What's It To Ya?

I woke up thinking about the same thing I went to sleep reminiscing on...September 11, 2001. I would be hard pressed to forget where I was and the immediate inundation of shock, anger and thirst for vengeance I felt every time the horrific images flashed in my mind. I also will never forget how my chest and eyes swelled with pride at the images of how Americans of all manner of diversity came together like a tightly clinched fist to heal and help one another.

Several weeks ago, a friend of mine shared a video with me that she and her sons appeared in (time marker 1:08) entitled "Being An American Means...". As an American (an global citizen) I hope that compassion, tolerance and respect abound within and outside the invisible lines we staunchly insist on protecting or regaining depending on who you ask (I just want to know from whom are you recovering your country?).

I won't belabor the point. Check it out below.

BLUNT: Being an American Means... from GottaLaff on Vimeo.

70 x 7

I have eff'd up. Wait! Let me make it plain. I will call a spade a spade. I have fucked up. I can take that. Admit that. I was arrogant in thinking I would never be "that woman". I am gripping more handily the fact that I have now, after 31 years of living, a single regret. I have vaccilated in describing what that is. Is it that I have lost one of the most treasured individuals in my life? Is it that I have pained that person? Caused the very thing I wanted most to alleviate and shelter them from? I have settled on the latter as it speaks to the person I thought I was, rather who I never imagined I could or would be in any spanse of time.

I lament the state of things. Truly, I do. Rarely is there an idle moment that is not occupied with a thought or memory centered on this person. Love remains. It hurts. The part of me that wants to insist on equity as if I am in any position to negotiate terms and such was supported by a post on Twitter that said (paraphrase)"if the good outweighs the bad, forgive and forget". Honestly, I don't anticipate amnesia. A clearer picture of forgiveness is my hope. Though I am not much on complex mathematical equations, I am pretty efficient in basic multiplication. To the point where I don't need pen and paper or even a calculator to know that 70 multiplied by 7 gives me 490 times to sin, miss the mark, mis-step-- shit, fuck up.

I won't belabor the point. I realize that a resurrection would not make for a regeneration of what we had before. Simply put, shit would change. I get that. I just want the memory of me in this individuals mind to not be summed up by the pain I have regretfully caused. Love abounds!

My lesson...among other things is that “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” ~Rumi

Humbled...

Fearfully Made ©

I fear rejection
disappointment and disappointing
I fear success
perceived expectations
I fear love
the completeness and fullness of it being condition-less
I fear trusting being vulnerable
I fear failing
too scared to let it end
I fear loss
everything I love leaves
I fear death
of passion, unfulfilled dreamsI fear not being who I was meant to be
I fear the intention of my existence
my life's purpose
I fear the war within, uncertain of who will emerge the victor
I fear being alone
would rather have it on my terms
I am fear-fully made in the image of perfect love
in need of perfected love--compassion
make me fear-less
©