The Deadliest Sin

 My response to this prompt: http://trailbrazin.blogspot.com/2016/01/invitation-to-write-9-no.html

The Deadliest Sin

By Helen Sadler

I have struggled with this prompt. I cannot help but think of times I’ve said YES and how it helped my life.  I’ve been stretching to make something of this assignment.

Today I went to my guitar lesson feeling defeated and like I should quit.  It seems I spin my wheels in a variety of directions, and then end up nowhere.  I want to be better, but get consumed with work and other priorities and suddenly, I’m no further along.

But I went, and I’m glad I did – for more than one reason. 

The first is that I asked to learn more about structure, and what I learned helped make me feel more grounded in my knowledge of music and the instrument. And Tom told me that my tones on the guitar are better, and I have internalized things and can go right to them without hesitating.

I was so happy when I left that lesson, my eyes welled up with tears. 

And then the second reason surfaced. For some odd reason I thought of this story from my life, and knew immediately it was the story I had to write.

**

In 1984, I was working at a company called Freeman Manufacturing on the west side of Cleveland.  I was in my mid-late 20’s while working there, as many of the others were. I formed a pretty tight bond with a woman named Ginny.  We did a lot of things together, laughed at the same jokes, and encountered the same issues, such as the men in the company looking at our chests instead of our eyes when talking to us.  Our favorite line when we felt victory was I am woman, hear me roar.

But sometime in the summer of 1985, I felt the need to let my feelings known to Ginny about something regarding a man she was dating.  The details aren’t important – what is important is that my judgments and revelations were not helpful to our relationship.  In fact, it pretty much severed it.  I felt at the time that she just couldn’t “handle” what I had to say, and certainly I was right.

Fast forward a couple of months. Ginny asked to meet me one night after work for a drink. I went with my fur up, firm in my resolve. Turns out Ginny humbled herself to me, told me she missed our friendship and wanted it back. She had been hurt by what I said, but was willing to leave it behind.

I said no.

And what were my reasons? Certainly nothing of substance.  I just didn’t want to admit I was wrong about what I had said. I didn’t want to release my feeling of “rightness.”  It was more important than the friendship she was begging for.

We never regained our friendship.

But, about five years later, we ended up at a get together that had many of the people we worked with.  By then I had done a lot of spiritual study.  I had studied the need for forgiveness and the seven deadly sins.  I had read that pride was the deadliest sin. And given my experience, I knew exactly what that meant.

So I apologized to Ginny. I told her how wrong I had been back then.  We communicated for a while after that, but then lost touch.  Not for any negative reason – we just didn’t have the daily connection and frame of reference any more that people share when they work together.

I would like to say that I had learned my lesson. But I know that isn’t true. About six years later I would hold on to my pride again, this time losing two friendships. I had a chance to make that one right as well.

But I said no.

***

I was rather puzzled as to why this story surfaced completely out of the blue today. But I think it has something to do with the pride I carry around my musical life.  I was feeling like quitting because I can’t get good fast enough.

If that isn’t pride talking, I don’t know what is.

Again I remind myself that my struggles with the form and structure and tones and intricacies of the guitar are the same struggles my students go through with words and structures and tones and intricacies of writing.

Struggling to become a worthy guitar player means leaving my pride aside and doing the work. The same thing I ask my students, I must ask for myself.

I must not quit.

I must not say no.