Maybe this is more a confession than a newsletter but it’s almost the end of the year and there’s this annual trend…
As I skim through the myriad social media posts regarding resolutions for the new year I tend to be somewhat dismissive. I think, what awful things have I done that require a reset, and/or what have I neglected that needing attending? I live my life the best I can every day, don’t I?
But, wait. That’s just the thing. In my case, my intention, or resolution, if you will, is the same year after year, day after day. What I strive for, simply put, is not to be an asshole.
I do not always succeed. Some who know me won’t disagree—they’ve witnessed me behaving in an assholey way, doing assholey things, etc. While others might try to convince me otherwise, reassure me that I’m a pretty nice fellow.
Was it Anne Lamott or Annie Dillard who said the three rules of writing were, “Tell the truth. Tell the truth. Tell the truth.” ?
I’m doing my best here.
In a Byron Katie, “Inquiry” retreat, the facilitator asks the participants to write down what they are most ashamed of. (I always wonder how to choose.) Once they’ve established the thing that brings the most intense wave of heat or makes their skin tighten, they write the sentence stem: And that means that… “Make a list,” she tells us. Invariably the list ends with, “I’m worthless.” or “I’m unloveable.” And so on. We are then taken through a series of questions that begin with “Is it true?”
Part of the Tibetan Pulsing Healing training involved extensive eye readings, where the teacher interpreted all the markings and configurations in each of the students’ eyes. The photographs taken before the course began were projected onto an eight by eight foot screen and the student stood beside the teacher as he exposed every injury, insult, and proclivity to the fifty-odd students witnessing. When he noted a particular mark in the area that represented the bladder (or perhaps the liver) he would lean in close to the one whose eye was on display, and say, “So what happened? You wanted to see if the cat could swim?” These marks indicated that the person carried the belief they were wicked, unforgiveable.
I didn’t drown the cat, but I did smack it so that it jumped out of my arms, only to be flattened by the tires of my friend’s father’s car. That was sixty years ago. But the mark remains.
My mother called me lazy. If you know me this will likely make you laugh. However, she hasn’t called me that in fifty years, and I’m still trying to prove her wrong. One friend who is one of the most generous, selfless people I know, told me her mother accused her of being selfish.
Huh.
It’s about identities sticking, I think. Such as the fact that often even when those whom we’ve wronged, offended, insulted, or hurt, forgive us, we tend not to forgive ourselves.
Back to me.
I simply don’t want to be an asshole. In order to not be one, I must pay attention. I’ve often disregarded or misread signals or reactions and just gone on shooting off my mouth, being indiscreet, getting into others’ business, etc.
In the Enneagram model of personality types, I’m a seven. As one therapist pointed out, sevens are narcissists. Unlike the threes, though, we are benign narcissists. We never intend to hurt anyone or take advantage; we simply want what we want. Hence, in order not to be an asshole, or narshole, as someone once coined, it requires me to sharpen my awareness. Let’s not go skipping merrily off without taking into consideration who may be standing in the mud.
My resolution stands: Not to be an asshole.
What’s yours?
oh phooey. we all want what we want. everyone's an asshole. your wriiting is gorgeous and generous and that's plenty to get you forgiven by the real assholes. onward.
Deepam
You have clearly been hacked.