"I really, really want to get the pebble out of my shoe. I'm just concerned that once it's gone, I will forget that I have feet."
In the face of difficulty and hostility, we have the opportunity to become aware of ease and kindness. I know it sounds backwards. However, by their very absence, we become aware of them missing. And we have the chance to find the better parts of ourselves to counter them.
Of course, we can choose the knee-jerk reaction of meeting like with like. You yell at me, I'll yell at you. And in the end, that gets us nowhere. Just more unhappy.
We can also choose to bottle up that same reaction and cause physical and emotional harm to ourselves and those around us as it leaks out. Still not useful.
Alternately, struggling with meanness and self-absorption in another can allow us to face these same things in ourselves and eradicate them. To acknowledge the demonstration in another of what we are also capable of. And yes, Virginia, we are all capable of some pretty heinous acts - as well as some very tender ones.
Easily 20 years ago at my house, we were watching a PBS special about WWII. In it, there was a black & white clip of Hitler playing with his dogs. He was laughing and smiling and his dogs were bouncing around, tails wagging. A happy scene. I was stunned. It had never occurred to me that Hitler was anything but cruel and hateful. Dogs are pretty good judges of character, though, and apparently, to those two, Adolf was a nice guy - as appalling as it sounds.
We all have it in us. And we forget that to our own peril. As they say, those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Since seeing that documentary, a saying has evolved in our house. When faced with someone or a situation that we find hateful or mean, we remind each other that "Hitler loved his dogs." Shorthand for "We are all capable of great good or great evil. It is our responsibility to choose wisely."
Having said that, in this current situation that I and my family have been wrestling with, I find that I have reached the point where I just want it to go away. Unfortunately, I am afraid that the better selves that it has called us to be, will also be forgotten once it's gone. There is more than one way to live "in reaction to".
So, now, my practice, is to consciously thank the pebble while it remains... and mindfully prepare to remember my feet once it's gone.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Finally, as an old friend said to me, :Very deep grasshopper! Make someone try and 'snatch the pebble from your hand' after you take it from your shoe. :)"
Wax on, wax off....
Until next time....
peace,
Janice
