SOC Writing _ 3.2.21

 How have I hurt you?

To turn towards, not away. To turn again and be with me and take full responsibility for my energy. To be willing to accept that I know little – and keep my boundaries intact, to be heart warm – open, or soft perhaps. To let a new possibility come – to drop my victim story and be ruthless with that animal that stoically stays in the shadow. This is what I will do. Come towards me if you can – I surrender my judgments, my stories of you. There are so many voices that get in the way of a possible new yes to each other – my stories, yours, my friends and therapist. All go into the rolling mill and out comes a concrete mess. I am more of a heart man – and I hate keeping long accounts with anyone – so with you I shall attempt to let go this long inventory of loss, pain and anguish - I shall drop to my knees in safety, knowing that the gods did the same. On the day Olympus surrendered his temple and won his place again – among the vital and the living – among the vibrating souls. I know that if I follow my heart I will hurt - not get hurt – hurt and loss are part of the equation – not a decision ever to avoid the pain – rather to do what the heart issues forth – let go and be vulnerable to the womb wound in my heart and thigh. This height I’ve ascended is full of hot air and noise – a million different versions of why I am right – but no, fucking way – this is not life – not living, not able to give – just in protest to my own darkness – obsession gone I can now see you – and I clearly get off my horse, pat its mane and tell it calming whispers – the deep places of healing that come from the tempest – the grand – ones – the old ones are whispering in my face, in your face – exactly what we are longing to hear – and in that place I forge an embrace – first of my own shadow – then of how I have hurt you - knowing that beyond your brittle surface remains a raw, beating heart.