I realized, recently, that my life is a pile of bricks I pass every day. Instead of leaving them in a pile, I want to build something with them. When I told my friend this, she replied, "If you are going to build something, might as well build a skyscraper."
I am light and cold as I float through the air, then become warm and heavy, clinging, and sliding down glass. On the window sill, I rest with the others that have melted. We band together when the temperature drops and we freeze together, creating a single form, as we do this we constrict and take up less space, drawing in on ourselves. For an unknown amount of time we sit like this, together, by accident or by a sequence of events that none of us could have planned or predicted. But here we are, stuck together, sharing our lives. An individual becomes a group of individuals which becomes one to the naked eye.
Ahh, warmth and I’m expanding again, becoming loose from my companions, oh how I will miss them now that I have gotten used to them – how hard to say good-bye. But I haven’t a choice as I roll, effortlessly, off the sill and onto the ground.
The dirt sucks me in thirstily – hastily – without pleasantries or introductions. I’m drawn into the dark roots of an object I can’t identify but it seems to know my species well and it draws me up. All along the pain, the loss of individual, the loss of companions, the loss of flight through crisp air with the greatest view you could ever imagine – it brought me here to this moment, to sustain life. I don’t know the future but so far it has been worth every transformation. I wanted to hold back, to hold on, to stay where I had become accustomed but I’m glad I didn’t. Oh the sun feels so good, it seems to lift me straight up into the air.
I’ve been doing an exercise that Louise Hay created in her book “You Can Heal Your Life.”
She recommends you say, “The person I need to forgive is ___________ and I forgive you for ________________.”
Then, if you’re working with a partner, you say it aloud to them. They then say, “Thank you, I set you free now.”
At first, I have to admit, this all sounded a little hippie-dippie to me. A little “out there.” But I decided to try it. I thought of the person I most needed to forgive and I wrote a long, two-page list of everything that I needed to forgive them for.
The message keeps coming to me in conversations – forgive – in books I’m reading – forgive – in a favor for a friend – forgive – in a lecture series I listen to while driving – forgive.
I have forgiven a lot but not all. I’m holding on to a tiny morsel, but why? Why not let it all go, every last piece?
I realized that my anger is my only connection to my mother. My anger is like a rope attaching a row boat to a dock. If I let go of that last shred of anger, all connection to my mother will be gone. The boat will drift away, and I’ll be standing at the shore without her.Continue reading “Forgiveness”
What is your source of self-worth? Where is your self-confidence born and nourished?
Where do you flourish?
I find the answers to the above questions in the aftermath of devastating experiences. It took me losing my job at a startup company to realize that I found self-worth in a job title.
It took 3 failed relationships for me to realize that having a guy infatuated with me gave me self-confidence. When I lost that infatuation, when we passed the “honeymoon phase,” my self-confidence decreased.
Somewhere in the last 2 years, I lost my sense of humor. I let all the judgment and criticism from others prevent me from laughing at myself. Laughing at myself, and admitting to my own folly, seemed irritating and unnecessary to me. I’ve already got people pointing out my faults and mistakes so why would I go out of my way to do it more?
Have you ever encountered someone who is going through a troubling time (death in the family, serious illness, loss of a job, etc) and felt like you said the wrong thing? I feel like that all of the time!
In 2011, I volunteered at a non-profit that helps women who have survived a sexual assault. As volunteers, we went through an intensive two weekend (40 hours) training before we were allowed to interact with survivors. The main focus of this training was – teaching empathy.