Ahimsa
Flash Fiction by Mary Corbin
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Sondra was struggling with something. How to take care of herself while also being careful with someone else’s feelings. She walked and talked with her best friend Camille every day, friends for decades, meandering the turns of the snowy arroyo in the afternoons together. Considering. Inquiring. Reconsidering. She had written a letter weeks ago. Then rewrote it three times, still unable to send it to her brother Jonah.
“I just think it’s too harsh,” Sondra said.
Camille listened. She gave advice. Though she knew it was territory to navigate carefully with her friend.
“I want to tell him the truth about how I have experienced him all these years, but he is so fragile. I’m afraid it will hurt him,” Sondra explained. “You’ve read the latest letter—what did you think?”
Camille stayed silent for a moment, choosing her words carefully.
“Sondra. You can’t change the spots on a leopard. And I don’t think any of us should try to change anyone. We can only change how we respond to someone. Choose a way to share your feelings without hurting him,” Camille offered.
Sondra nodded but looked at the ground as she walked.
“We must practice Ahimsa as much as possible,” Camille continued.
“Tell me again, what that is exactly?” Sondra asked, looking over at Camille for answers beyond just this one.
“It’s non-harming. Towards all living beings. So. If you consider Jonah and approach this thing with that in mind, maybe you can speak your truth without creating pain. Without trampling his feelings, I mean. The hard part is including yourself in that practice, right? You matter, too. You can’t continue to let him treat you the way he has all these years without him knowing it’s not okay. It’s a difficult dilemma, Sondra,” Camille said.
Sondra slowed her pace and came to a halt in the arroyo. Camille slowed down and turned to face her. Sondra was looking up at passing clouds in a blue sky, searching for an understanding of her friend’s words. An inkling of what to do.
“So, do I do nothing? Not send the letter?” Sondra began. “Just stop returning his calls, maybe. Freeze him out of my life altogether and let him figure it out himself. I don’t see how I can speak my truth without hurting him, Camille.”
Sondra searched her friend’s eyes.
“Well. I always think about this one guiding principle for myself,” Camille said. “Essentially, if all of my actions and words originate from a place of peace, a place of love, then I should do okay with whatever comes up in life.”
Sondra nodded.
“I think that sounds easier than it actually is,” Sondra said, with a little laugh.
“Maybe,” Camille said. “But it doesn’t have to be that way. The simplest path is often the best one. Listen. We can make anything easier or harder than it is. It’s up to us, honestly.”
Sondra nodded and the two started walking again, began discussing the beauty of the day, the late winter sun warming them up just enough, the snow crunching under their boots as they continued up the arroyo. They came to a sign they hadn’t seen before, newly placed at the juncture where they always turned right instead of left. A sign telling them a new owner had declared private property and entrance was allowed by permission only.
“Huh,” Sondra said. “That’s new. Well, let’s go this other way, to the left then, I guess.”
Camille agreed that the best choice was to take this new path and hope that it merged with the main arroyo up ahead. Otherwise, they could catch the paved road just behind them. But, wishing to stay free of cars and remain in the solitude of the arroyo, they opted for the new path. They found soon enough that it was harder to traverse, overgrown with brush and slippery with ice. It eventually ended at a stone wall.
Camille laughed.
“I don’t think we made the right choice! I certainly can’t climb over that wall, can you?” she asked. “Not without risking injury, anyway.”
Sondra shook her head and looked back in the direction they had come from. The unknown had taken them astray but at least they had tried. She looked around to see if the road was in sight, hoping for a short-cut, but it was not.
“Let’s backtrack to where we know we can easily get to the road. That will be the easiest way back,” Sondra said.
She resumed the topic of the letter to her brother with Camille, feeling she hadn’t yet figured things out. She asked Camille again about just remaining silent and letting things unfold on their own.
“Sondra, you know, I can’t tell you what to do but if you do nothing that doesn’t really resolve or improve anything. What happens when you see him, and you have all those buried feelings? And then he does something to upset you again? How long can this go on? Maybe you can just keep it really simple,” Camille said.
“How?”
Camille stopped then and took her friend’s hand.
“You don’t need to rehash all the years and the laundry list of grievances. You don’t need to site examples and episodes of bad behavior, that will surely stop Jonah from hearing you,” Camille said. “How about you just tell him you feel he disrespects you and your relationship and until he can see that clearly through his own reflection, you can’t spend any time with him right now. What about that?”
Sondra nodded and smiled.
“Yes. Keep it simple, like you said. Maybe that is the best path. Be honest but not harmful. Ahimsa, yeah?”
Camille looked over her friend’s shoulder and pointed.
“Look! There’s the main road right there,” Camille said. “That’ll take us home in no time.”
Mary Corbin is a writer and artist based in San Francisco and a graduate of California College of the Arts. Her stories have appeared in Otoliths, The First Line Literary Journal, and Hedge Apple Magazine. Her first collection of short stories, "Life Lines", was published in September 2023.