...and the truth will set you free.

I wish I could say that I just watched An Inconvenient Truth and now have some profound thoughts to share about it. No, I have not actually ever seen that movie. And yes, I feel ashamed. Al Gore worked so hard. Surprising that I haven't seen it, I know, being the animal-tree-everything-hugger that I am. However, I was just thinking of the title of that documentary, and it stirred up an interesting thought. That's almost the same as watching it, I think. Right?

An Inconvenient Truth.

The phrase seems a bit redundant, yeah? Because, when you think about it, aren't most truths inconvenient? I'm not speaking of eternal truths, like the things that make the world comfortably spin. I am just speaking of Truth with a capital T. While studying to be a journalist (which still has yet to happen. Answer my emails, my darling Salt Lake Magazine!), Truth was branded into our brains. We were taught to analyze what truth really was, and when it was appropriate to seek and reveal truth so as to not harm individuals who might be affected by such revelations. We were also taught not to hide it because of vested interests. (That's the very short version of it. It's been a while since I've been in school, so I've forgotten how to speak of my trade in an eloquent fashion. Um, I like... words. Good words are... good. Roast... beef?) Nevertheless, it was drilled over and over into our eager, nubile minds to seek truth and report it, no matter how hair-ripping-out-inducing or cumbersome. We explored instances in which exposing the truth might be especially painful, or inconvenient. Of course, there are the heartbreaking situations involving death, accidents, medical results and such. Those suck. Those really, really suck, to put it ever so articulately. Sometimes there is nothing more painful than finding out a harsh reality of life. And dealing with it. Devastating, and yes, not the most convenient thing in the world. But on a lighter note, the title, An Inconvenient Truth got me thinking about different truths that may not be so convenient to discover or reveal.

Here are some.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to amputate your butt." (No one wants or expects to have their butt removed.)

"I love you." Or, "I hate you." (Let's face it, you may not love or hate that person back. And that can be so darn inconvenient. And heartbreaking.)

"Excuse me, I ran over your cat. Oh, and I ate all your hotdogs." (Cat death + consumption of all your hard-earned sodium-injected mystery meat = no good.)

Realizing that there is no toilet paper in your bathroom stall.

"Oh hey, I just shrunk your favorite jeans down to a size negative zero in the dryer. Oh, and that canned chili you just ate? That was actually Botulism-in-a-can."

"You know that person you've been calling "Grandma" your whole life? Yeah, that's just a house plant named Steve."

Peering at your bank account. (A harsh truth/reality for some. "Some" meaning myself.)


See, all of these truths are rather inconvenient. In fact, they're downright difficult and sometimes painful. That's not to say truth can't be convenient, however. I may be beating a dead horse here, but the point is, no matter how incovenient or how terrifying, truth is not something to cower behind. What do we have to gain as individuals? Or as a society?

Whether in journalistic discipline or in everyday life, truth should irrevocably be sought out by ourselves. How far does anyone get not being true to themselves or to others? No matter what religious belief or ethics system you adhere to, truth should be the pinnacle of all that is right in the world. Because with it comes justice. And peace. Clarity. And so many things. Truth as an eternal, infinite principle is rather inexplicable. It's one of those things that just is. One of those things that makes the world turn and steadies the cosmos. I'd almost say that truth itself is a universal truth. It just is because it is. And no matter our quest to find truth, is guaranteed to be worth it in the end. Let us be true and honest with ourselves and with others. And the world will turn madly, steadily, bravely on.