Lying My Way From You

We live in a world of phonies and charlatans, surrounded by fabrication and illusion, with no way of conclusively determining the truth of our lives. Science tells us that it is impossible to know a particle's exact position both now and one microsecond from now; by measuring the truth, we change it, and quantum physics muddies the waters even more with the idea that even passive, informal observation creates a single reality, where myriad overlapping half-truths once existed. Hollywood and Madison Avenue spin tales of the improbable to amuse and indoctrinate us; many people have come to believe the "facts" as cinematic tradition portrays them, expecting that when they swing a sword in real life, it will make a "cutting the edge" sound-effect just like it does in "Highlander", where that completely abnormal sound was really inserted into the movie to demonstrate the sharpness of what was actually a dull-edged prop claymore. Corporations retain highly-paid lawyers to argue semantics in order to protect their bottom line, intentionally operating across absurdly long chains of accountability, so that their officers can plausibly disavow knowledge in the event that anything goes wrong.  Public-relation firms establish a reputation for trustworthiness by distorting the facts to conceal evidence of wrongdoing, and meanwhile a malicious rumor about a potential employee can blacklist them from the entire industry without a shred of evidence.

Everything that our society depends upon, everything we believe in and rely upon daily, is false, contradictory, and pulled out of someone's butt. Our knowledge is guesswork, our self-perception is both narcissistic and depressive, as we pit contrary exagerrations of our own mental image of ourself against each other, trying to be both modest and cocky at the same time, so as to woo and spellbind our potential allies, lovers, rivals and patrons. And amidst all this insanity and confusion, today I find myself tempted to come to the conclusion that it's okay. Because there's a saying in the employment counseling industry, and one that's often repeated in other contexts: "fake it until you make it." By pretending to be a thing, we often transform into the role we've assumed, slowly absorbing by osmosis those characteristics which we only claimed to possess, stealing them away from our fictional selves through the magic of pretense itself.

The bardic tradition is as old as language and civilization; all human life is a story, and we are all storytellers. What could be more poetic, than to realize that we are writing a better life for ourselves, using our imagination to make reality conform more nearly (if never completely) to our wildest dreams? As I often do, I remember the words of Bill Hicks: "it's just a ride". Life is meant to be taken seriously, but not in the main because it actually is serious. It is a portrayal of seriousness, a roller-coaster ride full of thrills and chills, which we play along with by obeying the rules of the game, lest we be denied the chance to enjoy its outcome. This is a challenge I must consider at length; my instinctive desire is to reject all falsehood, demanding certain and complete knowledge of all facts. But ultimately, I doubt I could handle the granting of that request -- there are too many apparent truths in this cosmos which I feel compelled, on the grounds of ethical rigor, to deny and refute, even if they are known absolutely to be unquestionable. If the truth is in fact fluid and impossible to capture in one's hand...then at least there is an upside to that liquidity.

Let us see if the pen is indeed mightier than the sword.