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.