Sunday, June 22, 2014
Not Black and White
Swimming in the sea of old wounds and enragements is not doing me any good. I was planning on getting very much into my own personal sea of RC harm on subsequent posts but it seems like that particular muse has fled and I have no irresistible urge to lay it all down on paper. I wrote a couple of notes and found that the subsequent apoplexy was simply not my colour at all.
Lay the ghosts. Become a kinder gentler me. No, impossible, scratch that last.
Daughter and I had a chat yesterday on old wounds, on how we are all wounded to some degree. How we carry those wounds being all important. Should we keep peeling those scabs off? Thing is, we decided, patterns in families repeat and repeat. Ad nauseum.
Certainly in mine. Much as I'd like it all to stop now, please. Let's be friends. Let's enlighten ourselves as to what is really happening. What truly lies beneath, as some wise old pundit had it. But enlightenment doesn't happen to all at once, does it. I sometimes think I'm some kind of Pollyanna, trying to make it all better. Kiss the boo-boos.
Thing is, again, that there are some who desperately need those boo-boos.
They need to keep tending them and tending them like a really bad abscess. So they don't have
to look at the root causes. Ever.
I'm finished with this particular topic for now.
Bloodied but unbowed, that's me.