I recently went to a member’s profile because a response they had given intrigued me and I wanted to know more about them, read their writings — if they had any. You all know the drill. I assume many of you do the same.
But I was doing this not so much because I admired the responder’s words or because I shared a point of view. In fact, it was the complete opposite. There was a lot of venom in the written words left in the response and I wanted to know more about the mind and shape of the person who wrote them.
Curiosity perhaps? More like a spiritual experiment.
So I looked and what I read came as no surprise. They were, indeed, a writer. But yet, oblivious to the fact that our writing gives away so much of our inner landscape.
In their words, I found painted their pain, rejection, and anger. Focused primarily on a sector of society to which I belong but plenty enough leftover to spread around to anyone who happened along — if need be.
A while back my defenses would have come up just at the thought of this person out there spewing their vitriol out into the cosmos. I would have done an internal happy dance at the way they raged against being censored by Medium over and over for their hate-filled rants and name-calling. I would have been pleased that someone was paying attention and attempting to ‘punish’ them.
But I did no happy dance as I read.
The more I read the more I could feel their Fear. It dripped off every word — wove through every sentence — shouted with every exclamation point. FEAR.
Fear — that which drives all this mess in the first place. Fear of being hurt or rejected. Fear of losing our identity or what we hold most dear. Fear of dying with our story untold. Fear of being invisible.
As I read, I only felt sorrow and compassion for this individual. They were completely consumed by poison — locked in a battle they did not have to fight. They must be exhausted by it all.
And then I began to recognize myself. The times I was consumed. The times I picked up shield and sword when it was unnecessary. The times I was exhausted.
My compassion grew even more.
I sent this person Love. And Compassion. And Joy. Potent antidotes for the poison of Fear.
Then I sent Gratitude to The Universe for reminding me that Life is an echo. To receive Love, Compassion and Joy — we must always be prepared to give it. And we must give it to those who need it most.