Our vulnerabilities are open wounds. Thin slits, splitting our flesh the hue of a well dusted pink. Sometimes there’s peeking blood, just gushing to be released, while other times -there isn’t. All there is, is bare; peach flesh tone, some tiny bumps and a salty crust forming over time.
The trauma from what fell, is overbearing. Why weren’t we able to contain what spilled out? What could we have done to prevent this ordeal? Could we not have been kinder, softer, gentler towards others? What sparked the desire for such chaos; that drove us to commit such grave acts of inconsideration and petty judgment. Why, couldn’t we have shut our chattering minds to the shortcomings of our loved ones. We turn our heads against our hearts, and ourselves against each another. Raveling in doubt, drenched in selfish pity – on, and on; beating ourselves up harshly, bruising all the wonder within us.
Yep, this is what i do. I forget that I am human and often make gut twisting mistakes. I don’t remember this is the privilege of being alive; in that we are inclined towards occasional careless judgment and hypocritical cynicism. This does not make it right, and each time I am less patient than I can be, and more critical of others than is reasonable – I thrash it out of myself. The living daylights – wrecking myself before checking myself. After which, I speak out loud in saying that ‘existing in this world is not an excuse for conscious mistakes It is part of the cycle of living and the nature of all that live and predate – but not a reason nor an excuse in any part’
It makes it human. So, so human.
Most days, I remember with too much clarity; my insensitive thoughts and unkind words spoken. I stop myself when I can, and instead send love and light to the actions of others I so, so want to rip apart and decipher – why, why, why?
I forget too often, that I too am growing and learning. Dismissing from my mind any opportunity to go easier on myself.
Mistakes will continually be made out of choice or accidental origin. The inevitable nature of happenstance will co exist amongst this fleeting juncture in time.