Ash Wednesday I I

I let go and let myself become upset and angry with everything I have refused to look at, decided not to admit. I find myself angry and disgusted with Dean. I don’t even know Dean, but I know this about myself and about spitfire liberals. We’re all so ready to bulldoze conservative people and make them see the light of the bleeding heart. We’re quick to judge, and here I am thinking, “Well, hell, Dean’s part of the problem. Wasn’t he one of the cold blooded bastards at my church. Saw him day after day, Sunday after Sunday exchanging pleasantries with all the snobs, just like a snob himself. Everybody lying to everybody. And here he is now, and if they all knew what he really was do you think all those cute people with their good hair and buffed nails would say two words to him?

Ah, I don’t have a right to judge, but I do have an enormous talent for it.

Great things have happened to me, any path that was painful brought me where I am now, brought me to a fair place and taught me the lessons I needed to know. The truth was that in those days of gracious acceptance and meekly accepting the crown of thorns others were so eager to place on my head I was throbbing with anger. Now the anger flies out and after a few moments meditation I look at that anger. I’m not stupid enough to think that it won’t return, and won’t have to be dealt with again. But for now I can look at what angered me and start to have a little pity and a little compassion. There were a lot of people who did a lot of nasty things, and if they’d done them only to me it might not be such a big deal, but they ruined the faith I grew up in for a lot of people and helped to turn many people away. For a few moments, for this moment at least there is enough pity in me to understand the fear behind what they did, to understand that in a way many of them couldn’t help themselves.

And to understand that I REALLY don’t understand them at all.

And leave it at that.