A little peace and sleep

Ok, so I while ago I did something pretty horrible to someone I haven't been able to forget about. It's not something that keeps me up at night or anything, just one of those things you know are going to come back to haunt you eventually, even after your gone. It was pretty bad, so I needed something pretty amazing to make up for it, something that would be just as unforgettable for my friend without bringing up old memories. I thought about that for a long time- longer than you think- because I couldn't come up with anything, as awful as that sounds. Nothing was really good enough. Nothing would do.

I told them about this while they insisted they forgave me already (I didn't believe them). I told them I was sorry and I wished there was something I could do to make up for it, I told them how I felt about it and that stuff like that had happened to me. I told them the truth, but it didn't really help. Well, maybe it helped them, but it didn't help me. I'm not really sure if I'm doing this for them or for me anymore, I know it should be the former, but I can't stop it now it's started.

After a while of trying to come up with the really big thing that was going to make up for everything, something hit me: what if there wasn't anything I could do. What if nothing was good enough. Where would that leave me and what would that mean for my next move. That the right thing to do would be to admit that I could never make up for what happened? Was admitting that the first step towards peace (ie my own)? It didn't sound very helpful when I first thought about it. Like, what good could come from telling my friend there was nothing I could say that was going to make them feel any better. But it at least did sound honest.

I could say to them that I can never make up for what happened, but that they have everything else I have to give: my friendship, which would be an honest one and maybe that meant something (if they decided they wanted it). This is what I did.

I knew by now this was a little more about me than it was about my friend. They might appreciate what I was trying to do, but it really wasn't something I was doing for them. It might even seem like it was- from a certain perspective (a very generous one)- but it really wasn't. It was something I did for myself, for my own peace of mind, and maybe that isn't a good enough reason. Maybe your own redemption isn't enough. I could have ignored the whole situation, not brought up any old memories or asked myself any questions, and I almost did, but then what would I have learned. It all seems like one of those stories about multiple dimensions, where every action we make separates us from a dimension where we took a different one. Well, there are definitely a lot of me's who would have chosen to do something different here, but for now at least, this is the road I want to take.

My hero in the picture is Jesse Owens, who lived through a different kind of peace. The Olympic games of Berlin in 1936, where he and other black athletes won fourteen medals in the track and field, debunking the then held German believe in Aryan superiority.