Dear First name / friend
I apologise for the absence of newsletter last week. I want to say it's because I am in the process of trying to change the website and newsletter to more of a blog format so that my writing is more readily accessible (thoughts?) but honestly, I had a headache and I really didn't want to write.
If you Google how many times a day people lie, you will get a wide range of responses - anything from two to twenty, to two hundred.
How often do you lie?
White lies, omissions, half-truths, euphemisms…I'm reminded of one of my favourite Friends episodes (obviously) where the girls are learning to play poker and Phoebe calls Chandler out for lying: “I'm not lying", he says, "I'm bluffing”. “Aha!”, exclaims Phoebe, “and what is bluffing?".
In yoga philosophy, the principle of non-harming (ahimsa) comes before everything else.
Importantly, it comes before truthfulness (satya).
I suppose I'm exploring, through this medium of writing, if it matters whether we lie or not. As with most grey-area questions, I suppose it comes down to intention. There is a school of thought that suggests if we were more honest with one another ("How are you?" “I'm fine, thanks. You?") then we would live in a more open, authentic and supportive community. It is important to note that when we are more honest and authentic in our responses, it tends to open the door for the other person to do the same. It's an act of trust, because you have shown willingness to be vulnerable in front of another person, which lets them know they are safe to do the same, if they choose to.
In my job, I lie quite often. To clarify, I don't lie to patients about their results (!); I lie when they ask me how I am. Sometimes, we're not in a position to tell the truth, and to do so would alter the nature of a relationship. To tell someone the truth, we need to trust them. We also need to be in a space where we feel safe to open up and be honest. In my professional capacity, patients aren't there to hear about my problems. Of course, there are nuances, but largely, glossing over the truth in these situations is something I'm happy - and prefer - to do under the umbrella of professionalism. I often think this about my counsellor: she knows nearly everything about me, and yet what do I know about her? But if I were to ask her ‘How are you?’, what do you think she might say?
Sometimes, when I'm not feeling great, and I smile brightly at my next patient and tell them “I'm good, thank you”, it helps. Sometimes, that small white lie can help shift my mood. So long as we have a dedicated space at another time to talk through our honest feelings with a trusted friend, smiling brightly isn't an act of denial or of pushing feelings under the carpet, it's a way of protecting our boundaries, and therefore ourselves.
Mindful moment: What do you think? How often do you lie? Who do you lie to? And, more importantly, who do you tell the truth to? Where is your safe space to talk openly and honestly? And have you noticed how when you do feel safe enough to give an honest answer - perhaps to the coffee shop owner you've now spoken to half a dozen times - have you noticed how this often gives them permission to do the same?
