I read a book recently about police. It is a mystery, but very well written: "Whites" by Richard Price. A line in it struck me about how we spend our lives reworking our first twenty years. I think for a lot of us there is truth in this. We continue to react in situations as we did when we were children, and we can't see the patterning. Part of what therapy does is highlight these crucial incidents and feelings to make us aware of them so we can work with them, see if they are still appropriate, or even useful.
So I propose a question about right speech: How did we speak and how were we spoken to in our first twenty years? It might be very revealing. I know I hid my feelings from my parents, because theirs were so dramatic and volatile that I felt my emotions drowned out in theirs. I also know the humor in the family often ridiculed others and was hurtful. We sometimes teased my mother, and when I got in my twenties I vowed never to be sarcastic about anyone like that again. I decided to curb my nasty tongue. Gossip bothered me, too. Seeing my mother and her friends, I swore I'd never be that mean, but unconsciously I repeated that pattern until I began practicing Buddhism. Then I took a long time to think through what was well intentioned, if I was talking with someone about a third party, and what was going to hurt. I haven't got the formula entirely figured out, even at my advanced age, but I'm on alert.
Manners were prevalent in our era, and I never talked back to my parents or said I hated them or smart mouthed. I'm glad I had that training, as my kids are careful with others that way as well. We don't name call.
I could explore much more, but I throw it out to you. Look back and see if there are threads tied to your ankles from way back when. One snip might make you able to fly!
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