There is a small book here, in French called “Nasty Stories about Great Men”.
Of course we all have nasty stories that we wish no one to hear, but sooner or later, they will surface.
That’s why I permitted the publishing of my biography that’s not yet in English but is in Portuguese and Spanish.
So – you cannot hide – and what would you say to your children that you don’t dare to say now? What will they discover after you die?
I invite you to share this in the blog – either anonymously or with your real name. This way we can see that our vices are not that bad and that we are not the only ones with these flaws.
We can then see these defaults as qualities because we survived. We are warriors of light that even against all odds are able to follow our paths without surrendering to guilt.
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Thank you,dear Savita,for your corageus example to share with us your intimated feelings and thughts!!!
YOU ARE SUCH A BEAUTYFUL WOMAN AND POWERFUL SOUL!
Love,to you ALL
from fantastic SANTIAGO DE COMPOSTELA
FANTASTIC EXPERIENCE “CRISTINA OITICICA ” CAMINO PEREGRINO EXHIBITION!
Mirela(the woman in elevator)
I have done many things that have had very negative affects especially on my children. I have behaved lika a child my self. I have made decisions based on my own needs and less on others. That´s a shame I have to live with and I´m trying not to push it away – just to remind myself of what premises a decision should be made. My kids are wonderful, strong in mind and heart but they also carrie a lot of anger. But we´re working on it and I know that they will come through this stronger and wiser. But I don´t like the picture I see in the mirror.
Dear Savita,
Just as you wrote to Paulo I repeat for you, because it is so true:
…no matter what you may have done in past, I believe that what really matters is who you are today !
and
I think you have peace and comfort now, you do not lack faith, and you already have made fresh beginning time ago !
Love
Luce
Then what am I ashamed of?
I’m ashamed of being an open book. That’s what I naturally am. Although no one could guess this, but rather think that I’m anything but. I wish I could shout out loud everything, all the secrets, cos they only eat me from the inside. But I need to be careful. Cos I don’t want to overload others with my baggage the way that I have been overloaded by my family’s baggage. People really don’t need to know. Yet the stories want to be told, to get out of who ever bears them, so they can go burden someone else. I want to stop this endless cycle. And the only way to stop it is to pour it all into paper in writing and imprison them within those pages. They only carry negative energy, which does no good. I thought I’d already wrote it all, but apparently not. Perhaps I should write it all down in one or few books (cos now they are all over the place in various different texts) and then burn it all.
Hi Thelma,
it would be such a pleasure to meet sometime ! paulo’s unique experiment of this blog ( i don’t know of anyone else of his stature, who nurtures a blog so devotedly ) is surely helping in creating that overall collective consiousness, shaping it ! maybe just a brick in the whole edifice but a brick nontheless ! surely i hope to join the gang sometime ! paulo is gonna be alive for quite sometime, so nothing to worry !
and i would look forward to meeting the ‘teacher’ ( in you !!?)
hi heart, yepp let’s keep it up !
savita,
i wish u could get some peace and comfort, i may be wrong but it appears to me that you lack faith, drop your whole being, whole past and make a fresh beginning, with faith, such faith which does not ask for any time frame, which just knows, which is willing to wait forever, without loosing one’s faith. faith is internal; a joyous, helping, compassionate existance is the sign that one is living with faith !
hia paulo !
u ask us one thing and we go off … ! small sins should be allowed, what say u !
love
aditya
When I was about 15, my dad thought I’m now old enough to hear all the darkest secrets of my family. I’ve been like a theraupist to him as long as I can remember. My parents live a very stressful life, this driving them near to killing themselves or each other. And I feel that if I wasn’t there to listen, to stop them, and to offer my understanding, they would have gone over board long ago.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that kids don’t need to know everything. Ignorance is bliss. Although I don’t see any alternative either, he had to tell someone in order to stay relatively sane, and he had no one else to talk to. And I have certainly learned to take others into consideration in that family, so much that I didn’t feel alive myself, I was only there to keep others alive, at the cost of my own life. I left and moved abroad as soon as I was old enough. I’ve always had confidence issues, like the rest of my family, cos my needs have never been important. I’m somehow drawn into relationships and friendships where I’m dominated by the other, cos I can’t stand someone being dependand on me. I feel free when I know that the other could just as well live without me, I’m sick of being depended on, sick of being a life support.
Yet I’m not.
I enjoy analysing people, I enjoy listening to others’ problems, I’m very curious that way (also why I’m drawn to this blog). I know this is totally contradictory to what I just wrote. But in my heart I just want people to be happy and if I can help by offering my ear, I will. I have life long experience, so I think I’m pretty good at it by now. I enjoy it when people think I’m trustworthy, and I am. That’s also why I offered my listening ear to my father. He needed it, how can I not offer it. So it is kind of silly to now complain about it. All that has made me who I am, and I’m thankful for it. I really am. But I know I still have work to do in order to fully benefit from my experiences.
Merci à tous. Vos témoignages m’ont passionné.
Un merci particulier à Cheiko pour son silence car même le silence à ses mots…
A AH pour ses doutes et sa foi…
A El Dormido pour son espérance…
A Maria (1 et 2) pour sa sérénité…
A Savita pour sa sagesse…
Merci à vous tous pour votre grande sincérité.
Il n’y a qu’une action honteuse dont je me rappelle. La mémoire de cette action me sert à me tenir droite et à me rappeler que le respect à l’autre est d’abord le respect à soi-même.
Le sage a honte de ses défauts mais n’a pas honte de s’en corriger.
Confucius
Comme l’Est et l’Ouest, l’extrême honte et l’extrême gloire se fondent.
Samuel Butler (Hudribas).
Nous sommes riches aussi de nos misères.
Antoine de Saint Exupéry (Vol de nuit).
Il n’y a pas de fatalité extérieure mais il y a une fatalité intérieure : vient une minute où l’on se découvre vulnérable ; alors les fautes vous attirent comme un vertige.
Antoine de Saint Exupéry (Vol de nuit).
hi paulo,
i m sorry to disrupt the on going topic but i had to ask it.
i just finished reading ‘eleven minutes’. u mentioned smthn about the big screen that how a movie ends and then we dont care to imagine what would happen to their life after the movie ends…..well i m trapped into similar imaginations after reading your novel…..i cannot help thinking that what happened to maria and ralf after ur novel ends….eternal love ? or cud there be another twist in their love ? in short i want to know about the eternity of love ? is there something like eternal love?
Interesting subject Paulo. I guess untill now I didn’t want to see that I was ashamed of the fact that I believed in the relationship I had for a few months, verry intense, heaven after a divorce. But I couldn’t see the danger comming, it all colapsed in my face, the strangest things went wrong, and I got into a shock. I just didn’t want to see his problems and doupts in time. I’m actually writing a book about it now. I’ll let you know when it’s finished :-)
Well, dear Savita, life did challenge you too. I read your story and felt sorry for you, the whole situation. But as you write now I just feel you so mature in thinking, guess you are transformed by that experience. I think such stories better to end up, you will live a decent pure life now, with no compromises. You must respect yourself, no one has the right to do what your husband did. A family is a sacred thing.Love, Alexandra
Sometimes it feels like I have hurt my ex-boyfriends while I was looking for happiness. I always try to live life to the fullest, not realising how it affected others. I just didn’t want to miss anything, not a chance, a person, a conversation… and it always comes a point in a relationship where I feel trapped. And then, my feelings for that person change and the break up follows.
I guess what I mean is that I sometimes feel ashamed and scared that I didn’t try enough, that I’ve always been standing between my opinion about living life to the fullest or to welcome my partner into my life and let go of the things that could come between us. Wheter it was a person, a journey, an opinion or a dream. I try to follow my heart but I feel ashamed because when I do so, it always ends up with another failed relationship and/or lies, and always the feeling of guilt for doing so.
I guess I’m better of alone for a while :)
Enfant, fillette, éduquée avec la notion de ne pas rêver à autre chose qu’être épouse, mère, une “prison comme ma mère me le décrivait”, aussi une prison dans ce corps de fille, sans espoir ou aspiration pour d’autres vocations, prise dans mes rêves “interdits”, me voilà à utiliser des psychotropes pour taire cette souffrance du vide, du non-sens, pour taire cette partie de moi qui a le goût de “s’exhiber”, se vivre, accomplir, créer. Les expériences que je “jugeais” indignes se sont faites durant cette période de consommation, sans compter les autres “petites erreurs de parcours”. Mais je n’ai pas honte de ce parcours. J’ai fait la paix avec moi-même et en même temps reconnais qu’il m’a fallu passer par cette route de l’Ombre. Je suis sortie “vainqueur” et ces expériences sont des richesses pour moi aujourd’hui. En même temps, ces moments selon les interprétations de chacun “humiliants, dégradants, honteux” m’ont permises de me solidifier personnellement dans qui je suis et ce que je choisis. La honte ou autre en lien avec ce que j’ai fait sont mon propre jugement. Et le jugement des autres … que celui qui n’a pas pêché jette la première pierre. Johanne Mercille, guerrière et fière combattante de l’âme.
It is amazing to read what others have written as it fills me with the relief of not being alone… I too have done things I am not proud of but continue to learn.
Savita, your back!! How are you missed you!
Are you ok, is everything ok? Your story is quite interesting, although pardon me i’m completely lost, it’s confusing the husbands and ex’s. I guess I must be just so tired that I’m not understanding anything anymore!
Hey great to see you back.
Welcome!
When I look back over my life, it is not so much the acts that I have committed, but the emotions that accompanied and inspired certain acts – the lust, the greed, the vengeance, etc. – that I would consider most shameful. For this very reason, not long after my daughter was born, I went through the many boxes of my journals and diaries written over the years, and destroyed the majority of them.
I try to imagine: if I were famous, or in some position of power, what would be the “dirtiest secret” that someone might dig up about me and seek to reveal to the world? I’m sure there are many that would suffice, but one incident stands out above all others. The story goes something like this:
Once upon a time I was very young, and I was married much too young, before I had any idea of who I was or what I wanted, much less what I wanted in a relationship or what that meant. My husband was in the military, nearing the end of his four-year enlistment. I lived several hundred miles away. One of his best friends (whom I will call “X”) was also his commanding officer, a man whom I had met, but only on a few occasions, and then only briefly. In short, I really didn’t know the man and thought nothing of him. X was married, to a beautiful young wife, and together they had a son who was, at the time, not quite two years old. Over time, as my husband’s friendship with X grew, my husband began to spend a great deal of time with this man and his wife. They lived on the military base, in a house, and sometimes would invite my husband over for dinner and drinks.
Eventually, something about this began to seem odd to me. I don’t recall exactly what gave me the clue, but somehow my intuition told me that something just wasn’t quite right. So I questioned my husband, and he told me everything: Not only had he been going over to their house for dinner and drinks, but he was sleeping with this man’s wife, with the man’s consent. The whole thing was arranged – the three of them together. Of course, I felt very hurt, and very jealous, even angry. Although, at the time, I don’t think I possessed the capacity for self-reflection to even fully understand what I was feeling. So, I think more than anything, as a way to appease my anger and subdue my jealousy, my husband suggested that I, too, take part in the whole affair.
At first, I was reluctant, because, as I say, X was a complete stranger to me. He was, to me, even a little scary. He was, after all, my husband’s commanding officer – a career military man, very hard-core military. The walls of his office were covered with various medals and awards and certificates from special training courses. He was a tall man, towering and broad-shouldered, with a shaved head, always in uniform, always perfectly polished, with a deep voice and usually wearing a scowl on his face. But, his wife was indeed beautiful, and I was indeed very jealous, so, I consented, and the whole thing was arranged.
The next time I was in town, we went to their house for dinner and drinks, and…. The thing I will never forget is this: Suddenly being in this room, alone with a man I scarcely knew, naked, next to him in bed, and suddenly there was this noise from the next bedroom – the sound of his wife, while my husband was making love to her. And it wasn’t the sound that I will never forget; it was the look on this man’s face – a mixture of horror and jealousy and love and pain and who knows what else. He was completely frozen, not a muscle moving in his entire body, listening to his wife making love to someone else in the very next room. And there I was beside him, undressed beneath the covers because I was too ashamed to undress in front of him in the light. It was all so mechanical, so planned. And there we were, two strangers lying naked together, wanting to be just about anywhere other than where we were. So, we started talking, and we continued talking until long after the noise from the next room had subsided. We talked about everything and anything, mostly just not to have to hear anything that we didn’t want to hear. Eventually, we were laughing and joking. Eventually, we became playful and more comfortable, more familiar, and eventually we did make love.
The next weekend, the whole scenario was repeated again, but this time with much less hesitancy. Then, a couple of weeks later, my husband went out of town for desert training, which consisted of a month long stay in another state half a continent away and completely removed from all forms of communication with the outside world. It was also Christmas vacation from school. During that period, I stayed at my husband’s house, which wasn’t very far from the base, keeping an eye on things while he was away. My husband’s commanding officer, however, did not attend these maneuvers. He stayed on base. As per my husband’s request, X called often to make sure that I was okay and not in need of anything. During this time, his wife was also away, visiting relatives in another state. One thing led to another, and then we were seeing one another without anyone’s consent. The whole thing quickly erupted into a full-blow “affair.” In that month, we fell in love with one another, deeply, madly in love. We said that, when my husband came back and his wife returned from her vacation, it would end at that. We wouldn’t take it any further. But we did. We continued seeing one another every chance we got, pretending still that we cared for one another not at all.
On one occasion, for example, I remember that we arranged to meet at a hotel room in a town not far from the base. I left my husband’s house, after a weekend spent there, under the pretense that I was driving back home…but I didn’t. Another time, I said that I had to study and couldn’t come down for the weekend. X made some excuse, took leave, and drove the three-hundred miles to my apartment and stayed the weekend with me. Every moment that we were together, every second that we could steal, was truly delicious, because very ounce of time was so very precious. But one day, we took it too far.
I was staying at my husband’s house for the weekend, and X called to tell me that his wife was out for the day – he was going to swing by and pick me up and take me to his house for a couple of hours. My husband was at work on the base, only half a mile away, but he was going to be sure that my husband remained very busy by giving him a few extra duties. It was risky, but we thought we were being careful enough. I stayed down in the seat for most of the drive. We entered the house through the garage, so no one would see us. All was safe. Finally, we were in one another’s arms again. Within minutes we were in the bed together, making love. Then, suddenly, there was this heart-stopping pounding on the front door. It was my husband, and he was screaming at the top of his lungs. X jumped up and ran to the front door to try to head him off – to make some excuse and convince him I was not there. But the attempt was futile. As soon as he cracked the front door, my husband came bursting in. For a moment, I could hear them scuffling in the living room – my husband still shouting threats and obscenities and X, a much larger man by far, trying to calm him and trying to subdue him to keep him from making his way to the bedroom, the door of which he had locked behind him as he went out. By this time, I was standing by the bed, with nothing but a sheet wrapped around me, realizing how useless it would be to try to hide. When my husband finally kicked in the bedroom door, he just stopped and stood there, staring at me, with a look of utter disgust on his face. X was standing right behind him, holding my husband’s forearm in a death-tight grip, I suppose to stop him if he made any threat of violence toward me, but the gesture was unnecessary. My husband just wheeled around, pushed past X, and walked out.
That moment felt like the end of my life – it was everything that I had most dreaded, most feared, and yet everything that I had secretly most desired. This might have been the end of the matter…if I had allowed it to be. My husband would have taken me back, if I had asked him to. In fact, he wanted to forget the whole matter, to just “put it behind us” and “move on with our lives.” X’s wife, likewise, would have eventually forgiven him. She really didn’t want to leave him, even after she found out. After all, they had a son together. So, even after that day, all could have gone back to normal. We could have all come out of it relatively unscathed. But this was not to be, because I wouldn’t allow it to be. I had already risked everything to be with this man, and I wasn’t going to lose now. So, rather than the end, it was just the beginning, as the whole incident grew far more dramatic in the days that followed.
And herein lies the real “shame” of the matter. As I said, it wasn’t so much the actions I took, but the emotions that inspired those actions which I would now deem as “shameful.” At this point, I knew what I wanted, and no one was going to stop me from getting it. I didn’t care what damage I caused or who I hurt – I wanted this man, and I was going to fight by every means possible to get him, in essence, to get him away from his wife. The weeks that followed were so confusing, so complicated, and so emotionally charged, that I could not now even begin to unravel the events in any sort of cohesive manner. So complex was my manner of scheming and planning and manipulating everything and everyone that I could in order to achieve the goal that I desired, that I could not possibly recall all the details now. All I can really retell with any accuracy at all is the outcome:
Two divorces. One two-year old boy left without a father. Two men who had been best friends who now hated one another. And, on top of all of that, there was a court-marshal. When I told my husband that I wanted a divorce, this was more than he could handle – he took the matter up with the military authorities and, because X was his commanding officer, the affair was viewed as an offense punishable, on X’s part, by time in prison. Immediately, he was arrested. The military police went to his house and took him away in handcuffs. Later that day, he was released, but kept under house arrest – meaning that he was not allowed to leave the confines of the base until the trial. (This, of course, I had not planned on.) Within a few short weeks, X lost his entire career – all of his hopes and dreams, everything he had worked so hard to achieve, suddenly vanished. Luckily, he was not sent to prison, but only because it also came out in court about how the whole affair began. My husband was not wholly free of blame. So, instead, X was mercifully “let off” with a dishonorable discharge (a mark that stays on one’s record for life) and banned from further military service. He had to start his entire life all over again.
After that, X and I lived together for a year, during which time he hardly saw his son at all. Then, just as suddenly as the whole thing had started, I left him. Once I got what I wanted, I realized I didn’t want it after all.
So, as I say, it wasn’t really the actions in themselves that I would deem as so “shameful” – many people, after all, have affairs. Many people lie or cheat on their spouses. Many people also get divorced. Right or wrong, just or not, this is simply a fact of life. What is shameful though in my recollection – my very clear recollection – is the emotions I felt at the time and how I allowed those emotions to solidify into a form of ruthlessness which transcended and totally obliterated all sense of morality and justice, all sense of compassion for the other individuals involved. The only thing that mattered to me was the fulfillment of my desires, and there was no end to what I was going to do to insure that those desires were fulfilled.
For this very reason, to this day, when I see someone whom I deem as ruthless, I try not to judge them too harshly, as I know that even the worst of people can change over time. There is no way that I could possible act today as I acted then, in complete disregard for the feelings and needs of others. I don’t know what happened to me in those years in between, but I did change; and if I could change so drastically, there is hope for anyone, even those who might seem utterly beyond hope. So, although we cannot MAKE people change, no matter what someone does or how diabolical they may seem to us, we should never conclude that there is no hope that this person may change for the better in the future.
As for your biography, Paulo, no matter what you may have done in the past, I believe that what really matters is who you are today. Biographies are unfortunate, I think, in that, unlike autobiographies, they often just relate the facts and give us little understanding of how the individual in question may have grown from these experiences or what they may have learned from them. In contrast, in autobiography, there is always the element of self-reflection – that little window upon the soul – which allows us to see, not just how the person was in the past, but who they have become as a result of the life they have lived. That element of self-reflection is the essence of Redemption, whether in writing or in life.
Hello Savita,
Ever since I discovered Paulo’s blog, I am amazed at the insight and lessons I have learned. However, I am deeply moved by your revelation of the past shame, and the ultimate consequences. Both my ex-husband and I put our own desires before the need for the greater good of our family. Today we are both remarried, but whilst I carry the greater burden, he is the most bitter still, (I hear his wife beats him up and is cruel int he extreme, not only towards him but to my children and her own). I am a prisoner of my past, not by choice, but because my ex and I have never truly resolved the past, and i think he blames me for his present. Life throws us a curve, and we can be caught in the vortex or we can be flung out of it. Sometimes I am on the periphery and other times I feel like I am caught up in the vortex of the maelstrom.
Thank you for sharing your story with “us”.
My Luce..Its so different when you hear someone else talking about Soulmates.. I know how special it is to you coz everything you wrote said that.
My soulmate is not married..he always says that our marriage was solemnized by the universe.
Thanks for sharing your beautiful thoughts Luce
One perspective is nothing is shameful; no thought, feeling or gesture. Enlightenment occurs on different levels. Lessons are available everywhere. To nurture a pure heart means you grasp nakedness is natural, not shameful. You recognize complete transparency is not to be feared as weakness, but that vulnerability actually brings strength. No human being has anything to hide. NOthing is ever hidden from Source. The belief you can hide and have reason to hide anything is an illusion that perpetuates other illusions. It is a vicious circle that controls you until you change that.
Dear Aditya,
I appreciate every one of your words…together here, we can all help each other to find the whole truth. Keep blogging :)
Heart
I confess I am not ashamed that I put someone on a peddlestool and then when disappointed by them at a later stage, i swiftly remove them… that is where talking about the older, maturer and thus one would guess, able members of our society. When there are so few to look up to – people in the public eye who are supposed to be moral leaders of society, yet rarely live up to the challenge… i relish those figure heads who do achieve such a good status of integrity. I guess I would expect them to also be of personal moral high standards also…
but knowing that the highly evolved human being has still also tests of spirit in the smaller things, is [ashamedly?] reassuring. ;o)
There are many things I’m ashamed of in my past. I am working through it to the best of my ability with love, support and understanding from many in my life.
The biggest shame for me is that I still let fear from those days into my life today. Some days are long with shadow from the past and its hard to keep faith. I’m going to go and give my inner child some love and attention. Brillinat , a play date!!! This page has lifted me.
love, light and happiness
Bom dia…
Como é a primeira vez que estou postando aqui, penso que é uma bela ocasião para compartilhar uma importante parte de mim, pelo quanto lhe admiro como escritor e ser humano.
Tive duas participações menos felizes no Novo Evangelho.
Na primeira, em 1986, quando tinha 14 anos, estava no Leblon com uma prancha de surf (tentei surfar 4 vezes, mas não consegui) e um repórter do Gugu Liberato chegou com sua câmera e perguntou-me o que eu achava da morte. Eu disse-lhe que tinha medo dela e que achava que todo mundo deveria ter, pois, afinal, ninguém sabe se, após sua chegada, tudo acabará ou se nos veremos diante de Deus.
Em casa, chorei. Havia negado Cristo em cadeia nacional, antes do galo ter cantado três vezes.
Hoje não tenho mais medo.
Na segunda, em 1989, estava no período de seleção para o exército brasileiro. Durante o recrutamento, um tenente chegou até nós e disse-nos para escolhermos quem deveria servir, se o filho do Gilberto Gil ou um cara boa gente que, por acaso, tinha o meu sobre-nome. Eu, junto da turba, gritei rindo para que servisse o filho do Gil, na esperança de que aquilo lhe fosse uma boa punição por toda a vida favorável que ele deveria ter tido até ali.
O que sabia eu?
Gil tornou-se meu amigo e era alguém que não bebia nem fumava, e nunca o vi sem um sorriso no rosto ou sem uma palavra amiga. Ele morreu durante o serviço militar num acidente de carro na Lagoa, ao ter tido de voltar correndo dum show em São Paulo (ele tocava bateria para o seu pai) para entrar de serviço.
Se eu tivesse estado no ano 33, ainda em ignorância, eu teria gritado pela liberdade de Barrabás.
…
Pecado que não lhe consegui ver em sua última estadia em Paris.
Abraços
André
PS: Desculpe se não escrevo aqui em inglês. Devo ainda aperfeiçoá-lo.
Hmmm, I see a twinkle in your eye and and little grin on your face, Mr. Coelho. Ha. I can’t say that I have much of anything to be ashamed of. I do regret a few stupid things I’ve done, that’s for sure. And what naughty sexual thoughts I have, well, they will stay exactly where they belong, in my imagination! I can’t imagine what good it would do anyone to know all the little qwerks and ticks that I have in my head. What counts is that my behavior towards others is not disrepectful or harmful in any way. I’m not ashamed of my thoughts. I know that people are capable of the most incredible ideas and for the good or for the worst some of these thoughts and ideas are put into action.
Dear Maria,
I live almost similar situation, only I met my soulmate 39 years ago and I live with my present partner last 19 years. There is no shame in it. There are no questions if it is right or not ! My soulmate is exactly what the word itself says SOULMATE and for me it is all that matters. He is married with woman he loves, but again I am his SOULMATE.
There was time I was questioning myself too (morals, ethics…)but not any more and I do not see it as shameful, on the contrary it would be shameful to pretend and to negate existence of Love.
Love
Luce
Dear Paulo,
thank you for giving me this opportunity to look in my past and see if there are shameful actions.
I often forget about this perspective, while it’s important to look in both directions (ggod things and bad things).
It took me an hour or two to look at my past life, and in the end I felt I had no shameful actions.
I had wasten some opportunity to have an easer life (a rich husband; a sure and easy job etc.); for that I often feel stupid and I can’t completely forgive myself.
Apart from that, I saw that I have followed my dreams and principles every time, so I’m sorry but I can’t blame myself for shameful actions.
Maybe I really built my House (=life) on the stone, and not on the sand.
I hope this will help me in the future.
Love.
Chris
I have thought to my last life but I don’t feel shame of some my actions, I haven’t never hidden my things to the human eyes, I have stopped to confess me because I didn’t find a valid aid, once I told to a clergyman my vision of an angel and he has asked me if I took drugs used in treatment of mental conditions! I watch my past with tenderness but I don’t feel guilt, when I was little I was a hard bone! I painted the wings of the butterflies with the enamel for nails because I wanted that they were beautifulr…they lived a day! To 9 years I have stolen from the supermarket a minikit with cream and bubble bath because my mother didn’t want to acquire it! In my adolescence I have begun to make madnesses acting for my instinct and I got passionate myself, also now, for every thing that could be considered mystery, tarot cards, reading of the hand, clairvoyance, magic, levitation, telepathy, bilocation… then I have discovered indeed creative ways in order to live my sexuality! I have aborted to 18 years but I was sorry only in that period, he beat me! Today I experience my life living in the present and projecting me in the future, with greater conscience! Paulo, when I can read your confessions in Italian?
Love to all
I let the energy to lead me to write this..the biggest judge of what i do is myself. This is realised yesterday.. I have an awesome husband, a beautiful marriage, the sweetest children and beautiful people around me as my support system! I also have a soul mate who is not my husband. I love them both dearly and if I did not have either one life wouldnt be beautiful anymore for me. I met my soul mate almost 15 years back and he has always loved me dearly & passionately..he is the dearest friend i have and he is not married. I met my husband 10 years back and we have been married for the past 7 years. For the past two years I have been wrestling with myself, questioning myself about purity & holiness. They both make me so happy and love me uncondiontionally and I them. But the world tells us otherwise about the sanctity of a man & a wife and I accept that. I do love my husband crazily and admire & respect him and we are great friends and we are passionate about each other. My soulmate I share my passions with and my life..If anyone is wondering if this is possible..it is atleast for me! At this point if anyone is questioning whether this is shameful for a married woman..I am doing it! I have been brought up in the Catholic faith and at the same time I also feel so correct as this makes me such a happy sincere person. Its not like I am sharing my life with these two amazing very special men..Its a sense of completeness with each one, pure completeness! But then again its me who again questions is this right?
My biggest ‘shame’ in this life has been not being honest with myself.
On occasions when I have not been honest with myself, that is acknowledging my true thoughts and feels and acting upon them, then I have experienced unhappiness and no doubt caused feelings of unhappiness around me.
However, I am now far more aware of my true thoughts and feelings; am able to listen to them more carefully and act with far more consideration for myself.
It is only by honouring yourself that you can act honourably towards others – this is the truth.
When I was younger , I could not really understand and accept this concept – however for that I make no apology. We learn through living and by living openly and honestly we can learn so much more.
Se eu for colocar todos os atos dos quais me envergonho, minhas culpas, vai levar horas para alguém ler :)
Como não tenho filhos pra descobrirem nada depois que eu morrer, melhor contar um cadinho agora ^.^
Eu fui uma adolescente insuportável, mentia horrores pra minha mãe, depois que meu pai saiu de casa. Ela sempre descobria, lógico!
Já roubei um batom nas Lojas Americanas, já “grafitei” os elevadores do meu prédio, já entrei em coma alcoólico, já dirigi sem habilitação, já roubei dinheiro da carteira do meu pai, já “fumei, mas não traguei” :)
A-D-O-R-E-I esse mea culpa! Só falta aprender a me perdoar.
Abraços, Paulo e obrigada.
Dear Aditya, thank you for your beautiful words. It was not meant to meet you in our Paulo Coelho’s party last March. You could not make it. I always wonder about you .. You seem to be a very wise, beautiful and sensitive person. ;] Maybe some other time..
Our struggles on this material world, I think, are not only on the material planes! The more ‘advanced pupil’ you are in the .. school of life, the more you ‘sense’ and ‘feel’. Then compassion is inevitable.. I do not ‘declare’ myself anything. Once I used to belong to a philosophical group here in Cyprus and we call ourselves ‘White Researchers of the TRUTH’. You can find more in the books by Dr. Kyriakos Markides ‘The magus of Strovolos’ and ‘Homage to the Sun”. I have learned much from them, but at the end I had the feeling of ‘each one carries his own cross’!! ;] But at the same time ‘we are never alone. HE/SHE is always with us. If you ever come to Cyprus I will introduce you to the .. Teacher.
Regarding ‘confessions’ in any church or to any person, I think it is an act of .. keeping us bound in this life. It is as wanting from others remove the burden from our Souls. I, honestly believe and feel that only in front on HIM I am really transparent and HE KNOWS my Soul, my Sins, my intentions, my dark side [ Mr. Hide!!], my Essence. In front of Him I bow, open my heart and I feel He can understand me, heal me, guide me and .. carry me in HIS back whenever I cannot walk any more. [remember the story of the foot-prints on the Sand].
LOVE,
Thelma.
The son, sorry. I thought indeed that Paulo have a much more exciting life. Maybe because we all think in a subjective way, I filter information with my mind, and I am different, maybe I would like a much more exciting way of life. But this does not mean that Paulo Coelho has not a good life, id just maybe I would like something different, thats all. Than, there is a difference, I am another age, and form another country, maybe another temperament too. So, dear Raul, maybe now you see why.
Why the sky is rising , dear Raul?
Wow. Really? We are all human are we not?. The fact that someone would send emails to say they aren’t readers anymore is confusing to me. I don’t think any of here are saints. So what is the problem with Paulo being honest?
This is actually what scares me about people. When we are out making our own paths and enjoying life for everday we don’t think about what is waiting for us around the corner..
We merely accept and enjoy that moment for what it is.
To me it’s insane that I met my fiance. At the time when I just began enjoying life. Maybe that’s part of what attracted him to me. But now I feel ashamed. I’m not the most social and outgoing kind of person. When I met my fiance I was begining to date for the first time. It didn’t last for more than two weeks. But my fiance looks at me with so much disdain because of that. As if he has lost some respect for me. For that I feel ashamed at times. Even though I know I shouldn’t. He tells me to understand that he is a very jealous man and he knows he can trust me. Still..every so often he will bring it up and we end up fighthing. He has a past. Why can’t he accept the fact that I have dated one man before him?
It tears me apart sometimes because he wont trust me, that is the most shame I’ve had. Feeling that I am not trustworthy of the man I love.
Betternow…. my heart goes out to you!!
I had a similar experience… I mean, well, this is a lesbian story. but, there were three of us, very good friends, we always always hung out with each other… I was in love with one of them. Deeply in love, and yet my other friend knowing this, got together with the other one and they started ‘dating’. I had to witness this Every day. Seeing the person I’m in love with, be with my other Very Close friend. Every day for 2-3 years. And when I couldn’t take it anymore and split from them, all they ever did was laugh at me and say that I’m angry with the world and myself. Never ever tried to console me.
And the worst part of it was, at nights, when we’d spend the night together, they were on the bed Always, and I’d sleep on the floor, right at the edge of the bed and I would hear them having sex, moans and groans, and what not, Every F*&%% night. How DAMAGING that was to me! And yet, i was such a Coward that I couldn’t get up and walk out. A BIG Coward I was!!
Hi Heart !
I thank U for your kind words. i too wish, the best for him. part of what i wrote was excatly as i had heard someone say it to me. I don’t know what is the thruth here, but God is not cruel ! and many thanks for your prayers and posts.
Dear Thelma,
rest assured more people read your posts than the few who sometimes ackowledge it, in any case why should u be unduly worried about it, you have a fragrance to release, maybe like a flower in the wild, the flower does not get anxious about whether someone will smell it. everything is thrown to the winds, and they will know what is to be done with it.
as u said balance is the key to life, wholesome living, but i have a ‘doubt’ here, unless one has experimented with the extreams, will s/he be able to appreciate balanace ! perhaps that is what is meaning of explusion of adam and eve from garden of eden. life is perfect in that place, but adam and eve cann’t appreciate that perfection, so they have to be led on to teh world of extreams, enjoy it, get tired of it so that on second comming they can appreciate the peace better ! you are that adam and you are that eve, who incidently has turned back towards the garden, by declaring yourself as a wol!
many people have had extream experiences here, rape, prostitution, drugs, alcoholism, deceit, ……,,: it has served a purpouse and that purpouse will get manifest if one can get away from that feeling of guilt and helplessness, turn it into compassion towards oneself and others !
love
aditya
It is wisdom to understand that it is hurtful to oneself to contain within and to allow to fester the hurtful knowledge of a perceived or otherwise shameful act and to fail to unburden to another.
Agora estou envergonhada porque acho que fiz há pouco um comentário no lugar errado! :(
De qualquer forma, um grande abraço pra você, Paulo!
Ces mini videos sont très positives car elle incitent à la réflexion et nous rendent attentifs!
Merci pour cela aussi :)
Merci,
je viens de lire “Warrior of the Light” et espère que ce n’est pas “shameful” de dire que si votre amie Monica fête ses 40 ans à Barcelone en novembre prochain, j’aimerais volontiers y participer :) Mon mari (60 ans) et moi (56) seront transférés de Hong Kong à Barcelone dès octobre (Consulat de Suisse).
Vous pouvez me contacter via Facebook
Anne-Marie Müller Walther
ps. were is Savita? We all miss her!
The most shameful act I committed was an act of omission. I loved my best friend like my own brother and never told him. He passed away in January and I am ashamed of myself for not telling him how much he meant to me. All of the other things I’ve done in my life which may have been a “lowbrow” I overlook because they’ve added character and texture to my life.
Shameful acts… I don’t believe that I have committed any. I say this with the knowledge that you just “humphed” to yourself as if I am a liar at worst and delusional at best. Yet, I do not believe my acts to be shameful; although, there have been many stupid ones to which I shall confess. I have an abusive ex-husband to prove this point. Two letters prove my acts redeemable, “EX.” Yet, I find that most want to believe that there are shameful acts in each of our lives. Believing this allows others to feel superior or at least equal. For instance, I grew up Catholic in New Orleans, and at the tender age of seven I went for my first confession. This is tradition, and as children we follow blindly in our parents’ traditions until they become ours. The priest known as Fr. Joe has transferred to my parish from a stint in Angola. So, after I entered the confessional and said my “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” he said for me to tell him my sins. Unfortunately for me, this holy man there existed no such thing as a sinless person, even at the age of 7. I told him that I couldn’t think of any sins I had committed. This started him screaming from in the confessional while looking through the lattices of his window. He cautioned me to come up with the truth or burn in Hell. He yelled loud enough for everyone in the church to hear, and he melted a little girl. I was shaking in fear of his coming to grab me by the throat to choke the sins out of me. In what I now realize was the ultimate irony, I said, “Oh, I ate meat on a Friday.” This satisfied his need to find evil in everyone, but for me it is the first sin I am aware of because I told a lie.
I often have a funny view when it comes to understanding my actions in life. Really, my ‘shameful acts’ which were several as with all in life, helped me to grow and become the person that I am. At this moment I can look into my mirror and be content with the person that I see. So I embrace my shameful and not so proud moments as experiences to learn from, to work on and to keep me on my toes so life will never be boring.
Be well all!
I have many things that I have been ashamed of… I think the first that come to mind are the times I have prostituted myself. The first time I was 16 and needed money to get away for a while… this man must have been in his late 40′s and also must have known how young I was. My best friend came with me and held my hand as I did it. Sounds awful but I appreciated her being there. I cried and had to make him stop. I remember running away and feeling scared. I did not do it again for a very long time until I was a drug addict and needed money to score. I did it a few more times around this time always for money for drugs. I remember at one point, when the drugs wore off I sat there feeling so broken that I didn’t know if I would ever survive it. I have done many things in my life that I am not proud of but that which I have written about is still something that hurts. I would like to add though that it has been a few years since the most recent incedent and I am no longer hooked on drugs and continue to try an be kind to myself and make the best life for myself possible. I hope that reading this helps others in some way as it has helped me to share it.
La mayoría de las veces me avergüenzo de mi misma, de ser quien soy, de desear todo el tiempo ser alguien mas… No creo haber hecho alguna vez algo realmente malo como para avergonzarme, pero es mi persona la que me avergüenza, porque no me gusta como soy, mi carácter introvertido, mis múltiples debilidades ni las limitaciones que mi propia mente me impone… Tuve una infancia difícil, hicieron de mi una persona sin amor propio, sin autoestima, sin auto confianza, nunca me sentí realmente valorada y eso es algo que arrastro todo el tiempo y no me permite crecer… Lucho conmigo misma todos los días para no dejarme vencer por esto y salir adelante, tengo motivos para no dejarme vencer aunque la vida se está volviendo cada vez mas dura … Hoy tengo una hija a la que amo con todas mis fuerzas, y no me gustaría que ella se vea afectada por mis problemas, no quiero trasmitirle a ella lo que me trasmitieron a mi, por nada del mundo quiero que ella sea participe de lo que me convierten en una persona tan terriblemente triste, todo lo que le pido a la vida es fuerzas y sabiduría para hacer de mi hija esa persona que a mi me hubiese gustado ser y no repetir los errores creando una cadena de nunca acabar.
Quizás me desvié un poco del tema, pero lo de revelar actos vergonzosos quedó colgado en mi cabeza, me hice la pregunta y solo pude constatar que aquello que me da vergüenza no es realmente algo que hice sino que es algo que siento, y si, es también algo que trato de mantener oculto por temor a afectar a los que hoy me rodean, mi esposo y mi hija.
Gracias Paulo por el espacio… siempre te leo y nunca salgo decepcionada, mas bien reconfortada.
I think this is a amazing idea and will give many the chance to release the hurt and shame that they hold within… I think the most important thing to remember is that the real problem is if we have commited an act and feel no shame or remorse as that would indicate a lack of morals and ethics. Past is past… learn, grow and love
Well, I have a story, I wouldn’T call it shameful, but perhaps cruel.I was 16 or so, there was a guy named Martin early or mid
twenties, who was in love with me. Although I liked him and thought him cute, the chemistry wasn’t strong enough for me to reciprocate. One day ha came to me with a letter, and said that he can’t taKe it anymore, and that I have to do something so he can start hating me. He was pleading and insisted that I slap him across the face so he can get bad feelings towards me. I told him that I can do no sucH thing, but seeing how persistent and serious he was, I said ok, close your eyes, and when he did, I kissed his cheeck instead of slapping it. Maybe the ‘right’ choice would have been to slap him!
Cruella! (added by Mobile using Mippin)
i think that everytime i hear my mum tell me her expressions and own experiences of shame, i come to admire her even more than before.
i think this is because even though she is – maybe, [perhaps!] falliable – that it is her soul which is beautiful and shines truthfully and lives …
even through sorrow, shame..
and also because she is reconciled within by them.
This certainly makes me face my own self and actions, deeds etc more frankly and honestly and less scared to be falliable.. yet at the same time more determined…
because of who she is.
;o)
As I live & learn I find shame is subjective. My parents thought me to be ashamed of anything sexual, I know for sure they are. Maybe because of that I’ve grown fully confident and expressive of my sexuality. I find it is not acts one should be ashamed of, but the meaning /intent behind them. The public censor we build in our minds over time (from the touch of our families, our communities, and media we allow to influence us) usually goes for the acts itself, as being shameful, instead of going for the meaning.
I would not hide anything from my children, I do hope to surprise them more with the present we create each day than with whatever past. But should anything come up, I want to teach them to not judge, try to understand why, and how did that past even help shape the person they see now (in good or bad). I fear shame is used too often as an courage inhibitor, instead of doing the opposite, inspiring courage, values, and risk-taking regardless of unnecessary shame.
~*~
out of respect for your courage in publishing your life, this is what I consider my most shameful event.
18 of age, at the celebration of my passing all exams, drunk dad + garden setting = extremely violent family time(nothing new). He trapped mom on the porch with an axe, and I could not separate them. Completely calm precise wrists cuts later, I got enough blood out without serious damage to get mom to scream my name and him to turn around. He dropped the axe, while mom rushed to wash me to assess the damage. Long story short, after throwing up, he send us all home saying he is sorry he is doing this to us and not to worry, all will end.
It was a white night, spent anguishing between the scare he will end his life, the guilt that we are at home and not there with him to save him, the wish that maybe it’s better that he dies, and than the guilt of how dare I wish my father dead. Nothing I’ve been through in my life compares with that night, I thought I went insane endless times.
(I am ashamed of spending that night at home, doing nothing, and of not being able to stop the thoughts of wishing him dead by myself)
All ended the next morning, when we drove to the garden and we saw the ladder extended by the tree. It was summer, so the ladder was surrounded by leaves. Mom and brother got sick, so I froze my mind and went closer to see if he’s there or not. There was no body in the tree, I turned around and saw him sitting on the porch.
It wasn’t a sense of relief. I looked in his eyes and I saw a man that walked to hell and all the way back. And in that moment, he was forgiven for everything. He walked all the way back! Today father is an extraordinary man, and like all men, has qualities and faults. I love him so much, I love my entire family, as it is, but there are no words to express the kind of emotions you feel when someone walks back from hell to you. He is forever forgiven.
And maybe it’s time I forgive myself.
My gratitude, Paulo, for the chance to remember that moment…
Hi
I’m not in my best moment now, so I’m afraid I won’t leave any shameful thing from my life to others to be seen.
But I can say I’ve just come across something really annoying to me, which is:
WHY PEOPLE THINK PAULO -OR ANY OTHER WRITER, COMPOSER, PHILOSOPHER OR WISE MAN OR WOMAN- NECESSARILY HAVE TO DO SPECIAL OR IMPORTANT THINGS IN A DAY? IS IT THAT PEOPLE DON’T REMEMBER THAT WE’RE ALL HUMAN BEINGS AND HAVE TO DO MOST OF TYPICAL THINGS LIKE HAVING FOOD, TAKE A SHOWER, WASH THE DISHES, GO FOR A WALK OR VISIT A FRIEND? WHY DO MANY PEOPLE EXPECT TO FIND HOURS OF MEDITATION AND WISDOM-DEDICATED-TIME AND GOD-CONNECTION HOURS WHEN, IN FACT, WE’RE NOT BUDDHIST MONKS?
Eventually, this question would be often more interesting to be asked to them.
Have all a good time, bye
Raúl
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