Saturday, June 30, 2012

The Rock of Resentment


The Rock of Resentment
He spoke of his anger, raging inside, and his feelings about his family, his childhood, the place where he was at now, and what he struggles with.  His eyes flashed, his voice strong, energized as he shared what was deep in his heart, the pain, and the success.
“And, I’ve found a place to put all that, all my resentment,” he said, tears welling up, his voice quavering.  
It was his Resentment Rock.  
“I give it all to the rock, every day, so I can sleep at night, so I have a place for all this,” he said.
“And, this morning, it broke.  It’s in two pieces now.”
Silence filled the room, everyone feeling the tension as the rock broke, imagining that moment in his life.
Someone in the group asked him how he felt now, now that the rock of resentment has broken.
“Oh, I’m free. The pressure is off, the tension is gone.”
“Relief, I guess.  Yeah, relief.  All that resentment that was inside of me, and now, inside the rock, is gone.  It went away.  I just feel lighter now,” he said, one tear making its way down his young face.  
“I can move on, now.”
Later, when we had finished our conversations as a group, he talked to a woman.  She had spoken in our group about a place she was making in her garden, a place to grieve, and an offering vessel she had made.  It was a place where people could come to pray, and leave an object, a symbol of their loss, their grieving.  It was a place of honoring one’s grief, and the memories of good times, and hard times. It was a place to honor what goes on, deep in our hearts.
“Could you put this there?” he asked.  “I want you to take the rock, and put it there, so I can let it be.  I need a place to leave the rock, a place for all my resentment to be.”
He took the two pieces of the rock out of his pocket, showing us how the two pieces fit, jagged edge to jagged edge.   He let me hold them.  The rocks felt heavy, my fingers sensing the burdens they contained.  
His hands trembled, as he put the two pieces in her hand. A large whoosh of air escaped from his chest.
“It’s time to let all that go, and move on with my life,” he whispered, tears soaking into my shirt. 
6/30/12

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