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Humility
I will apologize in advance for a couple of things. First, for the length of this post, and for its wandering content and poor quality. Second, for selfishly hijacking this portion of the site to use as my own personal diary – I felt I needed to write this down, but more than that, to put it out in the open. I don’t ask for any replies, nor even for anyone to read this. That’s not to say I don’t want that, however…I suppose I can’t really say what I want. Call this an impulse, but at least let it sit here, chin in palm, mulling and mumbling to itself.
I can be very shy at times, and I am easily embarrassed – though of course I try to cover it up and pretend not to be. Nevertheless, it is as it is. I have always had a habit of running away from this unpleasant feeling, though I have only in the past year recognized it as such. I am quick to do away (or try to do away) with the memories of my errors, from a seemingly insignificant faux pas to an awful blunder, pushing these down whenever they try to resurface. But it never works, of course. And I am also aware of my habit of getting rid of tangible and visible reminders of these moments – I see clearly now that I have been doing this since I was in kindergarten, at least.
I have never made progress with this problem until last year, when I recognized it as habit energy. I thought that was at least a first step, but it is not enough. I can recognize it when it comes up, but I can’t seem to do anything about it. I know that much of what I am worried about is really nothing to worry about – I know this, and yet I have a terrible time of convincing myself. I tell myself to let it go, I even take Thay’s advice and smile and say, “Hello, habit energy,” and it begins to weaken, but it will not go away. I am too caught up in it, and it distracts me horribly. When I sit with it, I can accept it and even laugh at it, but it soon returns. It never leaves. I’ve looked for gathas to help me, for I have often found them very useful, but I haven’t found one that fits, that feels right.
Just recently, I found a deeper root for my discomfort. It’s not the embarrassment that bothers me, I realized, not the mistake I made, not what others might think of me. It is shame. I am ashamed not because I stumbled in a social sense but because I tripped and fell on the Path. I wasn’t practicing. That’s all there is to it. But how do I alleviate this shame? When I realized what it was, I was paralyzed. I cannot so easily shake off so heavy a blow. An answer came quickly, and that was to forgive myself. It was so simple, but it hit me with great force because of what it implied.
And to think, I had read something similar before and had dismissed it so easily as self-evident, had denied its utility. Not only that, but it conflicted with the romantic in me. I had always seen my future as this: I would be incredibly hard on myself and would push myself to my limit because that was how I would become strong, how I would train myself. No matter that this was unhealthy. Someone would come along and break through my loneliness and, metaphorically, place a gentle but firmly restraining hand on my shoulder and would tell me to relax, would show me the kindness that I ought to have shown myself.
Now that I know that I must only forgive myself, I would be a fool not to do it, would I not? It would be foolish to cling to my unrealistic fantasy. If I continued to hold out hope, it would be to forsake the Path, because I simply would not be practicing. The only excuse would be, “I don’t feel like feeling better.” As a practitioner, I have the right to suffer, but not the right not to practice, or so I read somewhere. And so as much as I fear being lonely, I know that such a fear is irrelevant if in exchange I become self-reliant and happier, if I become a better person for it, able to get past my own troubles to help others. It seemed daunting to me at first consideration, but now it seems to be the only thing that makes sense.
If that makes sense.
I can be very shy at times, and I am easily embarrassed – though of course I try to cover it up and pretend not to be. Nevertheless, it is as it is. I have always had a habit of running away from this unpleasant feeling, though I have only in the past year recognized it as such. I am quick to do away (or try to do away) with the memories of my errors, from a seemingly insignificant faux pas to an awful blunder, pushing these down whenever they try to resurface. But it never works, of course. And I am also aware of my habit of getting rid of tangible and visible reminders of these moments – I see clearly now that I have been doing this since I was in kindergarten, at least.
I have never made progress with this problem until last year, when I recognized it as habit energy. I thought that was at least a first step, but it is not enough. I can recognize it when it comes up, but I can’t seem to do anything about it. I know that much of what I am worried about is really nothing to worry about – I know this, and yet I have a terrible time of convincing myself. I tell myself to let it go, I even take Thay’s advice and smile and say, “Hello, habit energy,” and it begins to weaken, but it will not go away. I am too caught up in it, and it distracts me horribly. When I sit with it, I can accept it and even laugh at it, but it soon returns. It never leaves. I’ve looked for gathas to help me, for I have often found them very useful, but I haven’t found one that fits, that feels right.
Just recently, I found a deeper root for my discomfort. It’s not the embarrassment that bothers me, I realized, not the mistake I made, not what others might think of me. It is shame. I am ashamed not because I stumbled in a social sense but because I tripped and fell on the Path. I wasn’t practicing. That’s all there is to it. But how do I alleviate this shame? When I realized what it was, I was paralyzed. I cannot so easily shake off so heavy a blow. An answer came quickly, and that was to forgive myself. It was so simple, but it hit me with great force because of what it implied.
And to think, I had read something similar before and had dismissed it so easily as self-evident, had denied its utility. Not only that, but it conflicted with the romantic in me. I had always seen my future as this: I would be incredibly hard on myself and would push myself to my limit because that was how I would become strong, how I would train myself. No matter that this was unhealthy. Someone would come along and break through my loneliness and, metaphorically, place a gentle but firmly restraining hand on my shoulder and would tell me to relax, would show me the kindness that I ought to have shown myself.
Now that I know that I must only forgive myself, I would be a fool not to do it, would I not? It would be foolish to cling to my unrealistic fantasy. If I continued to hold out hope, it would be to forsake the Path, because I simply would not be practicing. The only excuse would be, “I don’t feel like feeling better.” As a practitioner, I have the right to suffer, but not the right not to practice, or so I read somewhere. And so as much as I fear being lonely, I know that such a fear is irrelevant if in exchange I become self-reliant and happier, if I become a better person for it, able to get past my own troubles to help others. It seemed daunting to me at first consideration, but now it seems to be the only thing that makes sense.
If that makes sense.
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Comments
Thanks for sharing. Sounds like you are making some good progress. If you recall, I also did a kind of bloggish post on the subject of arrogance. I don't think that you need to worry so much about posting this sort of stuff, though I thank you for your courtesy.
Take care
_/\_
metta
As always, it is good to bump into you.
I have a little book called, "201 Little Buddhist Reminders- Gathas for Your Daily Life". I wouldn't call it a mind-blowing book, but I like gathas- they are short and easy to remember. I use this book as a way of being more mindful when performing everyday tasks.
Anyhow, you had mentioned gathas, and so I grabbed this little book and found two that I hope will feel right to you:
Well, as the title says, there are 201 gathas in this book. I'll be glad to look up more if you'd like.
Be well my friend. :smilec: