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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Y así vamos

Montada encima de un elefanteQue me guía en el paseo abierto especialmente para mí 

Con fe me dejo llevar hasta el final de mi alma que suplica mi sonrisa 

Monto de luto de lo que no puedo ver 

Arrojar todo lo que no está destinado a ser 

Y todo lo que ha cambiado su presencia 

Todo por el bien de libertad

Siento mi ser se eleva, siento mis dolores de corazón en su tramo,

Come mi corazón se expande al amor

Pido a mis guías que me mostra

Pido su ayuda

Siento el campo abierto delante de mí

Y así vamos 

*******
Riding on the back of an Elephant

Who guides me onto path opened especially for me

With faith I let myself be taken until the end of my soul which begs my smile

I ride in mourning of all I cannot see

Releasing all that is not meant to be

And all that has shifted its presence

All for the sake of liberty

I feel my being rise, I feel the aches of my heart as it stretches,

As it expands for love

I pray to my guides to show me

I ask for their help

I feel the open field before me

And so we go


Writing by me

Photo by unknown, black and white modification by me

I believe we all have wings

I believe we all have wings Tipped upward unfurling from within

Can you feel their beat?

Heart sanctified 

Feathers guilded with surprise 

Soul aria 

Requiring no agreement 

I feel their touch in my smile

Everything is OK

It is all Divine

Flap of wings whisper, Are you ready?

Body relaxes into a delicious Yes

Wonder negates gravity 

Anything is possible.

Failure 

Failure is still one I am taking on as a lesson, it’s confronting for me. Which is fine. Confrontation is not the issue it’s how I relate to myself when I feel confronted by my own failure is what I am looking at. I am searching in myself to find my way through the reprimands I self indulge in, to the necessary adventure of failure and the aliveness even freedom in it.
What is your relationship with failure?

Transmutation 

I’m human I will hate. Hate is not the issue, it is the relationship with hate. No, I do not vow to not hate. And I don’t know a single human on this planet who does not know hate. My only vow is to be true to myself and to love myself in all of my fallible humanity which includes loving myself when hate comes present. 
It’s not hate that is the issue it is the denial of it which pushes it underground to fester rather than receive it as prima materia asking to be seen and accepted and loved. That is how I transmute the experience of hate into self love. I don’t avoid my human experience. I embrace it then choose self responsibility and self kindness. This is how hate transmutes to love for me.

Cognitive Dissonance 

In the epicenter growling

Is the throat of the unsung

Debris scattered untouched

Unseen

Disproportionate

Hands scarred and burning

Beating to the frozen drum

Circling its own temperament

Shaking in its grasp

Corner one, known

Corner two, everything

By the ting of metal

Collison is inevitable

Fight of birth

Only in collide.