When seized by an old wrong – when replaying for the hundredth time a bad joke I made, or my cruelty, or stubbornness, I feel my energy escalate by a process of crushing. I feel – caught.
Between what and what?
It occurs to me that I am inserting an image of myself between myself and the aggrieved or suffering other… I’m making myself the mediator, or actually judge, of my own mistake. I don’t think this is very productive (hence the endless replay, and the unproductive crushing; a severe pressure on myself to forgive myself, which I am not really able to do in the math of it all).
I can remain as wrong, but more productively judged, if I submit the action to an authority above the scene; an authority I can’t control or lie to or mitigate or cavil to…
I am reminded of very basic sense: keep your thumb out from between the hammer and the nail. Preserve space. I am hoping to commend my transgressions to silence, and let that judge me, and forgive me, in absolute terms.