He did not come home last night. He did not call. I have not seen him in 24 hours. I have called the hospitals. And now, filed a missing person's report. Whatever happens, I think for me, this marriage has now ended. I have nothing, except myself. And my son. Its really true ... one is really only ever alone. There's no such thing as union. Its a lie ... an illusion. I am secretly devastated. Yet, hopeful.
I wrote those words Sunday morning, before my husband returned home from his 24 hour absence. I wonder, when do we know the time has come to break the narrative ~ to rewrite the story we have spent so much time telling ourselves? Why do we stay? Why do we go? Do we stay, because our narrative tells us to stay? Do we go be because our ego deludes us into thinking that's the panacea? Do we go because that's what we do ~ go? Because when something looks or feels broken, we throw it away, like rubbish?
When do we break the narrative? How do we know its time? How do we forgive? I believe everything forgiveable. Its the ego that tells us otherwise. And our viscious hunger for the carnage of revenge. Maybe ... maybe we break the narrative through forgiveness? Maybe ... we break the narrative by taking the time to find out why ... the devastation occurred, as opposed to chastising its deliverer? Perhaps that's love?
This means challenging my self to compassionate, encouraging, genuine and hostile-free exchanges. It also means contemplating my reaction to the thoughts, feelings and expressions of others, prior to acting upon them. 
0 comments:
Post a Comment