To You,
I am a fortunate child
fostered from a forgotten heap
by thought-filled architects who
send one hundred whispered wisdoms
into the empty cups of my ears
disrupting dusty abstraction
long settled in the hot air of my head.
One hundred pillow fingered hands
tilt my chin into light
and ease open locked jaws
to taste the fresh fruit and air
that will rouse my stagnant cells.
Your Friend,
A
To You,
In the foreword of Brave New World Aldous Huxley writes:
Chronic remorse, as all the moralists are agreed, is a most undesirable
sentiment. If you have behaved badly, repent, make what amends you
can and address yourself to the task of behaving better next time. On no
account brood over your wrong-doing. Rolling in the muck is not the best
way of getting clean.
As someone who has behaved badly, I felt great relief when I discovered this passage over two years ago. It was as though I had finally been given permission to stop pummeling myself, something any guilty person with a conscience would celebrate. However, I have found it surprisingly impossible to abide by Huxley's recommendation. I feel guilty for trying to cast off the guilt accrued for my collection of wrong-doing. It is as though there is an on-going debate between my past, present, and future selves. Past Self wields guilt in self-flagellation, arguing that my penance is my suffering. Future Self argues for change, suggesting that I can't be useful if I'm crippled by guilt. Present Self is humbled by confusion.
Your Friend,
A
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