Procrustes, son of Poseidon, the stretcher who hammers out metal and amputates limbs of anyone too tall, or stretches anyone too short, either way killing them --a Procrustean bed is an arbitrary standard to which exact conformity is forced with disregard for the obvious harm that results. Sallie, I wrote in my recent memoir about being …
Procrustes, son of Poseidon, the stretcher who hammers out metal and amputates limbs of anyone too tall, or stretches anyone too short, either way killing them --a Procrustean bed is an arbitrary standard to which exact conformity is forced with disregard for the obvious harm that results. Sallie, I wrote in my recent memoir about being a child of divorce in which the child is forced to cut off pieces of herself to suit each parent--Procrustes indeed! I just read your remarkable essay to my husband, whose ex-wife kidnapped his two sons, age six and one-and-a-half along with all their furniture one day while he was away at work, coming home to an empty house. He has told me many times since he may never be able to forgive her for what she did to him and their children. I asked him what if he had to write her obituary? He said, I could do that. I said, what if everybody had to write an obit for the one person who hurt them the most? We are all prisoners to the cast of characters who harmed us, Procrustes-style and epigenetically, throughout our lifetimes, unless and until we forgive. But first comes understanding. And love. Your story, fueled by love of your daughter and which became a gift to yourself, Sallie, is a gift to us all.
Procrustes, son of Poseidon, the stretcher who hammers out metal and amputates limbs of anyone too tall, or stretches anyone too short, either way killing them --a Procrustean bed is an arbitrary standard to which exact conformity is forced with disregard for the obvious harm that results. Sallie, I wrote in my recent memoir about being a child of divorce in which the child is forced to cut off pieces of herself to suit each parent--Procrustes indeed! I just read your remarkable essay to my husband, whose ex-wife kidnapped his two sons, age six and one-and-a-half along with all their furniture one day while he was away at work, coming home to an empty house. He has told me many times since he may never be able to forgive her for what she did to him and their children. I asked him what if he had to write her obituary? He said, I could do that. I said, what if everybody had to write an obit for the one person who hurt them the most? We are all prisoners to the cast of characters who harmed us, Procrustes-style and epigenetically, throughout our lifetimes, unless and until we forgive. But first comes understanding. And love. Your story, fueled by love of your daughter and which became a gift to yourself, Sallie, is a gift to us all.
I love this
Now here's a writing exercise: "What if everybody had to write an obit for the one person who hurt them the most?" What if indeed!
That would be an exercise is kindness, empathy, forgiveness...oh, and writing, too!
Thanks, Peggy.
Thx for the Procrustes refresher!
I too appreciated the Procrustes refresher!