Acceptance

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Maybe real acceptance and self-love is about acknowledging that we have distinct parts of ourselves that want different, sometimes conflicting things, and each of those parts is worthy of being held with love.

And perhaps it’s the parts of us that we judge for wanting what we view as shameful or self-destructive that are most in need of being held, for those are the parts of us that are wounded.

Sometimes what we want isn’t the same thing as what wants to be for us. God’s will, the Universe, divine wisdom, Truth with a capital T — call it what feels right to you.

Our mind, ego, or fears may be shouting otherwise, but in our heart or our gut, we know better.

We can love, honor, and hold the parts of us that resist what wants to be born into our lives, while nevertheless choosing that which is sacred.

We always have the option of choosing the divinity of the unknown rather than the safety of what was but has since faded to dust.

Even as we don’t want to let go.

Even as we fight to hold on.

Especially then.

Let’s hold what was in loving memory rather than keeping ourselves in chains that bind us to that weight.

All that is worth keeping, all that is meant for us, stays with us forever in the ways that matter.

It makes me think of this poem by Linda Hogan.

Which in turn reminds me of the (pictured) moment yesterday when I saw one of our local eagles gliding by the moon.

THE SANDHILLS

by LINDA HOGAN

The language of cranes
we once were told
is the wind. The wind
is their method,
their current, the translated story
of life they write across the sky.
Millions of years
they have blown here
on ancestral longing,
their wings of wide arrival,
necks long, legs stretched out
above strands of earth
where they arrive
with the shine of water,
stories, interminable
language of exchanges
descended from the sky
and then they stand,
earth made only of crane
from bank to bank of the river
as far as you can see
the ancient story made new.

About the author

James Kerti

Digital strategist and systems specialist, poet, former basketball scout, technically a politician.

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