I typed those words at the top of a blank .doc file earlier today – just to see what would come.

My fingers flew. The keyboard hummed. In no time the page was full. And I’m tellin’ ya: Oprah would have offered me a regular slot.

Dr. Phil? Puhleeze.

Now, all of this assumes I was asked on the show on the first place, not to mention it still being on the air. But that’s not really the point, is it?

When I imagined myself up on that stage (wearing beyond-fabulous clothes and shoes), I showed up! SO much to offer, say, and share. NO doubt, second-guessing, or hesitation. And no limit to my brilliance, my charisma, my confidence, my content, or the power of my voice.

Here’s the thing: all of that is true whether I’m on Oprah or not.

The lesson? Do more than just imagine. Believe.

I’m thinking you should do the same. How ’bout it?

See you in the Green Room.

One of my oldest, dearest friends is having a mastectomy tomorrow morning (2/1/12). 142 seconds of my thoughts about that, about her, and about why we need each other.

Sex. Politics. Religion. These are topics too controversial for civilized social settings.

This was the lesson I was taught while growing up. They are too polarizing, too divisive, too risky, too dangerous. Play it safe. Be inclusive. Keep things comfortable and congenial. Why make waves? Yes, I was raised in the 60s and 70s, but Miss Manners was reported as corroborating this advice as recently as 1998. (Yes, I looked it up.)

I’ve grown up. Conversation has, as well. Sex is no longer taboo, it reaches out and touches us everywhere and all the time, whether we welcome such or not. Politics have become mainstreamed talk-radio and tabloid news punditry. Precious little is un-touchable.

But talk of religion remains touchy. Here is where the Red Sea parts. Discomfort reigns. Hair stands up on the back of our necks. We feel a little queasy. And even the most articulate of us feel at a loss for words.

I’m often at a loss for words.

Ironic, I know, given that this is my area of expertise, my academic training, my vocational licensure, and my book’s inspiration and original source material.

What’s going on here?

Hemming and Hawing. Struggling for language that doesn’t offend, exclude, or create even the smallest modicum of misunderstanding or misinterpretation. And why? In part, our (my) hesitancy comes from a religious sub-culture in the U.S. that has offended, excluded, and condemned any understanding or interpretation that isn’t consistent with its own. And because that has been irritating at least and harmful, even violent at worst, we (I) don’t want to perpetuate the same. Complicating matters even further, many of us were raised in a church that taught compliance as key, questioning as unacceptable, and absolute truth as absolute obedience (translated: you’re in or you’re out).

Of course, this is but one side of the coin. There are multiple exceptions to the above. And I have known many. For every context in which I level intellectual critique, I can quickly recall others that have impacted me in incredibly positive ways. Intimate relational moments with god. Answered prayers. Events that could only be understood as miracles. Comfort in grief. Friendships forged through shared beliefs. Mountaintop experiences. Scenery that sang of the divine. Traditional hymns and time-worn liturgy that has touched my very soul. And stories. Oh, the stories.

But somehow, in the midst of day-to-day conversation, day-to-day business, day-to-day life, these internalized memories and even current practices somehow get relegated to the shadows. They peek out now and again, when it feels safe, but still we/I tip-toe – searching for ways to talk about something that seems so profoundly personal and which we/I long to know is vastly corporate, communal, and shared.

Maybe Miss Manners was wrong.

Maybe language is not what complicates, discomfits, and binds; rather, what clarifies, comforts, and frees.

This is, in fact, what I talk of all the time in regards to truth-telling. When we edit or censor our truest feelings and our very words for fear of the consequences that (we convince ourselves) will inevitably ensue, we are only living half-way. We. Are. Bound. And though it feels incredibly risky and even dangerous to let ourselves be seen and experienced completely, wholly, with no facade or pretense, once we do so we are loosed, unbound, and liberated to more of the same.We. Are. Freed.

“…you will know the truth and the truth will set you free.”
~Jesus (John 8:28)

I’m preaching to the choir, to be sure. The message is mine to hear, internalize, and convert into practice. But I’m guessing I’m not alone. In fact, I know I’m not.

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Please join me in this conversation. Tell your truth. Use the comment section below to articulate where you feel inhibited, stuck, and bound in regards to your faith, your religion, your beliefs (or lack thereof). Why is that true for you? What do you wish were true? What would total and unadulterated freedom look like, feel like, sound like? Anything goes. Really. And if you’re not ready to talk about it here, send me an email (ronna@ronnadetrick.com), would you? I really want to hear. And respond.

To know what you prefer instead of humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you ought to prefer, is to have kept your soul alive.
~Robert Louis Stevenson

Bits and pieces of this post were inspired by my Sunday Conversation with Tara Gentile. Here’s the MP3.

I stumbled across a random page in a barely-used journal today and read my own words:

“We already know our truth, but we’ve convinced ourselves that it can’t be trusted, that it won’t be understood, that it is too dangerous. We say we don’t know what to do, but we really do. We just don’t like the answer.”

• Truth-Telling Prompts ~ Do-able steps. Immediate results. Every Wednesday from Me to You.
• Truth-Caching ~ A one-on-one writing process that reveals, encourages, and strengthens your truth.

I saw the film Miss Representation yesterday. These are but some of my initial thoughts. Many more are yet to come.

Silence is not an option.

Learn more. Take the pledge (along with me and my two teenage daughters). Educate others. And advocate with passion, determination, and persistence!