Before we begin,
Let's slow down.
Take a deep breath in and slowly let it out.
You don't need to listen closely.
But as you listen,
Notice what happens when nothing is being asked of you.
You might feel agreement or resistance or the urge to explain.
You don't need to do anything with that.
We'll begin with a question and we'll let it stay open.
Why does clarity feel like cruelty to some people?
Not harshness,
Not aggression,
Clarity.
Why does naming what we know sometimes feel to others like harm?
I want to stay with this experience for a moment.
I had already decided not suddenly,
Not emotionally.
The decision had been forming quietly over time.
Small moments,
Repeated sensations,
But the time I finally spoke it out loud,
The decision wasn't new to me.
It had already settled in my body.
When I named it,
My voice was calm.
My body wasn't activated.
I wasn't defensive.
I wasn't trying to convince anyone.
I was simply naming what had become clear.
The response from them surprised me.
I was told I was being too harsh.
That I was being abrupt,
That I was being cold and not fair,
That I had not given them enough space.
I noticed my body register that reaction.
Not as guilt,
Not as anger.
But as confusion.
Because internally,
Nothing had felt rushed.
But externally,
This had landed as an injury.
For a while I thought clarity was the problem.
That I needed to soften it.
Translate it.
Leave more room around it.
I wondered if being clear meant I had skipped a step.
But over time,
Something else became clear.
The discomfort didn't come from what I said.
It came from the fact that something had ended without negotiation.
Clarity closed a door that ambiguity had kept open.
And for some people,
That closure feels violent.
Not because it's cruel.
But because it removes hope.
I have three observations about this and I'll say each one of them twice.
We often confuse kindness with keeping things open longer than they are actually alive.
And the second one,
When someone relies on ambiguity to stay connected,
Clarity feels like abandonment.
I'll say it again.
When someone relies on ambiguity to stay connected,
Clarity feels like abandonment.
And the third one.
Clarity doesn't cause harm.
But it does end a story someone may still be fully living inside.
And again.
Clarity doesn't cause harm.
But it does end a story someone may still be fully living inside.
That ending can feel unbearable.
So I want to bring the question back to you in a slightly different form.
Where have you delayed clarity because you didn't want to be perceived as cruel?
Who benefits from you staying unclear?
What truth do you soften?
Not because it's unclear to you.
But because it might end something for them.
What happens in your body when you imagine naming it anyway?
Does something brace?
Or does something quietly exhale?
I'm not suggesting that clarity should be sharp.
Or careless.
But I am interested in how often we trade honesty for harmony.
And call that kindness.
This question doesn't resolve cleanly.
It stays active.
You don't need to decide anything right now.
You don't need to act.
Just notice what shifted.
Or didn't.
Clarity doesn't require immediacy.
It asks for honesty.
You can come back to this question again.
We'll leave it here for today.
Thank you.
Thank you for joining me.
