Morning Trip (264)

“Resentment and anger are emotions that cause your suffering, keeping them alive inside you, draining you of your life force and inner light. Nothing good comes from anger, hate, or resentment. Peace can only come through forgiveness, when you release all that binds you to negativity. Perhaps you need to forgive yourself for placing unrealistic expectations on your situation resulting in a self-sabotaging perception tainted by perfectionism.”

(Look within) “…and see how the lack of forgiveness feeds the” (perception of) “turmoil and suffering around you. Forgiveness is the key to freedom and peace…and it starts with you.”
–Colette Baron-Reid

The Thing that Reminded me of Shame, and Joy, and Tears

Sometimes, we need support and it comes from magical places. There are so many things that I teach myself to believe that society expects. Then I convince myself that what I know to be correct, is not correct, and then I am lost and I am hopeless. I love this video and the man to whom I spoke this morning. It reminds me of who I am and what I can do. It frees me to do what works and to use the tools that I know to be effective to help my children. If I share my tools I can bring this joy and release to others. I am so sorry that I allowed me to forget. I do not know how to amend myself and those affected by my error. I can only cry for a minute, grieve for a minute, and stand back up.

Morning Trip (103)

The Poet with His Face in His Hands
You want to cry aloud for your
mistakes. But to tell the truth the world
doesn’t need anymore of that sound.

So if you’re going to do it and can’t
stop yourself, if your pretty mouth can’t
hold it in, at least go by yourself across

the forty fields and the forty dark inclines
of rocks and water to the place where
the falls are flinging out their white sheets

like crazy, and there is a cave behind all that
jubilation and water fun and you can
stand there, under it, and roar all you

want and nothing will be disturbed; you can
drip with despair all afternoon and still,
on a green branch, its wings just lightly touched

by the passing foil of the water, the thrush,
puffing out its spotted breast, will sing
of the perfect, stone-hard beauty of everything.”
–Mary Oliver