Someone asked me today if there are things for which I still cannot forgive myself. I have searched my soul.
There is nothing left for which I need to forgive myself. I feel whole and complete in this truth.
The things I cannot forgive are the things of this world that break my heart every day. I cannot forgive the random, undeserved hatred, the racism, the sexism, the exploitation…I could go on and on.
To be honest, I am not even sure I should forgive these things as they persist and are meted out with great intention. They affect me continuously.
But I can take them and I can lay them on my ecstasy altar.
One by one I can surrender them to the truth of my own vow to live for joy, ecstasy, lusciousness...
As I kneel, a woman appears to me. She is shapely and beautiful in her own unique way. Her body is faintly visible beneath a white chiffon gown. This woman, this manifestation of ecstasy, is powerful and larger than life. For her my little bundle of un-forgivens seems tiny, like twigs.
Before ecstasy, I am tiny too.
Together we dig a pit in the ground. My bundle of hatred has grown very large now. It is too large for me to move.
My first act of devotion. I must ask for help.
It is nighttime.
The moon is shining in silvery fullness.
Her eyes are gleaming a mixture of pleasure and mischief.
The moment I ask, she tosses the twigs in the pit and snaps her fingers. The whole thing goes up in white flames and iridescent smoke.
This smoke looks like melted pearls as it rises.
I breath it in, this luscious, rich, intoxicating brew. It smells of sage and lavender.