Week 6: Truth Explodes
“truth explodes”
Collage, cut New Yorker Magazine paper, 9" x 12"
I’m a November baby. Scarf season is my favorite, and I’m quite fond of the hibernation that winter encourages. I’m comfy going within, literally and figuratively.
So I’ve been doing pretty well during this shut-in period. I’m still getting outside a lot with my dear friend and long-time walking buddy—we’ll call her Wanda. To protect the innocent. Wanda and I have really amped up our walking game since March. That may be the only thing keeping my menopausal muffin top from taking over. I digress.
Although our walks are getting hotter and sweatier, it’s been easy to appreciate the abundance of this first week of summer. The front-yard vegetable gardens are bounteous. The air is scented with magnolias, mimosas, and fresh-cut sweetgrass. I swear the birds and squirrels and chipmunks are getting closer and closer to us. And about once a week a bunny crosses our path. Did you know if a bunny freezes it becomes invisible to the human eye? Truth. That’s what they tell me and Wanda, anyway.
I am obviously smitten with this summer solstice time—its fullness, the longest day of the year, the bringer of Light. Yes, we’re now headed toward the shortest, darkest day of winter, but right now we get to bask. And so I am.
I’m also basking in what appears to be a sea change in our world. Well, “basking” might be a strong word. I’m optimistic. I think the Light is scattering the shadows, uncovering the hidden. I also think it’s waking a lot of people up to some hard truths.
Truth. It should be absolute, right? Logically, a fact is a fact. But I can look at something and know that it’s blue, and my Hubs can look at the same thing and swear it’s green. I can’t argue with him about that. Well, I try, but inevitably I fail to get him to see blue. And since I can’t see the green through his eyes, I have to take him at his word. That thing is green. I might want to think he’s wrong, but he’s not. That’s his truth.
White people might live in a world where the police are basically not visible until they are needed. Public servants with good intentions, here to help. How many white people are waking up to the truth that black people do not live in that same world? I wonder how many white people are just now learning about “The Talk” that black parents have to have with their children?
So if Truth is not an absolute, shared experience, then what is it? Does it even exist? If I see blue and you see green, where does that leave us? I am left with the only question I can really answer: what is MY truth?
I started reading this week’s issue during the summer solstice weekend. I was already chewing on these thoughts of Light revealing Truth when I came across the phrase “truth explodes.” The collage sprouted from there.
Detail — “truth explodes”
My thoughts are still sprouting about my own truth. What is the guiding light I can turn to when I’m facing shadows? What truth can I stand in when making decisions, big or small? What truth is going to help me in the moment when I’m interacting with my husband, my co-workers, the grocery store clerk, the people I pass on the street?
My truth is LOVE.
I AM Love in Action.
I AM One with All That Is.
That “All” includes the light AND the shadow. If I disdain, or resent, or hate, or fear something “out there” then I’m disdaining, resenting, hating, fearing myself. I want to add to the Light in this world. These challenging times are giving me lots of opportunities to practice!
But that’s my truth. I am here to Love All Always. Everything else is just details. And I get a lifetime to work on those details.
That reminds me. I could have gotten lost in the details of this week’s collage. I wasn’t quite sure when to stop. Thankfully I have a deadline, or else I might still be gluing. This was a special Fashion and Design issue. It gave me more color than usual. I wanted more color while basking in the summer solstice energy.
I’m in love with this week’s cover by Tomer Hanuka (@tropical_toxic).
Truth be told, I’m in love with YOU! You’ll have to take my word for it.
“Blown Away” by Tomer Hanuka
The New Yorker, March 16, 2020
THIS WEEK’S FEATURED CARTOON:
