Unsent letter to a Dharma Sister
I have often wondered why you never answered my last e-mail. Was it too intense for you? Was it too harsh? Was it unacceptable because it had no message of peace and reconciliation, only despair and mistrust? It was an e-mail that begged for an answer. It was written by someone whose whole world of values and beliefs had just collapsed (and rightly so, true Buddhists would jeer, ever so gently). You're a psychologist. Did you have no words of hope and comfort to offer?
Together we learnt of non-judgment, J., and spent a week practicing it together in a peaceful place, far from the world's troubling realities. It was easy there, wasn't it? The sun was our Sangha.
But back home, peace was not so easily come by. And I felt so very judged by your silence.
This is not a love letter. I am no longer seeking acceptance. I am not interested in your understanding (I am not a very good liar, am I?). But the questions continue to haunt me. Why didn't you answer my e-mail? Why were you unable to sense my pain and respond to it? Was it because you ceased seeing me as Imshin and started seeing me as part of a collective of wickedness, based on my words, based on my unwillingness to automatically accept all blame in the name of my people, because that was how you saw things?
(Harsh accusations indeed from one who thinks of rejoining her Sangha weekly meetings. Things are usually more complex than they seem)
I should let it go. I should not blame and judge you. I really know nothing of why you didn't write. Maybe you felt inadequate to understand what I was going through and thought it wiser to be silent. Maybe your already shaky access to your e-mail box had become non-existent.
We had had our moment of closeness, and it was over. Time to let it go.
With some sadness,