On the playground, in the ghetto, I heard "Don't stay hit." It was the American mothers who taught me this. My mother, not being American, would only say "Don't be afraid of anybody." She had no further instructions and I was left to mull it over. For my thirteenth birthday, my brother bought me The I-Ching. My brother got excited about the idea of reaching enlightenment; I read his Krishnamurti and saw the merit of looking beyond the quotidian. I discovered Buddhism that year also and did my research. I read books, had dreams, revelations and worked on finding peace in extremely unpeaceful situations. Focusing on ideals and ignoring the meanness around me. Forgiveness, compassion, loving your enemy and not staying hit, not going out like a suckah. It was a complicated balance. Loving those who wish you harm is complicated. I still don't love the woman who stole my pants while we vacationed together - pants she could not fit into I might add. Jealousy is an emotion that makes people very difficult to love.
I try to become stronger with each little "hit." Maybe, I hit back by learning from negative experiences - gettin' a little wiser, ya know. But in becoming wiser, I must practice compassion and there is always occasion for humility in this world.
Staying thankful is a grand thing.
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