilable. I can have my truth(s) and . . .