Love Painted Here (The Original): 10/17/2004

Coming Soon...

I just took my shot for Parking Spots. We'll see if they post it. I'll post a link if they do :)

Compassion and Forgiveness

I struggle with these two. Always. I want to be a compassionate person, who can forgive. I want to see the other person as human, and not the enemy. But when I am in pain, I think, how can I possibly forgive the other person, especially if they don't acknowledge what they have done? (or what it appears they have done, or what I assume they have done--one of the FOUR AGREEMENTS--Don't make assumptions...)

Aren't we all amazed at families of murder victims, who can forgive the person who has murdered their son or daughter? And sometimes, they even befriend the person. Compassion takes maturity and forgiveness takes maturity and humility.

When have I ever been perfect? Maybe there was some time in my life (I can remember a few times I behaved less than I could be proud of, more than that if I try, probably) when I hurt someone inadvertantly. When I was even mean or cruel--or at least they perceived me to be. I have never intended that, but it's possible that it's true. For that other person. I know I am not perfect, and so how can I expect others to be? To never make a mistake?

My greatest lesson in forgiveness, reminds me, that no matter what, I can forgive someone. I can. Even the person who has hurt me the most in my lifetime. I hated him. I carried around such anger and pain toward him, for something he forced on me. For many years, I was the one who suffered because of my anger toward him. I remember believing that there was no way I would ever, in this lifetime, be able to forgive him for what he had done. He was someone I loved dearly, and then despised. I hated him for taking away any good feelings I could ever have for him.

That's what I thought. I remember reading about forgiveness, and despite knowing it was hurting me, and not him, I just could not forgive him. It was a process however, mixed in with my own inability to forgive myself. And the feeling that I was condemmed by God too. My dear friend Fares said to me once, as I told him what had happened in tears--he took my face in both his hands--and said, "Brenda, God knows what is in your heart, he has already forgiven you."

That was the beginning of my path to forgiveness. I finally forgave myself (so many times, anger at others is also anger at oneself) and then, one day, I was thinking about C. and I realized who he really was. I recognized who he had been at the time. A very very scared human being. Not the devil, not evil, not hateful. But very very sad and scared. Only someone who was these things, could have done what he did. When I was able to see him that way, 13 years later, I was able to forgive him.

This was the key. I regained a sense of him as a human being. I saw him through the eyes of compassion. I could forgive him then, finally.

I don't hate him anymore. I sometimes think of him, and even wish that I could tell him. Sometimes. But it doesn't matter if I do or not. What matters, is what my forgiving him means to me. What it has done for me.

I like who I am when I am able to forgive someone. I want to be forgiven too.

I don't mean we should excuse bad behavior, but I do think it's so important to practice compassion and forgiveness.

Why am I writing this? Because, I have been so upset about what I perceived to have happened last week. The truth is, I know how one incident made me feel inside. Like I was being cast aside. I felt abandoned. And I reacted without finding out more. Of course, who can blame me really? But that's what made me think of all this.

I am trying. It's not always easy.

Other People's Comments

I have to say, that I am touched and impressed by the level of comments here on my blog. I want those of you, the very few of you who have commented recently, to know that truly, it means a lot to me what you have contributed. I like some of the things so much, that I am going to post them here (hope this is ok :)

As you know, those of you who have been reading along from the beginning, this blog was started as an attempt to consolidate my multiple creative blogs (poetry, photos, novel, griping) into a central place where I could post my creative efforts and discuss art and its place in everyday life. I never intended for it to get personal. But as life has a way, it has intruded even here. My failed relationship/dating efforts have shown up on occasion, and most recently, the death of my beloved remaining cat, Ellie, has been a focus of my attention.

No one posted comments much until Ellie died, and then I started bemoaning my pathetic love life, because I was too weak or tired or sad, to keep quiet here.

But your comments have helped. Here are some of them:

Years ago, I heard someone say that women give sex to get love and men give love
to get sex. For a generality, it's a pretty good one, I think. It also speaks to
some basic differences between men and women that I believe may be "hard-wired"
from birth and that get reinforced by social norms. Some of those
characteristics make men attractive on some level to women but also make them
not worth having.I think women and men have different goals in life. Men are
more interested in individual success and women are more partner or team
oriented in their definition of success. For a man to get what he wants, he
almost has to shove aside a woman to make it feel like a true success.
--Unapologetic
I can't believe I'm going to turn to my Catholic upbringing for a comment about anything, but it may be relevant. A long time ago, I heard about the parable of the thimble and the barrel. One of the apostles pointed out to Christ that some believers, no matter how devout, really aren't spiritually well-developed enough to experience the full measure of spiritual happiness, while others can know a joy that is far beyond the capability of most people. Christ likened the situation to a thimble and a barrel. Both can be full and both will feel and experience the fullness as complete. Their sense of fullness doesn't depend on a comparison with the other. They feel what they are capable of feeling. I think it's the same with grief. Your sadness may seem less justifiable if you compare the loss of a cat with the loss of a child. But that's not the source of the sense of loss. You have every right and every reason to feel the pain of loss regardless of its source. The fullness of your experience (and your recovery from your grief) won't be measured by comparison. Don't scold yourself for feeling loss. Commend yourself for being someone who could love a humble cat enough to now be grieved by its passing. Your grief isn't selfish. It's honest.
--Unapologetic
There's no sign anywhere that says the other half of the tribe cannot comment here, so let me just say thanks for the very real feelings you're sharing. Men hide this stuff away and never let anyone know they get torn up about things and later they find themselves getting all twisted up about something totally unrelated. But we go through it too nevertheless. This is what I told my daughter who recently had a relationship that didn't work out. She was shattered. I said try to imagine a string from the future is trying to pull you through a room filled with obstacles. Your daemons are trying the best they can to get you were you're going, but you keep getting wrapped around the obstacles. If they pull too hard, the string will break.
--Dean
(By the way Dean, I can't get your blog to load! Grrrrrrrr....)
What's even more amazing, is that both these posts were written by men. It gives me hope. Thanks :)

Spirit

She saw her cousin that day
supporting the clouds over Lake Erie
with his translucent arms of light

he was hovering spirit, rhubarb poppy
sliver of sunset, illuminating
the purgatory between lake and sky

she saw him rejoicing, in syncopated waves
over the breakwall, that divided peace
from an October windstorm.

Warren, her grandfather, ancestors lost at sea,
were each a vein of the tree spreading
down brilliant limbs of light,
across the merciless lake water.

She drove the highway, mouth open,
smiling with disbelief,
that this omnipotent devotion
followed her, and wouldn't leave.

(I wrote this a few years after my cousin Warren was killed on his motorcycle...)

The Moon Is Watching

We are drifting away from each other
slowly, imperceptibly,
like two continents dividing.

A millenium may pass,
before we see the results, you floating
me fighting against the cracks
of rotting land.

Our tree splits itself at the roots,
dangling now, like hands reaching
for what once was, our connection.

The earth that bound us together
is crumbling under the sun
of the truth I have revealed to you,
splitting us.

Inevitable, two continents
shaped now for movement
to opposite ends of the globe.

I suppose the moon
is watching us, and can see
the blue water grow wider between us,
engulfing our world
in its cleansing sea.

Only from above
can we understand these paths.

CAT

These are two little poems I wrote about the kitties, using my poetry magnet game, long before they died...

I.
pink sweetness
princess peach
she girl
lazy sausage
essential friend
jumping light
love hat
seeing orbs
moon beauty
laugh
play
live
always little lovey

II.
watch dog
castle prince
fluff friend
enormous turtle
happy dream
little man
magic boy
singing cry
honey suit
he glowing
my gift
me he
together
always love.

A Wave

He dreams of her when the doves are sleeping
the hour between early mourning and dawn,
wakes as if she has been there, sees her
as the whole beautiful earth, all along.

Suspended in space like a ghost before him
she slips out of the body of commitments,
becomes ritual so he can speak
honestly, how he continues to miss her.

She wonders why sleep eludes the body,
feels the weight in the mattress, a heartbeat
at her side every night they arrive
together as if never apart, he asks her

why didn't you wait for me? In the irises
of her eyes he can see her reply--
I waited as long as I could. Her voice recedes
like a wave a wave, the ocean saying goodbye.

Excerpts from "The Book of Secrets"

Love is spontaneous. It cannot be controlled. You cannot "make" love; you cannot do anything about it. And the more you do, the more you will miss it. You have to allow it to happen. You are not needed for it. Your presence is the hindrance.

Nonchoosing mean you are not to decide where life goes. You allow life to move, to take you with it, and you have no fixed goal. If you have a fixed goal, you are bound to choose. Life's goal is your goal. You are not moving against life; you have no ideas of your own against life. You leave yourself, you surrender yourself to the life force itself. This is what tantra means by total acceptance.

Remember yourself as light.

Sex and death both are basic for a real seeker, but for ordinary humanity both are taboo. Bo one talks about them, and both are basic and both are deeply related. They are so deeply related that even upon entering sex you enter a certain death---because you are dying. The ego is disappearing; your individuality is disappearing. You are dying! Sex is also a subtle death. And if you can know that sex is a subtle death, death can become a great sexual orgasm.

You love so that you will not fear. Whenever you believe that you are in love, you are less afraid. For the moment you can forget death. An illusion is created in which you can feel that you are accepted by the existence; you are not denied, rejected. That is why there is so much need of love and of being loved.

I just bought this book today. And instead of cleaning as I should be, I can't seem to put it down...