Every once in a while, I have a discussion with someone, which veers off into territory, which surprises and delights me. This one, contained a story. I’ll repeat that story here, as best I can, because it illustrates to me, the actions of an ineffable and largely unknown power, that works to use each of us, in ways we seldom recognize and enjoy.
It all revolved around blundering, or as my friend said early on in our interaction, “making terrible mistakes.” We had a little laugh when I suggested that she should be congratulated for failing so well. To illustrate her bad feelings, and to perhaps offset my irreverent attitude, she told me what had happened. I’m glad she did. Now, I’ll tell it to you.
She is about to be 80. Like many of us old people, some of her long-time friends are dying. In this case, it is a man she has known for 50 years or more. His wife — also a friend — wanted to keep his illness a secret. She, the wife, wasn’t yet ready to face the end of his life. Mistakenly, or so she thought at the time, my friend let the cat out of the bag, by revealing to another acquaintance, that it looked like this man was dying.
This acquaintance, just happened to be part of the tight-knit community of artists that this man was an esteemed member of. It wasn’t long before the word of his impending death got around in his community. About that time, while visiting, my friend heard the wife get a call, that revealed to this overwhelmed spouse, that everyone in the community knew her husband was dying. The wife didn’t appreciate the community’s awareness. She flew into a hateful rage. At the woman she thought had disclosed the precious truth of her husband’s impending demise.
The irony for my friend was that she knew that, she herself, had been the one who had inadvertently disclosed the truth. She reported to me the shame she felt as she listened to her friend — the bereaved spouse’s tirade of hate and anger, directed at an innocent acquaintance. My friend couldn’t reveal this new truth, and had to sit and hear all the vituperative language aimed at her innocent acquaintance. This was a moment of deep chagrin for my friend — and the irony of it, required her to look at herself.
This turned out to be part of the perfection of this particular blunder. She realized that this was a moment when she had to befriend and forgive herself. It was only during recounting the story to me, that she realized, that she had managed to hold herself with compassion.
Even more perfectly, I realized later, she had assisted in informing the man’s community of their impending loss, so that they could honor him, and take care of their hearts. The wife, I’m sure well intended, couldn’t inform his community, because she was too overwhelmed by his illness, and didn’t want his death to find purchase in anyone’s mind. She couldn’t deal with her husband’s upcoming death, and would never have knowingly let anyone else.
Through my friends blunder, she had become more knowingly self-compassionate, and provided a community of others a chance to love a beloved member of their circle. It was an exquisite error. And it reveals a deeper, even more ephemeral truth that is poorly recognized in this world of personal responsibility. Spirit acts through us, sometimes deviating from our well-worn manners, and embarrassingly taking over, to do things that we wouldn’t dream of.
Upon hearing this story, I invited my friend to join the Blunder Brothers. She retorted, could a woman be a brother? Of course, I responded, calling ourselves ‘brothers’ just reveals how badly, and usually, we blunder. The truth is, Spirit, The Great Mystery, determines who gets in, and by what egregious and miraculous route.
With this story in mind, I want to invite you to consider that some of your best mistakes, the one’s you won’t forgive yourself for, might just be your passport into The Blunder Buddies.
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