It was a lovely day yesterday. The drive to Ashland was pleasant - not much traffic and seemed faster than usual. We saw Welcome Home, Jenny Sutter and of course, I cried. It's a compelling play by Julie Marie Myatt, about a wounded soldier returning home from Iraq. From the playbill and the words of the director Jessica Thebus...
We watch Jenny's moment of transformation, with its horror and humor and messiness. We witness. No matter what baggage and past experiences we bring into this room, we can witness saying, "I honor your humanity, I hear your story." By this act, we become part of the community that surrounds Jenny Sutter. All the Jenny Sutters. We are aware that in some way we are keeping a larger vigil - we sit at this moment not in protest, or rescue, but in a respectful vigil for the strange, painful, human unfolding of a life.
I'm still crying and the weather has turned cold. We are seeing August Wilson's Fences tonight. I have my tissues.
Living consciously...
After recounting a story about how women hide expensive clothes purchases and lie about it to "protect" their husbands, Hendricks concludes the reading with: Lies are self-protection; make no mistake about it. For the practice, think of a lie you told recently and a time you have pretended... he suggests that "pretenses" are glorified "lies" and that you need to consider who you are ultimately protecting and from what harm. He then asks, Are you so fragile as to really need such protection?
I can't relate to the hiding purchases stories, never could. Big purchases we discuss and everything gets put into Quicken. I had a discussion not to long ago with a friend about lies of omission. I'll will plead guilty of doing that on occasion under the "need to know clause." As a rule, I'm not much of a story teller so I figure my husband (and likely others) might accuse me of a lie of omission because I failed to tell them I saw so-an-so or went to such-and such. I think, I hope that I am leading as transparent a life as I can.
2 comments:
I used to think I too lived a life relatively free of lies, until my spiritual director pointed out that the biggest lies are often the ones we tell ourselves. Now, while I try to see the lie quickly, I'm more aware of the many many ways I "automatically" lie... for instance, I might in my mind say "that'll never work" while really meaning "I'm not doing that much work" or "that's not a risk I'd ever take"...
I'm not much of a liar...because the humiliation of being caught in a lie is horrifying to me. So perhaps for the wrong reasons, I usually 'fess up to my sins. Usually. I do admit to an occasional equivocation or exaggeration; in most cases it has to do with how I spend my time. :) "I spent all day cleaning house!" Not that anyone would believe it, but it makes me feel better.
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