You sit down at a table.
In front of you are two plates.
On one plate is a hard rock, on the other a soft, juicy peach.
Which do you pick up and put in your mouth?
Naturally, the peach. Who wants to bite into a rock?
When it comes to rocks and peaches, the choice is obvious.
But when it comes to truth, it’s not so easy.
Truth comes in two types, hard and soft.
We often spend our lives trying to soften hard truth through denial, learned ignorance, rationalization, fantasy, compromise, even self-sacrifice, to avoid biting into the rock.
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We often spend our lives trying to soften hard truth through denial, learned ignorance, rationalization, fantasy, compromise, even self-sacrifice, to avoid biting into the rock.
If I don’t see the rock, it isn’t there. Now I can enjoy the peach.
If I don’t acknowledge the rock’s existence, it isn’t real. Now I can enjoy the peach.
If I promise to come back and face the rock later, I don’t have to face it now. Now I can enjoy the peach.
If I pretend the rock is a chocolate bon-bon, I can devour it. Now I can enjoy the peach.
If I just move a little bit in this direction, I can go around the rock. Now I can enjoy the peach.
If I flatten myself like a doormat, I can cover the rock, as in rock, paper, scissors. Now I can enjoy the peach.
Do any of these strategies sound familiar?
They do to me, because I’ve tried them all.
I tried them in my first marriage, and to some degree in my just-ended second one.
I refused to face the hard truth of my unhappiness, the dysfunction of the relationship, and my contribution to that dysfunction.
I refused to face the hard truth that hurtful behavior of any kind, for any alleged reason, is unjustifiable and unacceptable.
I refused to face the hard truth of the impact parental conflict has on children.
I refused to face the hard truth of my disappointment in the person I had allowed myself to become.
I refused to face the hard truth that only I could change an unhealthy situation.
I chose the peach over the rock.
What can I say? I desperately wanted life to taste sweet.
But a strange thing happens when you choose the peach over the rock.
After a while, the soft, juicy flesh of the peach dries out and withers away.
And you’re left with the pit, the hard rock inside the peach, the rock you’ve been avoiding all along.
You see it, because the illusion surrounding it is gone.
You acknowledge its existence and know it is real.
Later becomes now, and you have to face it.
You know damn well it’s not a chocolate bon-bon.
It’s grown so big you can’t go around it.
You’ve become a doormat, held in place by the rock.
Hard truth is hard to face. Rocks don’t taste good, and they can chip your teeth when you bite into them.
But if you incorporate the rock, the truth, into your life, accept it, acknowledge it, face what you don’t like about it and won’t suffer any longer, and start to change, another strange thing happens.
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But if you incorporate the rock, the truth, into your life, accept it, acknowledge it, face what you don’t like about it and won’t suffer any longer, and start to change, another strange thing happens.
You become the peach.
You grow full and juicy and full of life around the rock.
And life actually does start to taste sweet.
Sweeter than ever before.
Mmmmmmmmm!
Originally published on Tom Aplomb
Photo—Celine Nadeau/Flickr