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There are only two things that really matter to me right now.  1. Making sure that my partner and children know that I love them, and  2. Te...

Sunday

I killed it

I didn't mean to... I realized too late that I'd done what I'd not meant to do.


(I need to get this off my chest, but I can't tell anyone out loud. It's too horrible.)



There were two of them there- together. I saw a very pretty little pair of eyes looking up at me. She turned around to go away, but came back and looked up at me- again with those sweet eyes. I realized then that they must have been together. The one I had just killed must have been a friend or family member. I kept apologizing to her, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do it- I wish I could take it back; undo it. I'm so sorry..." She couldn't understand me. She wandered around another moment, looking up at me once more- as if seeking an answer.


Then she went away, alone. Certainly hurting. And it was my fault.




How many times have I hurt my children, my spouse, my friends, strangers.....?


Do I feel so bad? Accidental or not, do I give them the kind of apology I gave this poor little creature today?




True, it was a violent attack- stabbed with a pitchfork. But it affected me on a very deep level- more than just the guilt of having mortally wounding a rodent. I realized in the instant it happened that I am guilty of wielding a pitchfork on a regular basis. In the usual course of a day I am deadly.



I say things without thinking, make crass and critical comments. I deny my full attention. I fail to give appropriate focus and time. I hurt and hate and kill with my actions and words.




In dealing with children even a harsh look can be very hurtful- but I do it to my own all of the time. I glare to stop arguements, shoot daggers to avert unwanted comments, give glances of disdain. Why doesn't it bother me like the mortifying look from a small animal in my backyard?


Maybe I need to focus more on the eyes looking back at me. Maybe I need to see the eyes I meet through the course of each day in the same way I met the eyes of little Ms Newly-Widowed-Mousie out in my yard. If I look at others with the realization that they have needs and hurts I will see with new vision. I can look at a mouse and know that her life is changed by what I've just done by a gardening accident. Certainly I can treat human beings with the same compassion I give my garden pests.
I think I'll try. I'll start looking at the eyes that look back at me with the realization that maybe they're hurting... and maybe I've been the one wielding the pitchfork.

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