By Rory Freedman on November 21, 2011
Resentment. It’s an ugly, murky, sludgy cesspool. And if I even stick one toe in it, it can swallow me up for years. Of course, resentment doesn’t usually come in the form of sticking one toe in. For me, it can look like strapping on my cement boots, weight belt and helmet and barreling in. And when I’m in that deep, it’s really hard to wade out.
I’m rounding the bend on a three-year resentment. So I’ve got an impressive litany of complaints, grievances and justifications for how I’ve been wronged. And guess what those have gotten me? Nothing, unless you want to count anger, bitterness, rage, immobility and despondency. Resentment hasn’t served me at all. It has kept me stuck, trapped in the pain of my own negativity. Nelson Mandela said it best: “Resentment is like drinking poison and hoping it will kill your enemies.”
So how do you get unstuck when you’re mired in resentment? It took me a solid two-and-a-half years of daily, hard, spiritual work. And one of the things I learned along the way was that I was actively taking part in my resentments. A teacher asked me, “Rory, what’s the payoff here? There must be a payoff for you to hold on so tightly to these resentments.” Payoff? What payoff? This sucks! I got totally screwed! I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy (except for the one who I have this mother of a resentment toward)! I was so entrenched, the payoff wasn’t at all visible to me for about two years. But I eventually got to recognize that if I held onto my anger, rage and justifications, then I didn’t need to take responsibility for myself. I didn’t need to look at my part (I always have a part), and I didn’t need to move forward and get on with my life. I could hide all my fears and insecurities behind how this person wronged me. I could blame this person for everything that was bad in my life and all the ways I was failing. I could wait around for decades, waiting for this person to see the error of their ways and to make things right. All the while, I am in a cesspool, yelling and crying about how unfair it is, inches away from the ladder where I could climb out.
And maybe it is unfair, and maybe I have been wronged. But I’m pretty sure I didn’t come into this life to learn how to be a victim. All the trials I experience are the exact lessons I came into this life to learn. And until I get these lessons ? really get them, I’m doomed to experience them over and over again. This one has been so friggin’ painful, I don’t want to experience it again.
A few weeks ago, during a spiritual ceremony, I was blessed with a vision and an understanding. I got to bring the spirit of my “resentee” to me, and make peace on a soul level. I got to hug and hold my resentee, and through tears, apologize for my part that I can see, apologize for my part that I’m not even aware of because my ego won’t let me see it, and forgive my resentee for trespassing against me. In the ceremony, I understood that in everyday life, we aren’t able to resolve our issues right now in our human forms. But I was able to apologize and forgive in my spirit form, and make peace. I was able to feel the love between our souls, and to see that we were brought into each other’s lives so we could be each other’s teachers ? not to be enemies or adversaries, but to learn these profound lessons.
This morning, I dreamt I ran into my resentee in a restaurant. And I told my resentee about the ceremony and our souls making up. Everything seemed to be going well until I mentioned the part about us being each other’s teachers. My resentee balked at me being a teacher, and left the restaurant. I felt angry and resentful and spurned. But when I woke up, I was pleased. First of all, the fact that I had a dream where I got to be generous and loving and kind was progress. In past dreams, I was violent and crazy. But more important, this is my spiritual journey. Not my resentee’s. It is none of my business what this person thinks of me. It’s none of my business if this person is “right” or “wrong.” It is my job to do the work I’m here to do. And I don’t get to dictate the actions, feelings or spiritual evolution of anyone else. I don’t get to dictate the results either. I just get to learn my lessons and take right actions.
I’d love to say the resentment has lost its charge completely and I am totally free of it. From past resentments, I know from experience that one day that will be the case. And with all the work I’ve been doing, I’m hopeful that day is just around the bend. In the meantime, I have made a ton of progress from where I started three years ago and I’m flooded with gratitude for that. Until the resentment’s gone completely, I’m just going to keep focusing on the lessons I came here to learn and doing the diligent work to embrace them.
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Photo credit: Joshua Katcher
Read More By Rory Freedman on February 1, 2011
I don’t have any New Year’s resolutions, and I’m okay with that. I’m actually more than okay with it. I’m glad about it. Enough already with the lofty goals. And even with the small ones. It’s too much. A friend recently voiced how bad she felt because she wasn’t working, wasn’t making any money, wasn’t feeling like a productive member of society. She said she felt like she had a big “L” on her forehead for “loser.” Luckily, a very wise acquaintance of hers gently and smartly offered that, “Maybe the ‘L’ is for ‘learning.’”
Archimedes said, “Give me a place to put my lever and I shall move the world.” Being that he was a mathematician, physicist and engineer, he likely meant it in the physical sense – that with the right placement, a lever could move anything. But to me, it reads, “Give me a place to put my energy and I shall change the world.” And I fully believe, wholeheartedly, that each one of us has the power to do just that. Which is all good and fine when you know exactly what it is you were put on this planet to do. But more than ever, it seems like so many of us are lost and floundering. We don’t know what we’re supposed to do with ourselves, our passions, our lives. And that can be pretty uncomfortable – painful, even.
So maybe it’s time to do nothing, in a sense. I’m not suggesting we all loaf around in our bathrobes, depressed and lethargic, watching TV and stuffing down feelings with food. (Although everything has its time and place.) I’m suggesting a purposeful and mindful stepping back, and recollecting and reconfiguring. But not too much reconfiguring. More of an allowing. A creating of space – a quiet, simple, reflective, meditative, open, encouraging, fecund space – a mental, emotional, psychic arena that allows an inflow. An inflow of what, I don’t know. And that’s exactly the point. This isn’t “Figuring It Out 101.” This is getting still and quiet for however long it takes to silence the mental noise, the outside noise, the parental noise, the neurotic noise, the coulda-shoulda-woulda noise, and finally being able to hear what’s been there all along. Every single one of us has a divine purpose. A divine talent. A divine calling. But it’s really hard to hear when we’re buried under work, responsibilities, dysfunctional relationships, computers, cell phones, and the myriad of addictions that are slowly but surely snuffing out all our light.
Yes, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” (Lao Tse, philosopher) But that was never followed up with, “So hurry up and get crackin’.” Maybe the first step is a step backward, or a step down, or an unsteady, unsure step. It’s okay to not know what you’re doing here and now. It’s actually more than okay, it’s perfect. “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” (Rainier Maria Rilke, poet)
We weren’t born into these bodies in these lifetimes to have all the answers. We came here to learn and experience and grow. So maybe, just for now, don’t swim against the current, or try to solve the puzzle of your life. Maybe the answer is much easier and simpler. Like, “Take rest; a field that has rested gives a bountiful crop.” (Ovid, poet)
Photo credit: Richard Hume
Read More By Rory Freedman on December 8, 2010
I was recently asked for a project what was most meaningful to me. It was difficult to answer because lots of things are meaningful. But after much consideration and deliberation, my mind landed on integrity.
Growing up, I thought my mom was incredibly annoying. Every time we went clothes shopping we had to put all the clothes back on the hangers before returning them to the salesperson. Whenever we went to the grocery store we had to bring the cart back to the front of the store – we couldn’t just leave it near our car. And if a cashier ever made a mistake in our favor, we had to alert them of the error and give the money or item back. It drove me crazy as a child and even as a young adult. I would whine: “Why can’t we leave the clothes on the bench?” or “Why can’t we leave the cart here?” or “Why can’t we take the headband? No one will ever know!” Her response was always the same: “Because it’s not right.”
Now as an adult I can see that my mother was and is a woman of great integrity. She does the right thing – not because someone is watching or because she’ll get recognition, but because it’s important to her. She understands that what she says and what she does comprise who she is.
Perhaps in years to come I will achieve the same level of integrity that my mother maintains. And maybe one day it will come to me effortlessly and be part of my nature. In the meantime I am taking great pleasure in recognizing all the opportunities that arise in which I can choose integrity. It isn’t like a New Year’s resolution or giving up swearing for Lent. It’s something I get to keep coming back to all day, every day.
I marvel at how, way back when, I thought having integrity was exhausting. Now it’s so apparent that living life with integrity makes everything so simple, yet so profound.
Integrity is the gift that keeps on giving. It has taught me gratitude for the big stuff and for the small stuff too. It has taught me kindness, compassion and generosity. It has taught me to be honest and direct with others but most importantly with myself. Trying to live with integrity makes me a better person. It makes me a happier person. And best of all, it makes me want to be of service to others. And I cannot think of anything more meaningful than that.
Photo credit: Michael Brian
Read More By Rory Freedman on July 26, 2010
July 1, 2010
It scares me to even write this because then it will be real. But that’s exactly why I need to write this – I need it to be real. I need to put it out there and be accountable. And in order to battle any addiction, you need a support group.
I’m canceling my cable.
Ahhh!! It’s real! I said it. I’m accountable. I’m really doing it. Oh my God. I’m freaking out. I’ve been a TV junkie my whole life. Growing up, I had a TV in my room from the time I was two or three. In college, I had an illegal cable descrambler. And now, after a long, busy day, there’s nothing I love more than sitting on my couch with TiVo. And perhaps if I was a normal TV watcher, this would be fine. But I’m not. I’m an addict. I can’t sit down and watch one or two shows and call it a night. I’ll sit down in front of the TV, already exhausted, at 9:00 or 10:00 pm, and then watch straight through to at least 2:00 am, occasionally 3:00 or 4:00. Every time I’ll promise myself, “just ‘Grey’s Anatomy,’ ‘Private Practice,’ then bed.” But like all addicts, my disease is beyond my control. So after “Grey’s” and “Private,” depending on the season, come “Glee,” “The Bachelor/Bachelorette,” then “The Real Housewives of New York City,” “The Real Housewives of New Jersey,” “The Real Housewives of Orange County,” “United States of Tara,” “Nurse Jackie,” “The Tudors,” “Survivor,” “So You Think You Can Dance,” “Mad Men,” “Friday Night Lights,” and on and on and on.
Just writing this, my heart is racing. I can’t imagine not knowing what’s going on with… all of these people/characters. (I can’t even pick some specific people/characters. I am invested in all of them!) Maybe this is a bad idea. TV gives me so much pleasure. Why should I deprive myself of that? Taking deep breaths. Getting refocused. I know why. Because it’s not good for me. Watching TV actually makes me feel bad. When I’m done, I feel like my whole being has been pervaded with negative energy. Yes, there are moments of joy, laughter, happy tears, and inspiration. But for me, for some reason, it is all outweighed by this sense of heaviness/angst/discomfort/sadness when I’m done. Maybe if I just watched “Glee” and nothing else, I’d be fine?
A year or two ago, after wimping out on canceling cable, I decided to at least cut out shows that I didn’t totally love. So I broke up with the Desperate Housewives. And I didn’t really miss them. This time, though, it feels different. I feel like I can easily part ways with the Bach and Bachelorette. But Nurse Jackie’s husband just found out she’s a drug addict, Tara just discovered a new alter ego, and Betty and Don Draper are divorcing. This is hell.
I swear this is not me backpedaling. I will allow myself a few favorites online. But I cannot and will not spend hours in front of the idiot box like I’ve done for these past three decades. I haven’t watched TV for three weeks and I’ve been fine. But last night, alone in my hotel room, I closed the curtains, hunkered down, and watched a whole slew of shit. It was such a big hit off the crack pipe. Yes, there were moments I felt happy, moved to tears, and inspired. But overall, while watching, afterward, and this morning, I felt bleh.
It feels terrifying to know that when I get home to LA later tonight, there are three weeks worth of TiVo waiting for me. I haven’t quite decided how to handle it. Technically, it’s all grandfathered in.
Regardless, I’m canceling my cable and I’m excited to see who I am and what I do without it. I’ve said it out loud, and it’s real, and I’m accountable.
Update:
July 8, 2010
I cannot believe how different my life feels already. I haven’t even canceled my cable yet but I’m already experiencing better focus, productivity, and clarity. Just knowing TV is not an option – even while it actually still is – has been amazing. I already feel certain that this was the right decision.
July 9, 2010
Shit. It just occurred to me that I still have the series finale of “Lost” on my TiVo. It feels totally ridiculous to have come this far and not watch the final episode. I will watch it, and then – bam – cable over.
July 11, 2010
I watched the final episode of “Lost” and sobbed. So beautiful, so profound. While crying, I thought, “Why would I give this up? Being moved like this is such a gift.” And it is. But it comes at a cost, and I am clear on this now.
July 12, 2010
Just hung up with my cable provider. I did it. Canceled. I had one moment of concern, when the representative started asking me if I was sure I didn’t want to just suspend the service as opposed to canceling it: What if I regretted my decision and then had to deal with a whole rigmarole to get it turned back on in a few months? But I quickly regained my composure and continued with my plan. And I feel great. It was the right thing to do and I’m thrilled to have done something so good for myself. And I’m excited to see what the world has in store for me now that I’m no longer selling my soul to TV.
Photo credit: David Ojalvo
Read More By Rory Freedman on April 30, 2010
Jesus kicked my ass again—and I loved every second of it.
I’m a Jew, but I grew up in a non-Jew town, and I kinda had Jesus-jealousy for much of my life. Christianity had such an allure: the quiet calm inside a church, the white Communion dresses, and of course, all the bells and whistles of Christmas. Now, as an adult, I’m past the white dress thing. But the rest of it still holds a certain mystique. Yeah, some of it is trite, like the prettiness of Christmas lights, but I really do appreciate some real aspects of the religion. One of them is Lent. I have no idea what the real purpose or meaning of Lent is. But my friends are always scrambling around, giving up sweets, or alcohol, or Facebook, etc., and it seemed kinda cool. So for the past few years, I’ve taken on practicing Lent, too. I welcome opportunities to be a better person. Because I’m vegan, I’ve already taken all animal products out of my diet permanently. I feel good knowing that I’m not contributing to the suffering or death of any animals; no need for me to give up something food-related. But there was a little somethin’ somethin’ I needed to address: shit-talking. This year, for Lent, I tried to give up talking about people. And let me tell you something, it kicked my ass.
Let me start off by saying that I am a woman of integrity, and overall, I really don’t shit-talk people that much. So I thought. All of sudden, I felt like I couldn’t open my mouth. My friend had a crush on a guy and wanted to know what I thought… I thought he was a cagey mother-fucker and a total weirdo. One of The Real Housewives of New York was parading around in fur, yet calling herself an animal lover. And a guy I had gone out with had turned out to be a total douchebag. Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!! What had I gotten myself into? I’m a woman—the need to express myself and be fully understood is biological! Now I had gone and gagged myself. How was I going to get through these forty days?
I’m not gonna lie, I did not do a perfect job: My friend pressed and pressed, so I finally told her what I really thought of the guy. Chelsea Handler took the Real Housewife to task, and I posted it on my Facebook page. And when someone asked about the guy I went out with, I said he turned out to be a douchebag. Am I proud of all that? No. But there were also multiple victories where I did keep my mouth shut in cases that I normally wouldn’t have. Whether it’s bad-mouthing someone on TV, talking about a random guy we’ll never see again, or shit-talking someone we know, words have weight. And even if the person never knows what we’ve said, the energy is out there. If a tree falls and no one is there to hear it, it’s still a fallen tree. If the person never knows they’re being bad-mouthed, it’s still mean and hurtful. Not only am I being ugly to them, I’m also being ugly to myself. Shit-talking is like poisoning my own well water. It muddies my waters and darkens my energy field. All for what? Letting someone know what I think? Who am I? Why are MY thoughts so important that they must be known? And what if I’m wrong? Maybe my friend’s guy isn’t a cagey mo-fo; maybe he’s just nervous with women. Maybe the Real Housewife genuinely doesn’t know that animals killed for fur are electrocuted anally and/or vaginally. And maybe the guy I went out with isn’t a douchebag; maybe he’s just struggling with some issues and doing it the best way he knows how. (Chances are, my friend’s guy IS cagey, the Housewife IS selfish, and my guy IS a d-bag. But for argument’s sake, I coulda been wrong.) Unfortunately, I can’t take back any of the mean things I said about these people. (Sorry, but I just gotta say: Wearing fur is total fucking bullshit. Check out http://www.skintradethemovie.com/ if you don’t believe me.)
No, I did not do a perfect job during Lent. I couldn’t even do a perfect job now, writing this! But I learned a really valuable lesson that has stayed with me, despite the passing of Easter. I do not want to talk about people. It feels better not to. It has been said that we have two ears yet only one mouth, so we should listen twice as much as we speak. I like this. I have no doubt I will continue to struggle with keeping my mouth shut. But these recent forty days have been a real eye-opener and a true blessing. Praise be to Jesus.
My challenge to all of you who skipped Lent or want to try something else: Do it for the month of May. Give up gossip, or complaining, or best of all, eating dead animals! Visit goveg.com for a free starter kit!
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