This world is filled with illusions. Not the good ones. Not the ones found on acid trips. Or, mushroom highs. We are a society that provides too many ways in which to dislike yourself.
That is until the ‘real’ people take a stand!
Every morning, I start with a good cup of coffee. A snug with a family pet. And, an upsetting, humorous glance, at what is considered…the News.
And, almost every morning, I think,
‘Fuck, I am great!’
I say this to self…within the first few moments of being a participant in the day. However, with some clarity, a full cup of caffeine and a shower.
The following self inventory begins…
I need to take better care of my spouse. I need to keep an eye on my mother’s medications. I need to improve the yard from brown to green…now that it is above freezing for a day.
The list goes on and on and on.
Eventually, after the conditioner is semi rinsed from my hair…I realize that the world will not be conquered by me today.
Than I say to myself…simple words for a complex person…
‘Practice. Not perfection. Fake it til you make it!’
If a fool can see their own folly, in this they are wise. But the fool who thinks they are wise, they are indeed the real fool.
To the, eloquently, predisposed…this is how the story goes.
We judge you with a whispered tranquility and taste.
But when mindful of self, there is no saving grace.
Alone with loathing lonely.
Autonomous bouts of being dowdy.
is something you will never see…
dear Goddess, please take care of ME.
Outwardly, we touch the world with heart and hope,
style and vision.
But with reflection we prefer self detention.
What of these sacrifices to the Mother…
honor her to no other.
How savage am I when not using love as the daily guide.
A daily mirror predicts distorted images…
a horrified internal self inflicted pain.
How can vigilant charity be a womanly way.
How can I be when self hatred begins the day.
So I ask the reflection,
what is the deliverance of self.
It is a different kind of danger.
One that cannot always be answered…by others.
As unique as the times past.
With a spell of mockery to the present.
Most always with frequently weighty anarchy.
Dear Goddess, upon a morning’s reflection…
help me to be mindful not judgmental.
Help me to be mindful not judgmental…let the peace begin with me.
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