Right or Reconciled

It's hard to look at it so i don't. Instead, i pick up my wallet. The leather is old and worn and its fat size shows it's been a while since i've decluttered it of the receipts, loose change, and unused punch cards that like to make their home there. I rifle through it, sigh, and toss it back onto the desk in front of me.

Maybe i should clean my room a bit more first, i think. Perhaps then my thoughts will be sorted out and i'll know how to reply.

To be fair, it is a difficult situation. It'd been months since i spoke to him last. It was a run in at a movie some mutual friends had invited us to. We sat at different ends of the theatre and didn't speak except to say good-bye but we did shake hands and our smiles didn't seem as strained. I seemed time, as i had hoped, was mending things. Apparently not.

I'd wanted to write to him for some time but not knowing how to voice my desire for reconciliation and fear of his response both kept me silent. Finally, after hiding in the back of my mind for months, the desire was brought to the forefront by something i watched. There was very little special about it - i was just wasting my night watching Netflix - but something about how the various heroes interacted through their adventures and trails reminded me of the many joys and challenges we once shared and the memories we'd made.

Before i knew it, i was in front of my computer looking him up. As i pulled up his Facebook profile, i saw we were no longer friends. That did little to quiet my nervousness. Still, i had to write to him. Despite not knowing how to articulate the feelings of both love and pain that felt so strong, i found the words pouring out.

I wrote of my long felt desire to contact him but the impasse i felt. I wrote of the memories of ours that i cherished, from the late night talks to how we were baptized together. I wrote of how i suck at balancing things in life, particularly relationships, and how i get so consumed in big, impersonal ideals. I apologized that in my attempts to create a better world, i hurt many people, and how much i regretted that he was one of them. I wrote of my desire for reconciliation with him but that even if i was past that place that i believe in him, in his heart, in his love for people and how through that love he'll change many lives. Lastly, i wrote that i love him, and i pray that his life may be blessed.

I was nervous but full of hope as i sent it. Regardless of his response, i thought, i know i've done the right thing in reaching out for reconciliation. A few hours later, his response shattered my peace.

He wrote of how he doubted my words. He wrote that my message was a poorly written attempt to get pity and extend my social influence. He did pity me, but not because he believed what i wrote. He pitied me because i act selfishly and hurt people to build my own kingdom. He wrote of his "admiration" for my ability to manipulate and hurt people yet still be loved by the masses. He wrote of his prayers to God to help him forgive me for the pain i'd caused him. He wrote of the pain in seeing my transformation from a man he admired into a selfish, manipulative man and how he can't be aligned with someone like that. He wrote that he hopes one day i'll realize what i've become and have a change of heart.

For days i've held my response as two sides of me wrestle over the direction to take. The logical side of me sees the humility in my first message. I put aside the many destructive things he'd done to me and offered a fresh start. I was gracious and he responded with insults. My mind creates walls to defend myself and arrows to pierce him, showing him his faults. On and on it goes until it's no longer an attempt at peace, but rather, a war to prove who's right.

Another side of me wants to agree with him, to let him be right if it means healing might come. I should let go of my rights, forget about what he's done, and just apologize. He's hurt but not a fool. There's truth behind his words. I should find it so that i can become a better man.

I heard a story once, told by an old Native American to his grandson. "There are two wolves within every one of us," the old man began, "one which is dark; full of hate, anger, greed, arrogance, and envy. The other is light; full of love, compassion, peace, joy and wisdom. The two wolves are always fighting one another, contending for supremacy. The boy thought about it intently before he turned to his grandfather and asked, "Which wolf wins?" "The one we feed," he replied.

As i sit here, ready to write my response, i feel those two wolves contending within me. I could argue and prove him wrong. I could cut him down and prove myself blameless. But i'm not. Neither of us are. Proving him wrong won't help him, or me, become a better man. So easily our emotions make us view things as black or white, men as either angels or demons. But we're not angels, nor are we demons. We're human, flawed and beautiful, and though we make mistakes, our lives contain glory.

I know which wolf i want to win. I'll just have to feed him my ego.