synthesis

I read (In Oprah's magazine, the font of all wisdom) a quote about complaining--that what you find to complain about in others is usually something you don't like in yourself. Hmmmm. Recent events have me considering my own indulgence in rage, in misdirection, in lack of compassion. There's something in there about energy management, self-knowledge, and finding ways to cull self-knowledge, to tease out the threads of who you are what you are really reacting to as you walk the complicated footpath we call life.

I'm mad at several people, but mostly God. I know the reasons that I'm mad at these people are where I'll find the learning I need, something essential to the growth and healing of my psyche. What a wonderful knowledge that is, what a massive realization, first, because it let's me know that I'm not really mad at these people (all of whom are so dear to me), but that I'm mad at the limitations of what is only human in them and in me. Mostly in me. I don't have a clue how to 'fix" these situations, other than to keep looking at them, talking about them in therapy, and being completely honest about my feelings, motivations and what I'm uncovering. That old saw about only being able to control oneself and one's behavior applies here. What can you do? What can't you do? You can do anything. That's where my anger at God comes in.

Because I know him/her/it/gaseous essense/undulating life force. And I know in it, all is possible--harmony, union, publication, rash free ass, peace, affordable dental insurance, a Black man in the White House, personal happiness and abundance, an end to offensive body odor and the ability to meet people/myself where we are and to decide what we will or will not indulge in or put up with. And my suffering is the inability to accept all these things (and more) are true for me.

wwwwoooooo, deep huh? Simple. And yet so hard to live.


And so on this day that we honor a man who could see all of this and more, who had faith that people could move from one place to another no matter how improbable it seemed at the time, I would like to apologize to myself and those I've been salty with. I feel great remorse for what I've put you through, and I am sorry for what I've been doing to myself. Maybe, just maybe, we can build something better between us or maybe it's too late or unrealistic for us to do so. But here's what I know--I intend to keep working on a better me, someone compassionate, understanding, and passionate, who acts out of what I know to be true.

(If you'd like to donate to the "therapy for Jo" fund, give me a buzz.)

This includes putting up the barriers I need to erect to define the kind of life I really want to live. That might mean that certain behaviors are no longer conducive to the kind of atmosphere I want to nurture. I think I'll get better at letting you know that as I progress.

And I know it's not about all work, because many of these revelations come to me in moments of joy when I'm paying no attention. The viligance of thinking that I have to continually concentrate on this stuff is exhausting anyway. I can look at the sea and see the infinity, the reach and the scope of what is possible. I can watch someone laugh and know why all is beautiful. I can hear my neighbor singing "Nessun Dorma" in a key not found in the human vocal range and experience perfection.

Now I'm sleepy, and achy, and I have to go to the bathroom. How wondrous is this life!