We have all grown up with different realities. If that is a source of richness, in that it unites us and strengthens us in diversity, it is also a difficulty, because it sometimes proves complicated to get along with people who come from completely different backgrounds.
In every case, those backgrounds we come from, or in which we grew up, gather together interconnected realities that I will call here patterns. Some of these patterns we would give anything to see repeat themselves in our own lives. They are, for instance, those patterns of love, compassion, success and flourishing that marked our childhood.
At the other end of the scale, there are those patterns we would rather not repeat:
Dad who is violent towards Mom;
Mom who poisoned Dad;
Mom who started seeing someone else because Dad was absent in every way;
Dad who had children outside the marriage;
Dad and Mom shouting at each other in front of the children;
And so on.
Those patterns, barring some psychological instability, are among the ones we would rather not repeat, yet find ourselves caught in anyway, whether we end up there or stumble into them. Human beings have free will, certainly. But a form of determinism exists as well. Not all of our choices, in truth, are deliberate. Certain givens sometimes predispose us to make certain decisions instinctively. Put another way, human thoughts and behaviours are the result of a social constraint exerted upon them, most of the time without their being aware of it. Opposing the fate that governs the world by the law of causes and effects often proves laborious. Consequently, it takes conscious work on oneself to understand why we choose this and not that.
We may well push back against those determining patterns consciously. And it takes constant effort to move away from those original sins. We may even manage it for years on end. But with the slightest little mistake, a subtle misstep, a brief lapse of attention, that failing catches up with us and drains the colour from the portrait we spent years building. And so we have just dismantled the ideal we were holding up with pride. Indeed, we climb to glory by the stairs and come back down by elevator.
And when that happens, some simply endure the determinism of which they are the victims; others choose to readjust by establishing where responsibility lies. Yet, once the irreparable has been done, who do we turn on: ourselves? God? Fate? A scapegoat? The question remains open...
M. Z.
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