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Most of us know that backbiting – aka gossiping – is bad. But Baha’u'llah, the founder of the Baha’i Faith told us that it’s more than bad, it’s actually one of the worst possible things we can do. That’s because gossiping is a spiritual crime that harms the soul, not just of the speaker, but also of the listener and the person being talked about. My understanding is that backbiting is worse than physically harming another person, precisely because it is a spiritual crime.
I admit it, I struggle with this. Not just because our (American) culture loves to gossip, but because sometimes I’m not sure exactly what counts as backbiting. Some of it’s obvious – (Did you see her dress? What was she thinking? And that hair! My dog could do a better job with a weed wacker!). But unfortunately, some of it is less so.
Here’s my problem: I like to tell stories. It’s how I deal with life.
I usually try to “write” the stories so that they make the listener laugh, but sometimes I know it’s just for me to blow off steam. I generally tell stories about myself, making myself the butt of the joke. But as a mom, I sometimes (all right, often) tell stories about my kids. And here’s the crux of the issue: does telling stories about my kids constitute backbiting?
I’m worried that sometimes the answer is yes.
I suppose when I’m talking about something they’ve done well, it’s ok. As long as the listener won’t be offended by my “bragging.”
The danger is when they’ve done something that I am, shall we say, less than pleased about. I suspect that the answer can be found in my intention. If I’m trying to get help or advice, and I don’t talk in a way that is disrespectful of my kids, then I’m probably all right. But what about those times when I’m talking about how ridiculous my kid is being, or how obnoxious, or how out of control? I think when this happens, I’m usually engaging in a game of parental one-upsmanship. “You think that’s bad? Let me tell you what Johnny did!” Looking at it this way, it’s hard to argue that it isn’t backbiting.
Adib Tahirzedeh, a very wise and deepened Baha’i, was once asked how to figure out if you’re backbiting. He answered, “When you start to enjoy yourself!”
I guess I ought to apply the same litmus test I would use when talking about a friend: if I wouldn’t tell the story in front of her, then I probably shouldn’t be telling it in her absence. Unless I am genuinely looking for advice on what to do.
Whew. This could be tough. I’m not used to editing stories about my kids, but I can see that this is something I need to start doing. ESPECIALLY when they have been particularly taxing.
But Nature abhors a vacuum, which means that I can’t just NOT talk negatively about my kids, I have to find something to do instead when the urge hits me. But what?
Baha’u'llah tells us that “a thought of hate must be replaced by an even stronger thought of love.” In this case, it’s not hate but lack of respect. So perhaps I should replace it with a thought of respect?
Wow, what does that look like?
Let’s take a hypothetical situation that we can all relate to: My child is throwing very dramatic temper tantrums.
“Old Me” might say, “Wow, Sammy has been quite the drama queen this week! The tantrums she can throw, it’s really quite impressive. She tips over chairs, stomps her feet, and knocks things over. It’s hysterical, really. It’s hard not to laugh out loud!”
The words “mocking” and ”sarcastic” come to mind; definitely not respectful. What would “New Me” say?
Well, saying nothing whatsoever is always an option, but I could also say something like, “Wow, Sammy has been having a tough time lately. She’s working on learning how to control strong emotions like anger, but you remember how hard that can be. I wish I could help her, but when she gets herself wound up, there doesn’t seem to be much I can do to help her.”
Does that sound any better? It feels more respectful, but is it backbiting?
I just don’t know. Do you?
I wanted to wait a bit to be sure, but my stiff neck is 95% gone. The other 5% is more about me fearing it’s return than any real discomfort.
I’ve also found myself being much calmer in the past week, particularly when the situation around me went haywire. My son had to work on his big book report today. He was just editing something he’d written last week, and was only reworking the last paragraph of it. And yet, it took about an hour to finish it. Mind you, if you took out the wailing, moaning and consternation, it was maybe fifteen minutes. So for me to remain calm and detached throughout the remaining 30 minutes of tirades (and personal attacks on my personality), was actually a fairly significant accomplishment. I was completely calm; even slightly amused. I recognized that my son was doing nothing but creating suffering for himself, but that was all. It had nothing to do with me. Other than the fact that I chose to sit there and wait for him to get over it.
He has his lessons to learn, my daughter has hers, I have mine.
And that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
My first post was about relinquishing control over my children’s fates, and handing them over to God.
Over the last couple weeks, I’ve been troubled by a stiff neck that keeps getting worse and worse. Fitness-wise, I’m stronger than I’ve ever been, and I work out at my physical therapist’s office, so if I were doing any of the exercises wrong, they’d tell me.
So what’s going on?
I’m a big believer in self healing, especially for something chronic and nagging like this. I’ve learned that I create a lot of my own own suffering by the way I deal (or don’t deal) with the stuff that happens in life, and when that happens, the way to cure myself is simply to change the way I think about things. I’ve found Louise Hay’s book, “Heal Your Body” quite useful in narrowing down my search. Here is what it said about stiff necks: “The probable cause of a stiff neck is: Burdens, overload, trying to fix others, resistance, inflexibility.” Gee, does any of that sound familiar? How about ALL of it!
I’ve had my stiff neck for about the same amount of time as my son has been “amping up” his struggles against reading: about two weeks. During that time, I’ve been reading and trying to apply to both my life and my children’s, the principles I’ve been learning from Eckart Tolle’s book, “The New Earth.” I’ve been feeling stressed out because I got trapped in the thinking that there is a “right answer” out there, and as his mother, it was my obligation to find it.
I did find something in Tolle’s book that has made things better, but ironically, it only strengthened my delusion that (a) there is a magical right answer out there, and (b) that it’s my job as his mother to exhaust myself until I find it. In other words, I’ve created a burden for myself by trying to “fix” my son, while the whole time my ego has been going head-t0-head with his ego. No wonder I have a stiff neck.
Yesterday, I started repeating the following affirmation for stiff necks and see what happens.
“I lovingly release others to their own lessons. I lovingly care for myself. I move with ease through life.”
I felt a little better today, but not 100%. We’ll see how I feel tomorrow.
How very strange. I googled my last blog entry to see if Google Blog Search had crawled it yet, and I found it… sort of. It was my text, but it wasn’t actually on my blog; it was on someone else’s. Check it out:
http://developping-distance.blogspot.com/2009/02/how-do-you-lead-child-to-enlightenment.html
Either I’ve been plagirized by Colin Fortin, or there’s something funky in cyberspace.
And my own blog did NOT show up on the Google Blog Search.
<sigh> I’m so flustered, I’ve forgotten what I wanted to blog about. I’ll try again tomorrow.
Today, I realized that my children are not my Sistine Chapel.
They are not going to become great masterpieces for which I will be honored and memorialized forever.
No matter what I do, my children are not going to grow up without making mistakes. Nor would I want them to.
And there’s no way they will pass into adulthood without making me angry. Very, very angry. On a regular basis.
I wish I had all the answers to help my children grow up into perfect, enlightened beings.
But even if I were a perfectly enlightened being (which I’m not), it would be arrogance to think I could lead my children into enlightenment the way a sculptor molds clay.
I see now that enlightenment is a journey we must travel on our own two feet. Although I can describe the signposts and landmarks I’ve passed on my own journey, ultimately my children are destined to use the free will God gave them to choose their own path.
And yet, there is a strong feeling of responsibility. I know I am only a temporary caretaker for my children, but while they are in my care, their education and training are my responsibility. This is not a task I take lightly.
As I write this, the word that comes to me loud and clear is: “TRUST”
I know God has a plan for me. I trust that God has my best interest at heart, so even if things happen to me which are contrary to my desire, I trust that eventually I will see the wisdom of the experience relative to my whole life. And if that is true, then God also has a plan for my children. And if God has a plan for my children, then I should just as easily trust that God has their best interests at heart, and therefore, they are in good hands.
In parenting, as in all other areas of my life, all I need to do is the best that I can do, and then have the courage to leave the rest in God’s capable hands.
Wow, is that hard to do! Why? I guess because it means I have to relinquish control over my children’s fate. Or do I? I don’t really have control; I never did. Isn’t that what I’ve been complaining about this whole time? All I’m really doing is relinquishing the delusion of ever having been in control in the first place.
Somehow, that sounds much easier to do. At least I hope so.
What do you think?
