Impeccable-ish with My Word

For most of my life, I’ve held the view that I am an honest man. And generally speaking, I feel pretty honest. By most social standards I probably am, but I’m not sure that bar is altogether too high.

Recently it has become blazingly clear to me the degree to which I have only been Impeccable-ish with my word…at best.

I have allowed for wiggle room. I’ve excused partial truths and intentional omissions as a matter of social convenience, telling myself that these aren’t full-out lies and that the ends have justified the means. When in true truth, they have simply served my own self-interest, greed and pleasure.

And to be more honest still, they have been fueled by fear. My fear that to express that which is actually subjectively True will cost me what I know of as ‘my life.’ (And I can’t say that fear isn’t totally justified.)

Though I am far from the first person to feel this (in fact I feel like a bit of a late-bloomer to this piece) it is still of personal significance.

I have come to see that the extent of my willingness to allow for wiggle room around the Truth is also the extent of my willingness to cause pain. For myself and others. I have been fearful to be with the impact of my full Truth. I have been afraid you will reject me. I have been afraid that I will hurt you and that you will hurt me. And so I have manipulated that which is True in me. Not always so overtly, it can be quite subtle. Perhaps you already knew this. Some of my closest confidantes have called this my “polish.” (Even this writing has some on it, not totally raw, pure.)

As my attention turns to this dirty habit, I am disturbed by the level of deceit I encounter. And while I am not lacking in telling blatant untruths about myself (E. g. I actually don’t know that show/movie/book/band you’re referencing), it is the degree to which I have omitted Truth to preserve my self-image (E. g. I’m going to keep pretending that I don’t think I’m better than you) that is causing most pain now.

I want you to like me, see me as a good person. More than that actually, I want you to see me as supremely special. I want even our chance encounter to be the kind of thing you and your family talk about around the dinner table every year at Thanksgiving. Still feeling some trace amount of joy and magic from that sole interaction we had many moons ago.

And this feels beyond vanity. It feels like a survival instinct. I don’t want to get kicked out of the club. I don’t want to be left outside the castle gates. I don’t want to taint my character to the degree that you refuse to be associated with me.

But as my awareness shifts, I am actually perceiving the little lies, the small deceits, the clever languaging, the infinite ways I curate, embellish and censor my expression to avoid rejection as a literal poison I’ve been ingesting. It’s too late to prevent the damage done. But in order to heal, I have to first acknowledge that there is a poison and then stop pouring it into my veins.

I remember the first time I lied. Or I remember the first time I was conscious of lying and getting caught. I was probably six. I saw twenty-five dollars sitting on the counter in our family bathroom and I looked around, didn’t see anyone, and took it. I hid it under my bed.

Then I found out we were going to Chuck ‘E’ Cheese that afternoon so I grabbed the cash and brought it with me. I went to the token machine like a rich man to get what seemed like an infinite number of tokens when my nanny asked where I got a $25 from, as she had lost track of exactly that amount of cash earlier in the day. I panicked and told her it was an allowance I’d received for doing chores. I could tell she wasn’t buying it, and she eventually asked if she could hold on to it for me. I was bummed, but ended up playing for hours and kinda forgot about it.

That night my parents called me downstairs after they put my sisters to bed and asked me about the money. I was terrified. I’d been found out. I don’t know what I said, but I am pretty sure I burst into tears. I was scared, embarrassed, angry. They were upset and let me know why it was wrong, but eventually forgave me.

Me at approximately the age I became a thief.

While it’s almost cute in hindsight to think about a young boy’s naive attempt to get away with theft, there is nothing cute about being at this stage in life and finding a trail of inauthenticity and dishonesty. Though I don’t remember stealing property in many years (I think I took a nice glass from a restaurant in my late 20’s?), I have been intentional with my disclosures, and lack thereof, to further my pursuits.

The past couple of years my wife and I have chosen words to be a mantra/affirmation/focus of sorts and this year I chose “Truth.” An inspired choice, but it has been a harsh teacher for a deceptive pupil.

It has been a layer by layer dissection of all that is untrue in my life. The degree to which I camouflage and hide pieces in order to fit the moment, the group, the interaction. I’ll even nod politely and shrug my shoulders to the Uber driver spewing rhetoric I don’t agree with in order to avoid conflict, neither agreeing nor disagreeing really…just repressing my response and letting it be.

Though these layers of untruth have been deeply unexpected, it is actually not so surprising. Anything happening internally that is a perceived threat to my social standing has been filtered out. This is functional, and it has my best interest at heart: keep me connected and keep me safe.

It also prevents the necessary work of living with an evolving identity. Each new Truth witnessed immediately shifts who I know myself to be, how I relate to the world and how the world relates to me. The degree to which I want to see myself in a certain light, or belong to a certain group will act as a preventative measure from feeling or sensing anything that shifts the current concept of self to such a degree that I no longer belong to, or can be categorized under, a particular label. Tie one’s livelihood to being connected to certain ideals, beliefs, organizations or communities and you get a truly epic filter.

Several years ago I read the book Radical Honesty and felt deeply inspired by the courageous vulnerability Brad Blanton was encouraging. Some time thereafter I reached out to a select group of friends to “practice” being more honest with each other, to say the things we usually don’t say. I dubbed the group ‘Liars Club’ in an attempt to be both honest about the current state of its members, and to make space for the habitual dishonesty I was hoping to disclose. It was as if to say, “it is safe here to acknowledge our falsity.”

The group was a tremendous success. It is one of the things I feel most proud of putting energy into in my entire life. However, it wasn’t the silver bullet I had been hoping for. My conditioning and fear continued to motivate me in ways that make me cringe looking back on them now.

A few years ago I was re-introduced to a practice called “Circling” which is often referred to as a form of relational, or social, meditation. The basic premise being that the people in connection are sharing what is actually True for them individually, or in relation to each other, in any given moment with as much presence as is present. This process, when committed to, undoubtedly brings about higher degrees of vulnerability, connection and intimacy and has been a salve for my ailing soul. I have often referred to this practice as my “remedial authenticity course.”

After some time practicing, I came to realize that I was drawn to this practice for the same reason I had initially been drawn to comedy: it made space for more of the actual human experience - beyond reason, norms, logic, acceptability etc. I was able to bring more of my actual internal experience out into the world, but it didn’t have to be brought in as a joke.

This has been massively liberating. To release myself from the need to add a punchline to any piece of taboo or edgy personal material is a Godsend. It doesn’t mean I don’t still do it, because I do, but it is no longer a mandate. I have gained choice in a place that it previously didn’t exist.

In fact, I still prefer the comedic expression of Truth - it has a certain creative pizzazz to it that nourishes me in ways beyond language. Comedy is also often the most direct way of pointing at that which is incredibly hard to describe. And, of course, there’s something to be said for the spoonful of sugar, it does help the medicine go down.

Additionally, as I’ve spent more time aware of my body in connection, I’ve noticed a marked difference in my body receiving that which feels deeply true, versus that which does not. This “measuring” seems to happen without and before any mental activity. There are simply words spoken and my body responds as a lake’s surface responds to a stone thrown into it.

When the body perceives Truth - there are waves of pleasure. Deep release. Subtle tension is gone and waves of delicious electricity move up and down the spine and throughout the limbs. This may sound a little ~out there~ and I’m telling you from first hand experience that it is. Learning that my body has some capacity to serve as a barometer of sorts for Truth has been one of the many unexpected perks of doing this work.

To spend years practicing telling more of the Truth over and over is a revolutionary process. And to do it in any corner of one’s life is to expose the rest of one’s life as well. Once the light is turned on, all the cobwebs and dirty crevices are suddenly in view. It is revealing all that is faulty in my foundation. It is tearing away everything built on falseness.

My curated self shrieks as my walls are removed and I’m caught sitting naked on the toilet in fear, the surrounding house in shambles. I am the Wizard of Oz, revealed behind the curtain. It’s so obvious now how much has pointed at this for years and years…but nevertheless, my willful ignorance has persisted.

These days I have been wishing there was an app that was like Mint, but instead of tracking my Net Worth in money, it would track my Net Worth in Truth. It would note each transaction and my account would go up each time I tell the full Truth, while anything less would count as a debit. Were this to exist, I would be aghast at the debts I’ve racked up and while I wish they hadn’t happened, my only choice now is to begin paying them off. I am attempting to start, in a way, with this writing. I can’t say what the impact will be, and I am letting go of that.

For so long as I prioritize my security above Truth, I am compromised. And though by doing so I may cling to some ephemeral sense of safety, in exchange I lose something far more valuable.

To be clear, I am not saying it isn’t possible to be both financially secure and honest. But I am aware of a deep seated fear in me that if I am to expose the wholeness of my being, it will threaten my social standing. I have touched and seen enough in myself to know that it doesn’t fit our current commonly accepted maps and models. And so long as I am willing to betray my self to earn a dollar, or maintain a sense of belonging, I am corrupted.

This is in large part why I spent the past year trying to strike it rich in crypto: so that I could buy the freedom to be myself without worry of its impact on my ability to sustain my life.

So, here I am today pronouncing myself a long-time liar. I’ve been pretending that I am not very scared, pretending that I know what I’m doing, pretending that I don’t want to have sex with you (or your girlfriends/wives), pretending I am not envious of your success (looking at you every other white guy comedy troop that has been on SNL). And above all, pretending that I am not you so that I may prioritize my interests over yours.

While speaking on this subject with a friend of mine recently, he said something to the effect of “I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of Truth Fanatic!” which absolutely had me in stitches. It so perfectly described my own fear of publicly confessing how valuable the Truth has become to me. And as his words have echoed around in my soul, I find myself strongly preferring to spend time with “Truth Fanatics,” for they give me the courage to live honestly.

After all, it is the kind of thing that once certain men and women throughout history have touched, they find themselves willing to die for it. At this point in my life I am moved even by the thought of such dedicated action.

May my thinning, crumbling facade give way gracefully to that which is True beyond human error.

Me taking a selfie to send to my wife after trimming my beard.

AFTERWORD

Having said all of this, I am fearing the response. I fear that perhaps the intention to be this honest makes you uneasy. Perhaps it is an unflattering mirror that you’ll choose not to look into in the future.

You may also be wondering “What has he been hiding? Was he pretending with me?” My gut says that in general I have been pretending with you no more than you have been pretending with me, but that’s a very hard thing to verify. There are many individuals that I’ve felt safe enough over the years to share more of my being with, no doubt. I suspect if you are one of them, you already know.

I do invite you to reach out if you’re curious. I am more willing than I have ever been to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.

And just for fun, here is a song Kanye released a while ago that hits on this very topic. While I felt giddy excitement hearing his words, there is a big difference between the vicarious enjoyment of his expression and doing it for myself, in my own way.

Witnessing another’s acknowledgement allows for some psychic release, but it is less likely to bear the fruit of insight. For this to happen requires a full confrontation with oneself. I have observed the ways I have been my own Judas; selling myself out for a few pieces of silver, and then painfully watching the suffering as a consequence.

This writing is both a confession and a statement of intent. It is the deliberate shedding of that which is false; I’m course correcting. And it is an act of self-trust. I want to show up fully and honestly in all of my relations, and in a world in which our relations are mostly maintained online - I’m showing up more fully here, with you.