Okay. Lent begins. No more opinions until Easter. Ooh, how very, very restful. I tell you, this day was full of opinions.
Oh – for those of you feeling bewildered and not knowing what I’m talking about: I’ve chosen to give up opinions for Lent.
This does not mean opinions won’t arise within my mind, I’ll just keep them to myself.
I intend still to express preferences – so if someone says, “Would you like some cheese on that or not?” I won’t be responding: “Whatever.”
I expect I’ll still say what I think, but try to express it as something other than a judgement/evaluation. So I can say I really like yoghourt with prunes but not that yoghourt with prunes is delicious. I can say I love the sun but not that sunlight is beautiful. At first glance that may seem rather pedantic, but I suspect it will be liberating.
I was born into a family with decided views expressed in certain terms. Its members never perceived the boundary between objective reality and personal viewpoint. Thus it was that I grew up believing purple to be ugly, vulgar and hideous, “settee” to be a socially inferior term and sweet sherry to be contemptibly infra dig. I was thirty before I came out about my penchant for Lemon Puffs, forty before I admitted to preferring sweet sherry and hating dry wine, and I never wore anything purple before I joined a religious organization that insisted upon it.
Opinions have bludgeoned me into submission my whole life long. Being released into the wilderness where no opinions are looks like one glorious six-week holiday from here.
You are not bound by this foray of mine, of course: you will be entirely free to tell me as often as you like that in your opinion what I have just said is an opinion: because the great thing is I won’t be able to tell you if I agree with you or not. You can just say it.
Me eating yoghourt with prunes. In the sunshine.