Oscar Wilde was a hell of an author. The quote above was his. Meaningful, deep, yet simple. Honest and truthful. I like reading quotes, and that one resonated and led me to thinking.
What is guilt?
We have all felt it, guilt. We've all done things that we weren't necessarily proud of. We'd like to think that we're good people, and I believe that many of us are indeed good. But even the good do bad, as it's human nature to err. So we've all, at times, found ourselves bearing the burdens of the things we've done. Some, though, find it easier to let go of the guilt, to forgive themselves for these things.
I don't necessarily find myself subscribing to that method, though, and it's a tedious burden indeed.
A friend of mine, a yogi, found herself talking to a shaman from New Mexico. When the conversation wound it's way to the topic of guilt, the shaman reminded my friend that humans are the only creatures on Earth that feel guilt or regret. It's a strange thought, when we think of how different the human animal can be from those that surround him. Does the shark pity the seal? Does the mantis pity the mate that she decapitated? While we can never surely know, we can be pretty sure that they don't.
Guilt weighs heavy on me, personally. I find it hard to forgive myself for the bad that I've done in my past. While I've never truly believed in any real religion, I've always found myself weary of karma, weary of the repercussions for my actions, whether I was caught or not. It's become a heavy load, this guilt, and I've found myself questioning whether or not I deserve to be happy, to be content and satisfied. After what I've done, why would I ever deserve good? Like a zealot, I sometimes find myself punishing myself for deeds I feel that I deserve punishment for. It's a warped, tragic existence, this I know, but it's an existence I know nonetheless. Should I be happy to exist woefully, or woeful for existing in such a capacity? Like so many times before, my questions seem to only lead to further questions, and a sick little cycle begins a-spinning.
I don't feel that people deserve to hurt. Does that make me hypocritical? Probably. Regardless of whatever bad someone might partake in, that doesn't necessarily mean that they have to forever pay for what it is that they did. People deserve forgiveness. Yet, why don't I feel that I deserve the same? Surely, that which I've done isn't the worst, and if they deserve it, why don't I feel like I deserve it too?
I find myself pensive once more. Letting go isn't in my nature, but it should be. It should be something we can all do, to let go of the burdens that plague us and frolic in the freedom that is forgiveness and the acknowledgement of one's self-worth. I'm not there yet, but I have absolute faith that I will be, in time.
That which we've done isn't who we are, it's how we react and adapt. Learning, growing, evolving, changing, adapting. That's life, isn't it?
Consider this my confession, consider me absolved. Thanks, Oscar, you dandy.
