Tonight a friend was complaining to me about something that had happened that made her have "a meltdown" (her words). Plans she had been looking forward to and depending on were cancelled at the last minute by someone who didn't realize what a big deal it was to her. And while I could understand frustration, the level of anger and emotion she was displaying ("Fuck this. Fuck today. Fuck absolutely everything.") seemed so far past the point of melodrama that I found myself literally rolling my eyes. I didn't let it on to her when I responded, stuck instead to the Supportive Friend script of, "Oh no! What's wrong? I'm sorry... That sucks," and so on. But inside my head while this all was going on I kept thinking, Your life isn't really as bad as you think it is. Why are you whining so much?
But then I remembered one of my last conversations with Mandy. Mandy is the former friend I referred to anonymously in some of my blog posts back in November and December of last year. I don't have any qualms mentioning her by name now, because fuck it, what's she going to do? Not be my friend anymore? That ship has sailed. Anyway, Mandy was going on and on about how I had no reason to feel sad or upset because at least I had parents who were alive and cared about me, unlike her with her dead dad and "racist" (her description, not mine) mom, and siblings who were nice, unlike her "asshole" brother. She was basically trying to make me feel guilty for not having had bad things happen to me, and trying to make me feel like I could never possibly have anything to complain about because her life was so much worse.
And I didn't reply to that part of her message. By that point communication had dissolved a great deal and would soon cease altogether. But this is what I wish I had said to her:
Pain is not a competition. Even if the conditions in your life are worse than mine, that doesn't cancel out my feelings or make them any less legitimate than yours.
Here's the deal. Feelings of frustration, weariness, helplessness, sadness, anger and dissatisfaction - they happen to all of us to varying degrees depending on the situations we face. Everyone's experiences are different, but our emotions and reactions are often very similar and that's part of what connects us as human beings. The death of someone you love is a terrible tragedy. Feeling trapped by debt to the point that you work yourself literally to exhaustion week after week to pay it off is wearying and sad. If you compare the two, obviously death is going to outrank debt in most people's minds, but honestly what do we get by comparing? What purpose does it serve? It doesn't help anything. Both experiences are legitimate. Pain is not a competition.
So thinking about it that way... Losing your job and having to live at home with parents who think you're a Jezebel and a demon-worshiper and do what they can to constantly remind you of that must be frustrating and emotionally traumatic. So of course the opportunity to escape this for a little while would be the sort of thing you get your hopes up about, and if it were to fall through I can see being upset. The histrionics? A little much, sure, but who am I to dismiss the pain behind them?
So I'm glad I at least went through the motions of being a supportive friend instead of being bitchy and sarcastic. No one needs that. No comparisons or rankings. How about just plain old compassion?
Monday, April 29, 2013
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Destructivity
Almost everything on the news this past week has been about Boston, and we've gone through the normal pattern of questions....
Bombs went off at the marathon on Monday. People died and were seriously injured. What exactly happened here?
This was a purposeful act, not an accident. Who did this?
The city is placed on lock-down. Where are they?
Two suspects are identified and located. In the shoot-out to follow, one suspect is killed. Soon afterward, the second suspect is captured and seriously injured. Which means that after all these other questions, we come to the most haunting one of all:
Why?
Dzhokhar Tsarvaev is in the hospital in critical condition and isn't going to be answering that question anytime soon. Even when - if - he is able to clarify his role in all this, to put into words the motivations that led to his alleged actions and the alleged actions of his brother Tamerlan, it is doubtful that his explanation will really tell us anything. It won't be enough. It won't be anything we can wrap our heads around. Because to the average person, this makes no sense.
We seem to only hear that word, "senseless," tossed around in the media after some overwhelming act of purposeful destruction. The earthquake that happened today in China that has killed over 150 people is a terrible tragedy, but it is not "senseless," because we do not expect a force of nature to operate within rules of logic and morality. The plant explosion in Texas that occurred earlier this week and has killed at least 14 people is a devastating accident, but it is not "senseless," because dangerous chemicals and machinery do not follow any sort of creed or code. And even if the cause is revealed to be due to human error or negligence, this is different than intentional design and can at least make a sort of sense to us. To use a fictional example we can look at Life of Pi. If Pi were to be eaten by the tiger trapped with him on the lifeboat, it would be sad and horrifying, but not "senseless." Because again, though animals have intelligence and emotion, we understand that they are more often driven by instinct and impulse and do not hold them to the same standards of human interaction.
But we expect more of one another. We expect our fellow humans to operate with a certain respect for themselves, each other, and the species as a whole. Theft, rape, even murder - they are disgusting and evil acts, they cross the line, but even so they still make a kind of twisted sense, because at least we can understand what it is to selfishly want something (even if the majority of us would not go about such totally wrong means of getting it) or to be driven by an overwhelming emotion (though for most of us, self control wins in the end). But when someone comes along and purposes in their heart to completely fly in the face of this innate respect for fellow human life, and to act in such a way not for personal gain but simply to make some sort of statement or attract notoriety - it makes no sense. None at all.
Why? Why?
In a blog post four years ago entitled "Musings on Entropy" I wrote this: "I hate how easy it is to destroy something. I think this is a fundamental flaw in the universe: the fact that it is easy and immediate to kill, to destroy, to take away, to injure, to break, and that it is often difficult and slow to grow, to build, to repair, to create, to heal, to restore." I still hate it. Two years later in 2011 directly following the London riots, I wrote another reflection on the exact same topic, calling it the "dichotomous relationship" between destruction and creation. But pondering it now, yet another two years later, I don't think "dichotomous" is the right word. It talks about a split into two mutually exclusive groups, but actually I'm beginning to realize that creation and destruction are two sides of the same coin.
It is unsurprising the me that Adolf Hitler, the man whose name is perhaps as synonymous with evil as Lucifer himself, was first a painter. Unsatisfied with limiting his vision of the world to still lifes of scenery and flowers, he went on to commit some of the most senseless atrocities in modern warfare, and, let's be honest, in human history. And you know how he brought this about? Imagination, ingenuity, talent, hard work, effort. All these words we post up on motivational posters, that conjure in our heads images of great artists and inventors and humanitarians, people who create and inspire and add something beneficial to the world - well, guess what? They are the tools of dictators and terrorists as well. (Yes, I know, they have other tools we refuse to use: fear, manipulation, etc. But still...)
There is power in ideas. There is power in imagination. And this isn't The Wizard of Oz where you're a good witch or a bad witch. Imagination is a neutral force that can be funneled toward any cause or any point on the moral compass. Plenty of people figured this out long before me. Nearly two hundred years ago, Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote: "Words - so innocent and powerless they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good or evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them." (Emphasis mine.) Last year, musician Amanda Palmer released a song called "Ukulele Anthem" in which she notes: "It takes about an hour to teach someone to play the ukulele / About the same to teach someone to build a standard pipe bomb / YOU DO THE MATH." And back in 2008, giving her commencement address to the graduates of Harvard university, author J.K. Rowling explained that "unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people's places. Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral. One might use such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathise." Which is why, she went on to explain, it is so very important that we learn to "imagine better."
Boston is just the latest knot in a long string of senseless violence, and I fear this string will only grow more tangled in years ahead. We may get answers to some of our questions, but that last one, the most important one, is one I don't think there will ever be an answer to.
So instead I'll choose to ask a different question: if evil can be "senseless," why can't good?
I think the best way to fight back against such inexplicable destructivity (look it up - it's a real word!) is through acts of kindness and compassion that defy logic. People don't always deserve love - we can be cruel and downright terrible to each other, and many of us, even on our best days, are still ultimately self-serving and small-minded - but what if we do the radical thing and give it to them anyway? Go out of our way to do things to add joy and beauty to other people's lives, even people we really might not like that much? Even if it was inconvenient or meant putting someone else's interests ahead of our own? How senseless would that be?
...and how wonderful?
I don't really have some neat way to wrap this whole thing up. It's long and rambling and all over the place and I'm not even sure if I've said what I'm trying to say. Just, don't get discouraged. And don't be afraid. I read these books nowadays - Hunger Games and others of that ilk - and wonder if people respond to them the way they do because there's that fear there in all of us that the world really is sinking into such a hopeless state. Well, I don't believe it. Not for an instant. For all the hell we see in this world, there are also shining glimpses of heaven.
There are two sides to every coin.
Bombs went off at the marathon on Monday. People died and were seriously injured. What exactly happened here?
This was a purposeful act, not an accident. Who did this?
The city is placed on lock-down. Where are they?
Two suspects are identified and located. In the shoot-out to follow, one suspect is killed. Soon afterward, the second suspect is captured and seriously injured. Which means that after all these other questions, we come to the most haunting one of all:
Why?
Dzhokhar Tsarvaev is in the hospital in critical condition and isn't going to be answering that question anytime soon. Even when - if - he is able to clarify his role in all this, to put into words the motivations that led to his alleged actions and the alleged actions of his brother Tamerlan, it is doubtful that his explanation will really tell us anything. It won't be enough. It won't be anything we can wrap our heads around. Because to the average person, this makes no sense.
We seem to only hear that word, "senseless," tossed around in the media after some overwhelming act of purposeful destruction. The earthquake that happened today in China that has killed over 150 people is a terrible tragedy, but it is not "senseless," because we do not expect a force of nature to operate within rules of logic and morality. The plant explosion in Texas that occurred earlier this week and has killed at least 14 people is a devastating accident, but it is not "senseless," because dangerous chemicals and machinery do not follow any sort of creed or code. And even if the cause is revealed to be due to human error or negligence, this is different than intentional design and can at least make a sort of sense to us. To use a fictional example we can look at Life of Pi. If Pi were to be eaten by the tiger trapped with him on the lifeboat, it would be sad and horrifying, but not "senseless." Because again, though animals have intelligence and emotion, we understand that they are more often driven by instinct and impulse and do not hold them to the same standards of human interaction.
But we expect more of one another. We expect our fellow humans to operate with a certain respect for themselves, each other, and the species as a whole. Theft, rape, even murder - they are disgusting and evil acts, they cross the line, but even so they still make a kind of twisted sense, because at least we can understand what it is to selfishly want something (even if the majority of us would not go about such totally wrong means of getting it) or to be driven by an overwhelming emotion (though for most of us, self control wins in the end). But when someone comes along and purposes in their heart to completely fly in the face of this innate respect for fellow human life, and to act in such a way not for personal gain but simply to make some sort of statement or attract notoriety - it makes no sense. None at all.
Why? Why?
In a blog post four years ago entitled "Musings on Entropy" I wrote this: "I hate how easy it is to destroy something. I think this is a fundamental flaw in the universe: the fact that it is easy and immediate to kill, to destroy, to take away, to injure, to break, and that it is often difficult and slow to grow, to build, to repair, to create, to heal, to restore." I still hate it. Two years later in 2011 directly following the London riots, I wrote another reflection on the exact same topic, calling it the "dichotomous relationship" between destruction and creation. But pondering it now, yet another two years later, I don't think "dichotomous" is the right word. It talks about a split into two mutually exclusive groups, but actually I'm beginning to realize that creation and destruction are two sides of the same coin.
It is unsurprising the me that Adolf Hitler, the man whose name is perhaps as synonymous with evil as Lucifer himself, was first a painter. Unsatisfied with limiting his vision of the world to still lifes of scenery and flowers, he went on to commit some of the most senseless atrocities in modern warfare, and, let's be honest, in human history. And you know how he brought this about? Imagination, ingenuity, talent, hard work, effort. All these words we post up on motivational posters, that conjure in our heads images of great artists and inventors and humanitarians, people who create and inspire and add something beneficial to the world - well, guess what? They are the tools of dictators and terrorists as well. (Yes, I know, they have other tools we refuse to use: fear, manipulation, etc. But still...)
There is power in ideas. There is power in imagination. And this isn't The Wizard of Oz where you're a good witch or a bad witch. Imagination is a neutral force that can be funneled toward any cause or any point on the moral compass. Plenty of people figured this out long before me. Nearly two hundred years ago, Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote: "Words - so innocent and powerless they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good or evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them." (Emphasis mine.) Last year, musician Amanda Palmer released a song called "Ukulele Anthem" in which she notes: "It takes about an hour to teach someone to play the ukulele / About the same to teach someone to build a standard pipe bomb / YOU DO THE MATH." And back in 2008, giving her commencement address to the graduates of Harvard university, author J.K. Rowling explained that "unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people's places. Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral. One might use such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathise." Which is why, she went on to explain, it is so very important that we learn to "imagine better."
Boston is just the latest knot in a long string of senseless violence, and I fear this string will only grow more tangled in years ahead. We may get answers to some of our questions, but that last one, the most important one, is one I don't think there will ever be an answer to.
So instead I'll choose to ask a different question: if evil can be "senseless," why can't good?
I think the best way to fight back against such inexplicable destructivity (look it up - it's a real word!) is through acts of kindness and compassion that defy logic. People don't always deserve love - we can be cruel and downright terrible to each other, and many of us, even on our best days, are still ultimately self-serving and small-minded - but what if we do the radical thing and give it to them anyway? Go out of our way to do things to add joy and beauty to other people's lives, even people we really might not like that much? Even if it was inconvenient or meant putting someone else's interests ahead of our own? How senseless would that be?
...and how wonderful?
I don't really have some neat way to wrap this whole thing up. It's long and rambling and all over the place and I'm not even sure if I've said what I'm trying to say. Just, don't get discouraged. And don't be afraid. I read these books nowadays - Hunger Games and others of that ilk - and wonder if people respond to them the way they do because there's that fear there in all of us that the world really is sinking into such a hopeless state. Well, I don't believe it. Not for an instant. For all the hell we see in this world, there are also shining glimpses of heaven.
There are two sides to every coin.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
(Re)birth day
So, it's official. 27. Feels... not at all different from 26. Go figure.
It's silly to make these "big gesture" statements about how I want to change in the coming year, because of course I'm not going to do things perfectly. I'm not going to write every day or keep to a healthy diet or be kind and patient with every person who comes my way. But I'd rather aim high and miss (insert cliche about moon and stars here) than not bother at all.
So, for year 27 in my life...
Top priority is writing Joan. Like, actually writing it. I was talking to Rebekah on the phone tonight about where I was with it, explaining there's roadmap writing and there's story writing. Well, I've been roadmapping Joan for a while. Do I have all my answers? No. Are there still big holes? Yes. But I've been down the road before with Wishbook where I roadmapped my way through years and years until I hit a dead end and just gave up. I don't want to lose this one. I want to sit down and force myself to story write it. I want to give people something to read, some idea of the story bubbling in my head, even if it's a mediocre version of it. Because you can take mediocre and work with it. You can't exactly work with nothing.
A secondary writing goal would be 13 Days for this year, as well as Half Miracle. But the main focus HAS TO BE Joan.
Another priority is to sort out my financials. Pay off my debt, and not get into anymore. Find an apartment. Possibly figure out some form of health insurance. In other words, become a responsible adult. I also want to start saving for the Europe trip next year. Somehow I will make it happen.
A final goal would be to give some thought to spiritual matters. Really figure out where I stand on things and why.
Art. Money. Faith. Some good things to focus on this year. We'll leave other things (Relationships. Career. Etc. ) for some other time.
27. Let's give it a whirl.
It's silly to make these "big gesture" statements about how I want to change in the coming year, because of course I'm not going to do things perfectly. I'm not going to write every day or keep to a healthy diet or be kind and patient with every person who comes my way. But I'd rather aim high and miss (insert cliche about moon and stars here) than not bother at all.
So, for year 27 in my life...
Top priority is writing Joan. Like, actually writing it. I was talking to Rebekah on the phone tonight about where I was with it, explaining there's roadmap writing and there's story writing. Well, I've been roadmapping Joan for a while. Do I have all my answers? No. Are there still big holes? Yes. But I've been down the road before with Wishbook where I roadmapped my way through years and years until I hit a dead end and just gave up. I don't want to lose this one. I want to sit down and force myself to story write it. I want to give people something to read, some idea of the story bubbling in my head, even if it's a mediocre version of it. Because you can take mediocre and work with it. You can't exactly work with nothing.
A secondary writing goal would be 13 Days for this year, as well as Half Miracle. But the main focus HAS TO BE Joan.
Another priority is to sort out my financials. Pay off my debt, and not get into anymore. Find an apartment. Possibly figure out some form of health insurance. In other words, become a responsible adult. I also want to start saving for the Europe trip next year. Somehow I will make it happen.
A final goal would be to give some thought to spiritual matters. Really figure out where I stand on things and why.
Art. Money. Faith. Some good things to focus on this year. We'll leave other things (Relationships. Career. Etc. ) for some other time.
27. Let's give it a whirl.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Don't Care
I find I don't care anymore about a lot of things I probably should care about, big things and little.
I don't care what people think of me. Let them think what they will.
I don't care about watching the Oscars. All the speeches about never giving up and the triumph of success in art just sound like the same thing I've heard every year, only now it seems like a lot of empty noise.
I don't care about owning a smart phone. I used to think it would be fun, but now I just think I'd be another one of these people who bury their face in their phone and forget to be wherever it is they're at.
I don't care how I look. Fashion, haircuts, whatever. Used to be fun, trying to figure out how to look pretty, but now I just don't see the point. Why bother?
It doesn't matter. It's all just something more to think about, something trivial, a distraction, a way to occupy my time. I see things more and more as just ways to use up time. Reading and watching movies, deciding to meet up with friends... it's just ways to fill the empty spaces, those time slots that aren't filled by sleep or work.
Never mind that these so-called "trivial" things, these hours of waking that pass so quickly by, are pretty much it. Are pretty much life. If I don't care about them, if I don't care about anything, I'm going to wake up and find it's fifty years from now and I'm still alone and sad and shrugging to myself, saying, "Whatever. It is what it is. Who cares?"
I want to care.
I'm tired of feeling this way, like all color's been bleached out of the world.
I'm tired of being alone.
I don't care what people think of me. Let them think what they will.
I don't care about watching the Oscars. All the speeches about never giving up and the triumph of success in art just sound like the same thing I've heard every year, only now it seems like a lot of empty noise.
I don't care about owning a smart phone. I used to think it would be fun, but now I just think I'd be another one of these people who bury their face in their phone and forget to be wherever it is they're at.
I don't care how I look. Fashion, haircuts, whatever. Used to be fun, trying to figure out how to look pretty, but now I just don't see the point. Why bother?
It doesn't matter. It's all just something more to think about, something trivial, a distraction, a way to occupy my time. I see things more and more as just ways to use up time. Reading and watching movies, deciding to meet up with friends... it's just ways to fill the empty spaces, those time slots that aren't filled by sleep or work.
Never mind that these so-called "trivial" things, these hours of waking that pass so quickly by, are pretty much it. Are pretty much life. If I don't care about them, if I don't care about anything, I'm going to wake up and find it's fifty years from now and I'm still alone and sad and shrugging to myself, saying, "Whatever. It is what it is. Who cares?"
I want to care.
I'm tired of feeling this way, like all color's been bleached out of the world.
I'm tired of being alone.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Monday, December 3, 2012
Sometimes
Sometimes you just have to be willing to write today off, to realize that nothing good is going to come of it, to keep your head down and your thoughts small until sundown, to go to sleep and hope tomorrow's not just more of the same.
Sometimes you have to acknowledge that you are a bad person, and that you are choosing to do the selfish thing because it is the only thing that makes each day not feel like you're breathing in poison. Seriously. I know that when someone is hurting they might lash out in anger at you. I know I should be the bigger person and forgive. But I don't want to forgive. I don't want to be there for her. I'm happier with her out of my life completely. It's terrible, but I feel like she's this cancerous tumor and I've cut her off and I'm able to live life again. She's not a cancerous tumor (that's the terrible person in me talking), she's a human being. And she's hurting. And I should be kind. But some people hurt and some people wallow. And her kind of hurting is the I-must-do-everything-in-my-power-to-drag-everyone-else-down-with-me kind. It's the if-I'm-going-to-feel-this-terrible-I-want-you-to-feel-doubly-so kind. It's the you-haven't-done-anything-to-contribute-to-this-problem-but-I'm-going-to-make-you-suffer-for-it-anyway kind. It's toxic. It's petty. It's poison. And I don't want it anywhere near me.
Sometimes you have to be willing to face hard truths, to realize that maybe what you're mourning here isn't so much the loss of a person but the loss of an innocence. There was a caring and compassionate person somewhere inside me once that has died. I don't care about her. I don't want her to suffer, don't get me wrong, but it's in this vague and generic way that you feel about strangers you hear about during some big disaster relief effort. I feel bad for the people without power or shelter because of Sandy. I would do what I could to help them. But I don't feel any personal bond with them. It's entirely the mild investment of of someone who doesn't have to stick around and see it through. I'll donate my money to the Red Cross and say my prayers for a week or so, then life will move on and my involvement will be over. I want my involvement to be over. I don't want to salvage this. I don't want to be invested. I don't actually care. Her cat is dying. That's sad. My pets have died before. But guess what? It doesn't have to destroy you to the degree that she's letting it. She's wallowing. She's doing the emo thing that I've done many a time before where you practically revel in the sadness. Not really; I mean, you're not necessarily getting joy from it, but despair is an emotional high just as much as joy, and sometimes it's just so very nice to feel. But it's immature and unhealthy and it pisses me off. I don't have the patience for it, for her. I know it seems like I'm turning my back on her, but what you've got to understand is that she turned her back on me a long time before this. Weeks definitely, but in subtle ways I suspect really it's been months. We've been slowly becoming two very different people. Just because we were close when we were little doesn't mean we have to be or even should be now.
Sometimes you can talk yourself into thinking there are good reasons for these choices you're making, but there usually aren't. They are very probably bad choices. You are very definitely doing something wrong. As much as we all want to paint ourselves as the heroes of our own stories, in this one you've got to be content to come out the villain. She's painted herself a victim, you're sick of her wolf-cries, and so you leave her to her despair and go on with life. It seems heartless and cold, but you do it anyway.
Sometimes life just breaks you in half. So you write today off, and hope for another chance.
Sometimes you have to acknowledge that you are a bad person, and that you are choosing to do the selfish thing because it is the only thing that makes each day not feel like you're breathing in poison. Seriously. I know that when someone is hurting they might lash out in anger at you. I know I should be the bigger person and forgive. But I don't want to forgive. I don't want to be there for her. I'm happier with her out of my life completely. It's terrible, but I feel like she's this cancerous tumor and I've cut her off and I'm able to live life again. She's not a cancerous tumor (that's the terrible person in me talking), she's a human being. And she's hurting. And I should be kind. But some people hurt and some people wallow. And her kind of hurting is the I-must-do-everything-in-my-power-to-drag-everyone-else-down-with-me kind. It's the if-I'm-going-to-feel-this-terrible-I-want-you-to-feel-doubly-so kind. It's the you-haven't-done-anything-to-contribute-to-this-problem-but-I'm-going-to-make-you-suffer-for-it-anyway kind. It's toxic. It's petty. It's poison. And I don't want it anywhere near me.
Sometimes you have to be willing to face hard truths, to realize that maybe what you're mourning here isn't so much the loss of a person but the loss of an innocence. There was a caring and compassionate person somewhere inside me once that has died. I don't care about her. I don't want her to suffer, don't get me wrong, but it's in this vague and generic way that you feel about strangers you hear about during some big disaster relief effort. I feel bad for the people without power or shelter because of Sandy. I would do what I could to help them. But I don't feel any personal bond with them. It's entirely the mild investment of of someone who doesn't have to stick around and see it through. I'll donate my money to the Red Cross and say my prayers for a week or so, then life will move on and my involvement will be over. I want my involvement to be over. I don't want to salvage this. I don't want to be invested. I don't actually care. Her cat is dying. That's sad. My pets have died before. But guess what? It doesn't have to destroy you to the degree that she's letting it. She's wallowing. She's doing the emo thing that I've done many a time before where you practically revel in the sadness. Not really; I mean, you're not necessarily getting joy from it, but despair is an emotional high just as much as joy, and sometimes it's just so very nice to feel. But it's immature and unhealthy and it pisses me off. I don't have the patience for it, for her. I know it seems like I'm turning my back on her, but what you've got to understand is that she turned her back on me a long time before this. Weeks definitely, but in subtle ways I suspect really it's been months. We've been slowly becoming two very different people. Just because we were close when we were little doesn't mean we have to be or even should be now.
Sometimes you can talk yourself into thinking there are good reasons for these choices you're making, but there usually aren't. They are very probably bad choices. You are very definitely doing something wrong. As much as we all want to paint ourselves as the heroes of our own stories, in this one you've got to be content to come out the villain. She's painted herself a victim, you're sick of her wolf-cries, and so you leave her to her despair and go on with life. It seems heartless and cold, but you do it anyway.
Sometimes life just breaks you in half. So you write today off, and hope for another chance.
Monday, November 19, 2012
The Unforgivable Sin
According to Christian Scripture, there is one unforgivable sin. I don't know where the Catholics get their thing about suicide, but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the sin mentioned in Mark 3 and Matthew 12: "blasphemy against the Holy Spirit."
This isn't going to be a sermon, I promise. It's a metaphor. But give me a minute to lay the groundwork so it'll all make sense. I'm sure there are a number of ways to interpret this passage, but I heard a speaker once who explained it in a way I'll never forget. According to him, "blasphemy against the Holy Spirit" isn't me saying, "Fuck you, Holy Spirit," or "You're the devil, Holy Spirit." Blasphemy against the Holy Spirit is total and absolute rejection of the Holy Spirit.
So basically, the "unforgivable sin" is choosing to not be forgiven. And God just says, "Okay, if that's what you want... fine."
I have a friend that I've known for 21 years. She's going through a bad time right now. She feels really stressed and misunderstood. She also has this one fatal flaw: she can't forgive. If you do anything to make her feel slighted or hurt in any way, that's it. Unfriended. Deleted. Gone. No second chances.
I've danced a fine tightrope for 21 years. Once when we were ten-years-old we had an argument. We were swimming in the kiddie pool in her backyard, and I was instructed by my mother not to get my towel wet. She wanted to play mermaids using her towel as a "fin" over her legs and insisted I join her. When I refused, she pulled the towel in anyway. I was so furious, I left the towel and stormed home, barefoot and in nothing but my bathing suit, down hot asphalt and crunchy gravel driveways, until I finally made it home sobbing, and by the time I burst through the door my phone was already ringing and it was her on the other end, and we were both apologizing to each other, and the whole thing was funny and ridiculous, because of course something so stupid could never keep us from being friends.
But sixteen years later, I fear something so stupid has. It's a string of small stupid things - she feels that I purposefully left her out of trips and outings, that I've grown somehow "mean" (and it's true, I'm far more blunt than I used to be), and she has mistaken my concerned consultation with a mutual friend as some kind of disloyal plotting and backstabbing. I've written lengthy letters trying to defend myself, or at the very least explain my motives. I've made apologies, imploring and groveling even when, in all honesty, I'd much rather just smack some sense into the girl, because I know her, and I know that if I don't pull out all the stops, I'll lose her.
The only unforgivable sin is choosing not to be forgiven, but that's the only option she's left me with. I want to be her friend, but if she'll never extend pardon, if she'll never try to consider things from anyone's perspective but her own, if she'll never extend the kind of friendship she expects to receive, if she insists on clinging to her personal grievances instead of trying to push beyond them to a place of healing, then all I can do is mourn and move on and live my life without her.
It's weird losing someone to something other than death.
I think no matter how legitimate your cause, allowing anything to stand in the way of the transformative power of forgiveness and love is foolish and will only bring about your own destruction. That's pretty much my entire religion in a nutshell, from Lucifer's rebellion to Adam and Eve's disobedience to Christ's death and resurrection and return...
God could force us to obey him, but because he loves us he gives us the freedom to push him away. I want to shake sense into this girl, make her keep being my friend, make her somehow go back to the way we once were, but if this is what she's chosen, I have to respect that.
I have to allow her the freedom to choose her own destruction.
:(
This isn't going to be a sermon, I promise. It's a metaphor. But give me a minute to lay the groundwork so it'll all make sense. I'm sure there are a number of ways to interpret this passage, but I heard a speaker once who explained it in a way I'll never forget. According to him, "blasphemy against the Holy Spirit" isn't me saying, "Fuck you, Holy Spirit," or "You're the devil, Holy Spirit." Blasphemy against the Holy Spirit is total and absolute rejection of the Holy Spirit.
So basically, the "unforgivable sin" is choosing to not be forgiven. And God just says, "Okay, if that's what you want... fine."
I have a friend that I've known for 21 years. She's going through a bad time right now. She feels really stressed and misunderstood. She also has this one fatal flaw: she can't forgive. If you do anything to make her feel slighted or hurt in any way, that's it. Unfriended. Deleted. Gone. No second chances.
I've danced a fine tightrope for 21 years. Once when we were ten-years-old we had an argument. We were swimming in the kiddie pool in her backyard, and I was instructed by my mother not to get my towel wet. She wanted to play mermaids using her towel as a "fin" over her legs and insisted I join her. When I refused, she pulled the towel in anyway. I was so furious, I left the towel and stormed home, barefoot and in nothing but my bathing suit, down hot asphalt and crunchy gravel driveways, until I finally made it home sobbing, and by the time I burst through the door my phone was already ringing and it was her on the other end, and we were both apologizing to each other, and the whole thing was funny and ridiculous, because of course something so stupid could never keep us from being friends.
But sixteen years later, I fear something so stupid has. It's a string of small stupid things - she feels that I purposefully left her out of trips and outings, that I've grown somehow "mean" (and it's true, I'm far more blunt than I used to be), and she has mistaken my concerned consultation with a mutual friend as some kind of disloyal plotting and backstabbing. I've written lengthy letters trying to defend myself, or at the very least explain my motives. I've made apologies, imploring and groveling even when, in all honesty, I'd much rather just smack some sense into the girl, because I know her, and I know that if I don't pull out all the stops, I'll lose her.
The only unforgivable sin is choosing not to be forgiven, but that's the only option she's left me with. I want to be her friend, but if she'll never extend pardon, if she'll never try to consider things from anyone's perspective but her own, if she'll never extend the kind of friendship she expects to receive, if she insists on clinging to her personal grievances instead of trying to push beyond them to a place of healing, then all I can do is mourn and move on and live my life without her.
It's weird losing someone to something other than death.
I think no matter how legitimate your cause, allowing anything to stand in the way of the transformative power of forgiveness and love is foolish and will only bring about your own destruction. That's pretty much my entire religion in a nutshell, from Lucifer's rebellion to Adam and Eve's disobedience to Christ's death and resurrection and return...
God could force us to obey him, but because he loves us he gives us the freedom to push him away. I want to shake sense into this girl, make her keep being my friend, make her somehow go back to the way we once were, but if this is what she's chosen, I have to respect that.
I have to allow her the freedom to choose her own destruction.
:(
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