Not Always Pretty

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Its much easier to watch a potter mold and spin a vase than to thrust our own hands into the clay. Just as its easier to observe life, rather than partake in, and of life. Doing so gets messy at times. I don’t like messy – most people don’t.

Unfortunately, life requires of us to get our hands dirty.  When it is required of me however, I do so with deliberate movements and clear intent. And when the clay begins to flop wildly as it spins on the table, my gentleness is forced to step aside. As its obvious the clay requires a stronger hand.

For as painfully compassionate as I am, I am not passive. As kind as I am towards others, their actions never go unobserved. When one’s actions take a maladjusted turn, I have to throw onto the table not only the clay, but my feelings as well. Once at that point, my back is no longer yielding.

When someone unleashes words of bitterness, often it has more to do with how they view themselves than the person toward whom their words are directed. Knowing this, I try to approach the situation with flexible allowance and love – to an extent. Love is a gift we give another, without thought of return. It’s not a commodity. Our compassion, when shown, should have little conditions. This being the manner in which I love those closest to me.

But there are moments when extending love for another, the love we have for ourselves, becomes compromised. That’s when things get exceptionally dirty. When that happens we have to make a choice. For me to love another, it begins by loving myself. This is not a selfish belief. Quite the contrary. It is the foundation from which I treat others. I would never treat another in a manner that would harm myself if done to me. How something would make me feel is the gauge by which I measure my own actions. And there is no excuse, no justifiable cause that would make it acceptable for me to mistreat another. And I sure as hell won’t accept it, if done to me. As the saying goes: Do unto others, as you would have them do to you. This keeps in check how I treat others, but is also keeps in check how I allow others to treat me.

So as much as it may seem easier to let the clay spin out of control. It’s best to stop the wheel; glide the taunt string under its surface; releasing it from the table, and start again.  Such is true with people. Such is true with life.

Sane

This post was written to: The Keepers by Santigold 

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