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Bonds
that Make Us Free, Part 31: A Career of Repentance
by
C. Terry Warner
We have noted
that after experiencing something of a change of heart, we are likely
to encounter new occurrences of old emotional weakness and habits
we thought we had conquered. Coming up against such challenges again
does not itself indicate such a relapse. Rather, it presents us
with a chance to decide whether we will continue to grow.
The same principles
govern here as before. If we respond as we feel prompted, we remain
free of any reason to justify or excuse ourselves and to blame others.
And if we catch ourselves already in self- betrayal—criticizing,
boasting, becoming angry, lying, indulging in self-accusation or
self-pity or any other negative thoughts or feelings—we have
a bona fide opportunity to decide whether we will continue to do
so or turn ourselves about. We can do what we did before—we
can ask, "Might I be in the wrong?" or "What is the
right thing to do?" or "What is the other person struggling
with?" and then let the truth guide our actions. Doing this
sincerely is what it takes to stay on course, and it lies within
our power.
Personal growth
is not like the development of a skill. It does not take place in
observable increments that can be measured and charted. Indeed,
as we have seen, when we're growing in sensitivity, generosity,
and compassion, we're not aware of it, because we're not focusing
on ourselves. The recovery of emotional freedom simply does not
have the quality, for most of us, of a controllable sequence of
transformations. It's more a career of discovering further and further
weaknesses and shedding them in turn.
We do well for
a time. We slip. We have a truly dark day. We recognize how we've
recently returned to our old, regrettable ways. We face up to a
weakness. We resolve that this isn't how we want to live. We ponder
what we must change and, if prayer is part of our lives, we seek
for help. Perhaps we talk with a trusted friend, one wise enough
not to tell us we're expecting too much of ourselves. We make a
responsible move to do what seems most right to do. And so on.
The lapse is
made temporary by our turnaround, when it might have launched us
on a downhill slide to depths even darker than those we knew before.
In fact, in some ways our turnaround makes the lapse a strengthening
experience that increases our ability to recognize and correct our
falterings. This is how it goes for people who make consistent progress.
Laura (see Part
28) told the story of a day when she was able simply to be herself
rather than focus on herself, first with her students at the alternative
high school, then with her two young friends, Daniel and Kristi,
and finally with her mother. It was definitely the kind of day she
would have wanted to continue. But like most of the rest of us,
she hit a snag, and what happened then illustrates the kind of easy
recovery I have been talking about.
After that
day with Daniel and Kristi I had a brief relapse. My sense of
"I" returned. I was getting ready to go home to write
the paper, "On Being One," when I thought about how
natural their affection towards me had been. I was struck with
the thought, "I haven't done anything to deserve the love
these children have for me." As if the children's affections
could be my doing, my accomplishment! As if their love could be
attributed only to my lovable qualities! I began to sense a lie
hiding in these thoughts. I had made my relationship with the
kids a matter of command and control. I've been a person who has
maintained a death-grip hold on her control of situations. I had
to be the one who was responsible, who would get the credit or
the blame. But as I was sensing the lie embedded in my thoughts,
I heard myself say aloud, "If I'm trying to take total responsibility
for all that happens, then that's a lie." These words followed
me to my car, lined up in front of me, and stared back. Accepting
the children's love as not my own doing was the beginning of my
letting go.
When I got
home and sat down to begin writing, the words flowed. The ideas
were there waiting for me to express them. As I got to the part
about being one with Mother over the phone, I noticed in myself
a tendency to put the whole elaborate self-betrayal in the paper,
under the pretense that it would make a good contrast with the
oneness with her I had felt. I realized that wanting to put in
the gory details was an attempt to glorify my repentance. I was
trying again to control, to make sure of the impression I was
making. By repeating my story of overcoming my victimhood single-handedly,
I could reassure myself about how great I was. This was another
attempt at control. This way of writing separated me from my mother.
I began to think about her as I had before. It also separated
me from my reader. After less than a paragraph, the flow was gone.
This startled
me. Without pausing to consider, I pushed the backspace key on
the computer, and began to erase the words backwards, letter by
letter. As quickly as they disappeared from the screen, one line
after another up the page, I could feel the spirit of love flow
back to me. For a moment it seemed very strange that someone might
think I had a normal relationship with my mother, with no particular
hardship in it. This was a thought that just a moment ago I could
not have allowed myself to have. Though it felt strange, letting
go was sweet almost beyond belief.
As I ran the
spell-checker over the finished paper, my computer froze, and
I hadn't saved what I had written. It was 2 A.M. and there was
no one awake to help. I considered leaving the computer on until
morning in the flimsy hope that there might be some way to restore
my paper. But all the fuss seemed unnecessary because the feelings
I enjoyed while I was writing were still with me. I flipped the
switch, restarted the computer, and retyped the paper. I think
the rewrite is just about the same as the first version.
There was
throughout this experience a serene joy I can't quite explain.
Feelings of carrying a burden relaxed and untwisted. I recalled
how I used to think of my mother as harsh and domineering. I had
taken offense when I believed it was risky to be her daughter.
Now I could see that I was never at serious risk except in those
times when I did take offense.
The point of
it all, the reason for our concerns about these matters, is not
to polish ourselves to a nonhuman perfection, but to stand self-forgetfully
and conscience-free in the light and to recover our balance quickly
if we start to fall.
In
the next section, we'll begin looking at how we really can change
the influence of the past and assure that generations of betrayal
and collusion end with us....
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