Regardless of what is fair or just in a situation, if we cannot face our pain, we will nurture offenses and cultivate love through being a victim. No matter how skillfully we might do this, relationships will fall away till we are sadly left alone with the pain we won’t face.
Sometimes we seek refuge from our pain in the habits of life, as if sheer routine can put our wounds to sleep. But the habits of life can make us all a little squirrelly and soon enough, we don’t want our little nest messed with. We don’t want anything unexpected or different to disrupt the little box we live in. We don’t want anything to unearth the pains we’ve buried. And just about the time we are most inflexible, some great wave of love or suffering crashes over our little box; humbling us into the unalterable fact that all the little boxes we construct are tiresome illusions. There is only one home, only one nest to which we all belong.
For those of us who survive the great wave, life becomes a seeking out of those who speak the language of the great wave. If blessed, truth and compassion become the ritual by which we greet each other: Did the great wave reach you? Was it kind or harsh? What did it break down or open? What did it give you or take away? What have you chosen to rebuild with? Who did you reach out to? Who showed up? Who ran away? Who keeps muffling the questions? Who wants to know what you see?
Just as there have always been hunters and gatherers, and those concerned with hoarding and those concerned with giving away, there have always been those reduced into Oneness by the great wave of love and suffering and those who run further inland; though this great wave covers the entire earth. Humbly, we are always members of both tribes. As for me, I’m usually the last to know; which is why I need the love and friendship of others; which is why I’m committed to being a loving friend.