I recently read a poem in which one line referred to “beautiful lies”, which on the surface, would appear to be an oxymoron. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. How often do we say something that we know isn’t true or may not be, as a kind gesture. Each week, as I wander the halls of the nursing home where I volunteer, I see the faces of yesterday, many with vacant or hollow eyes. I greet many of them and find myself saying things that are purely to make a positive statement (accompanied by a smile) even though I know much of what I say is suspect at best. These, I guess are my beautiful lies.
One of the residents is a man who loves to play Cribbage. So each week, we drag out his board and a deck of cards and play a few games. He has congestive heart failure and knows he will not survive his stay. Yet, I find myself saying things that would contradict that result. Beautiful lies. He knows it, and so do I. But I do it anyway. I cannot do any different.
I justify my behavior by rationalizing that everyone does it. It is inherent within us, I think, to spare someones feeling by bending the truth. Is that so wrong? I don’t know. I think not. We all have enough problems getting by without someone reminding us of the negatives. So I probably won’t change. I will continue to say what I think is right . I believe it is sometimes better to communicate with my heart instead of my conscience.