"Three may keep a secret, if two are dead."

I love this quote by Ben Franklin. Its true. If one doesn't want a certain fact(s) about themselves spread about town, then one shouldn't share it. I rarely blame the person who blabs my hidden truths. Its a risk I take in trusting someone.

But then again, there's those people out there who tell all. They constantly pour their thoughts and emotions out for all to see. It all leads me to question their wisdom.

Myself, I believe there is a certain correlation between those things that we hold as "secrets" and those things that we know to be "sacred".

I like that I have secrets. I like that I have things about myself that only I know. It means that there are things I hold sacred. There are things that I want only myself and the Lord to share. It may be something so delicate as a John Donne poem rip-off or something so rambunctious as my impression of Louis Armstrong singing "Amazing Grace" I sing for my Savior in the shower. But they are special things that only he and I shall share. That makes them special. That makes them sacred.

Secrets are sometimes treated like emotional currency. People will confide in you to make you feel trusted. Just like people like the feeling of being entrusted with some previously unknown fact about someone else.

I submit that I think secrets are shared out of selfishness.

There's a reason why people sometimes feel the need to share their burdens. Knowing that a friend is suffering through a secret illness is a hard thing to deal with. It hurts. I can handle crap happening to me. I have a good audience with myself, so I know that I deserve just about anything I receive. I also know that the Lord will help me through it. I've never had to deal with that worst punisher of all, Despair.

However, when it comes to seeing a friend suffer, I fall apart. I'm not going to play. The world is a much simpler place in which to live when I know less of the evils it holds. But one way in which I can help people is share the knowledge of their troubles. I pray for them and, just as importantly, I hurt for them.

Never underestimate the comfort it can be for a person to know they aren't hurting alone.

But what about secrets of the more mundane sort? Things like "my roommate listens to Britney Spears when he's sad". Or, "My girlfriend is ticklish behind her knees and barks like a seal when I pinch her back there."

You know, I think these might be the most sacred secrets of all. One amazing example my parents have shown me is that they have moments that belong to absolutely no-one but the two of them, and the Holy Spirit, who blessed it. I remember asking my Pappacho about moments in their relationship. And while he thanked me with a teary eye for reminding him, he simply let excused himself for leaving that moment sacred.

I've never understood those people who could just leave their lives an "open book." I know that mostly, its because I'm so completely not built like that. But how are they able to maintain a balance of what is theirs, and what belongs to the world?

Myself, what happens between me and someone else is to stay between us. The time I was most hurt by love was that in which someone was reckless with my trust. But even though that trust may have been betrayed, I've kept my promise as best as I honestly could. I've kept the moments I most treasured locked away in the safe of my heart. You'd be surprised the strength such things can afford.

The thing I love about a moment in time is that it all happens in the mind. Yes, my first kiss actually happened. But all I know of it is what I remember. And any description of that instant in time is going to be skewed between the romanticism of my mind and the experiences that have happened hence. But in my mind, it is perfect. I rely not on my crappy vocabulary or prose to convey the moment. In my mind its happened thousands of times. Isn't that what really matters?

Sometimes when I try to explain a moment, I become a bumbling artist trying to release the instant from a block of stone. Only the more momentous the occasion, the less likely I'll be to do it justice. I feel horrible. My moment, beautiful and perfect in my head, has been reduced to a maimed figure hewn out of rough rock. Sometimes, isn't it better just to leave something perfect and untouched?

I feel as though this society has lost touch of what is sacred in this world. We throw around the name of Jesus and print it on baby-t's and call it Christianity. And you dare not question the wearer's sincerity, for you fear of appearing as if you love your savior less.

There are ceremonies too holy to be made into a T.V. show. We've lost that. Past family and my very closest friends, I couldn't give a rat's ass who comes to my wedding.

We've forgotten that there are things that shouldn't be shared with all to know. Yes, I understand the irony of my sharing this on a blog, but for every thing I post about my life here, there are 50 that I'll never tell a soul.

Having a secret always doesn't mean we're ashamed. Sometimes it means we hold something special, and holy. Pearls we wouldn't risk throwing before swine.