Let us Hide Nothing.
You are alone in your room, in the middle of the night, and in front of you is a pen and a sheet of paper. What will become of this sheet of paper in the future will certainly influence what will be written on it.
If the fate of this paper is to be recorded eternally on a wall where everyone can see it, you will only write what you don’t mind others knowing about yourself; better yet, you will write ONLY what you want others to know about yourself, even if these things are not exactly true.
However, if the fate of this paper is to end in the trash bin next to you, then you will write about how you feel alone in this world, or you will write down your feelings for a person you do not have the courage to approach, or maybe you will write something terrible you have done and of which you have never forgiven yourself. Although these things would deeply embarrass you if revealed, you will not mind writing them down, as taking these things out of your chest will make you feel better, and, in any case, all these revelations will end up at the bottom of the trash bin.
Life is like this piece of paper, and what we write with the pen is what we choose to reveal to the world, whether in the form of actions or words. We know that life, evidently at least in this plane of existence, is bound to end, and, in this aspect, life resembles the piece of paper that will end up in the trash. So why are we afraid to act and speak honestly in this world? Why do we act as if we are immortal?
Perhaps someone will say that life is not a piece of paper that will end up right at the bottom of the trash bin, but that it first gets exposed to others, and only later, when everyone is already aware of our actions, it will be thrown out.
Following this line of thought, the fact that others simply know our acts and feelings does not mean anything unless it leads them to act in a certain way or to pass judgment on us. For example, if someone knows one of our secrets, but we do not know that this person knows our secret, for us, it is as if they don't know anything, and this doesn't disturb our spirit (because we think our secret is untouched).
What matters is if we come to know that this person, knowing our secret, acted in a certain way towards us, for example, ignoring or laughing at us, or that they told our secret to others who may come to mock or despise us. But according to the analogy of the paper, the actions and words of these other beings are what is written by the pen, and their lives are likewise a sheet of paper, and where will these other sheets of paper end? Also, at the bottom of the trash.
Therefore, our actions in this world, as well as the actions of others towards us, are completely ephemeral, and the destiny of all of those is total oblivion. Why don't we act honestly, then if it makes us feel so much better? Why do we hide things that, even if discovered, will be completely erased from existence? Venting is a pleasurable activity, so let us stop reserving it for sporadic moments of anguish, that is when we are tired of lying to ourselves, and let venting become no less than a way of life.
The pen by which the false message is written may deceive the reader of that message (certainly not forever), but it is by no means capable of deceiving the wielder of the pen, for they know what is in their heart. Yet we continue to lie to ourselves as if our false actions are capable of deceiving us, and what results from this is an ever-present fear of being discovered in our lies, and a hatred of ourselves for the simple fact that we are incapable of living up to the standards set by the false rumors that we spread about ourselves.
If we act according to the truth in our hearts, we will never fear being discovered because the truth is already revealed in our acts; and if we act in the knowledge that nothing on this planet will last (both we and the others), we will know that the content of this truth is completely irrelevant because soon it won’t exist anymore.
Let us hide nothing.
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