Human congress

Every time I write an entry about relationships, some ex-friend messages me and suggests that the thrust of the post related to the demise of our human congress.

Mind you, I have few ex-friends.  I’m still on reasonably good terms with all of my five hundred former spouses, most of my high school classmates, and one or two old supervisors who still walk this earth.  The ghost in my house seems to enjoy my presence and the poltergeist who formerly threw knives has fallen quiet, apparently approving of my current life style.

So perhaps I exaggerate in my appellation.  But suffice it to  say that one or two people protest the zing of arrows perhaps not meant for them.  No doubt this shaft, too, will find its unsuspected mark.  Bear with me, then: but it must be said.

I do not consider my connections with people to be business relationships.

Therefore, when that connection splinters, the phrase “lost opportunity” does not apply.  The people who enrich my life weave through the tapestry of my story, gossamer threads livening the landscape.  When the weaver pulls a strand, I mourn the rift in a glorious and beloved tableau.  No patch can truly restore its splendor, though even a quilt of scraps has its own grandeur.

Even though I am loathe to lose people, I don’t hold hostages.   If someone squirms in the place where they’ve landed, I release them.  I offer a spot distant but still within view.    If I loved you once — man, woman, or child — I will love you to eternity.  My nature dictates this abiding affection.  You have the right to take yourself as far from me as necessary but the welcome light will shine for eternity.  I am not a business deal that can be shunned, nor a partner who turns bitter and files suit to sever all ties.  My humanity allows me to adapt my thinking to let you play whatever role you choose.

I have endured criticism for this approach.  Moreover, some folks behave in ways that prompt me to remove their square from the overall design though thankfully not often.  I think I have grown adept at seeing through most veils to the virtue within each heart that I encounter.  Most people carry their goodness near the surface; and few souls harbor only evil.  I’ve met  a half dozen men and women over the years whose presence I could not tolerate in any measure.  But on balance, luck or divine guidance has steered me out of the path of the rare, truly ugly spirits who walk among us.

Everyone else graces my life.  I crave grace.  It is that simple, that pure.

So:  see yourself in these words.  However, see the words for what they are:  A joyful noise.

It’s the sixth day of the forty-second month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.

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