One of my friends is struggling with a crisis of health and wellness. She is stronger than anyone I know; strong enough, even, to ask for help. Strong enough to accept it. And strong enough to be honest about what is happening to her and within her and make no excuses nor amends. She has inspired me throughout this period of crisis, because I cannot imagine being as strong, honest, and courageous as she has been.
As she wends her way through the treacherous maze of health care provision, she has commented on the pervasive unprofessionalism of some persons. Keeping in mind that these are people who have sought a career in health care presumably because they care about people and want to help them, it's mind-boggling to hear the stories of just how callous people can be. And in the midst of this maze of disappointment and passing-the-buck, my friend passed along a simple concept that stopped me dead in my tracks:
"All cruelty comes from weakness."
It seems simplistic, sophomoric even. But I've thought about it over a couple of days and have realized that it's not simple at all. This one phrase, used as a mantra as my friend has had to do, holds such potential for healing and forgiveness that it's almost revelatory. Myself, having struggled my entire adult life with a "Messiah complex," am seeing this as a form of redemption and exemption that has eluded my efforts to date. Instead of responding to someone's sudden and unprovoked cruelty with a surety that their lashing out must somehow by my fault and therefore something I must make personal efforts to address and "make right," I can recognize such attacks as a personal flaw and thus completely out of my realm of control, influence, and responsibility. This "simple" concept holds untold and unknown freedom for my psyche, for my soul.
Similarly, often I have been puzzled and overcome by my youngest daughter's occasional cruelty, an angry and vicious part of her that seems so incongruous with her generally sweet and sensitive disposition. I have been unsuccessful at efforts to curb her tongue in this regard, probably because the focus of my efforts has been on the words coming out of her mouth rather than the fundamental weakness that fuels them. After all, what is "weakness?" Can't it be argued that the source of all "weakness" is fear? And in the case of my youngest, my miracle baby, her innate sensitivity might just be the breeding ground for the fear that paralyzes her spirit and allows the toxic vomit of cruelty to spew from her lips in all directions but one.
Perhaps my friend's insightful mantra can touch my baby's fears as well. Perhaps this "simple" concept is the tool I've been looking for to help my daughter accept her vulnerability and capitalize on the empathy it affords her rather than lashing out at others when she fears their judgment.
Directing the spotlight of cruelty = weakness upon myself, I realize that the concept applies to my own way of dealing with the world when I am hurt, frieghtened, and/or angry. In confrontational situations, must I be so weak as to resort to unfounded cruelty when I'm not getting my way? Do purposeful and active attempts to hurt another soothe my own pain, or do they only result in further suffering for both myself and the other involved person(s)? Can I remember to exercise my strength in situations that frighten me, instead of sinking to the level of my weakness and fear??
I think I can. I think I must.
All cruelty comes from weakness. The source of all weakness is fear. Abolish fear from my life and weakness and cruelty go with it. It's a very compelling proposition, yes?
Thank you, Jen. Even in crisis you manage to touch those around you with light and love.
