Whoever wishes to keep a secret must hide the fact that he possesses one. ~Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe (1749-1832) German poet, novelist and dramatist.
Can you keep a secret?
Ever been here
What gives a secret such tantalizing appeal? Why are we so drawn to hearing them? Their alluring whispers in our ears making us lean closer, so as not to miss one single detail.
Let us reveal, and make the secret less of one.
What defines a secret? Held knowledge, unknown to others. The implication of a purposeful intent to conceal, to keep something hidden. A secret also implies an intent to deceive, for the knowledge of the secret would somehow change things. And once opened, Pandora’s box might prove impossible to close.
A secret has weight. It can be light enough to be tucked in the drawers of the mind for another time. It can be heavy enough that the weight of it makes the shoulders of the bearer sag beneath it.
The weight of the secret determines who receives it. A small, harmless one may flit from person to person, as light as butterfly, until it has kissed the ears of all who are present and is a secret no longer. A heavy secret becomes a burden shared, and in its telling, the Revealer may hope that some of the weight has been eased from his shoulders onto the shoulders of the Listener.
A secret is a bind, a contract between the Listener and the Revealer. For as long as the secret lives, the two are connected by the tenuous lines of Trust. The secret’s life may be short, a matter of minutes. Or it may linger for years, never revealed, until it is at last forgotten.
The two bound by the secret each have different motives, a conflict of interest even before the relationship is formed. The Revealer reveals, sometimes with the intent to inform, sometimes to relieve their own burden. A Listener listens, sometimes with the intent to aid, sometimes just for the pleasure that comes of being part of the privileged few who are in the know.
For however long it lives, the secret ties, or chains, the two in its confidence. In a bond as easy as friendship. Or as complex as marriage.
A secret can be a good thing. Folded into a tiny square, tucked into a pocket, to be pulled out and looked at when no one else is watching. It can bring a smile, quickly hidden behind fingers, or a bubble of laughter, camouflaged by a clearing throat.
A secret can be a terrible thing. Like a wretched demon behind too thin walls. It raves and ravages, clawing at its prison. When it does at last escape, it causes nothing but pain. Not just to those unfortunate enough to be its victims, but also, and most of all, to its Keeper. And sometimes not just because of what the demon has to say. But for simply existing at all.
What secrets do you keep? Why do you keep them?
What secrets have you revealed? Was it intentional? Was it not?
Who have you trusted with your secrets?
Come closer. Lean towards me. Close enough to kiss, so that I may whisper in your ear.
For I have a secret to tell you.
You won’t tell anyone.