Joe,
I am so, so sorry about the lost of your precious mother. When Laura told me, I could hardly believe it. Your mom was someone I viewed as near superhuman when we were classmates. It seemed like she was there volunteering for everything. I never understood how she was able to do so much for everyone else's kids having four kids herself. No, I wasn't aware that she was so deeply involved in politics and the civic activities you mentioned, but it's definitely what I would have expected of her based on the few but memorable interactions we had. Her life was a blessing to this world, and I know she felt you were a blessing to hers. You were! We aren't defined by a brief period in our lives, Joe, at least not to those who love us, especially not to our mothers. They watch us go though all kinds of seasons and love us through every one of them even though they might not always approve or understand.
You know by now I tend to see things from a spiritual perspective. I have no doubt, none, that the worry and guilt you're feeling is completely unnecessary. Some of your family members may be harboring ill feelings right now, but that's just grief and frustration that will eventually subside. I feel sure of that because you all have immense love for one another. That's part of your mom's legacy, right? She is on the other side now with a totally different perspective, where disappointment, anger, and fear don't exist. None of what we torture ourselves over in this worldly existence concerns souls that have crossed over. Even if your mom felt those emotions in the months before she passed, they vanished in an instant when she left this side.
I feel your pain, I really do. I empathize with those feelings of guilt and regret. If no one else has told you, I want you to hear this from me: It's okay to forgive yourself. Guilt and regret help us grow, for sure, but only in the short run. If we stay in those feelings too long, they can paralyze us and render us incapable of acting positively and constructively and putting those learned lessons to good use. You and I have learned so much talking through what happened over the last four years. I say I hate Facebook now, but if I didn't have that archive to look back over with a fresh set of eyes, I'm not sure I would understand as well how we got to this point. At several points reading through it, I had regrets, and at many points I saw us both as pretty gullible, but overall I think we were more passionate than anything else. Passion can be a really good thing, but it can also be a downfall.
People who are passionate always seemed to get used by those who are ambitious, driven by greed, and soulless. If you have a huge heart and you're open, I think that can provide an entryway to callings of all sorts. You want to make a difference and crave something to believe in strongly, something to fight for. And opportunists know this about us. They're like vultures and we are easy prey. They'll give us something to believe in. They're provide the basic framework of a narrative, let us fill it in, and then reflect it back to us. When we're the ones who fill it in, it naturally becomes truth to us, don't you think? What passionate individual won't fight for what they believe is indisputable truth, especially if they think that truth is either being intentionally hidden or is under attack? Passionate people will always fight for that, every day of the week.
You're a person who cares deeply and wants to make a difference. You're not alone in that, and I think that's what a lot of people who are front-line fighters need to get in touch with and remember. We want what's good, right, and true to prevail, and I think the best part of us doesn't want anyone left behind. Sometimes we get stuck in the 'what about me'?' mentality, but that's rooted in the kind of fear that grips a society based on capitalism. In a capitalist system, someone always gets left behind, it can't work otherwise. There have to be winners and losers. Capitalism requires an underclass, so there's a perpetual struggle between those who fear becoming that. Those who benefit from the struggle will never, ever stop giving us peanuts to fight over. We think we're fighting over issues, but really we're just fighting to not feel stepped on and become invisible or worthless.
It's going to take us seeing the worthiness in every human being to pull us out of this. It's going to take courage for us to stop acting out of fear and start acting out of love instead. It's a tall order. We can do it, though. But I think things have to become intolerable before enough people are motivated to change the current course, and we're just about there. We're going through the type of labor pains that are necessary to give birth to a better way of thinking, feeling, and being with one another. Speaking just for myself, I reached the point of disgust when I saw that Capitol riot. And I'm not talking about disgust with people like you or anyone who participated in it, I'm talking about disgust that we have let ourselves become so irrational and out of control in our dealings with one another and the way we respond in times of crisis. It made me heartsick.
I haven't been feeling disappointed in anyone else any more than I've felt disappointed in myself. And I've finally gotten enough clarity by sitting with my emotions rather than reacting to realize I can't expect anything more or better of anyone else than I require of myself. It's a process, and some days I do better than others. You're in process too, my friend. I see it. We may have veered off in different directions for a while there, but I don't think our motives have ever been impure. I think we have always been striving for enlightenment. Our vision has just been impaired at times because we haven't always been vigilant. We can forgive one another for that, right? Vigilance is hard work. I need you to do something for me. Keep your head up, Joe. Keep your head up and keep working through this stuff. Grief has its place, and you should allow for that, but there's no need to get mired in regret. I'll keep putting in the work, too. That's a promise.
Love, Bev
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