The first truth is inward. (Sunday Letter)

I have been thinking about honesty.

Not the kind exchanged between people, but the kind that happens in silence. What do I tell myself when no one is listening? What truths do I avoid?

It is easy to be honest, after a fashion, to others. I choose what to admit, what to conceal, what is acceptable. But even when I am aiming for truth, is what I say built on illusion?

Only looking inside can I know. With myself there is only the sharp edge of what is or is not.

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On the ridge path, wind cuts. Stones underfoot leave no room for pretense in my gait. I either balance or stumble. None to witness. Just my own footing, its own measure. Am I self-honest enough to see when I am off balance?

We imagine how we might appear to someone watching. But there is only the rock, the air, the slope beneath boots. Each slip, each sure step, ours alone. The mountain does not flatter nor lie.

Alone here, honesty is not a choice but a condition. The terrain teaches what the body already knows, irrespective of whether I will admit it.

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With others, honesty can be performance. With myself, honesty is bare. Harder. Truer.

Real courage begins early, in the solitude of naming my own truth, before it ever reaches another ear.

To speak plainly to myself is the beginning of freedom.

– from the mountain

Consider:

What truth waits for me to stop hiding?

Reading:

“Above all, don’t lie to yourself.” — Fyodor Dostoevsky

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“Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom.” — Thomas Jefferson

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“Wherefore putting away lying, speak every man truth with his neighbour: for we are members one of another.” — Ephesians 4:25 (KJV)

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Yet alone.

All morning, alone, in solitude.

Walking the meadow, I step over a creek.

The long grass and the small stream are my companions.

Stepping over a tumbled old rock wall, the smell of shifted soil fills my nostrils.

The earth is my companion.

Climbing the path upward to a valley view, the wind whips at my garments.

The air is my companion.

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Never alone, though alone.

Thank you, Lord.

– from the mountain

Consider:

Can I enjoy this solitude?

Reading:

“I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.” — Henry David Thoreau

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“The earth has music for those who listen.” — George Santayana

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“The Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.” — Joshua 1:9 (KJV)

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Who will visit?

I walked alone up along the high path, narrow and exposed. A stony way, with winds and crags.

I came upon a wide landing, protected, where I met face to face a deer.

Our shock at seeing one another: why was each there? Were they lost?

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Am I lost? Where does this path lead, Lord?

If I find a spot, and rest, who will visit and surprise me?

– from the mountain

Consider:

Can I be open to who and what may arise?

Reading:

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life.” — Henry David Thoreau

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“The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.” — John Muir

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“As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.” — Psalm 42:1 (KJV)

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From negative to positive.

At night, the crush of the day hovers in my room. Did I act rightly? Was it enough?

Behind my door, regrets pile up.

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Dawn comes and I walk. The land has transformed and the spreading day provides new views. At night I peered into corners. At dawn my eyes fall on unfurling buds, on dewy grass, on the coursing river.

Later at home, I can bring a new view to my cares. The solutions present themselves. Is this what Providence feels like?

My walk has changed the subject.

– from the mountain

Consider:

If I am troubled, would a walk do me good?

Reading:

Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.” — Emily Dickinson

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“Morning is when I am awake and there is a dawn in me.” — Henry David Thoreau

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“It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.” — Lamentations 3:22–23 (KJV)

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