Belly of a Star

my practice of compassion


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My Greatest Teacher

My greatest teacher died today.

She didn’t like me.

She didn’t love me.

And she continually saw me as something she wished to see.

I was her threat.

I was her reason for anger.

I was what took her loved one away.

I was this evil that would soon surface.

I was bad news.

I was the person who manipulated and schemed.

I was the one who she denounced in front of the crowds.

The one she warned others about.

I was the epiphany of someone who would explode at any moment.

A heart breaker.

A home wrecker.

I was ungrateful, forgetful, non-appreciative, selfish, inconsiderate.

I was the one who never called or bothered.

I had poor manners, was picky, was odd, was not nice.

I was so much to this woman.

And I was none of it.

I decided two years ago to love her.

To forgive her.

I decided I didn’t have to like her or be around her, but I didn’t have to hate her, either.

I decided I could just let her keep her perception of me.

She was my greatest teacher.

She was someone who became my enemy and taught me the greatest degree of compassion.

She was someone who taught me tolerance, self-control, self-worth, and inner strength.

I learned to stand my ground.

I learned to mourn over the loss of something that would never be.

I learned to protect myself and my children.

I learned that some people live in horrible, horrible inner turmoil, and in this suffering tear down all friendships and bonds.

I learned how I don’t ever want to choose to see others as demons.

I learned not to judge, not to point fingers, not to place conditions on people.

She was my greatest teacher.

And I mourn her so very deeply.

I cry for her endless suffering.

For the endless dream she lived.

The nightmare she brought upon herself.

Her refusal to see her own light, and in how doing so she snuffed the lights of those around her.

Or attempted to.

Or perhaps not.

Perhaps she was the very one that increased my burning.

Perhaps she was the one that enabled me to grow and fly.

Perhaps without her I never would have faced my inner-fears and demons.

Perhaps I would be the one living in the shadow-lands and choosing what I chose to see.

Perhaps I would be the suffering, a misery onto self.

She was my greatest teacher.

I wish she could have seen me.

I wish she could have seen my light, my love, my heart.

I cry because I lost what I never had.

I cry because I lost a potential mother, a nurturer, a caregiver, a friend.

I lost a person before she was ever found.

I cry for the suffering she brought to herself.

To the pain she penetrated into others’ reality.

I cry because I never got to really know her, to see her, to be with her.

I cry because she goes now and I am still burdened with the wondering.

Could I have loved her more?

Could I have been more selfless?

Could I have been the light she never saw?

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