Relationships Self Improvement Spiritual The Violence Within
If we continually insist that to be non-violent in a violent world is suicide, then we will never become non-violent. Non-violence means a willingness, a passion to die for our convictions. Non-violence is only for the authentic heroes and heroines; the warriors, and not for fearful reactionaries.
Until we actually see our personal violence, we will remain violent regardless of pretending otherwise. "Seeing" is the all-important thing; seeing what we are and not what we would like to be. This is key to our evolution as human beings. We need to open our eyes, not to the faults of our brothers, but to our own faults, and how these faults have perpetuated the violence we see erupting in our cities and around the world. We need to SEE.
If we don't get a handle on the violence, beginning with ourselves, the fate of the world is in jeopardy, and unspeakable tragedy is just around the corner. Seeing begins with simplicity and silence, and simplicity and silence are hallmarks of meditation and contemplative prayer.
This excerpt is from my memoir, "The Vow." It illustrates that no matter where we are coming from, or what we may have done, it's never too late to turn around.
"It was late one evening when I eased out of town. I took my car and a few other things, but left the rest behind for Beth and the kids. I thought I was a tough guy, but leaving my family like this was the hardest thing that I had ever done. Nevertheless, I grabbed some clothes, credit cards, my .45 automatic, threw them into the trunk of my black Chrysler, and headed west.
I had been flying between Cleveland and Chicago selling business systems and became acquainted with a decision maker in one of the larger accounts. She was attractive, recently divorced, two small kids, and looking for (which I wasn't aware of) . . . me. So when I left Cleveland, that's where I headed, hoping she would put me up for awhile.
Whether or not she would take me in was never in question, but I didn't know that at the time. Only later did I learn that on my initial call months earlier, she remarked to her assistant, "There he is, my dream man!"
It's a good thing that she took me in, because I didn't have a plan B. Not having a Plan B was my usual modus operandi when I was running, but as things worked out, I didn't need one, she did take me in - and her dream man became her worst nightmare.
She was in the process of having a custom house built for her and her kids upstate, but with me on board, she decided to opt out of the deal, quit her job, and move back to her quiet hometown where she always wanted to raise the children.
I unexpectedly met her husband one afternoon before we made the move. We were just pulling into her place after an outing with the kids, and a big guy on a motorcycle was blocking the driveway.
"Who's that?" I asked.
"My X. Why don't we come back later?"
"You are divorced, right?" I said.
"Yeah, but he's having a hard time. Let's just come back later."
"Okay," I said, "but I'll at least say hello." I started opening the door but she grabbed my arm.
"Look. He's a bit of a bad actor, you know? C'mon, let's come back a little later. He'll leave. He's probably been drinking."
"It's okay, I'm just going to say hello," I insisted.
"No, C'mon," she pleaded.
I laughed and pulled her hand away. "I'll be back in a sec. I have to get to know the kids' dad!"
I walked over and said, "Hi," sticking my hand out, trying to be friendly, but it didn't work. I didn't think that it would, and I really didn't like the way he was blocking the drive. It kind of pissed me off, and I was in a half-pissed off mood anyway since I left my family.
"So this is the mother ------ she's sleeping with," he said, slowly getting off his bike and walking toward me.
I remember watching his sunglasses, and a spot directly between his eyes. I felt no fear - nothing - after leaving behind everything that had ever meant anything to me, I could care less if I lived or died.
"That's right, bud," I remember saying. We looked at each other for a fraction of a second, that brief moment where a feeling of finality dawns on two men. We both knew that the talking was over; all that remained was the violence that was about to erupt.
That's all I remember until, as if coming out of a dream, I heard her screaming, "You're killing him, Stop, Stop!" I vaguely felt her and the kids grabbing my arms, but I was back in high school with the principle and coach trying to get me off the upperclassman that thought he could get away with teasing me. Then I woke up, and when I saw that he was unconscious and I was still hitting him, I recoiled and stepped back, not aware at all of what had happened. While I stood there, shaking from the adrenalin rush, all I could say was that I didn't mean it.
She was shaking her head and saying that she had never seen anybody move that fast, and all I could do was look at her, puzzled. I couldn't even remember what had happened. It was as if something from a past life took control of me during these rare, insane episodes of violence.
I saw him moving and went to help, but he kicked at me muttering that he would be back, and that I was a dead man. He wasn't making things easy.
I felt bad about what happened, but slid my gun under the pillow that night and cautioned her that if he came to the door, I'd empty the clip into him. I have no doubt that I would have; all rational feelings were burned up a fire that continued blazing in my heart. We'd see who the dead man would be.
Neither of us could sleep; she was in and out of the bedroom and I was soaking my bruised and cut hands in salt water. I don't know; maybe she called to warn him, but I never heard from him again, and I often wondered where I would be now, had he showed up.
We didn't last long together, which was to be expected. She bought a nice house on a hill, and we had fun for awhile; whipped cream fights, sitting on the porch strumming guitars, watching beautiful thunderstorms. We made ends meet by working at local furniture stores, but we were both rebounding, and when things fizzled out, I eventually wound up in a lonely apartment building back in Cleveland, waiting for the wheels of justice to turn; waiting for my divorce to be final. A new life was about to begin."
E. Raymond Rock of Fort Myers, Florida is cofounder and principal teacher at the Southwest Florida Insight Center, www.SouthwestFloridaInsightCenter.com His twenty-eight years of meditation experience has taken him across four continents, including two stopovers in Thailand where he practiced in the remote northeast forests as an ordained Theravada Buddhist monk. His book, A Year to Enlightenment (Career Press/New Page Books) is now available at major bookstores and online retailers. Visit www.AYearToEnlightenment.com
Related Tags: relationships, love, self improvement, self-help, anger, hatred, greed, unconditional love
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