I get to choose.

When hate gets passed onto me- and who knows how far it has traveled to get to me- I have a choice what to do with it once it’s in my hands. I feel its impression as it permeates in finger tips. I feel my fear, pain, rage as it shines a light on my own hate in me.

I now hear myself ask, ‘What do you want to give them?’, just before I’m about to rage at someone else over the hate a person shared with me. And I can’t do it. I can’t pass on the hate. I cannot get into the details my body will not let me.

I choose to let it end in me. I set a boundary with the person being heinous, which is my self love, my right to say ‘No’, I do not have to allow myself to be hurt.

If I am to let the journey of such hate end in me, I need to love myself with an uncomfortable brave ferocity.

So I do. I love the reflection of the hate in me this person has shown me as I am not separate from them. I give my love to the coward in me that writhes in attack. I bow to the innocence in me as the origins of all of this is self preservation, aloneness, abandonment.

And I rise with the self respect in me that calls for what is right and respects what needs to be done to transmute this hate and then give what I truly want to give. Love and honor.

To give this I must let all that is not, end in me.

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Nurturing

I believe a lot of the conversations I have hurt myself with I may have had an innocent need to be seen. My little girl with heart open asking to be seen. I do not fault this, it is a human desire, I just look now at where perhaps that is not self care for me. I look to see where I am unconsicously carrying this unmet need as pain. I look for the root of this aching need, what it looks like to nurture this in myself.

Do you nurture your needs?

Painting by unknown artist

Everything I have been experiencing just continues to bring me back to the simplicity of life and the deep richness of simplicity, the mighty language more powerful than human thought, that which is hard for me to word beyond the thick presence of life in the wind and the restless silence yet music of presence.

All that I need is between me and the trees.

Letting it end with me

Letting it end with me calls me to feel, through every fiber of my being all of it. The hiding pain, the blanket rage, the quaking fear, the disappointment, all of it. Letting the cycles end with me is a visceral call ripping through my body, tearing loose all of my resistance, searing the demand of my identity to be right. The tornado in me ravages the fortress, topples the mightiest buildings beam by beam. Letting it end with me is not a whisper on an ethereal mountain top, it’s is a toes in the dirt facing of Mother Nature herself.

There is nothing to forgive

The wisdom of a friend shines through in these conversations of racism sharing with me those who speak such things they cannot help themselves, my soul family shares they know not what they do and my mothers voice pierces through the veil, there is nothing to forgive. I am left in tears of surrender.

So to be abundantly clear here, this does not mean I do not forgive or do not believe in the process of forgiveness. Of course I do. To me this touches a very specific place in me when my mother says these words that is hard to put into words as it is a feeling. Forgiveness is an important practice for me and these words touch something that is transformative to me. Can’t word it yet.

One of the sneakiest things I can tell myself is when I say the hate is ‘over there’ and not within me. Such a conversation is a division in me that creates myself as merciful and another as devil. When in reality I am both. It is all within me and I divide myself from humanity if I cannot own I am part of the hate in this world. I belong.