Reflections on cruelty: I am cruel what about you?

cruel

I am cruel-What about you? What part are you denying?

Today I reflect on a part of me that I discovered I have been denying. The Cruel Part.

I fucking hate cruelty. Its energy terrifies me and I am fearful of my own cruel energy. As a child I even devised a  ‘non-deserving’ character to make allowances for cruelty so that I might avoid its presence and deny its existence. (Extremely genius thing to do on reflection, I’m quite impressed with my ability!)

And to some degree this worked greatly, it provided me with an abundance of virtuous gifts, a high amount of empathy, a heightened connection with energy, seeing the good in others, caring, nurturing, empowering others and understanding. Yet, what I was failing to recognise was how I turned this powerful energy inwards: my ability to be The Dark Bitch from hell, The Kitten- kicking Mistress to yours truly.

Anyone who has encountered Jung and Freud et al will know these denied parts of ourselves find their own ways to indulge and express, my preference for Tarrantinoesque style film, Bill Hicks humour and rubber with whips will support their hypothesis.

I’m not advocating cruel behaviour here. I’m questioning my beliefs surrounding cruelty. I‘m recognising the power of the energy, giving it a voice and forming a new relationship with it. This is a source of creative power for me and it supports me in setting boundaries that keep me safe.

A few days ago a good friend, my partner and I were sunbathing, taking in the view and chilling. Suddenly this dark, overpowering energy with his can of strong brew wobbled over and asked us for a fag for him and his two mates. I said NO. The rejection was too much for both of us. He stood intimidatingly over us for the next seven minutes as we passively and silently froze avoiding his presence. Inside my head I’ve got a whole courtroom erupting.

Why didn’t I give him a cigarette, I could have, I usually do. How inconsiderate and in-compassionate of me. Well, he did ask in a rude, expectant and aggressive manner and that gave me justification to say NO. Yes, but, it’s not very kind or loving and you are supposed to be Walking your Talk, you fake. It’s cruel not to give him one.

After the realisation that standing there wasn’t going to melt our hearts, he came back with a wise tale of guilt and said: “life is heads and life is tails and I hope you fuckers get tails”. And returned to his mates.

When he left I recognised and felt the energy rise in me from my root chakra right through to the solar plexus. An energy that makes me feel heady, knees weak, hands tingle and generally overwhelms. My heart is beating faster. I respond as the courtroom conspires. Oh poor guy, I could have given him what he needed, how tight of me, I shouldn’t be smoking anyway that will teach me.

So I react by trying to send loving energy to him as he stands up looking over at us threateningly. (Not working as my energy is coming from a place of fear and denial).

The others have moved on sunning themselves and doing yoga stretches. But, my protective antenna is on alert. I cunningly pretend to read my book as a feeling of knowing and dread continues. I can see he is creating a tremendous defense for his rejection. A story of hatred, blame and retaliation is constructed as he stands on the spot stamping his feet.

He then starts to shout from a distance.

“Gays, fucking get out of here, I don’t want you in my sight, get out, fucking gays”.

We continue to ignore and I resort to manipulation, (justified for all our sakes!) I reach over and kiss my partner and whisper

“stop doing the Yoga, just for a bit darling, its aggravating him!”

The kiss and lack of Yoga stops his shouting for a bit. My plan was working. What else does he need to shut him up? Perhaps I should just walk over there and give him a cigarette and be done with it. No I’m not condoning intimidation and bullying, that’s unfair. There is a break in energy as he moves away from his masterful position. I breathe.

Yet the story unfolds as he stomps down to show us his newly found cigarette that his friend has given him, no thanks to us. I reply that’s brilliant, it all works out in the end and he spoils for an argument that its not alright, it’s not brilliant, it’s not alright that we didn’t give him a fag. We shut up and he goes away.

This is getting tiresome now, my guilt for not giving him a cigarette resides because he has one. I start to believe that’s the universe supporting me in my choice and shutting him the fuck up.

His energy still permeates as he takes his position of power, winding himself up further. I wish he would go away. A few minutes later he stomps down at full force, chest back, swinging arms, he has most certainly psyched himself up for a fight. He says

”will you move on, I don’t want you in my sight, your (spelt as he would write it) spoiling my view, get out of here, I don’t want to look at you gays”.

I won’t tolerate bullying, how dare he. I stand up and in my most commanding teacher’s voice; tell him I have had enough of this. This is public property and does he want me to call the police. He is stunned into submissiveness. I repeat the sentence do you want me to call the police, twice more in a very loud, dramatic voice, deliberately drawing the attention of surrounding sunbathers and rallying in the troops if necessary.

He replies no and hangs his head a little as he walks back to his corner, placing the D cap on his head. We decide to move to a more relaxing spot.

Quite a hilarious story on reflection and the obvious learning- become a non-smoker!

Let synchronicity be your guide

Synchronicity is a wonderful teacher. My reflections on my beliefs surrounding cruelty and this situation happening within a couple of days of each other has provided me with a space to recognise and reflect. By denying and running from my idea of cruelty it stops me Walking my Talk, empowering myself and living my truth fully. I have a choice to say NO. It’s my job to set the boundaries that work for me. As you would say ‘parent yourself’. Sometimes others won’t like it and that’s ok. Sometimes I will make crap choices and that’s ok too.

Being responsible for my behaviour does not mean punishing myself when things don’t work out as planned. It means learning and caring for myself.

Listening to the heart is the answer and having compassion for others does not mean having forsaking compassion for myself. The word compassion means to suffer with, my denial of my own suffering is downright cruelty. Balance is the answer, keeping it is humanities challenge. We all do what we can in the moment we call life.

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