The liar lives in fear of losing control. She cannot even desire a relationship without manipulation, since to be vulnerable to another person means for her the loss of control.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The liar has many friends, and leads an existence of great loneliness.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
But the pathology of lying, she argues, doesn\u2019t merely alienate us from others \u2014 it engenders the greatest loneliness of all, by cutting us off from ourselves:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The liar often suffers from amnesia. Amnesia is the silence of the unconscious.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
To lie habitually, as a way of life, is to lose contact with the unconscious. It is like taking sleeping pills, which confer sleep but blot out dreaming. The unconscious wants truth. It ceases to speak to those who want something else more than truth.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The question of lies, Rich notes, invariably invokes the question of honesty and what \u201ctruth\u201d really is:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
There is nothing simple or easy about this idea. There is no \u201cthe truth,\u201d \u201ca truth\u201d \u2014 truth is not one thing, or even a system. It is an increasing complexity. The pattern of the carpet is a surface. When we look closely, or when we become weavers, we learn of the tiny multiple threads unseen in the overall pattern, the knots on the underside of the carpet.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
This is why the effort to speak honestly is so important. Lies are usually attempts to make everything simpler \u2014 for the liar \u2014 than it really is, or ought to be.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
In lying to others we end up lying to ourselves. We deny the importance of an event, or a person, and thus deprive ourselves of a part of our lives. Or we use one piece of the past or present to screen out another. Thus we lose faith even within our own lives.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The unconscious wants truth, as the body does. The complexity and fecundity of dreams come from the complexity and fecundity of the unconscious struggling to fulfill that desire.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
This notion of possibility, Rich argues, is central to the power of truth and the peril of lies in all human relationships:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The possibilities that exist between two people, or among a group of people, are a kind of alchemy. They are the most interesting thing in life. The liar is someone who keeps losing sight of these possibilities.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
When relationships are determined by manipulation, by the need for control, they may possess a dreary, bickering kind of drama, but they cease to be interesting. They are repetitious; the shock of human possibilities has ceased to reverberate through them.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Rich weighs the difference between honesty and oversharing \u2014 one particularly poignant today, in an age of compulsive oversharing and very little actual honesty \u2014 in the context of honorable human relationships:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
It isn\u2019t that to have an honorable relationship with you, I have to understand everything, or tell you everything at once, or that I can know, beforehand, everything I need to tell you.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
It means that most of the time I am eager, longing for the possibility of telling you. That these possibilities may seem frightening, but not destructive, to me. That I feel strong enough to hear your tentative and groping words. That we both know we are trying, all the time, to extend the possibilities of truth between us.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The possibility of life between us.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
To fully inhabit this possibility requires, it seems, understanding the subtle but vital difference between trust and faith. Rich considers why \u201cwe feel slightly crazy when we realize we have been lied to in a relationship\u201d:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
We take so much of the universe on trust. You tell me: \u201cIn 1950 I lived on the north side of Beacon Street in Somerville.\u201d You tell me: \u201cShe and I were lovers, but for months now we have only been good friends.\u201d You tell me: \u201cIt is seventy degrees outside and the sun is shining.\u201d Because I love you, because there is not even a question of lying between us, I take these accounts of the universe on trust: your address twenty-five years ago, your relationship with someone I know only by sight, this morning\u2019s weather. I fling unconscious tendrils of belief, like slender green threads, across statements such as these, statements made so unequivocally, which have no tone or shadow of tentativeness. I build them into the mosaic of my world. I allow my universe to change in minute, significant ways, on the basis of things you have said to me, of my trust in you.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
[\u2026]<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
When we discover that someone we trusted can be trusted no longer, it forces us to reexamine the universe, to question the whole instinct and concept of trust. For a while, we are thrust back onto some bleak, jutting ledge, in a dark pierced by sheets of fire, swept by sheets of rain, in a world before kinship, or naming, or tenderness exist; we are brought close to formlessness.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Noting that common liar\u2019s excuse of \u201cI didn\u2019t want to cause pain\u201d is merely the liar\u2019s unwillingness to deal with the other\u2019s pain, Rich writes:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The lie is a short-cut through another\u2019s personality.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Truthfulness, honor, is not something which springs ablaze itself; it has to be created between people.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
[\u2026]<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Truthfulness anywhere means a heightened complexity. But it\u2019s a movement into evolution.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Adrianne Rich<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The liar lives in fear of losing control. She cannot even desire a relationship without manipulation, since to be vulnerable to another person means for her the loss of control. The liar has many friends, and leads an existence of great loneliness. 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