Resentment might be a positive quality, but how might bitterness be?
Oh, OK. I kneel in my ritual space, though the habit I have long wanted to inculcate is kneeling on getting up and before going to bed. The image that comes into my mind is a caricature, not a real person: someone else, not as she really is. The caricature is a sad, bitter tranny.
A message from my unconscious, which may be “God”- I am in an atheist mood atm. My conscious mind may accept or reject it. Accept is the better way: I have suppressed too much, and I have the space not to, now. I have no need to “soldier on”, and nothing to soldier on at. Who am I, now?
I am bitter. Of course I am. I feel hurt and rejected. Bitterness is part of the burden which makes life soldiering on rather than joyful living.
I wrote that on Saturday, and then stopped. Later, I hand-wrote some notes of how to go on, and then I left it for three days, no further writing.
Resentment sees hope, and bitterness sees none.
I am bitter. If I can’t be bitter then I am not perfect. Denial seems worse than consciousness.
People feel better if we think each day of things to be grateful for. Is gratitude a palliative? I object to gratitude as a way of erasing bitterness: but one may have both, together.
Why rush to change bitterness? It is. Let it be. Find its use.
It is painful. I scream against it.
How does it move me?
On Saturday, Terry phoned to say he was not going to Meeting on Sunday. I could ask Peter. I woke at 5, and could not get back to sleep, and stayed tired but unable to sleep until 8.30. Oh, I will just not go. Then Terry phoned to offer a lift. Do I want to go? I did not know.
I was silent, then said I would call back before nine if I wanted a lift. He phoned later, to check I was alright. And, I had frightened myself with this. Follow my heart, my instincts, but not wanting to go seemed utterly negative, desolate
-the desolations are not the sorrows’ kin
and I like being with people, I will have three good hugs if I go, it is pleasant as well as good for me- these were what my head said ought to be heart-reasons.
So I did not go.
That really frightened me. Follow your heart- either, now, I am remaking myself, following my heart, doing what I want as a prelude to doing what I want in the World, or I am retreating in greater and greater fear, until I do not want to spend time with friends. If my heart really is just bitter and resentful and miserable so that I turn my face to the wall, What next?
Now it is Tuesday, and I have found the equanimity to return to this post. I will post on why, tomorrow.
And- that right hand panel of Bosch. Earthly delights, indeed: there is no good there. The left panel is Eden, the middle the daylight happy world with people going about their business, and in the right panel ignorant armies clash by night. Or, is it a destruction which can only seem unbearable, before-
the same as the “Wait without hope” verse? Something I will recognise as better when I can allow myself to do so?