Call it being an early truth-seeker, a sassy little brat, or just displaying the unvarnished honesty of a pre-schooler, but I once actually told my adored maternal grandmother, “Zhoo LIED, Granny!” (Translation: “You lied, dear grandmother!”)
Many years later (read many,) I’m still fuzzy on what exactly my grandmother had allegedly lied to me about, but at the time I was sure of it! Maybe it was,“The dog won’t bother you this time, honey.” (He did every time.) Or, “You’ll love how this tastes!” (BIG yuck.) Or maybe, “We’re almost there, I promise! (MILES later, still not there.) Whatever it was, it didn’t ring true. And guess what? It wasn’t. No matter how well-intentioned or convincing the message was meant to be – nope. “Zhoo lied!!”
I have to think that my early focus on truth came, in part, from being the youngest in our family and having a hunch that the adults sometimes tried (scratch that, often tried) to put something over on me. Usually to avoid lengthy explanations on their part or sighs of boredom from me. (Hint to grown-ups: kids know when you’re bluffing. They really do.)
Now that the “truth-seeking gene” has persisted, it seems to be just that: a fundamental part of my personal make-up, leading me to ask questions, dig into blurry issues, talk to strangers and – happily—often make new friends. Here’s my motivation: Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in your life. Speak your truth—no B.S.
My chosen paths of study and career have all been based on that same principle: communication. Whether in English or in French, in sound bites for television news reports, or through visual art and interior design, it’s always been about expressing and exploring truth, beauty and healing. For me it’s a two-way street. I want to get to know the people I meet. I want to see their souls, their passions, understand their frustrations and vulnerabilities, and truly grasp their realities. In other words, I want to have a conversation.
When I think back to my kindergartener self, declaring that my grandmother was not being honest with me– whatever it was– I recall laughter, probably from the other adults in the room and maybe even from Granny herself. Calling it like it is, or like it seems to be, often has a way of breaking down defenses, easing the tension that comes from trying to cover up the truth, and softening hearts. Even it if sometimes elicits responses like, “Zhoo LIED!” Let’s start the dialogue.