Some truths are anchored to the situations to which they pertain.
Some truths are like a bird trying to get airborne, discovering its ability to fly as it bumbles along.
Some refer to a concordance maintained in the mind, and some arise out of feelings discovered in the heart–not lost after all.
Truth is not false as long as it brings us along with it—body, mind, heart and spirit—and offers us a vehicle of hope in these uncertain times.
Some truths are like a wide-open meadow—with a fawn peering out through the branches at the edge of the forest.
The best truths gather into their tent concern for the wellbeing of beings everywhere–whether they are wagging their tails, twitching their ears, or floundering in hearts that feel bereft.
Some truths are so old that they need to run naked through the village plaza, if they are to be noticed. And some are so new that they rush past like farms and tenement buildings outside a train-car window.
“My Truth” becomes its own shadow, when it aims its sights at enemies. Like a wooden duck, it then can’t lift off with the others, as they wheel into the morning light.
A truth, breaking free from its companions, looked around and not seeing the others felt a pang of fear. Hurrying back, it told the others how much they meant to it. But over time it wandered off more and more, further and further away, until it no longer knew how to retrace its steps. Then something surprising happened: it discovered that it was at home on the unexplored pathways that kept opening up whichever way it turned.