I have spent thirty years in courtrooms arguing about what is true. Evidence. Testimony. The weight of one account against another. Truth as something that can be established, proven, entered into the record.
I have spent the same thirty years in kitchens with people I love, where truth is a different thing entirely. Where what is real is not what can be proven but what is felt, remembered, carried.
These two versions of truth have not always been easy to hold at the same time. The lawyer in me wants to cross-examine everything. The person in me knows that some things cannot survive cross-examination and should not have to.
I think about this when I listen to the stories people share with me. They are not depositions. They are not evidence. They are someone handing me the most fragile thing they own and trusting me not to drop it.
I have learned to leave the courtroom at the door.
“Some things cannot survive cross-examination and should not have to.”
A question for you
Where in your life do you apply the wrong kind of scrutiny to something that deserves to simply be received?
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