I made a commitment some years back -- after 9/11, I believe -- to approach every single day from a standpoint of love. Not an easy thing to accomplish. Some days all I can manage is the faintest glimmer of an expectation that, when successful, gives depth and meaning to every step, every encounter. It's a "practice", much like yoga is a practice (and, I'm finding out, so is law). Allows us some measure of failure, allows repeated attempts at a measure of success. No surprise then that I'm struggling tremendously with this at the moment, attempting to keep the black beasts of spite/bitterness/betrayal/revulsion well back from the door.
But the betes noires claw at it ceaselessly and howl well past midnight, the bastards.
The cruelty of the world knocks me to the ground.
Be kind, to those you love
and those that you no longer love.