Resentment

I resent someone. I don't hate her. I even understand why she's doing what she's doing that frustrates and infuriates me. She has her reasons and they are actually quite good ones. I might well be doing the same thing if I were in her shoes. This realization doesn't help much.

Now, this is worth remarking on mostly because it is not all that common for me. I don't often resent, not any more. But I used to be a world champion resenter. I could resent you for eating lunch. Breathing my air was an unforgivable offense. I could warm up a hundred or so resentments between the time I woke up and the time I opened my eyes, a thousand before breakfast, and pretty much everyone I encountered by the time I left the house.

When I needed to make a list of resentments as part of a spiritual program I undertook, China was on my list. Not just the country and its government, but every single one of the billions of people who lived there. Just because. China. Billions. I didn't mess around with Luxembourg or Venezuela. China.

But what was revealed by the effort to seek a better way of living my life was that resentment was a mask for fear. Actually, I have come to the conclusion (with some help from my spiritual friends) that not only resentment, but anger, unhappiness, depression (in many cases), greed, lust, cruelty, violence, and hatred are all fear in scary masks. Because fear is wimpy, dontchaknow, but hatred, ah, now that feels like a manly sort of thing.

Resentment made me feel superior to all of you (certainly all of China), and I needed to feel that way because I feared that I was actually grossly inferior, in fact not worth the skin I was printed on, worthless. But I found out that this was not so, that I am merely human and pretty much as worthwhile as anyone and everyone else. Sad but true, the hierarchy of worth is, in fact, artificial and largely nonsense, no matter what Ted Cruz may think.

And resentment, as the saying goes, is like swallowing poison and expecting the other person to die. It only contaminates me. Certainly the Chinese remained unharmed by my vitriol. As part of the path I had undertaken, I had to examine my resentments and find out what part of them had to do with me, with my fears and hurt feelings and confusion. Which turned out to be...oh...all of them.

Which is not to say that people don't do shitty things or that we should let them get away with them. For one thing, someone who is cruel or violent or abusive to me will undoubtedly find another victim, and I have a solemn responsibility to prevent that if I can. But the idea that it will have any positive effect whatsoever for me to stew in the juices of hatred is just absurd on the face of it. In fact, change for the better must begin from a place of acceptance and love; working from a place of anger will only exhaust me and lead to more harm.

So, to return to my present resentment. Because I don't resent all the time and have become very comfortable in my peace and sense of well-being, now even a single resentment feels like a shard of ice in my heart; cold, sharp, hard, painful. I can't stand it. I have a feedback mechanism now that tells me when I have gone there. This is healthy and right.

The solution, I am told (and have experienced) is to wish for this person everything I would wish for myself. I wish her health and well-being and peace and harmony and love. I wish for her to be comfortable and healed. I wish for all her dreams to come true. I wish her miracles. I wish her joy.

It's not easy. I am selfish. I want what I want and I want it now. I wish I could say that I am motivated by pure altruism, but the truth is that I don't want it to hurt anymore. That's OK. Why I do good things is not as important as the fact that I do them. I will have to wait a few lifetimes down the road for sainthood. But at least the Chinese are safe from my wrath. Bet they're relieved.