Tales from an Undone Heart

Animal? Mineral? Human?

I’ve written about this before: the nature of breaking things. I’ve come to conclusions, and as I revisit them, my mind hasn’t changed much at all.

I think, if someone tries, really tries, to love you, then the love carries on. Forgiveness happens. Even if all they ever did with you was make mistakes or bumble around or turn corners when you weren’t looking.

I also think, sometimes we think people care about us, and they just plain don’t. We believe we are following after them, but all we are doing is chasing a shadow.

I keep thinking I will get “better” someday: at being human. Someday, if I keep “working at it,” I won’t make these dumb mistakes.

There’s so much weeding to do, to cultivate this garden. More improvements, more amending the soil of the mind.

Isn’t it ironic that nature metaphors don’t really work for people?

Because, after all, nature is often wild and unforgiving. Vines grow and choke out trees. Rain carves out the creek bed, sends the water on a new course. Animals exist blithely at their place on the food chain — until they become a meal.

And yet the plants we call “weeds” are often the most hearty and forgiving. Humans on the other hand …

Good-bye Charlotte

At my old church in Bridgeport, we had a member. A single woman in her 60s whose only companion was a German Shepherd mix. The woman’s name was Charlotte.

Charlotte brought her dog into the services with her. The dog didn’t cause issues — perhaps it wasn’t as clean as some would have preferred — but it was a good dog. It laid at her feet and was quiet

Charlotte was not quiet. Charlotte like to make commentary. If folks were telling their “Joys and Sorrows” she would ask questions or speak out in ways that — although not unkind — were outside what made most people comfortable.

I suppose she did get a talking to about it. Warnings. Also there was the dog. This was before the language of “emotional support animal” had entered our cultural conversation. (Without a doubt, this was the case with Charlotte and her pet.)

One day, they were gone. When I asked the minister what happened, she simply responded: “Some folks complained about the dog. Allergies and such you know.”

Maybe I am wrong then.

Maybe humans can be as cold and vicious as the seas. Maybe we are merely manifesting our animal instinct: to protect.

To cut out that which threatens our comfort.

Maybe we are like dingos and wolves: running in packs. Chasing our prey until its exhausted and can’t fight anymore, then finally severing it from its life. After all, we need to eat.

Yet for humans this isn’t a just meal. So the problem is the guilt we feel for doing it. Or maybe the guilt we don’t feel for doing it.

Is this moving forward, looking back, or standing still?

What do we do with ourselves and each other?

What happens when we react and act within human error? When we tear each other down because of our egos? Because of our fears?

We can’t rationalize our way out of my mistakes. This is often so much easier to see in others than in ourselves.

When I say we I mean … well, yes, You. And Me, of course.

“Accomplishments don’t erase shame, hatred, cruelty, silence, ignorance, discrimination, low self-esteem or immorality. It covers it up, with a creative version of pride and ego. Only restitution, forgiving yourself and others, compassion, repentance and living with dignity will ever erase the past.”
― Shannon L. Alder