The Pointing Finger

Years ago I overheard someone say 'Whenever you point a finger at someone there are three fingers pointing back at you!'

I immediately pointed (of course) and it was perfectly true. After spending some time wondering who had first become aware of this phenomenon and then used it to create an object lesson, I started to watch to see how many times I 'pointed the finger'. How many times a day, a minute, did I assign blame rather than take responsibility? How many different ways did I seek to be right?

It took me about ten to fifteen minutes to become very ashamed of myself and acknowledge that my mental chatter was continually blaming and making others the cause of all the pain in my life. Phrases like 'I had no choice', 'They left me no other options', 'I only did it because...' 'the whole situation says more about them than it does about me...' and on and on. All the self delusions, the lies we tell ourselves so we can look in the mirror and say 'Hey, hey, you're okay!' . What unmitigated BS!

I have never been entirely convinced that the observer in my head has my best interests at heart. It is a dispassionate voice that cuts me no slack at all. And loud, at times! The problem is, once I turn my inner eye on some element of my behaviour, old observer takes it as an invitation to talk about it. Each thought, each action, is analysed and stripped down to the bare bones of conception. I am not allowed to sugar coat it, make excuses, look down and draw patterns in the dirt with my toe, I am expected to dig it up and throw it out. I am expected to CHANGE!

And change is tough. The year I stopped smoking,1997, I took my first actions towards that end in July. I put down the cigarettes on December 31st. Ritual appeals to me at times, especially if the stroke of midnight is involved. Oh wow! I just realised I have stopped counting the years since I stopped smoking, I was still thinking 8. Maybe I am finally a non-smoker!

It is hard to look inward, to assess honestly what part of any interaction is mine to own. It is very hard sometimes to keep my attention on the garbage on my side of the street when everyone else has garbage strewn every which way...they haven't even bothered to bag it! And the voice says:'Think of the White Elephant stall at the fair, think about garage sales. Other peoples' garbage is someone's treasure. How do you get to decide and label what is around?

Does this make me neutral? I think not. I have strong opinions on most things. I no longer find (after listening to the voice for so many years) that I need to have all my opinions heard. I don't care if you know what I think. It is only my opinion and not very important in the greater scheme of things. Some things I will take a stand on and make my position clear. There are times when silence allows the unthinkable to grow and flourish until it has a shape and form and takes lives.

At times, because voice or no I remain all too human and consequently imperfect, anger will slip the leash and manifest. If I must vent, I shape the feelings into words without a target and send them forth, a testament to feeling and to pain.

And if there is a pointing finger in the shadow of those words I know they all apply to me.