Lately when asked whats the word? How is the Zen hangin’?
Mind you…these questions are strictly coming from my mind. From the not so deep and/or often too deep abyss that is surrounded by an emptiness built on illusions, disillusions and delusions:
I reply, to myself…
‘The word is forgiveness’
Moreover, how to forgive or who is forgiven. Recently, there have been days, hours and seconds meditating on the terms…list of protocol, we use in which to forgive.
As we speak, my troublesome but unfriendly to the point of providing tough love, CAT Carmen, is walking all over the desk, the keyboard and my filled to the brim, ashtray. She is seeking my approval for her anti establishment behavior.
After taking the laptop and heading to our small but festive bathroom to finish paying monthly bills…I forgave the CAT. The CAT, who happened to be sitting in the hallway…right outside the bathroom door…like the Bride of Chucky! After I had finished the dirty deed of paying off debt.
Even with this…slight of hand mercy, nothing breaks like a heart that cannot and will not forgive.
One time…many moons ago, I had a routine PAP smear. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just the run of the mill female visit;
‘Hello, my name is Doctor So N So…I’m at your cervix!’
I had been deceived…however.
My OBGYN was being shadowed. Yup, she had followers like on Facebook. A handful of interns who wanted to see the inside scoop on a middle-aged woman’s privates!
‘Oh, I hope you don’t mind…A premed class from Dartmouth is doing some interning and woman’s health happened to be the topic of the day!’
What do you say to that?
Get the fuck out!
This isn’t show and tell!
Where’s the popcorn?
I did not complain. I honestly did not care. I’m a lesbian. I get it. A woman’s vagina is the place to be. And, of course, I forgave my doctor for putting my friend on display. It had seen crowds before…matter of fact, I believe one lover gave it a standing ovation once.
Forgive, forgive, forgive…I suppose.
For instance, Julia an X of mine. Had the wonderful experience of going to the Buncombe County Fourth of July fireworks…with yours truly.
Issue at hand?
Julia had been blind. Something that did not occur to my, true from root to root, blond head!
Julia forgave me. Matter of fact, she appreciated the fact that someone took the time to give her a blow by blow description of fireworks and/or the discharging of them.
With all this forgiving being done. What gives with unvalidated and less commercial pardoning? A family secret so ghastly…it can only be shared amongst a select few victims. A legal matter that had gone under the carpet…that is until you are being sued by a close friend. Hospitalization for hush hush illnesses and/or undisclosed stints in rehab that gets announced at the family dinner table.
Alcoholic’s Anonymous, strange bathroom reading that become sayings…comes to mind…when dwelling on forgiveness and humility!
One Day at a Time
Easy Does It
Fake it ’til you Make It
It could also be said, that if you didn’t know the Lord’s Prayer before the program…You’ll wish you never heard it 14 years in and sober. Recovering addicts in 12 step programs tend to sound, but not necessarily look like, the Stepford Wives!
This leads me to forgiving. Absolving someone for their sins. Letting go of the small stuff…no matter how big it really is…to you!
My family houses the largest display of guilt, shame and remorse ever erected. They feed on it as though it were communion. The scars less obvious on my body are the ones produced from a childhood that relished emotional riots.
These rooted riots are becoming blaringly obvious and I must deal with them…Before they deal with me.
I must forgive. I must move on. And, I must learn that family is what you make it. Those you allow in your heart are there because you let them.
This year…I have turned from a make shift Our Father…because it only reminds me of…my father. I had meditated that manly chant out of fearful habit. Slowly, I have reprogrammed my faith. With baby steps…change can happen.
Reflections of Saint Francis of Assisi
Goddess, make me an instrument of thy peace!
That where there is hatred, I may bring love.
That where there is wrong, I may bring the spirit of forgiveness.
That where there is discord, I may bring harmony.
That where there is error, I may bring truth.
That where there is doubt, I may bring faith.
That where there is despair, I may bring hope.
That where there are shadows, I may bring light.
That where there is sadness, I may bring joy.
Goddess, grant that I may seek rather to comfort, than to be comforted.
To understand, than to be understood.
To love, than to be loved.
For it is by self-forgetting that one finds.
It is by forgiving that one is forgiven.
—Saint Francis of Assisi—
It isn’t all about me. I get it. And, no I don’t walk miles upon miles…in others shoes. Also, I have been known to cast the first stone.
That being said, I can with practice…forgive. Pardoning in baby steps? Turning the other cheek seems a better option than telling someone to ‘kiss my ass’ on a daily basis.
##Plus, St. Francis is the patron saint of animals. How can an X catholic crazy cat lady go wrong with that?
I am Brangien [Brangaine] of Weisefort, Ireland, lady-in-waiting to my cousin Isolde, who became promised to King Marc of Cornwall. His nephew Tristan escorted us to England by ship. But Tristan and Isolde fell in love at sea. As ye may know, or will find out, they cite the philter they drank as the cause, over which I was supposed to keep vigil. I would like to share my perspective of how I have created good in the world through my herbs and observations. There is much to tell, including how I have adopted this odd language. In good time. My life is in God’s hands. –Inspired by the modern French translations of the Tristan and Isolde texts