You can’t fix anyone. Ever. No one ever changes for anyone but themselves.

This conclusion is up front because it is obvious. I have led with this headline, in the typical inverted pyramid style of a newspaper story, though this will never make any newspaper or periodical, ever.

A lot of effort and energy can be expended trying to fix people, and relationships with those people. Ultimately we reach the point where there’s no more energy to spare. It’s scarce, and we want to conserve it for ourselves, before we wither on life’s grapevine, becoming the chaff, the skins that make substandard rotgut which is sold cheaply in discount stores. Vive le vin!

Instead of the terroir influencing the grape, the dried blackened husk somehow influences the terroir, poisoning the soil, salting the earth, washing away the nutrients, until the entire confusion becomes a morass of bitterness.

Literally sour grapes. Rotten. Le vin est mort. Not to mention, we still haven’t fixed anything.

Why use up all we have to try to entice or convince those few people who aren’t giving us what we need to suddenly change their ways and become compassionate, or suddenly raise their awareness to levels never before experienced? Love? It’s not enough, because only they can do that themselves.

Why is this? Because the most important person in our lives is us. Aspects of ourselves. Our past selves, who have done everything to bring us to this point in our lives. If someone won’t do something beneficial for themselves, the most important person in their lives ever, they are certainly not going to do it for you, who can never rank higher than second place. If we can’t convince them to change, entice them to change for us, those they supposedly care about the most, those they claim to care for, even love dearly, then no one can.

All anyone can do is point to what’s broken, and give people the tools to fix themselves. They can be healed, and saved. They can change, and grow, and flourish. Anxiety and pain can subside, and disappear. Given enough time, trust can develop and flow naturally. However, all change is a DIY job. It’s a cliche, but a self-help book? How are you helping yourself if you’re getting advice from a book? Well, because the book is a tool. People are also tools.

Perhaps instruments is a better word.

People can be perspective hammers we use to whack ourselves in the head with. People can be scalpels we use to cut away the emotional cancers, performing personality surgery on a level much deeper than merely cosmetic. People can be red pencils we use to flag mistakes that need to be corrected.

Most of all, people can be beautiful fountain pens we use to elegantly and exquisitely compose the words of our being, in beautiful and flowing verse, contemplative and pensive prose, names of loved ones, and our own essence and being. Those are the most valuable and treasured people of all, because they help us release our inner beauty, grace and compassion.

Still, we are doing it ourselves, for ourselves. We hope that everyone does this, perpetually, continuously, getting better and more practiced at our own personal calligraphy, marking our kanji gracefully and precisely, fluid in meaning but deliberate in purpose.

No one else will do it for us. Relying on someone else to do it for us is a heartbreaking end, always. We can’t do it for someone else, either, because that’s even more heartbreaking.

 

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