The word confession carries considerable weight. For many, it evokes images of dark booths, whispered sins, and the heavy burden of judgment. It has long been associated with guilt, penance, and the hope of absolution, something endured rather than embraced.

Yet confession can be something entirely different. It need not be a ritual of humiliation or an expression of shame. At its best, confession is an act of bravery, more about honesty than guilt. And as the Buddha reminded us, “Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”

Among the many ways we cause harm to ourselves, to others, and to the world, lying may be the most insidious. Not only because of what it conceals, but because of what it permits. A lie is not simply a false statement. It is a moment of rupture, from reality, from integrity, from relationship. And it is often the seed from which far greater suffering grows.