Lies...

"Beauty is truth, truth beauty," - that is all
        Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
John keats.
The debated lines of the famous poet.( I read that The movie The Bright Star is about the love of keats with his neighbour, wish I could see it. ) is apt for the debate I am in.
There are many lines that beauties truth, but what is the truth?
I ventured to ask my students, " how important are lies"? Answers, lies makes us happy. Lies makes others happy thus needed. Lies bring comfort. Can't we agree this as truth? Can we face this truth?
Why is this paradox? Why is this lie, that truth is a virtue, being professed.? Is it a proof of exercising that lies are of utmost importance in the elementary functional unit of society... The relationship. Far more, important to the self itself. Deception( self deception) a means to escape the present, the uninteresting, unillustrated and unbeautied reality. Is it not within our might to create a flawless, perhaps, a lawless world in our imagination? And, is it not easy to believe and to protect with one's all potency, to fight, to resist being pulled to this uglier world that is created by someone called "god"or "nature", but most importantly not by us.
Have we not invented words that sounds better and colourful than the word that truly called Lie. Have we not known the imperialism which meant as mission to civilise but rather paved for the flourishing capitalism. Do we not use words like business, technique, knack or even nicer words like hope, vision, plans etc. Well, the nicest words, flattery, romance and love! Flattery - seemingly to be true but not meaning them( I dont say this but Dostovesky). Romance- Creating, projecting, and accepting a mode of behaviour that tries to portray one relationship being above all.
Love- True love is not heroic ( Dostovesky again) what is true doing here. Love- do we need this word! Is not when human is harmonious in thoughts, words and actions, when not ambitious, when content and happy with reality, not be in a state called love that needs no aids of words and gifts, unlike the mutual dependancy created between people.
We are Paradox.(not paradoxical) the Nigerian writer what in world causes the insistence by the oppressed that his oppression be performed in style!( By a person with expensive luxurious cars, private jet etc) What half way measures could hope to cure that?
Is this not the very reluctance to come out of our comfort zone of our comfortable lies?( The writer adds his astonishment, when he finds every coup is being celebrated and then things fall back) or the lack of patience in the boring, uninteresting realism? We postpone, we neglect and we manipulate what truth demands of us, now, in this realism. Truth, a luxury in the complexly evolving lies, is perhaps being a twin in this greater evolution, with a greater cause.. Perhaps.. Like a cure of a disease.