A Re-Parenting Moment: LIVE

Reporting live from my thoughts here

because there could be meaningful

parallels or something useful to you

and because there is a direct link

between the way we speak to ourselves

predominantly and the way we speak

to others when under distress.

Fairy Falls, the old hollow timber

solar fountain, had been bleached

almost white by the desert sun 

over the seasons, so I painted it. 

It looks so much better. 

The fountain, again, looking something 

closer to natural,

the dark brown, rich against

spring's birth-pang green.

I was pretty satisfied.

This mornings' post-coffee walk out

to the little pond and fountain revealed

that I also unintentionally sprayed

over the light in the top of the fountain. 

Not amused. At all.

But "unamused" often sounds like 

the often repeated 

"why can't we have nice things" and 

"why can't you take care of things?" 

to things worse and immediate:

"stupid", "worthless, f*ck up", 

or in my own case,

their evangelical counterparts:

"rebellious" and "disobedient" 

but, to be clear, violent thoughts 

and words preceed physical violence, 

the devaluing comes first,

whether it's personally (internally) 

or socially (externally). 

So I painted the light.

Naturally, I know the thought

trajectory that follows

like the back of my own hand,

well, well enough,

and that in itself can help

prepare me, so in the microtime

between the trigger and

punishments' arrival,

there's a micro-pause

and a pause,

even a micro one,

can be enough space 

for movement so I thought,

maybe 

rather than being

"a careless f*ck up", 

maybe

I was just excited, enthusiastic.

And, as you know, 

a single response won't deny 

this groove, so I hear, 

"Sure, you're always 

'excited', 'enthusiastic'."

Ah, well, I think to myself, 

that was such an obvious lie 

that it gives away the accuser's identity 

and even if it were true, it's not news,

I should be used to it by now 

and not be so judgemental, 

so harsh,

so punishing,

so failing to not take 

things personally,

so willing to forget that 

excitement isn't a willful afront

and blinders given by the focus 

enthusiasm brings isn't personal,

even when it's repeated,

even when it only changes a little, 

and that slowly 

or it doesn't change at all

or when it's who we are.

I painted the light,

and countless other things 

not on purpose, 

not worth the 

demolition of my worth.

"So I replace the light or not,"

is as simple as I hope to grow 

into a moment like that being 

when it happens again 

in a few minutes.

I wonder what's worth 

the demolition of my worth

or yours

or theirs?

Do you remember the old hymn, 

"I Must Tell Jesus"? 

A momentary reframe, 

my words to that tune,

if you know it:

"I will try softer,

I will try softer,

Love will lead my 

hands and my voice,

I will try softer,

I will try softer,

There's no punishment 

because there is no crime.

I will try softer,

I will try softer,

Through Love 

I'm refurbished,

By Love, I'm refined.

I will try softer,

I will try 

softer;

I'm worth

the effort,

I'm worth 

the time."

I'm grateful for being able to reclaim and temporarily

repurpose beautiful old songs still dear to me and to 

laugh in the middle of the process, a sign of growth

I'm sure. I just made myself laugh and for those of

you keeping score, it beats the mess out of making

myself curse or feel disappointment.

I noticed how much time had quickly passed

and I thought,

"Shoes!"

but out of old parenting habit,

it sounded like,

"Dumbassss!",

or its evangelical counterpart:

an unspared rod, 

and my immediate thought was,

"Softer..."

and I laughed outoud

and changed my shoes 

to mow the lawn,

with a quickness but without shame,

a tiny bit leaner, lighter,

letting lies rest dead, 

as spring keeps rushing ahead,

blooming, birthing, germinating, too,

revealing a river, a tree, and a wood, 

running right through me 

and into you, life-giving

water, for roots and for leaves,

for shelter and sacrifice, 

for silence and praise,

for pranam and devotion

for voice and for hands 

trying softer, being safer, 

and kinder, with our hearts,

thoughts and minds.

-pdk

*below is a link to a beautiful version of the hymn,    "I Must Tell Jesus" by Kaleb Brasee on YouTube., who owns all rights.

I Must Tell Jesus