A Hostage of Hatred

Enemies such as greed and hate lack hands and feet and other limbs. They are not brave, nor are they wise. How is it they enslave me?

Lodged within my own mind, it is me that they strike down, themselves unshaken. Yet I do not boil with rage at this. Oh, such ill-placed forbearance!

Sãntideva:  Bodhicaryãvãtara, 4.28 – 4.29 

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I was a hostage of hatred, a seething hatred, a hatred so set that it crystallized into a hardened heart. Nothing could enter or emanate from it but bitterness and self-pity expressed as anger. I needed to feel the warmth of love but, in the meantime, the fires of hatred would do. When I approached the place in my heart where I so desired redemption, I needed to drop my defenses if I was ever going to open myself to the grace of God. The desperation of a dying man drove me to a place of absolute humiliation and despair before Heart of Compassion could have been rejuvenated. It was there that the bondage to self evaporated. It was there that I saw through the wiles of ego that had enslaved me. It was there that the purest love lifted me from the floor into the realm of the spirit on the darkest night of my soul. Could have that been done otherwise? I think so. I believe that any mother enduring the pains, helplessness and travails of labor feels the same powerlessness before the contractions of her own body. Any father standing to give away his daughter in marriage feels the pride and fear of letting his love go. Any parent suffering contempt or the affects of alcoholism or addiction of their child is open to healing in humility. No, one doesn’t have to be an alcoholic or addict to find the love of God but for some of us it helps.

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