Enemies, Come Sit At My Table.

I was walking home from the bus stop one afternoon with my friend that I played violin with at school in the late 60's-early 70's.  It was a rural street, still dirt and curiously mud covered water puddle road that we walked up and down every day.  But this day was different.  About half way down, we could see the flashers of police cars, and a lot of them.  As we grew closer, the police kept us from proceeding, and we saw a truck that said SWAT on it.  These scary men in black were up in the trees and on roof tops, and someone was talking through a loud speaker to "come out with your hands up".  All of this was surrounding and aimed strait at my friends house.

When we were finally able to approach, which I suppose is when they determined that there was no longer any danger, it was discovered that my friends father had shot and killed his mother, then himself, according to their next door neighbor.  I skid-addled home as quickly as I could, not knowing what else to do.

I only remember two interactions between me and my friend after that event.  The first was the two of us sitting outside in front of his house, in the ditch between some giant pine trees that lined the front of his property.  The only thing I remember him saying was "If my father was still alive, I would kill him".  The other interaction wasn't an interaction with him directly, but a discovery in his music locker.  It was a love letter between my friend and another boy.  I thought there was something really wrong as I had no experience or knowledge about homosexuality, and I showed it to my music teacher.  He took it from me and said nothing.

I went back to minding my own business, but as far as I can remember, that is where our friendship ended, and I lost track of him after that.  I think he and his older sister and brother moved away at some point.  I do remember thinking that he would probably be fucked-up forever, and felt guilty and helpless and wish I would have known how to be a better friend.  I remember hearing a long time ago that he was working at a gas station and was a mess.  It made me cry.

With the advent of FaceBook, I randomly and periodically search for names from my past, and lo, there was my friend.  He had followed his musical talent all the way across the country achieving a degree in teaching music, and proudly did so at several elementary schools.  He is still gay, and by every appearance, seems about as happy as any human being that I have ever read about on FB.  Not only was he accomplished, but in love, happy, living in one of the most beautiful cities in the world and had somehow overcome what I can imagine is one of the most devastating life events that anyone could ever survive.  How was this even possible?

In a word, forgiveness.

I've been thinking about forgiveness for the last several months.  I have been trained for many years the importance of forgiveness in our lives, and how it dissolves resentments.  During the past couple of years, I have had a string of betrayals from people that I loved so very dearly.  I was not aware of most of them until after the fact which made them somehow even more painful.  I suppose I'd rather be punched in the face directly than stabbed in the back.  Regardless, there were several in succession, and while they were nothing like what my friend experienced, if one can overcome the kind of resentment he had towards his father, I should be able to rise above these less devastating, nonetheless painful injustices.

There were several instances of slander from people whom I treated with the utmost respect and love.  I don't know where it came from.  Perhaps I wore too many hats in those relationships which can often lead to trouble, but I am one to be able to handle dual relationships, and after considerable conversations with the other party, I was convinced that they would be able to do the same.  I was wrong, and so were they.  While painful, the infractions were fairly minor, and while I expelled her from my life as a friend, I did tell her in a separate communication that I love her, and I meant it.  I still do.  I have no resentment towards her, whatsoever.  She was simply tangled in the web of a spider of greater strength then her own and followed suit.  It wasn't her fault.  One day, I will invite her to my dinner table and hope to resume the nature of what our previous relationship consisted of.  My being a supportive role model, and in this case, one that displays the ability to forgive.

Another is a little more difficult and I haven't taken any action on this one yet.  And yes, my resentment still looms in the recesses of my grey matter.  It involves an individual who was in a position to steal from me many thousands of dollars in cash and equipment, defraud an account, attempt to corrupt my reputation with business associates and has thus walked.  I have the legal right to file criminal charges against this individual to try to recoup some of my losses, but at what cost?  I don't know if any of you have ever been involved in a lawsuit, but they are about as toxic as any process can be.

I have had other experiences where I had the choice to file suit or let it go and let Karma take care of it all, and chose the later.  Karma always won in the end when I've made this choice.  It seems like it would be an easy choice again, but that resentment is gnawing at me like a God-damned weasel in my brain wanting retaliation, and would relish seeing this person behind bars.

So, I look back and remember my rediscovered friend for the answer without even having to ask him.  I have to forgive this person.  I have to take the high road and let Karma take care of the situation.  It always does much better job than I could anyway, and I am saved all the anguish that goes along with having to handle it myself.

I remember witnessing many lessons about different forms of forgiveness, or at least the end result, and one of them cam from the play Les Miserable when I was quite young.  First of all, I don't like plays.  I do not like being made to sit in one place that long as it caused extreme claustrophobia and other various discomforts.  As far as I am concerned, the title translated to "I'm Miserable", and couldn't wait to get out of there.  But I do remember a scene where people were stealing from some man, and he knew it, but kept inviting them to eat at his table.  It seemed so odd to me that it captured my attention, and I never forgot it.

The other similar lesson was from a book I read many ears ago called The Fifth Sacred Thing where more horrible things were happening in the world, and the innocent were inviting the 'enemy' to sit at their table.  There it was again.  It was much different than the 'turning the other cheek' I remember from childhood'.  It was much deeper and much more risky.  Inviting the enemy to break bread with you.  It is not a tactic that I have implemented yet, but I intend to try it.  It has revealed itself to me again and again in ways that has stuck in my consciousness.

So, perhaps my New Year's Resolution will be to give this process a try as a means of forgiveness.  Something tells me that it is the right thing to do, and will perhaps lead to much more than forgiveness, but maybe even understanding, and maybe a little closer to them and to God.

Thank you, my childhood friend.  You set an amazing example for us all.