But when I did, my five-year-old daughter was trembling beside the toilet, the tears just beginning to fall. She knew she'd broken her mother's prized angel figurine. She'd knocked it off the window ledge, to shatter on the hard, ceramic-tile floor. She also knew I would be really, really mad! Boy, are children smart...
The expensive sculpture had been given to me by my beloved aunt in Pennsylvania, and to me it was priceless. The hurt went astonishingly deep. I felt the rage coming up, driving through me from somewhere down by my feet, screaming in a red haze through my insides, swirling, turning me into a storm of anger. Furious thoughts silently howled inside my mind. "My angel! How careless! You stupid little $#%@! How could you be so...so..." Fortunately, I didn't say anything right away.
I looked down and saw this tiny child, cowering and shaking in fear from my fury and I knew that I could simply dump all that self-centred rage onto this small, frightened soul and take a nice, big chunk out of that tender ego. Instead, I chose to take another path. I chose to be merciful. But it wasn't easy.
As I forced myself to pause for a moment, I saw it all clearly. I realized that she had not intended to hurt me. It was just one of those accidents that happen during the growing-up years. I also realized the depth of my love for this lovely little human angel, and that I did not want to react from a poisonous wrath. This, for me, is the inestimable value of conscious awareness - my daily commitment to being truly present and open to my world.
I knelt down and hugged her close to me. I choked out some words past my tears, words that reached beyond my anger to the special place where she lived. I said, "Mommy is sad that my angel is broken. But you are far more important to me than that piece of china or any 'thing' in our home. I love you, honey." We hugged and she ran off to play with the lightness of an untroubled child.
Before I cleaned up the broken figurine, I sat back in wonder at the magic of what I had just done.
Every day, raising two vulnerable young daughters helps me understand how defenceless people really are. We're all doing the best we can, and only a truly psychotic person will never lack self-confidence from time to time. The rest of us are on shaky ground. As the ancient philosopher Virgil said, "Confidence cannot find a place wherein to rest in safety." I have become profoundly aware of how easily I could destroy the self-assurance of the sweetly spontaneous, fragile little lives growing up within my home. It only takes a few ill-chosen words.
I choose not to say them, to my daughters or to any other person. I choose to life according to these words from Lao Tzu, considered by many to be the father of Taoism: "Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love."
My commitment to living a serene and positive life means fully accepting another's efforts, without judgment. It means not making a situation worse with a shriek of anger when they let me down. Respecting the dear, flawed souls around me, particularly when I don't much feel like it, is a vitally important part of living a life of emotional and mental balance.
After all, I'm not perfect: I am also a work in progress. I have my own flaws. Accepting this helps me to be more tolerant of others' mistakes. It also reminds me that I must value my own efforts and be as merciful to myself as I am striving to be toward my children.
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Biography
