Last year, my company was really focused on getting to know each other. In my first month of work we had to share our "life maps," which meant sharing a visual representation of whatever aspects of ourselves we wanted to share, with the not-explicitly-stated-but-still-expected requirement that we get deep.
People talked. They cried. I cried. It got real.
When it was my turn, rather than share timeline-style, I gave a summary of my personal values, and attempted to describe where they came from. While my list contained some typical items ("family" definitely made the cut), what I really remember was that I had written that I have a commitment to "the exact truth."
"What does this mean?" my coworker, Jovian, had pointed to my poster and asked.
I stumbled. Do I always tell the exact truth? Do I expect the exact truth from others? Do I even believe in absolute truth? Hmmm... this was trickier than I had intended, and I couldn't answer conclusively.
What I realized later is that my reference to truth had less to do with not lying and more to do with precision of language. Ironic, but "truth" wasn't the precise term at all: What I value is communicating exactly.
And here I am, re-reader of my own emails, blog posts, diary entries, and letters. A perpetual re-crafter. A maker of the tiniest adjustments. An editor. Re-word, re-phrase, strike out, repeat. I think I could do it forever.
Some people have passions for causes, some for pleasures, some for other people. Mine is for words, though there's no story to tell yet...
p.s. Good job yesterday, Texas.
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