Walked: 29.49Km
Yesterday I set myself the challenge of thinking about truth during my walk. My thoughts revolved around truth and not Truth, with a capital T. What is True is beyond my reach at this time, though I hope to get closer to it by practicing lowercase truth.
I thought about the last time I lied. It was the day before arriving to Monzón, a week ago. I had to write an email to the person in charge of receiving pilgrims at the residence in Monzón. I knew it had a nice private room with bathroom and a fully equipped kitchen. From my experience five years ago, I knew the person in charge could allow an extra night at his discretion, so in my email I stated that I had a minor injury and that I could use an extra day of rest.
The injury was a lie, and it bugged me during my walk. I honestly wanted to stay an extra night because it was a nice place to stay, comparable to a 35€ hotel. The extra day was handy to rest, visit Monzón and buy a replacement t-shirt which I had left behind in Balaguer. Sometimes we need to lie, but we must be very judicious about it. In this case it was unwarranted, the consequences of not being granted an extra night were negligible, and being honest and straightforward about my motives could have very well worked their charm.
Ten years ago I set myself on the radical honesty path. Well, not the grifting kind of radical honesty but the kind where you wouldn't be able to accuse me of concealing the truth or being dishonest. It was difficult at times, especially in romantic relationships, but in the end I experienced it as something that built my character and countered my tendency to avoid conflict. It also made me notice when and why I lied on the few occasions I had to do it, and I earmarked these experiences as areas where I needed to change because I thought that—if I couldn't be honest about something—that meant I needed to change so that my words wouldn't be untrue.
There were two relationships where this proved to be especially difficult. One was an ex-girlfriend with borderline tendencies. She would get unreasonably upset over minor things. I never lied to her, but in the end I decided to break up because of the constant drama. In the aftermath of this breakup, free to do whatever I wanted, I volunteered to go help my grandparents in Montreal who were going through some health issues.
My grandfather died just two days before I arrived, and I was left to take care of my step-grandmother, whom I hadn't seen since I was a child (though I had very fond memories of her). She was a control freak, and even though I initially tried to stick to my honesty policy, it made my job a thousand times more difficult, so I began lying to give her the illusion of control.
Even after this experience was over, I found myself lying over the smallest things with people who would have no trouble accepting the truth. It was just easier to make up an excuse rather than stating that you didn't feel like meeting up with a friend, for example.
All the lies that I told my grandmother were necessary at the time. But, as I walked today, I thought: we shouldn't compromise on truth in order to reduce conflict, being accepted or loved, get a sale or a job, or getting an extra night at an albergue. Having to lie is a big red flag. Walk away if you can (I admit, not everyone has this possibility). Lying to get what you want is a big red flag on your own integrity. But we should also admit that sometimes we must lie, but do we must do it conscientiously.
I finally left the plains and went into the mountains.
Ena, the tiny (population ~11 according to wikipedia) town where I'm staying tonight, is stunningly beautiful. Almost all homes are built in stone from the nearby quarries, making it look as if it had emerged organically from the land itself.
I wish I were a better photographer to capture its full charm. This is closer to what is True to anything I could have written.