Refreshing

In the hotel lobby last night, a friend and I saw some little kids, a little boy, maybe 3 years old and his sister, maybe 6, dancing around with abandon, their arms snaking around in a funny pleasurable dance and they seemed to float in a perfect ocean of candor and candid abandon. Happy little fish these two. We talked about how children can do that. They have not learned to be artificial, to lie, to be polite, to bite their tongues.

In a store, kids will blurt out things like "look at that big fat lady." Or in an elevator, they will announce that someone has farted, just in case anyone missed it.

And what you're witnessing is the truth flowly freely through the world. Like Voltaire's Candide, they just tell the truth, no pretense.

They remind us how much we lie, protect others feelings, pretend, grin falsely, applaud a lousy speech, compliment a dreadful hairdo, smile at an enemy we'd rather strangle than congratulate, the list could go on and on.

Think about it today -- all the little white lies falling down around us as we walk through this world, like a snow storm of lies.

And think about the antidote, when someone is courageous enough to just be frank and tell you truth. How refreshing.

Just tell me. Just tell me how you feel. Just tell me everything.