"At the Touch of Love, Everyone becomes a Poet" ~ Plato

My cousin writes and is part of a blog, http://fourfoxesonehound.wordpress.com/.  We have shared thoughts, our treks with self-education and choice, and we have remained friends with our differing styles and perspectives.  As I look back over the last two years, being "set free" by the psychopathic ex-spouse and his clan with their never ending black hole of needs and financial crises when my usefulness ended, I see that I really "have come a long way, Baby."

 

Just why DO I write?  Part of the reason is to share my journey - a bit of altruism?  yes, but also to "air my side" of the recovery process.  And then, there exists that marvelous gift of journaling: to become clearer on beliefs, experiences, and who I have become over time.  A touch of awareness gently breezed past me when my youngest grandson of six told me of a dilemma he found in his life.  His single mom's boyfriend had given him a bike that the boyfriend's son had outgrown and it is a HONEY - camouflage green with "cool handlebars" and I can see his mind of imagination churning as he rides it, meshing his present moment with the colors and grand adventures of the resourceful mental images which he blends with his feelings of daring-do.

 

The difficult decision?  I had also given him a racer's bike with blazing orange wheel rims and refitted to update with safety items such as new handle grips, petal pads, and tires.  He thought that the gentleman told him he needed to have only one bicycle at his apartment and that the fellow would take the camouflage bike back to his place.  My remarkably wonderful grandson looked at me with big brown eyes as I imagine King Solomon must have faced in the past .  The first emotion that bubbled up was one of a territorial sense of indignation.  The next was anger that a "gift" had strings attached.  My hackles shot into high gear and the battle gear automatically unfolded, as if I were some amazing super-heroine of film fame. 

And, finally, I looked at that magnificent presence who felt comfortable enough to share his concerns with Grandma. 

 

Whatever the gentleman had actually told my grandson and his thoughts and intentions, I cared about my young person's development, his heart and soul, and his integrity in dealing with this old world.  Of course I assured him he could keep the "orange avenger" at my house.  And then ushered him along with his older brother to the glorious speeds and worlds of enchantment as they rode down the way, smiling with eyes shining and seeking the newest childhood exploits.

 

It occurred to me as I thought about this later that there exists a difference between "being OK with a situation" and "allowing the situation to be as it is", whatever that might be.  What in the world does that mean?  If one can accept that something is "as it is," choice remains viable.  You don't have to like or agree with it and that problematic picture may just not suit or sit well.  But, if one can let go of the burning desire to "make it better or correct" by some method, then, you really do have a direction for reason.  The situation loses its power to affect your emotional state and whatever decisions evolve from the encounter, the status of that prick to personal ego was but a moment in time.  Ah, wisdom...where were you when I was in the depths of self-doubt and heartache?  I agree with Robert Frost's quote," I'm against a homogenized society, because I want the cream to rise."