Making Peace

I think it might be important to make peace with what is, before moving on to what is to come.  I try to live in the present as much as possible, but now and again a trip back, to evaluate, for educational purposes, isn't a bad thing.

It does appear that every now and again, god has to give us a good, swift kick in the pants, for no apparent reason.  Maybe it is fun to watch us dance.  Maybe it is a learning lesson.  Maybe it is just a cosmic accident.  But it does happen and on the great continuum, if it doesn't involve the death of a spouse, child, beloved pet or loved one, we are pretty darned lucky.

Sometimes, however, we find ourselves stuck, in a situation that is not of our making, that is painful, offensive and sickening.  It makes us ill, our health declines, our hearts break and our souls wither. And still we try to change the situation.

There are many good sayings about these situations: "Out of difficulty grows miracles." "God won't give us anything we can't handle." "When a door closes, a window will open." But I object somewhat to the passive nature of these phrases.  I do not believe god puts us in these situations, so he can rescue us from them.  We must rescue ourselves. We must tear a hole in our own brick wall, using something on the order of a toothpick and our own fingernails, until our worldview changes, the boundaries of our thought processes expand, and we find peace, not in changing the situation, but in moving beyond it.

“There is in every true woman's heart, a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity, but which kindles up and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity.”

Washington Irving quotes (American Writer called the first American man of letters. Best known for the short stories The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle. 1783-1859)

Sunset of We

Pacific Island,
Elongated beach,
Sapphire water
Pinkish sand,
Chubby bare legs
Of bucket-toting children,
Catching my eye.

Shimmering.

I choose to remember
That day,
The smell of salt;
No hint of rain.
We were so
Elegant then,
Lacquered pacific lunch box,
On a teakwood deck,
Amber iced tea,
Exotic ginger in a vase,
Hypnotic sea breeze,
Twisting fortune,
The belief you loved me
That I deserved your love,
That it could last forever
Floating effortlessly overhead.

I did not expect then
That I would fail us, destroy us,
With the formidable force
Of an unborn, ill-conceived baby
Of the female imagination.
And I did not expect that you
Could deny me something
Of such importance
With such ease.

After that,
We traveled alone.

Now we are older;
Not so elegant.
None of it really matters,
But it still stings.