Tuesday, March 8, 2011
The crime I committed has coloured my life, twisted and reformed my personality, my spirituality and my daily actions. It is a thread that runs through everything.
And I have always felt helpless in the face of it. It is irrevocable. There is nothing that I can ever do to change it. All of my adult life I have kept returning to the question of whether I even deserve to live - and I have no answer. All I know is, dying would seem to be as useless a response as any other, it would alter nothing.
The best I can ever do is to accept, without flinching, the enormous size of what I did. In a world teeming with death, of wars and plagues in far away, we risk becoming shielded from the reality that is human life. It is the most singular, the most precious of things, and because of me then the sum of humanity is lessened.
This isn't to say that there is nothing that I can do, only that there is nothing in my power to lessen the loss and pain to my victim’s family. I can learn from what I did. And I spent countless years and immeasurable effort dissecting myself and repairing the flaws in me that saw me lash out so selfishly.
Emotionally and intellectually, I am wedded to non-violence and it has been the focus of my efforts for change - in myself and in my situation - for many years. Not to cause any more harm seems the very least that I should aspire to.