Discernment is a Sword

Discernment is a sword that separates lies from truth. It’s a spiritual weapon I wield in my mind’s eye, although it’s only recently that I’ve learned how to use it properly; that is, to protect the heart. It’s what I would ask my husband to do.

I hate to admit that I’ve merely been holding it all this time, the blade symbolizing what I am capable of (e.g., harm, violence, cruelty) rather than what I actually stand for (e.g., strength, courage, kindness). What I’ve come to learn is this is a subtle fight in an invisible war. The only way to see clearly is to honor how I feel.

Because inevitably, what I value will be questioned, exploited, commoditized, diminished, disrespected, and misappropriated; but it’s difficult to recognize these tactics in real time. They are disguised by people who we love and care about, who have gained levels of trust not normally given. We are quick to forgive people who have our best interests in mind.

Alas, we need a sword. Our interests should not be in their minds. What a dangerous place, this spiritual battlefield, this collective consciousness, where everyone’s angels and demons are always fighting for good and evil, for truth and lies. And no one can tell for themselves what’s what so we seek others out as a moral compass. Am I a good person in your eyes? Please love me.

I believe our hearts break every time we stop believing what we see. Indeed, our vision comes correct once that tiny paper cut slices our heart one last time, for once we feel it, we suddenly feel the pain of thousands that have come before. It is so sharp, so wounding, so truthful, that we understand it as a lie that couldn’t possibly land as fact, for if it did, it would undo everything. In our struggle to accept our misunderstanding, we rage against all the receipts that confirm the totality of every truth that was always in front of us, despite our best efforts to give the benefit of doubt, which over time, you now know, omits altogether.

It’s hard to show up honestly for another person when we have trouble being honest with ourselves. The rose-colored glasses we wear sometimes prevent us from seeing red, an undeniable feeling that flags for us our own truth. Because if I was being honest in those micro-moments, I would have believed how confused I felt when they showed me who they are, sitting opposite of who I am. It is the great Maya Angelou lesson of my adult life, learning how to listen.

Seeing goodness in others, and ourselves, is only a half truth. Using a sword saves our hearts from being blinded by it.