Saturday, October 08, 2005

Darn you, Oprah

You know, I usually tend to shy away from Oprah-isms. While I actually have tremendous amount of respect for the woman, I sometimes find that the glossy veneer that is required to mass market her ideas detracts from their authenticity somehow. Also, I sometimes find her "solutions" for bringing serenity and solitude into one's life are really only options for very wealthy people, like "Oh, looky! This woman retreated to her family's beach house on Cape Cod for three months! She walks through the house every day at 4 p.m. ringing a bell to signal that all stress shall be banished for the next meditative hour! Woo! I mean, ooohmmm!"

But every now and then she offers up a pearl of wisdom that really speaks to me. Just now she was interviewing Uma Thurm@n (UUUUMa... OOOprah: Bonus point if you catch that reference) about the failure of her marriage to Ethan Hawke and put this out there: "Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past could have been different."

Huh. I haven't heard anything that profound since this was shared with me in August: "Time goes ding-a-ling-a-ling. Time does not remember. Time is a clock." (said by the adorable Andrew, now nearly 5)

Wounds are healing. Things are changing. It seems the universe isn't keeping track of the number of times I get to fall in love.


Luke said...

Letterman. Oscars. Forget the year.


Alissa said...

Hm. Yeah. I was recently asked for forgiveness for Something Big, and I actually looked up the definition of forgiveness. I did not want to confuse forgiving with excusing. And the one definition that I found that I really liked was "letting go of the desire for revenge and personal ill will." Ok, I can do that. I like Oprah's line, too, but I don't know if that's how I would define forgiveness. That sounds more like regret.

andrea said...

As a "problem grudge-holder", and I'm REALLY trying to work on it, Alissa's definition would mean that I would have to stop wishing that the office building of Den of Bitches, Inc. would somehow explode in order to forgive them for making my life a living hell which consequently spiraled me into a depression where I never answered the phone, never went out, and gained 40 pounds after my wedding. I guess I'm not quite ready to let go of my precious wounds. But maybe I can change my wishes of ill-will to something less violent. Perhaps lifelong financial distress or a flesh-eating virus? I'm working on it.