The Golden Rule
I ought to know, I once lived in hateful darkness. Always afraid of hurting people’s feelings, I aimed my anger at my self. I was so well defended, even mice could not gain entrance to my castle.
It seems now, like an episode of ‘The Odd Couple’, me and my snitty neighbor. She wants the door (an apt metaphor) shut. I want it open. Both with our hands on the handle, neither one of us letting go.
Letting go is my Achilles heel. I can’t let go of anything. I paid for dental work for Scott’s old girlfriend, she never paid me back. It still rattles around in there. I want to be treated as I treat (The Golden Rule), and when I am not, it rankles me. I don’t have a calm wise internal parent who reminds me to forgive. I never did and yet, I was as wise as I could be for Scotty.
I’m still confused about Jesus being a man. ‘What would Jesus do?’ usually makes me feel a bit ashamed I’m not farther along the road. He never acted like a jerk (because he was Divine?) He didn’t come to earth and screw up the entire mission because of carting some old baggage. He was Love, and he *knew* it. ALL WAYS. And we can be too (herein lies my confusion), except it’s seemingly impossible (without the Grace of God).
Today is Ash Wednesday and I’m not Catholic (did you know Catholic means ‘Universal?”) but feel moved to find some meaning in this ritual. Burning/ashes/ritual reminds me of my trunk of journals I burned, with friends, so Scotty wouldn’t read them. A very dark time, which I chose to let go of, for his benefit (and mine).
What if I symbolically burn the past, live every moment from right now, and when I forget, ask God to remind me that I am Love? Created in Love, by Love, for Love, for Ever, Love.
LBM 3/6/2019
