There should be no shame or guilt in my eating. It is in the stories I weave of need, of loss and pain, where the suffering sets in. Stories of worthiness, of import. Stories based in anger, fear, and greed…towards the outside world and more strikingly towards myself.
Sometimes our stories weave together and then again we may just appear odd to one another.
So, we hold a space for each to simply taste, receive, be grateful and full, where there is no longing…no gaps to fill, no stories to write or rewrite,
where the order of eating is founded in mercy, grace, and love.
So proud of you for letting those tears go, no longer clinging to the emotions to which they had attached themselves.
When you cry, I do not see sadness. I see freedom. I feel the release of beliefs and emotions that are out of balance with your natural state of being.
When you cry, I see you coming home to the love and peace within you and coming into a greater knowing of who you really are.
Enjoy the cry my friend. Let the river of love crest it’s banks and pour out of you so that you can once more rest along its edge or swim in its soft currents as it washes away the imbalances, injustices, inequities, and imperfections that may feel as if they are confining you.
Let love flow freely on every tear. Fall into the comfort and release of crying.
In the darkness, fear and anger deepen their grip on me. Bumping up against ideals, opinions, and stories that I have formed, with urgency I am compelled to avenge imbalances and inequities. I dash in to sweep up the broken pieces of what I perceive as attacks against me and struggle surrounding me. I am driven to defend principles that through my ego’s eye define me.
This posture that I take implies superiority and gives way to judgment. In my rush to right the wrongs, I become the being I so justly argue against. Resentment bubbles up and my ego says, “they are not worthy…they should be punished…they do not belong…silence them…shun them.”
And then my heart whispers, “wait…they too are suffering.” Those opinions I defend and just as importantly those I oppose are here to guide, test, and inform me.
To release my struggle, my fear, my anger, and my suffering, others do not need to pay a conjured debt for who they are.
Compassion, patience, and trust become my weapons against the injustices, inequities, and imbalances that swirl around me.
Allowing it all to exist and maintaining harmony, care, and peace…that is the true work of an activist.