There's this woman I know. This white woman. She's probably in her fifties. Yesterday I listened to her as she went down her laundry list of ailments--my mouth wide open. But my mouth was only wide open for affect, because my third eye could see exactly why she was ailing. She went on about the time she had five doctor appointments in one week. Then she went on and on about her aches and pains. Then she started talking about getting married right out of high school to some Puerto Rican jerk. Then she went on about divorcing him right before she got pregnant and then marrying another Puerto Rican jerk. Then she started on how much she can't stand her grandson's Hispanic grandmother. And the next thing out of her mouth was disdain for all Hispanic people.
In my youth, I'd get really heated when people started talking this sort of craziness. In adulthood I know that this kind of talk is only a front for the fear that is gripping a person's life and squeezing the shit out of them. This woman isn't mad at Hispanics or her husbands or her grandson's grandmother. This woman is mad because she hates herself. And that's what fear does to you.
She said to me, "I know that's mean stuff to say."
I said to her, "It's human stuff to say."
And my response wasn't one that was meant to evoke a pat on the back for her hurtful comments. My response was simply to continue to get her to open up to me each time I see her every week. Ya' see, if I had told her that she was talking some racist bullshit, she would have shutdown; her spirit would have been overshadowed by her ego. Ya' see, I see the true her. I know that the stuff she was saying was only fear and hurt talking. I've seen her other sides. I know that her illnesses (physical and mental) are only due to her fear-based thinking.
Each week she comes to me with such vulnerable topics. And the only way she's going to move beyond them is to continue to hear herself say them out loud. Not once has she had this sort of dialogue with me without then pointing out that she feels unsettled about it.
And that's what I'm about. Letting the ego shout so that the spirit can remind us of its bullshit. And no, not all people will hear the spirits cry, but I'm willing to stick it out with those who seem to have a glimmer of a chance. And that's what love is. And that's the part of love that we find to be most difficult. And that's the part that Masters have mastered. And that's the water I'm attempting to tread, no matter how difficult or uncomfortable it gets for me.
Pray for me.
Miss Nikki Ann (who knows her ego's a liar, but often gets lost its tedious games)
