Wrestling

with humility (audio embedded)

The ego speaks first and loudest.

-Marianne Williamson

That quote was from one of my readings this morning. I use Marianne Williamson’s “A Year of Miracles: Daily Devotions and Reflections,” as part of what I call my soul work. It’s the time (if I have it to spare) I spend getting myself together before I face the world, or let’s be honest, before I subject the world to me and my isms.

This morning it went like this: 50 minutes of yoga at 6am, an ACA meeting at 7 ( I often journal during my meeting — if I don’t do a meeting, I usually spend quite a bit of time in front of my altar with my books and writings). I like the quiet of mornings before the house wakes up. I’m a morning person and have always been an early riser, but the habit really stuck when I was writing Blood — I’d get up at 5am to write before John Henry got up for school. I get good work done at that time, as a general rule.

The time I spend in contemplation of whatever sort informs everything I do. Now, I may forget about all the reading and writing I’ve done about peace, love, and positive personal trajectory as soon as I sense an impending negative experience and forget that I’m not supposed to not only not act like a jackass but not think one like either, but here’s the difference: I pull it together and get my mind back on track so much more quickly than I ever thought might be possible, and that’s due to my determination to become a less reactive person who is not always in an adaptive child state, one who is always using the survival strategies I developed as a 2-year-old. I’m grown now. There are other tools available, so I’m trying to figure out how to use them. Some days I fail miserably.

By the way, I’m a terrible meditator. But trying to learn it has taught me a valuable lesson. Meditation is, to me, the great metaphor for being a human being. We try, we fail, we try again. We try, we fail, we try again.

So back to that ego thing.

What today’s devotional passage was about as far as how I see it, was that the inevitable tendency of our ego in relationships is to keep us separate, safe, and invulnerable, especially when we feel we have been wronged. Our egos tell us we are righteously justified to be angry and to cut off the offender that has hurt us so and deny them our love. But what good does that do? Doesn’t that only deepen the wound that exists between the two in the relationship?

I learned a lot while I was doing the Sunday Selfie Series (you can scroll down and find those entries), but I think one of the best things was this, my friend Sarah Smarsh’s response to the forgiveness question.

AM: Do you believe that forgiveness benefits the forgiver or the transgressor?

SS: In my best moments, I perceive the forgiver and transgressor as one and the same. When you realize that you and the bad guy are expressions of the same, shared, infinite energy, forgiveness is the only sane act. But it’s not easy to see that through human goggles. Usually, forgiveness feels more like self-healing — especially since transgressors are often unaware of their crimes, let alone concerned about my opinion.

When we hold grudges and cut others off from love, we also cut ourselves off from love. When we are unforgiving, we are also unforgiving of what is imperfect about ourselves. That requires zero vulnerability. In essence, the ego likes to judge and be superior, especially when it feels like it’s standing on the solid moral high ground. Ha. What is that?

Our relationships are designed to teach us, right? So cutting off someone we’re supposed to be learning from keeps us from learning what we’re supposed to learn.

E N T E R B O U N D A R I E S

In no way do I think we are supposed to let others hurt us. And certainly not repeatedly. But I also know people make mistakes. If we can somehow learn to have healthy boundaries (talking to myself here) then we can keep safe and still vulnerable enough to say to the one who has messed with us, Hey — that’s not cool. Here’s why. Here’s how it makes me feel. Here’s what you may not do again. If you do it again, I will have make changes because these are my boundaries and you may not cross them.

From that understanding, we proceed. If there is no understanding, we also proceed, if in a different direction.

Why is that so hard for us (me) to do?

Well, we can all unravel our sweaters and try to get to the beginning — when did we first feel trampled and unable to say hey don’t trample me? Then we have to remember what an AA old-timer once said: How the car got in the ditch doesn’t necessarily matter as much as how we’re going to get it out does.

So, that leaves me here: When I want to blame, judge, or otherwise put myself above someone I’m in relationship with for any reason, I should probably go look in the mirror. Then I should think about what Sarah said. It’s pretty wise from a general standpoint as well, relationship or not.

I hope today is lovely for all of you.

Peace and love,

Allison

She was cute but she does not need to be running things.

,