Intention
is everything. At what level do we do not deceive? Christmas brings on a host
of outright lies, especially for children. So too for Easter. And what of the
boogie man, superman, or even batman? We obfuscate, purvey our predilection to
prevaricate, and fib. We draw the wool over other eyes, speak with forked
tongues, and make up things as we go. And yet we feel betrayed, dismayed, and
fooled when others have done so unto us too. Yet what are our stories if not a
series of snapshots in suspended disbelief?
"That
rice-paper we were supposed to walk over, without tearing, was really butcher
paper," said the movie star, some forty years later. "We couldn't
find rice paper. We wet it, tried sandpaper glued to the bottom of bare feet,
tried a twist of the feet in order to tear it, but it would not rip. So we just
walked it, then physically tore it, and then panned back to the torn
sections." The actor now smoked, ate meat, swore, and disavowed being
Buddhist or being affected by his sage role, despite some 62 episodes of
portraying this temperate, wise, compassionate, integrative walker in the way
of the Tao. He went on to explain his ballet moves, his expertise in the Kung
Fu fight scenes, and his direction of the scorpion episode. And my 'hero', with
all that, became but a man.
Don't
get me wrong. Judgement is not the issue here. Observation is. We have the
wisdom of Epictetus at our disposal, Whitman's Leaves of Grass, Corinthians 13,
Ruiz's Four Agreements, The Velveteen Rabbit, and Eckhart Tolle's Power Of Now
among hundreds of tomes on wisdom and insight and compassion and care. But what
of the men behind them? Did they never lie or deceive or falsify or betray?
Ethics would have it that we do no harm, and many a heroic thing had been done
in the interest of saving the damsel in distress, rescuing the abused child, or
containing the looming danger by telling outright lies. Deception has its use,
particularly on film.
"To
thine own self be true" is worth examining. We so easily can deceive
ourselves. We watch the projection (with the same star appearing in the lead as
an entirely different person) and we suspend our disbelief and accept the story
and have our very beings swept up in the emotions and scenarios and situations
that in real life, well, would hardly be credible. Thing is, we 'know' it's
only a movie and so we do not feel betrayed. Heck, we pay to be there! But we
are deeply offended when the house we buy had undisclosed previous flooding, or
the vehicle fresh off the car-lot conks out after a few blocks, or the note
that gets passed around in class is an outright lie. Gangs made complicit by
oaths, brotherhoods bound in fealty to others (despite our unwilling
compliance) create the tension between one's loyalty to a group and the
instinct to be ‘to thine own self true’. Heck, participation in things we may
not fully believe in is as subtle as saying 'no I don't mind' when the guest
asks if you mind if he smokes. The more honoured the guest, the less likely we
are to say no; after all, it's just this one time. Deception has degrees, and
it clearly is not necessarily evil. To thine own self be true, if ethical and
thereby not selfish, is not about the outward manifestation of one's
preferential understandings of life, but the inner realization of where one
actually is at. We can let go. We flow. We allow for variables, understand the
grey.
Ponerology
(big word) is about intentional evil. Deception (ugly word) is about
intentional misrepresentation. But we commercialize this fact, we celebrate it,
we award it, and we perpetuate it. Children learn to make metaphors and parable
and analogies. And adults learn to accept the concealed, the unrevealed. Now
what would Santa, Jesus, or Superman think of that?
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