“I used to believe in radical truth”, Ari said. “But… I kind of changed my mind.
In a way, telling someone a radical truth is also giving away your own responsibility. I have come to find this unfair. Knowledge is power, and power comes with responsibility. My belief is thus currently a bit shaky”, she concluded.
Her answer reminded me of a parable by Austrian poet Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach I had read on my last train ride. It goes like this (original in German, English translation below):
Die Aufrichtigkeit schritt eines Tages durch die Welt und hatte eine rechte Freude über sich. Ich bin doch eine tüchtige Person, dachte sie; ich scheide scharf zwischen Gut und Schlecht, mit mir gibt’s kein Paktieren; keine Tugend ist denkbar ohne mich. Da begegnete ihr die Lüge in schillernden Gewändern an der Spitze eines großen Zuges. Mit Ekel und Entrüstung wandte die Aufrichtigkeit sich ab. Die Lüge ging süßlich lächelnd weiter; die letzten ihres Gefolges aber, kleines, schwächliches Volk mit Kindergesichtchen, schlichen demütig und schüchtern vorbei und neigten sich bis zur Erde vor der Aufrichtigkeit. “Wer seid ihr denn?”, fragte sie. Eines nach dem anderen antwortete: “Ich bin die Lüge aus Rücksicht.” – “Ich bin die Lüge aus Pietät.” – “Ich bin die Barmherzigkeitslüge.” – “Ich bin die Lüge aus Liebe”, sprach die vierte, “und diese kleinsten von uns sind: das Schweigen aus Höflichkeit, das Schweigen aus Respekt, und das Schweigen aus Mitleid.” Die Aufrichtigkeit errötete; sie kam sich plötzlich ein wenig plump und brutal vor.
One day, Sincerity was walking through the world feeling smug. I am a good person, she thought; I distinguish clearly between good and bad, there is no pact-making with me; and no virtue is conceivable without me. But then she met the Lie. The Lie was walking in dazzling garments at the head of a large procession. In disgust and indignation, Sincerity turned away. The Lie went on with a sweet smile; but the last of its followers, small, weak people with childish faces, crept past humbly and shyly and bowed down to the ground before Sincerity. "Who are you then?" she asked. One after the other, they answered: "I am the Lie out of Consideration." - "I am the Lie out of Piety." - "I am the Lie out of Mercy." – “I am the Lie out of Love,” said the fourth, “and these smallest of us are: the Silence of Politeness, the Silence of Respect, and the Silence of Pity.”
Sincerity blushed; she suddenly felt a little clumsy and brutal.
(Ebner-Eschenbach 2015:5).
That day, Ari was wearing beautiful blue velvet trousers and a line of white pearl earrings. They reminded me of a pearl of truth falling onto a blue cushion, a blue bed made when the receiver of a truth is ready. And, even if not, the blue velvet would cushion this little pearl and make it so the truth would be perceived in the right way with the option of hiding it in the soft blue velvet if needed. At some point, hearing many truths can ornament the ears and lead the way; it can be beautiful, but the legs carry the body with caution and care. Her smallest thus consists of these materials.
