it’s not all your fault

I almost missed out on this life. well, let me start again

I almost missed out on this day. a week or so ago I made a vegan stew. today is like that stew. it is an immediate happy. like being healed with new skin. and I almost missed it. I would not have been aware. I am here to say something about self awareness. here from the deck.. the stillness of being.. one with the self. to think of all the times I chose another way, chose the numbing, walked away from that kid. I am no longer walking away.

I wanted to apologize but let me first find a spot of genuine reflection. I am sorry for all those times instead of seeing you, I saw only me. imagine a young boy carrying the rocks of self hatred seeing only that in the faces of those sent to care for him. it can be that way. now imagine a fully grown man, still toting boulders. over a lifetime that cardio and weight training can leave an indelible mark on the mind. it is a mastery. these days I look forward to the undoing of all that strips the leaves of our divine reaching. look inward and share. undo and move forward. the folly of my resentment as a function of my envy. if I say it and you hear it, it may still be a lie. such untruths are a function of survival. it is not living. and the tree is bare. a long lineage of suffocating under the weight of what has never been, told enough to be true. it’s ok to be alone like this. the way I was in Vegas, the way I met the ocean, the way I met this world. a mother’s love, one shrinking glove.

I am forced to understand one fundamental thing about what I know. I lack competency in empathy, self awareness, and a host of other things that before today were just words. words I floated out, defining them however I saw fit. this is my world after all. but like my world that world is worthy and to live effectively in the helping arts, I have to actually meet the requirements of those competencies. my arrogance seen through my ego has been shot in the leg, then another leg, and finally a severity of blood loss. I don’t know anything, but the failing of ego. that is my mastery. don’t laugh too loud, it may be your’s as well. we are all here, brought from the same carbon after/death new birth. I’m almost too happy to admit it all.

“Tender, she said again. Tender is kind and gentle. It’s also sore, like the skin around an injury.” — Brenna Yovanoff.

art credit :(Details: Girl with a Pearl Earring, oil painting by Dutch painter Johannes Vermeer, c. 1665.)