Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Lessons from Falling Off a Horse


I recently took a spill off a horse named Pride

Pride is a tall, strong dark beauty, a steed that keeps me safe, high and mighty above all others who do not understand or see my way of thinking. Pride held me high within self-righteousness, above and beyond others and their hearts. But when enough hearts collectively feel hurt and anger, they come together as one to speak loudly against Injustice, the weapon that threatens the life of a mighty steed such as Pride.

Once on the ground and licking my wounds, feeling victimized and unappreciated, I protested because I knew I was right and they were wrong. I attempted to stand and remount Pride, taking offense and placing blame on everyone else. Pride huffed, stomping the ground with her hoof over the injustice, standing by to protect me as I found excuses and reasons for being thrown off my high horse. But in protecting me, Pride over zealously dealt a few blows, rearing in protest, knocking me down again as I attempted to stand against the perceived injustices. The harder I fought them, the harder Pride fought too, until her efforts to defend delivered a final blow; knocking me out, leaving me breathless and helpless in the muck and mire of the cold hard truth. If I stood once more, Pride would continue to fight, and ultimately, I would be battered and defeated. I realized then, until I sent Pride away, I would never recover from my fall.

We all have a high horse named Pride that misleads us into believing we are safely rooted in what we believe is the truth and that which we are unwilling to yield. A truth we are unwilling to acknowledge the remotest possibility that we could be wrong. A truth that tightly reins in our belief to make us feel okay; just within our choices, our behaviors, our actions, despite leaving others feeling hurt and unfairly treated. Pride allows us to sit tall, above all and others, protected from lowering ourselves to the level of those we’ve hurt, disappointed or upset. She keeps us from looking at these individuals and seeing their points of view, their perception of who we’ve been or what we’ve done through their own eyes. Pride protects us from realizing how we made others feel less than, misled, and worthless.  From this “above it all” mount, we take comfort in the unwillingness, even a reluctance to admit wrongdoing. Admitting we are wrong is tied to our sense of self-worth, because if we admit we are wrong, we perceive ourselves as weak. Pride protects us from coming down to a ground level and recognizing our weaknesses through the eyes of others.

Muddied, bruised and exhausted in my fight to get back into Pride's saddle, I finally realized through the eyes of those around me, I was wrong. I had been harsh, impatient and demanding towards those who felt unjustly treated. I thanked Pride, smacked her hindquarter, and sent her on her way, choosing to stand on the ground with those I had wronged so I may see myself through their eyes. I placed myself in their hearts, their shoes, and witnessed from their perspective how I had treated them. Only then did I realize I had stood in similar shoes during my lifetime with other authority figures, gently reminded how unjustly treated I had felt.

With this newfound perspective, I began the healing process of restoring my relationships with these individuals, as well as myself. I practiced the five languages of an apology (Gary Chapman) and humbled myself to accept responsibility for my actions with the promise to move among them rather than ride high above them. I apologized – not with a superficial “I’m sorry” but with heartfelt recognition of how I made them feel and by acknowledging my faults and mistakes. And more importantly, I asked for forgiveness. Forgiveness removes the barrier created by the offense and opens the door to restoring trust between two people, and thus the relationship. Without genuine contrition, without forgiveness, one may be able to move on from the experience, but the relationship may never be restored to its original dynamic.

Sitting high and mighty cost me the trust, respect and love of those I hurt. I now ride a beautiful white thoroughbred named Grace. With Grace, I ride alongside others, rather than above them, With Grace, I am connecting more deeply with them, deeply restoring our relationships. And now, I move through the process of forgiving myself.  By doing so, I allow myself to deepen a connection with myself, and God in a healthier, loving and self-respecting way. Grace keeps me grounded in God. Without her, my relationship with God, myself, and others would be forever diminished.

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