I remember from my childhood this little song:
“…I sculpt dolls, clowns, dogs from clay.
If the doll turns out badly, I’ll call her ‘silly.’
If the clown turns out badly, I’ll call him ‘fool.’”
There are also wise words in it:
“Two brothers came to me, they came and said:
‘Is the doll to blame? Is the clown to blame?’”
And it’s true. After all, it’s we – and only we – who create the dolls, the clowns, the dogs, our homes, our loved ones and those who don’t love us, our weather, our cities, our roads, our jobs, our feelings, our joys, and our sorrows. This is our world. Everything we see around us is created by us. And when we begin to suffer (worry, feel sad, get upset) because something around us isn’t the way we wanted it to be, it’s like scolding the crooked doll we’ve created. So, what is the doll guilty of? And what is the weather guilty of? What is the body, which we dislike, guilty of? What is the job we don’t love guilty of? Have we forgotten? After all, it’s our creation. My creation… It is unbelievable and cruel to accuse someone of their deformity. So why should our home, our body, and the people around us be any different?
Like half-trained magicians, sometimes we try to make an iron, but we get a poor elephant with wings “like a bee, instead of ears – flowers.” Or instead of a thunderstorm, a miserable pink goat with a yellow stripe grows. And then they cry and say – “What have you done to us?!!!”
And suddenly I imagined all the distortions of my world, the ones I’d been angry about or suffered because of. And suddenly, I felt ashamed that I, the author, the creator, one could even say the father, had loved my children so little. And I began asking for forgiveness – from each small thing – it seemed to me – each deformity – each distortion of my universe, for which I lacked the strength to be happy. And as soon as I said “forgive me,” the object, subject, or phenomenon immediately started to smile and rejoice. And my soul became lighter and lighter.
Forgive me, my world, for making you this way and for still being angry and scolding you… For suffering because of what I’ve made you. I want to love. And I want my world to be loved. And to love me in return.