the f word

Today I was asked about the notion of forgiveness.

Having read about it yesterday, I figure writing about it might give me some perspective today.

And my advice… The notion of forgiveness is a lofty one.

I often see people talk about their ability to move on, and yet see them struggle emotionally when they think about/or deal with their past…

And that makes me question.... Have they really moved on….? Have I….? Have we?

I don’t know what is possible. As for me, I know that I am capable of acceptance. And I have done my share of forgiving, but over the last four years I know that something has changed…. Which in turn has inevitably made me change… maybe irrevocably.

And that is, the slights that I have incurred by others has reached its breaking point.

I have always prided myself on letting go of the hurts of my past, and salvaging a relationship because of the good in each person.

I now know that this is fallacy on my part.

I now know that I can accept each person, but understand that when someone selfishly damages a relationship, I in return must choose to put myself first.

Sometimes that means leaving the relationship for some time. Sometimes it means removing yourself all together.

I have been told that this is viewed as compassion. To not ask for forgiveness, but to remove yourself and the other party from suffering or the cause of suffering.

At the end of the day it’s what enables my mind and my spirit to remain intact.

For others, I think acceptance should be good enough for the forgiver, for it is the first step in a progression to move through pain and loss.

Because anyone can say they are sorry, but very little do what it takes to demonstrate it.

souvenir

your images conjure thoughts yet to be created
articulated into form
molded into impressions
that i long to give
back to you.
in words.
in kisses.
in looks and sighs and tears.
i present this precedent.
my first born.
flowing from my womb
through my mouth.
my gift
i tie in an umbilical bow
of balloons
flown by birds
dancing in clouds of confetti.
along a trail of your scent
flowing south for the winter.

The Converted.

I’ve been thinking about the increments lately.
Not necessarily the large leaps, but the small steps.

How each experience, no matter now inconsequential, lead us to where we are today.
And in that I can honestly say….
That this is the first time that it all makes sense (for me)….
Not necessarily in what I want to do with my life, but with whom I choose to share it with.

I think about the last four years in particular, and it wasn’t until recently that I was really able to map out how I got here.
How the process, no matter how heartbreaking, lead to the most meaningful breakthroughs.

What I once thought was a trial that I had to wade through, now feels like life slowing tying it’s noose around my hips, around my heart, tugging at me slowly… Guiding me to what I now consider home. To whom I now consider to be the love of my life.
I’ve never felt that way before.
Which is something extraordinary to admit to others.
Particularly myself.

So grounded in contentment that this investment is one, not of highs and lows, but of true balance.
So centered in happiness that its almost heartbreaking…
So fleeting because of its difficulties… because of its ease…. Because of its depth.

Which in many ways makes the substance of it that much heavier.

And though I have yet to fully digest it’s comprehension, I am humbled by this blessing.

In this time, I have learned valuable lessons about my worth, and the understanding that I can always put love in the forefront of my existence, but that it won’t always be easiest path.

That such an investment is a tireless pursuit that one must strive for.
Relentlessly.

And though I might not be one to give such advice (one way or the other), all I can say is that it does exist.
It is out there.
Just maybe not the way you anticipated.

part 1: 9:30 am

Sitting here, over a week late.

Still sitting here, thinking.

Disposed, but not out. Two feet finally in.

Pensive playing, no thoughts ever leaning into seriousness.
Then again, maybe the seriousness of what is right in front of me is too great to
stop.
Or start, because
taking a step back only leads me into silence.
The immensity goes beyond all feeling.

Only being.

Which is great and all
but I still don’t have a letter,
still don’t have a coherent set of thoughts
he can read back to hear what he might understand,
What I know deep down he already intuitively knows.

If only I could say it. If only I could say how.

thought of the day.

"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth." -Oscar Wilde

What do you think?

fragmentary thoughts

drifting in and out work,

i can't help but think

of you.

you are always in my thoughts.

thinking: i love you. dearly. more than words can express.

ever more and more each day.

and if by chance you ever desire to call and say hello or climb back

into that old treehouse. my window.

into our covers to keep me warm.

i'll be there.
waiting with a book to read
and song to sing you to sleep.

knowing

is knowing a good thing? is ignorance bliss?

i guess it all depends on the way its presented.

knowing that you are not as happy as before, is not an easy feeling. being unable to make you smile the way i use to isn't comforting.

knowing that i'm enough, but the possibility that you might desire more is unsettling.

then again, i can only work within the confines of what makes me me.

and though i might appear shortsighted and rigid, please believe me when i say that it stretches.

and that extension of me is limitless. growing and traversing beyond the boarders that might try to contain it.

and though i might appear ill at ease. listless. needy and frustrated.
please understand that this is not a fixed state.
and for as taxing as it may be, i'm not the only one who has lead us here.

then again, i can't say that i don't have baggage. the kind of proverbial weight that breaks bones on the backs of strong men. i can't say that i'm not bruised beyond all recognition.

and for this i am sorry.

sorry more than you will ever know.

sorry that i don't see things the way that you do. that i am unable to hold my thoughts or tongue at bay. sorry that i push more than i really need to.

but it's who i am. who i might always be.
and regardless of how it causes us both pain, there is some good in this. in who i am.

in who you are.
in knowing this.

i just hope you know that.