The Importance of Being Imperfect

I've been bad lately.  That's right, I've been doing things that a good person shouldn't do - specifically gossiping.  Gossip, by definition, is simply talking about other people.  Talking about events or ideas does not constitute gossip; that's discussion.  But once you talk about the affairs of other people of your acquaintance, you're entering the territory of gossip, even if you're speaking highly of the gossippee.   

Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.  That's a quote by Eleanor Roosevelt.  I've cited it before on this little web of mine, but it makes perfect sense to quote it now, so I am.
Unfortunately, I've been small-minded and mean, because I've been maligning someone I just plain don't like.  She's a colleague at the store where I work, and has been more in-your-face than usual lately.  And it's not just my face, it's everyone's, so my guilt about my uncharitable behaviour has been assuaged, but only slightly.
I'm fully aware of what I'm doing when I'm saying unkind things about her, which I prefer to think of as "observations."  Although there is some truth to my "observations," it still doesn't excuse my behaviour.  The people I gossip with are my friends, and they are good and sensitive people.  They wouldn't be my friends if they weren't.  And yet we still engage in hurtful chatter about our irritating colleague, all the while laughing it off and saying things like "We're going to hell for this," or "karma's coming back to bite us in the butt," as if that somehow mitigates our callous conduct.
I take responsibility for my role in all this.  That's the good news.  The bad news is I actually enjoy slamming my annoying co-worker.  Yes, it's true - I have fun at her unsuspecting expense; it helps to relieve some of my mounting frustration and anger with her.  And that's what bothers me the most - getting pleasure out of exchanging cruel words about a fellow human being.  Geez, I'm kinder and more tolerant of vicious animals.
The only way I can forgive myself for the recent emergence of my dark side is to admit I'm only human, with all the flaws and weaknesses that that entails.  I make mistakes and have regrets, which means I'm sometimes impatient and intolerant.  Maybe if I learn to embrace my imperfect humanity, and forgive myself for occasional lapses in decency, I'll be able to forgive my flawed, human colleague as well.
The next time I'm working with her, which only happens in passing at our busy store (thank goddess!), I shall breathe deeply and remember the words I've just written.
I think it's going to take me some time to pardon myself and my irksome co-worker for our mortal imperfections.  In the meantime, I'll regard her presence in my life as a challenge to get out there and walk my talk on the path towards being a patient, compassionate, and forgiving human being.
- G.P.

Apples and Oranges

I have OCD - Obsessive Comparison Disorder.  My habit of comparing myself to other people is a source of discontent.  It renders me feeling either lesser than or better than, and never simply good with who I am.  When I see truly unfortunate folks in unfortunate situations, I realise just how lucky I am, but that's not a result of comparing myself to them.  That sort of gratitude kicks in when life shows me what real misery and misfortune is like.  On those occasions I am glad to say I feel genuine compassion, and say a small prayer of thanks for the blessings I have.  Unfortunately, those reality checks aren't as frequent as my bouts of OCD.
Recently I read a quote, attributed to Theodore Roosevelt, that put things into perspective for me.  Suddenly I knew how to deal with my OCD.  Now, whenever I compare myself to others, I remember this quote.  It's an instant fix.  I just keep repeating the words when needed, and voilà, I`m in a better headspace.  So without further ado, here are words of wisdom that make me feel a whole lot better about who I am, without comparison to anyone but the person I used to be...
Comparison is the thief of joy.
- G. P.