FORGIVE
FORGIVING FOR THE SAKE OF FORGIVENESS; MY GOODNESS
They say we’re meant to forgive ourselves. As an Act of Self-Care & Self-Love. So I suppose this starts with me. I forgive myself. For all the times I didn’t do you right. My friend. My lover. Some student. And days when “too tired” had to be. The moment. That me. Right there and then.
I’m fucking tired. Aren’t you?
Trying to get it right. Trying to “get it” at all. Discovering you, discovering me. You were too late to the pitch. And I was overdrawn, again. My accounts. Banks aching for their returns. The Bowl I had to buy. The class I had to take. To “keep it real.” To keep myself in the game.
The Spiritual belted. Out. I forgive myself, I didn’t HEED THE CALL. My ass is sore from too many lashes. I called upon my own daring wits. I had to. I succumbed to the next glass of wine. The choice was mine. I came too loud to the table. Shouldn’t we all? I turned TOPSY TURVY to the coil. Careening and under-intervening. I didn’t say what I meant to say. And said it too quiet that one and funny time. I’m sorry I wasn’t loud enough.
I DESERVE BETTER. I DESERVE RESPECT. I DESERVED MORE.
I forgive you. You couldn’t give it. I forgive myself for staying too long. To be fair, The Country took its toll. The hard yards were traversed. Travailed. I flailed. Enough.
I forgive you too. For taking advantage. And holding court when it was My Heart and Soul on the line. Laundry is drying and so is my skin. Aging and less graceful; my hips hike in their own ever bracing direction. I forgive you Father Time. You took my skin and wore it thin. Dark and haggard from years of sun-kissing and first dates taken too far. I looked at them in “just that way.” As if to say.
I forgive myself for taking, too hard, the reins. And reeling and unfeeling; steering you the wrong way. I only meant to say; maybe there’s another way. To do it. THIS THING WE CALL YOGA. But like so many, maybe you didn’t want to listen. That’s ok. I forgive myself for needing to be heard. No one really wants to know when SOMETHING’S WRONG.
I forgive myself for wishing too hard for the wrong thing. Or do I?
I forgive myself, I couldn’t crowd-follow, crowd-source or crowd-surf to where I’m at. Fuck, I sometimes wish I had. Bigger boobs, better skin and a tiny, tight-lipped body..or a dick. But then, I wouldn’t be able to say, “I did it MY way.” Which is altogether AOK.
I forgive us, we forget. On better days. The best of days. We forget ourselves. In our reveries. We lose sight. Bigger pictures. We lose sight.
CLEAR HEARTED HEALING is needed. Maybe? SOUND. HEALING.
WHAT MOST DO YOU SUPPOSE WE WANT? What most do we need?
To love and to be loved? Is it enough?
I forgive Love for not “being enough.” I’m sure you are. Love. Enough. But if I’m honest, I don’t believe it is. And I forgive me. For growing up so sour and hurt by you that I struggle to believe. FAITH, he said, “just keep it.” Someone I trust. And love. Someone ages younger than me. And smart.
“Practice and all is coming.”
”Practice,” he said, “and all is coming.”
Mate, you’ve come and gone. You literally touched A LOT of people. And liked chocolate. Me too. Just not so much in my yoga classes. Like that. Like candy and deep backward bending, there’s a time and a place. And AN AGING WITHIN THE PRACTICE. To know better. Maybe, when not to.
I forgive The Industry. We all had to start somewhere. And we will all have to end. Somewhere. I’m just hoping it’s not in surgery. With The 40s Yogi Hip Replacement Thing. Cause that shit’s going around.
Watch This Space? And I don’t need to, but I guess I forgive you if you don’t.