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| The Offering |
"One writing held me up through the next. And the next. And then it all held up our losses and wins together in this bulk of general, impersonal compassionate detachment."
Compassionate Detachment
That. That was the trick I was supposed to remember.To be able to love and practice compassion without getting personally attached. To be able to attend others while trusting that the karmic auditors do not miss. To be able to trust that the love we offer will be returned when we need it. To be humbled when random acts of kindness are offered from strangers.
| (Kindness can only be passed on. The kindnesses that come out way are but ripples of our past offerings. And they, these karmic ripples, are never linear. They...well, ripple.) |
The absence of logic in the way that karma ripples takes all the faith in the Unknown. The choice to say something nice, or to write an enthused document publicly, or to refrain from a cruel word, take a generous exertion of willpower. A generous offering to the Unknown.
Inno, okay, Universe, here's one for you. Here's one less mean word at the back of my throat swallowed. Here's one for you, bullies. May this sacrifice of not cussing my heart's content ripple back in goodness for us all.
Bargaining with the Universe
The years spent in angry rebellion has made me impatient with Karma.While Karma's patience with me is infinite, I have yet to learn how she works, in order to allow this moldy trust to strengthen.
If I'm as square and straight as I imagined my ideal self should be, I shouldn't be wincing at any kind of writing. I should welcome blogging and tweeting and SEO bullshit.
Nevertheless, even the darkest hearts have a shot at it. Even if willpower is finite, I still take credit for all the minutes I must spend being trying to be a good girl. All the while I'm spending on my stock of willpower, I am getting paid in credit to unleash my creativity elsewhere.
Fine, Universe, I'll pay forward my dues. I will be good in daytime, so that I can unleash and unwind in long words and paragraphs about detachment. About letting the garbage out. And allowing grace to come in.
Because grace, when she comes in all her crushing glory and vivacity and pomp, is inevitable. She's worth it.
