Flashing back to an age of seemingly unwarranted innocence, and an ideology that gave no framework of which to even grasp the concepts of the world around me, I remember few things. A lot of the memories of my youth could be re-imagined when I force myself to recall them.
Some of these memories are pleasant, but a majority of them are not. It is also highly probable that my memory is selective and I choose to remember the ones that affected me most and forget those that have any apparent ‘sentimental value. If I were to be narcissistic and spiteful of my past, than yes, the latter would be true. Unfortunately the reality of the matter is simply this; those memories really are not that relevant or significant.
Although there is no anger, resentment, or hostility toward the objects of suppressed feelings and fears, there is desire for someone to be accountable. There is also a reasoning objective in my mind responsible for what they did or did not do. While there is no sincere craving for me to see someone punished for what I perceive as injustices, I do sometimes wish that they would just admit the truth and own the fact that they played their part.
Isn’t this just human nature though? Would it be safe to say that those we wish would be held accountable for the wrongs they have done toward us would just admit it? We would be satisfied not with seeing their punishment, but satisfied with just hearing their profession of guilt. This is simplistic no? It sounds so, but is apparently is not that clear.
Sadly, we see this from the wrong perspective. No matter what we do we seem to make a choice between denial and admittance on every single matter in our lives past, present, and future. The things that are usually omitted are those that do not cater to our own will, thoughts, or pleasures.
I had not intended on speaking of these things to make this point, but somehow, this is how it happened. I spent my entire life living this way, and soon came to an abrupt halt. Once stopped I was no longer travelling the road that had many exits, free toll ways, and no speed limits.
There was a fork at the end of the road and only two ways to go. The one to the left represented the easy way out, the choice I had always made. There was no cost to take this path and it had appeared to be as the road behind me always had been. This road made sense because it was wide and provided plenty of room for swerving and maneuvering around the bumps that I didn’t want to travel over. The broad lanes that were laid out for one to choose from provided comfort and ease of one’s mind. This choice seemed to be the most logical and would have been that same one I have always made.
The path to the right appeared to be dark and gloomy, there was very little light and the path was narrow. This was intimidating and scary because it would be insane to travel a path you could not see. The assumptions immediately crept into my mind that I would not be comfortable or safe and that path would surely end in pain. If I were to ponder it any longer I’d had to figure some way out of even having to make a decision.
The simplicity of the matter was obvious because there really was no choice at all. My desire was to go the way I had always gone, there is no point in changing now. My choice was final and it really was never different anyway, I had to go the way I was going in the first place because there was no other way to go.
The brief illusion of another path seemed to be a deception. This could have just been an apparition, briefly there and gone the next. While this seems to be the end of this story, it is not quite through. The end is only the beginning; at least so far that’s been the truth.
The story continues…
This post is part of a series:
- So glad to have not prayed that prayer – Part 1
- So glad to have not prayed that prayer – Part 2