Words Wound. . . Evolution Halts. . .
Children are wounded when they first tell a truth that is uncomfortable or embarrassing to their audience. And no doubt it is a much loved parent the child is excitedly telling something.
But realizing they are saying something hurtful or worse laughable when the child speaks his truth, the next time the child is careful to doctor his words. And each time it becomes easier and finally stories change with each telling.
So is born a compulsive liar. Knowing the present version of what they are saying is met with no hostility and is okay, the practice continues.
That they are never believed is a small price to pay compared to the remembered pain of truth telling, which they eventually put to sleep.
I have long thought that to call lying sinful was harsh because lies are told to avoid pain. Lies are a learned behavior to give what information is wanted or more acceptable.
Misdemeanors are different than sins. Sins are different than psychological impairments. And impairments of judgments are not dismissed because lessons must be learned.
It is the deeply wounded child stunted in the adult who continues with the outright lies and dismisses these with a no big deal attitude.
It becomes a way of life and credibility has no meaning since they have never known it. And what you don’t know you cannot relate to and what you don’t know you do not miss.
Children tell truth with no premeditation. It is when they are punished for truth telling which generally is first a verbatim account of where they came from and what they remember. That they learn to whitewash the truth and stories seem more fanciful is no surprise.
What was thought would be ways to alleviate the pain but too often learned was to stay away from the place where the pain was inflicted. Sometimes that is home for the child and therefore becomes a place to run from.
Sometimes people, often parents, are causes and then they too are avoided. Often it is school and the child becomes a dropout. Often also, one does not learn new ways of speaking, but one learns how not to open oneself to more pain.
Evolution grinds to a halt and the adult in his dotage clutches the inner child to his grave. Wars continue and peace becomes a nebulous promise. But it is a work and it begins here, with us.