Last summer, when I first came to stay in New York City, I was renting a room in the house of a certain woman, I’ll call her Lolita . She was a widow, approaching her senior years, who had lost multiple loved ones in her lifetime. The result of her repeated loss was clear in her home, which had become a shrine to the past and to those she had lost. Every nook and cranny of her home, like a museum, was bedecked with objects and artifacts from her past. The rugs were caked thick with embedded dirt and dust, while all surfaces and objects d’art, often placed precariously on tall, narrow, teetering tables (or so it seemed to me), were cluttered and left untouched in the three-story house. At every turn, you ran the risk of bumping into, knocking over or breaking this woman’s heart all over again. It was unnerving to say the least, especially for someone like me, who specifically avoids owning any “knick-knacky” thing of great monetary value, since I enjoy my freedom of movement and I have a tendency to break things, either by my temper or by dancing or running around (that’s also how I get a lot of bruises).

Suffice it to say, I don’t thrive in cluttered, congested spaces and I especially don’t do well in cluttered spaces littered with precious, fragile objects. A dining room that rattles with vibrating glass and china when you walk through it is not a good dining room for me.

Surprisingly, in the 2 months I lived in Lolita’s house, I only broke one thing, and it wasn’t something you would normally think had much value: a trash can.

Whenever the bathroom toilet would flush, the stopper in the toilet tank had a habit of not falling back down to plug in the hole in the tank, which meant that the water which poured in to fill the toilet tank back up was running right through the tank into the toilet bowl and the tank was not getting filled. That meant that I often had to remove all of the perfume bottles and whatnot on top of the toilet tank lid, remove the lid and plug the stopper into the hole in the tank so that the water would stay in the tank. Well, one day this happened and I removed most of the perfume bottles from the toilet tank lid, but not all of them. Of course, when I lifted the tank lid with one or two bottles still on it, one of the bottles fell onto a ceramic trash can that was next to the toilet and it broke the ceramic trash can.

Lolita was so meticulous about her things; there was not a chance that she would miss the new triangle chip in her trash can, even if I glued it back. I told her what had happened and she was looking over the roughly 1-inch big triangular chip thinking that she could glue it back. As she was inspecting it, she exhaled a sentimental “ode to a trash can,” sighing helplessly: “Oh, so many memories…” Yes, with a trash can.

I apologized to Lolita, but she did not respond. Then I retired to my room and I probably cried. I don’t remember.

I take it very badly when I make a mistake or break something, especially if someone else suffers for it, so… Especially without her acknowledgment of my apology, I sunk into guilt and I took on a greater fear of Lolita (of hurting or upsetting her), of the room I was staying in, her things, and of her museum house.

What is right?
In this bad emotional state, I sat alone, feeling very weak… I sought my angels. One of my angels came and was sitting across from me. I told her of my guilt and what I had done and of Lolita’s response. The angel answered me saying:

When you make a mistake, or do something wrong, you must not subjugate yourself to the person or to the person’s anger or hurt. You must acknowledge what you did, be honest about what you did and apologize with sincerity. If the person then can’t or won’t accept it, that is their grief, not yours. You must let go of your guilt, even if the person is holding onto a grudge or continuing to blame you.

Despite these wise and just words, I was unable to let go of my guilt at that time. But I knew the angel spoke the truth.

One evening I sat in my room reflecting on life. As I replayed events and experiences in my mind, it appeared to me as if I had suffered inordinately in my life, either as a direct or indirect consequence of my concern and sensitivity for others, of my honesty and the respect and the consideration with which I treat others, in a nutshell, for my commitment to my own integrity and to a strong moral conscience and sensitivity to others’ feelings. It followed from these thoughts that I began to feel angry as I pondered the individuals who had wronged me and caused me such suffering, those who have little integrity or have become deaf to the soft-spoken voice of their conscience. “How grossly unfair this world is,” I thought. Those individuals were clearly no worse off for their foul behavior, in fact, overall, they were better off than I was. What’s to keep anyone from becoming consumed with his or her own selfishness and indulging in lies and deceit themselves to manage better in this world??

The reality goes against everything I have ever heard in Christianity, where it is the good and moral who prosper, and, in the past when I would fall into this train of thought, I would take issue with God, who I perceived to be punishing “the good” and prospering “the bad” and just overall discouraging everything good that can be expressed in human behavior. This time, however, I turned to my angels and asked “What do you say to the one who has a strong conscience, a virtuous and fair heart, living and relating with others from a basis of noble principles and integrity, but who finds him or herself constantly suffering or falling prey in life to others who are morally bankrupt, unscrupulous or without integrity. What do you say to the one who, no matter what is done to him (or her), he has not the heart to be as all others who wrong him, forsaking his integrity and principles in order to facilitate and ease life in this world?”

And my angels responded without hesitation:

That you do right by others and by your conscience does not mean you will prosper or gain favor with others. Therefore do right, not for gain or to be treated better, only do right because it is good and right, and make that your core and reason.

You are responsible for yourself and for your own actions, regardless of what others do, and you alone shall reap their consequences when the day comes. Do right by others and retain your clean conscience and peace of mind. Do right for right’s sake, not to gain favor or to avoid suffering. Only this is a commitment to what is good.

Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend
With Thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just.
Why do sinners’ ways prosper? and why must
Disappointment all I endeavour end?

Wert thou my enemy, O thou my friend,
How wouldst thou worse, I wonder, than thou dost
Defeat, thwart me? Oh, the sots and thralls of lust
Do in spare hours more thrive than I that spend,
Sir, life upon thy cause. See, banks and brakes
Now leavèd how thick! lacèd they are again
With fretty chervil, look, and fresh wind shakes
Them; birds build – but not I build; no, but strain,
Time’s eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes.
Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.

- Gerard Manley Hopkins

I talked to an angel. She was an angel of love above all else. Her love for us, for each and every one of us, was just like the love a mother feels for her new-born child as she holds it in her arms, so I called her Angel Mother.

One day, as usual, I was on the subway going into the city center. The diversity in the people that come onto the subway train never ceases to captivate me. Often I spend my time on the train observing people as they get off or come on the train, or as they sit talking, reading or listening to music, and this particular morning was not an exception. On this particular morning, a very large, very round young woman stepped onto the train. Despite her size and shape, she was wearing a denim mini-skirt. I had never seen someone so overweight wearing a mini-skirt before and I was a little surprised by the sight.

I, being mired and moored too much in this world, felt the precursor to some critical and unkind thoughts about this young woman start to well up inside me. However, because I wanted to change myself, a question came to me instead and I asked Angel Mother “But what do you think? Isn’t she fat? And isn’t it then also in particularly bad taste to wear a mini-skirt?”

Angel Mother’s response was instantaneous, firm and blunt: “I do not concern myself with her external appearance. I only care about her inner being.”

What Angel Mother expressed felt so beautiful as I experienced it, that tears came to my eyes as I sat on the train. I tried to wipe my tears away quickly and suppress my emotions so no one would notice; unfortunately my stop was next and I could not linger in the experience.

“Angel Mother loves everyone without prejudice and without discrimination,” I thought, ”she will be my mentor and my role model.”