I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness lately. Trying to fit it into a specific, narrowed-in situation and stepping back to see it from the view of the universe.
What does it really look like to forgive?
If you’d asked me a year ago, I probably would have given you a bible-belt answer polished with feigned humility. Something along the lines of, “Forgiveness means wishing the best for someone who has hurt you, whether or not they’ve apologized. And it means forgiving yourself.” Then I definitely would have added a, “but I don’t really know and sometimes wonder if I even know how to forgive.” You know what I’m talking about. The perfect response with a convenient self-deprecating addition that actually makes you look better?
“Don’t worry, keep trying!” “You know Harry Potter was rejected eleven times before it was finally accepted!” “You’re a great writer.”
Rejection is the number one worry, fear and warning when someone desires to be a writer. The process of publication is a torturous, tiring and time consuming one. You’re work must be pristine, void of mistakes, sellable and original. A typo and you’re out. A cliche and NIX. Crappy cover letter? Don’t even bother submitting. Never been published? Sucks to suck!
The more you submit, the better chances of being accepted but also the more rejection letters you receive, and soon they start piling on themselves. Soon, the gracious rejection letter starts to sound like this: Continue reading →
I have this thing going where I want to speak up for the voiceless and fight for the hopeless and make a difference. I want to end oppression and make privilege seen. And then while I’m sitting in Starbucks with a slight pain in my throat from getting a surgery that wasn’t necessary to my life thinking ‘maybe I could go to the doctor to get more medicine’ and ‘I’ll just go home and sit with my hardworking, loving parents to bring my mood up’ I start to wonder why I think I have the right to be the voice for the voiceless.
Is there a point where the privilege you didn’t ask for voids your attempt to speak up for the oppressed?
Will I ever truly understand the trials the people I’m fighting for go through?
Will anything ever change? Is anything worth it? Or should I just sit with my 4$ cup of coffee, watching my violent TV show and ignore the cries around me? Continue reading →