As I lay in half sleep, listening to her voice, she said with a Russian accent angrily, "Who is this person who is so bad that you hate her so much? Why? Why do you hate her so much? What has she done that is so terrible? Is she a serial killer? Does she steal? Does she lie? Does she abuse children? Why do you hate her so much? Why?"
I thought back, "She lies a bit about some things. She has stolen a few things when she needed them and had no money. She's never killed anyone and she's never abused her daughter."
Again in her deep voice she said, "Why does this person not deserve abundant material wealth? Why does this person not deserve to be healthy? Why does this person not deserve to be sound in her mind? Why does this person not deserve all of the good things that the Creator has made for her?"
I thought back, as if stuck in a horrible loop, "Because I hate her."
Angry again, the voice yelled, "WHY? WHY DO YOU HATE HER?!"
I had no answer. So, I lay there miserable wondering why this angry Russian woman was questioning me so harshly.
Minutes ticked by ever so slowly. I don't know if I was waiting for her to begin again or if I was trying to go back to sleep or if I was continuing to try to justify hating someone I had no real reason to hate.
She came back with a boom in my head," Let me tell you why you hate her. You hate her because you mother taught you to hate her when she beat you and cursed you. You hate her because your father taught you to hate her when he beat you and said those cruel things to you. You hate her because your grandfather taught you to hate her when he said he loved you and violated your body when you were such a small child. You hate her because the men told you to hate her when they raped you. They told you that you deserved it and that you really wanted it. You hate her because you have never found a safe place for your heart in this world which can be so cold and soulless. You hate her because she is you."
And then she showed me the image of my hate in a place in my mind in which it floated. It looked like a rock suspended in water or jello. The color was grayish black and from behind the rock there was a glow of reddish pink shots of light interspersed with dots of white. As if it were set against a backdrop of spiritual fire and sparks.
This is what she told me and this is what she showed me. I am waiting for her to come again. I am waiting to break the rock.
