Contemplative Conversations:

Part Five: The Veritas Dialogues

On Words, Actions, and the Human Gap Between Them

Photo by Lukas Seitz on Unsplash

*A Note to the Reader

I do not think every contemplative conversation has to happen under old smoke filled flickering diner lights. Some belong under stars. Tonight, I want you to envision this fictional dialogue is the Boundary Waters (BWCA). The lake near us is frozen and silent, the sky is sharp and popping with constellations. The fire cracks and spits sparks into the cold air. Coffee steams up like thought bubbles in tin mugs. Cigars glowing at the edge of the circle.

My shadow is here, a hard to read smirk on his shadowy face.

But tonight the circle is wider.

Bill W. and Dr. Bob, the old AA founders.

Brother Thay, a monk of deep mindfulness.

Jean Piaget, who mapped how humans grow.

Carl Rogers, who believed love without judgment is what heals us.

We are here to talk about the gap.

The one between what we say and what we do.

The promises that slip through our fingers.

The agreements that die in the daylight.

My ADHD, autism, trauma, well, let me just say that they widen that gap.

I know because I live it. Not as an excuse. As an explanation. As survival.

Firelight

Shadow: You say yes, then you flake. You promise, then you vanish. People don’t care about your wiring. They feel the sting. That’s betrayal, plain and simple.

Self: It looks that way. And yeah, I know it hurts others. But inside it’s not betrayal, it’s survival. ADHD pulls at my focus. Trauma tends to freeze me when conflict hits like an unexpected punch. Autism makes me misjudge my overall capacity. What looks like dishonesty is often my nervous system shutting down. It’s a whole thing, to quote my wife.

Bill W.: I know that story. We swore off booze every morning, meant it with all our hearts, and by evening we were drinking. People thought we didn’t care. But we cared too much. It was powerlessness, not deception.

Dr. Bob: Promises aren’t enough. Words without action are pretty damn cheap. But you can’t force action either. Recovery begins with raw honesty. Saying out loud, “I can’t bridge this gap alone, or I think I might have a problem with booze.”

Brother Thay: Inconsistency is not a crime. It is suffering. The body and mind are not together, so action stumbles. To judge this harshly is to deepen the wound. To breathe with it, to hold it in compassion, that is the beginning of healing.

Self: I’ve sat with folks in recovery who swore they’d be at their kid’s sporting event, or whatever. And then their fear, their resentments, and drinking knocked them out. The bottle and false promises called out louder. They weren’t trying to break their hearts. They were drowning. Survival doesn’t always look very noble to our people.

Piaget: Spiritual and psychological growth has always been uneven. Children say things beyond their ability to do. Their words are ahead of their capacity. Adults are no different. Development is staggered. We are always catching up to the selves we imagine or envision ourselves to be or become.

Rogers: Authenticity is not perfection on its own. It is the courage to show up, contradictions and all. Saying, “This is me. I wanted better, but I fell short.” That honesty is where trust begins to regrow.

Shadow: Nice words, nerds. But tell that to the wife left waiting at the door, the friend who counted on you, the child whose heart you broke. Their pain doesn’t care about your explanations, rationalization, and self-justification.

Self: You’re right, shadow. Their pain matters. Explanations don’t erase impact. That’s why I can’t use trauma or ADHD as shields (defense mechanisms). I owe them truth. I owe them amends. And I owe myself compassion, or else shame digs the hole deeper. That hole becomes my future grave, unless I bury the shame instead.

Hospital Rooms

Self: I’ve walked into detox rooms where someone just lost everything that mattered. Sometimes I had no words, just my presence. Other times, I froze at the doorway, too wrecked by my own grief to step inside. I failed people. Not because I didn’t care, but because my system shut down under the weight. That gap between what I wanted to do and what I actually did—it still stabs me from the inside out.

Brother Thay: To be present, even in silence, is already a prayer. The heart’s sincerity is more powerful than polished words.

Rogers: And when you can’t show up, honesty about your limits matters too. People can forgive imperfection. What crushes them is pretentious pretense.

Bill W.: We all failed plenty. That’s why amends is a whole step. Not excuses. Not “I couldn’t help it.” Looking someone in the eye and saying, “I was wrong. I hurt you.”

Dr. Bob: And then living differently, one day at a time. Not promising big-time reforms, but stacking up small actions until trust is rebuilt.

The Psychology of the Gap

Piaget: Think about it like this, children live in paradox. They understand more than they can live out. They promise more than they can perform. That gap is the shape of growth. Adults forget they are still growing too.

Shadow: That’s a nice theory, but people still bleed from the gap. Your explanations don’t heal their wounds.

Self: No, but honesty does. Owning the contradiction. Saying, “I wanted to do this, but I failed.” That doesn’t erase pain, but it keeps trust from rotting completely.

Rogers: Exactly. People don’t need perfect follow-through. They need to know the heart is real. That they weren’t lied to, even if they were let down.

Brother Thay: Compassion for yourself protects compassion for others. Without it, shame takes over. And shame, not inconsistency, is what poisons love.

Recovery and Honesty

Bill W.: Recovery taught us this. Stop promising forever. Live today. Do the next right thing, not all the things at once.

Dr. Bob: That is how words and actions begin to meet—through repetition, not perfection.

Self: In meetings I hear it too. Someone stands up, shakes, stammers, says, “God help me.” That prayer is action. That is survival. And survival is the seed of hope.

Shadow: Wow, what you call survival looks a lot like failure to me.

Self: Maybe. Let’s call it failing forward then. Besides, I think my survival is proof I’m still here, working my program. Proof I haven’t quit. That counts.

The Fire Sinks Low

The cigars burned down to nubs. The coffee went cold. The fire dropped into embers. None of us spoke for a while.

It wasn’t shame in the silence. It was recognition. Every one of us knew the gap. Promises made and broken. Words that didn’t reach their mark. Survival that looked like inconsistency from the outside.

Self: Maybe the gap never closes. Maybe it is the human condition. But maybe the real work is not to erase it, but to own it. To be honest about it. And to keep showing up anyway.

Bill W.: One day at a time.

Dr. Bob: One step at a time.

Brother Thay: One breath at a time.

Rogers: One act of honesty at a time.

Shadow didn’t argue. For once, he just stared into the flames.

The stars over the Boundary Waters burned steady. The night pressed in, raw and unyielding. But I added wood more and the fire held.

Morning Was Creeping Up

Photo by Dekler Ph on Unsplash

Maybe survival will always look messy. Maybe the gap will never fully close. But survival is not failure. Survival is proof we are still alive, still reaching, still human.

The stars didn’t care if my words matched my actions. They just burned. And the fire kept me warm.

That was enough. I am enough. Not for everyone, but enough for me to be at peace within myself.

By God’s grace, and for what it’s worth.

Shalom,

Jeremy E.