Lies, damn lies

Now I believe I can hear the philosophers protesting that it can only be misery to live in folly, illusion, deception and ignorance, but it isn't -it's human. ~Desiderius Erasmus

I bought a magazine today, lured by its cover headline: "The Joys of Telling LIES" and now I see how my life got off kilter. It's because I'm such a lousy liar.

I'm not talking a prevaricator of huge outcomes, one of those tall tales kinds of folk. It's the subtle social bullshit that I flounder away at, finally giving up in exasperated futility. And it's not just transpersonal lying that I flunk but the cultural lies too: all those warm deceits of appearance, making myself attractive with makeup or fashion or adhering to social standards that cover up the natural, and thus, lie about the reality of who I am. (Where did this punctilious honesty come from? That would be an interesting line of inquiry for myself.)

Why, I am a lousy liar to others because I am a lousy liar to myself. I'm so keen (obssessed) with introspection that self deception is (seems) inconceivable. Because of this transparency, says the article in more articulate language, I cannot master the craft, the skill, the art of deceiving others. It's true; I've tried!

And because I'm not the cunning sort, then my chances of social popularity and of work success are lower than the liar's Conversely, depression comes more easily, says the article, and this is linked to my ability to pick up the lie in others.

oh how depressing this all is.