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Self-Forgiveness
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 667483" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>An overcomer (of scorn), rather than a victim of, <em>our own </em>scorn.</p><p></p><p>The betrayal of self; that is what we engage in ~ an ongoing betrayal of self, when we refuse to forgive, not them, but ourselves, for the essential betrayal of self involved in believing ourselves to be who they told us we were.</p><p></p><p>For believing we could ever be that cheapened thing they told us, and tell us, we are.</p><p></p><p>What they believe has nothing to do with us <em>unless we betray ourselves into believing what they see when they see us.</em></p><p></p><p>That is the sin to be forgiven. That is the betrayal, here.</p><p></p><p>How forgive ourselves for having been sold, like Joseph, into slavery to the precepts of some game we do not understand and yet, cannot leave...how forgive <em>ourselves</em> that we were betrayed, that we were not cherished? How forgive ourselves for believing we <em>could</em> be so easily bought or traded or sold? </p><p></p><p>How forgive myself that I am hated; that I am not cherished. That I am not generously welcomed; that I am not seen with joy by those I betrayed myself to believe loved me.</p><p></p><p>How forgive myself for the taste of betrayal in it; for the taste of betrayal in believing, time after time, that their betrayal could make me less than I intrinsicly am?</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Forgiveness is a choice that takes courage and strength. </p><p></p><p>Victims of <em>our own scorn</em>.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>There is not even anger, here. Only the deep sadness that is the loneliness of having been shunned; only the feeling of walking into the night, of navigating by what stars there are. (A multitude; a countless, uncountable number of stars reflected, as we search them for meaning, in our eyes.)</p><p></p><p><em>So will I know you, by the stars...</em></p><p><em>by those brilliant, icy stars, shining undiminished in your eyes.</em></p><p></p><p>Here is the poetry:</p><p></p><p><em>Tomorrow will find me</em></p><p> <em>a prisoner</em></p><p><em>Locked from sight; from scent and sound</em></p><p><em>of you</em></p><p></p><p><em>Time measured not in hours</em></p><p><em>but in decades</em></p><p></p><p><em>So, come near to me, now...</em></p><p><em>come gaze upon those brilliant, icy stars</em></p><p><em>Then let this be the memory, deep engraved</em></p><p><em>on both our hearts</em></p><p></p><p><em>Etched</em></p><p><em>into both our fallible brains</em></p><p></p><p><em>So that when I return</em></p><p><em>years hence</em></p><p><em>Though your beauty then, be spent ~</em></p><p><em>though my face be a caricature of the face</em></p><p><em>before you now</em></p><p></p><p><em>Yet will I know you, by the stars....</em></p><p></p><p><em>By those brilliant, icy stars</em></p><p><em>shining undiminished, in your eyes.</em></p><p></p><p>That's us.</p><p></p><p>Coming home.</p><p></p><p><em>***</em></p><p></p><p>Forgiveness: A choice that takes courage and strength.</p><p></p><p>Victims of <em>our own</em> scorn.</p><p></p><p>Forgiveness has everything to do with the scorn in which we hold <em>ourselves</em>. I may have been sold, but I am the one who, in believing myself saleable, betrayed myself. </p><p></p><p>That is the thing that needs to be forgiven.</p><p></p><p>That is the essential betrayal.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Forgiving them or myself for what they have done brings anger; their actions are not forgivable things. Harm was done me; betrayal occurred and is ongoing. In forgiving either them or myself, I declare myself powerless. I choose a chosen happiness in the now over that forever secret of shame. </p><p></p><p>That is not victory.</p><p></p><p>In forgiving either them, for what they did, or in forgiving myself, for having been powerless to stop them, I revictimize myself. Those poops are not going to change. </p><p></p><p>The system is working, for them.</p><p></p><p>I betray myself, in forgiving them or myself for what happened, by giving over to them, one more time, the power of self definition. Like Joseph, I was sold. The betrayal here is that, unlike Joseph, I believed myself that which <em>could</em> be sold.</p><p></p><p>That is the essential betrayal, here.</p><p></p><p>That is what must be forgiven.</p><p></p><p>That I carry the shame of having been sold; that I name myself a sold thing.</p><p></p><p>That is the sin that must be forgiven.</p><p></p><p>That is my sin.</p><p></p><p>That I did not hold faith with myself; that I came to scorn myself for their betrayal.</p><p></p><p>The shame of naming myself slave in the master / slave relationship my mother set up and my sister seems, unbelievably enough, determined to inherit. This is what my mother and my sister know. </p><p></p><p>That is why my sister could claim the righteousness of walking with the Lord regarding her relationship to me. </p><p></p><p>That is why she could do what she did to my daughter; to my son.</p><p></p><p>Forgiving ourselves for having sold ourselves out; forgiving ourselves for having believed that they, or that anyone, could ever define the value or purpose of a life. Forgiving ourselves for the crime of self-hatred, forgiving ourselves for having come to view ourselves with their scorn; for viewing ourselves with the scorn they hold for those enslaved. Forgiving ourselves for having worn the abusive mother's valence like a skin; scornful of the slave.</p><p></p><p>Beauty, for ashes.</p><p></p><p><em>Ashes, on the westwind, blown.</em></p><p></p><p><em>***</em></p><p></p><p>Scorn.</p><p></p><p>To hold ourselves in scorn, or to forgive ourselves for having believed them when they told us we were slaves; for having believed, because they sold us, that we could be sold.</p><p></p><p>Forgiveness, for having believed them in all things; for having believed with them that the wonder of our aliveness could be a cheapened thing.</p><p></p><p>Forgiveness for self betrayal into shame, into scorn.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>A haughty spirit. This describes that feeling attending the term grandiosity addicted.</p><p></p><p>So he is describing humility, here.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>This is Alice Walker: <u>Expect Nothing</u></p><p></p><p><em>Expect nothing. Live frugally</em></p><p><em>On surprise.</em></p><p><em>Become a stranger</em></p><p><em>To need of pity</em></p><p><em>Or, if compassion be freely</em></p><p><em>Given out</em></p><p><em>Take only enough</em></p><p><em>Stop short of the need to plead</em></p><p><em>Then purge away the need.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Wish for nothing larger </em></p><p><em>Than your own small heart</em></p><p><em>Or greater than a star;</em></p><p><em>Tame wild disappointment</em></p><p><em>With caress unmoved and cold</em></p><p><em>Make of it a parka</em></p><p><em>For your soul.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Discover the reason why</em></p><p><em>So tiny human midget</em></p><p><em>Exists at all</em></p><p><em>So scared unwise</em></p><p><em>But expect nothing. Live frugally</em></p><p><em>On surprise.</em></p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 667483, member: 17461"] An overcomer (of scorn), rather than a victim of, [I]our own [/I]scorn. The betrayal of self; that is what we engage in ~ an ongoing betrayal of self, when we refuse to forgive, not them, but ourselves, for the essential betrayal of self involved in believing ourselves to be who they told us we were. For believing we could ever be that cheapened thing they told us, and tell us, we are. What they believe has nothing to do with us [I]unless we betray ourselves into believing what they see when they see us.[/I] That is the sin to be forgiven. That is the betrayal, here. How forgive ourselves for having been sold, like Joseph, into slavery to the precepts of some game we do not understand and yet, cannot leave...how forgive [I]ourselves[/I] that we were betrayed, that we were not cherished? How forgive ourselves for believing we [I]could[/I] be so easily bought or traded or sold? How forgive myself that I am hated; that I am not cherished. That I am not generously welcomed; that I am not seen with joy by those I betrayed myself to believe loved me. How forgive myself for the taste of betrayal in it; for the taste of betrayal in believing, time after time, that their betrayal could make me less than I intrinsicly am? *** Forgiveness is a choice that takes courage and strength. Victims of [I]our own scorn[/I]. *** There is not even anger, here. Only the deep sadness that is the loneliness of having been shunned; only the feeling of walking into the night, of navigating by what stars there are. (A multitude; a countless, uncountable number of stars reflected, as we search them for meaning, in our eyes.) [I]So will I know you, by the stars... by those brilliant, icy stars, shining undiminished in your eyes.[/I] Here is the poetry: [I]Tomorrow will find me a prisoner Locked from sight; from scent and sound of you[/I] [I]Time measured not in hours but in decades[/I] [I]So, come near to me, now... come gaze upon those brilliant, icy stars Then let this be the memory, deep engraved on both our hearts[/I] [I]Etched into both our fallible brains[/I] [I]So that when I return years hence Though your beauty then, be spent ~ though my face be a caricature of the face before you now[/I] [I]Yet will I know you, by the stars....[/I] [I]By those brilliant, icy stars shining undiminished, in your eyes.[/I] That's us. Coming home. [I]***[/I] Forgiveness: A choice that takes courage and strength. Victims of [I]our own[/I] scorn. Forgiveness has everything to do with the scorn in which we hold [I]ourselves[/I]. I may have been sold, but I am the one who, in believing myself saleable, betrayed myself. That is the thing that needs to be forgiven. That is the essential betrayal. Forgiving them or myself for what they have done brings anger; their actions are not forgivable things. Harm was done me; betrayal occurred and is ongoing. In forgiving either them or myself, I declare myself powerless. I choose a chosen happiness in the now over that forever secret of shame. That is not victory. In forgiving either them, for what they did, or in forgiving myself, for having been powerless to stop them, I revictimize myself. Those poops are not going to change. The system is working, for them. I betray myself, in forgiving them or myself for what happened, by giving over to them, one more time, the power of self definition. Like Joseph, I was sold. The betrayal here is that, unlike Joseph, I believed myself that which [I]could[/I] be sold. That is the essential betrayal, here. That is what must be forgiven. That I carry the shame of having been sold; that I name myself a sold thing. That is the sin that must be forgiven. That is my sin. That I did not hold faith with myself; that I came to scorn myself for their betrayal. The shame of naming myself slave in the master / slave relationship my mother set up and my sister seems, unbelievably enough, determined to inherit. This is what my mother and my sister know. That is why my sister could claim the righteousness of walking with the Lord regarding her relationship to me. That is why she could do what she did to my daughter; to my son. Forgiving ourselves for having sold ourselves out; forgiving ourselves for having believed that they, or that anyone, could ever define the value or purpose of a life. Forgiving ourselves for the crime of self-hatred, forgiving ourselves for having come to view ourselves with their scorn; for viewing ourselves with the scorn they hold for those enslaved. Forgiving ourselves for having worn the abusive mother's valence like a skin; scornful of the slave. Beauty, for ashes. [I]Ashes, on the westwind, blown.[/I] [I]***[/I] Scorn. To hold ourselves in scorn, or to forgive ourselves for having believed them when they told us we were slaves; for having believed, because they sold us, that we could be sold. Forgiveness, for having believed them in all things; for having believed with them that the wonder of our aliveness could be a cheapened thing. Forgiveness for self betrayal into shame, into scorn. A haughty spirit. This describes that feeling attending the term grandiosity addicted. So he is describing humility, here. This is Alice Walker: [U]Expect Nothing[/U] [I]Expect nothing. Live frugally On surprise. Become a stranger To need of pity Or, if compassion be freely Given out Take only enough Stop short of the need to plead Then purge away the need. Wish for nothing larger Than your own small heart Or greater than a star; Tame wild disappointment With caress unmoved and cold Make of it a parka For your soul. Discover the reason why So tiny human midget Exists at all So scared unwise But expect nothing. Live frugally On surprise.[/I] Cedar [/QUOTE]
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