The truth underneath lies is not always hidden. Sometimes, it waits in silence, beneath distraction, pride, or the illusions we build. I remember when I first encountered the poem of Parmenides, I was not looking for truth. I was too young, too absorbed in other pursuits. But I still remember the vibration of those first verses. They struck something inside me—an echo I didn’t understand, but couldn’t ignore.
Later in life, I returned to those ancient lines with different eyes. And they still shook me. The philosopher’s journey toward the Goddess’s house—the house of truth—felt like something deeply visual, almost cinematic. That image stayed with me.
1. Truth Reveals Itself Through Silence
In order to access the truth underneath lies, I believe we must accept silence—not only external, but internal. The Goddess, as imagined by Parmenides, doesn’t scream or command. She speaks with our own voice. But we rarely listen. The noise of modern cities, of digital distraction, and even of our own egos, drowns her message.
To reach her, we must first become quiet. Not to beg. Not to demand. But to be ready.
2. Philosophy Begins Where Arrogance Ends
Enlightenment is not a trophy. It’s not a reward for pride or intellect. It is, rather, a fragile state of humility. Seeking the truth underneath lies is not about proving others wrong. It’s about risking your comfort and abandoning certainties.
I believe every genuine philosophical journey must begin in this vulnerability. No philosopher is born wise. We become seekers when we admit we don’t know—and we still care.
3. The Other May Be an Illusion
One of the most difficult ideas in Parmenides is that of unicity. That nothing else truly exists except what is. There is no “other,” because “otherness” cannot be verified. I don’t fully claim to understand it. But I think it’s worth contemplating.
What if the distinction between you and me, between mind and matter, is just language? What if duality itself is the first lie?
That would mean that the truth underneath lies is not just a concept—it’s our own essence. Hidden by definitions. Buried under thought.
4. Visualizing the Arrival at the House of the Goddess
I set out to create an image—a visual—that might suggest what it feels like to arrive at the threshold of truth. The moment the philosopher arrives at the Goddess’s house is not grandiose. It is quiet. It is personal. It is not lit by lightning, but by a subtle glow within.
My visual language tries to capture that: not revelation as a spectacle, but as a whisper. Not divine presence in flames, but in stillness. (Related: Salome and Saint John – 1 Haunting Question, Infinite Reflections)
5. For Every Lie, the Truth Lay Underneath
We live surrounded by contradictions, shadows, and noise. Sometimes we can no longer distinguish light from darkness. But the truth has not vanished—it’s simply covered.
Beneath every falsehood, there is a layer of something real. Even when we are tired, confused, or hurt, the Goddess still waits. The philosopher still walks. And the voice—our voice—still has something to say.
So, if we ask ourselves what it means to seek truth today, maybe the answer is not to chase, but to remain open. The truth underneath lies will not arrive with thunder. But it will arrive. If we’re listening.
And yet, even when we feel lost in the noise of the modern world, we are not too far from the truth underneath lies. It does not need to be found in books or shouted by prophets. It lives in the pauses, in the contradictions, in our quiet willingness to question what we once believed.
