Treachery is too big a word to use in interpersonal relationships. I like how the word teacher is in it, though. Surely, we cannot attribute “treasonable or perfidious conduct” to anyone we care about? We try to understand them. If they were “betraying trust”, and “false” we would do better to find that upwind and leave them to paddle about, going round in circles.
You and me both, you Xes - and who’s not been axed or aksed [sic] to leave or has excavated (teaspooned, shoveled or caterpillared) for their freedom, been struck off for foul play, struck down on your luck/struck lucky [the dozer came instead of the spoon], up in flames, dust to dust, three strikes and you’re out, and made it out, free at last, free at last, made a clean break (in your head, never on paper, where the trail is unreal, of this world, not the next), made it clear apologies are not accepted, not necessary, not coming, you’re going, just go, go, GO and don’t you come back no more – you and me both know it’s a sad, sad, so very sad story when it comes to knowing anyone.
Even mothers not knowing their daughters. Girlfriends not friends at all. Siblings who are not your brothers. And here, who are we here to eachother? There is no difference to souls if you come in the flesh or not as long as the bots keep out of it. Ah, but is this so?... We may not know, right in the middle of it, but Steemit has many lessons for everyone.
You can have their face, you haven’t shared their gaze. You can have them take off their mask, politely leaving it on the hat stand, but the ones who do not know themselves will always know how to hide. And there will always be finders who seek. Plenty to play for, let the games begin. Rien ne va plus… dix, neuf, huit, sept, six... Coming, ready or not.
All Is Fair In Love and Play
Most of our cheating is playful. Sure, there are damages caused by some of the rougher play. Some of it is anxious counter-action, in the fear of losing out. Panic not! Soothe their souls. Let them know, there is joy in missing out. No point instructing them, but note it for their record.
All our lies are plain stupid. Call the deceiver a silly-billy and let them go off and sulk. See what returns. Cut your losses. No atonement required. People grow at different speeds. A sequoia wasn’t 94 metres in a day.
Our will has the potential to grow into the darkest pool of falsehoods there is. It cuts through faith and undermines trust. It betrays our truth before you know it. We want things we shouldn’t have. We do things that sully our time. We log it for a while. Then we learn to fix the books in our favour.
And yet, the majority of us never begin any relationship with the intent to be anything but ourselves - dressed up, hair down, the wrong way round, inside-out, exercises in one's courage. La coeur regrette rien. Mothers bear in good faith. Women and men unite to make mothers. How can our children grow up of so little faith?
Thy Will is not so simply done. It cannot be the final recourse of giving in. There is no sweetness in surrender for the taught. Thomons Merton reminds us “there is no such thing as a sanctity that is not intelligent". Call in the fumigator when you hear that gnawing doubt. Switch on the light to the murmuring umbrage. To love is an active understanding of how the light colours our best side. And right decision.
I get Bangkok. It's got to offer more than Portugal. I get family reunions. It's good to belong. But I'm not going anywhere, meeting anyone. I sit and wait and let the love find me. No more backpacking. My love sits in my lap, purring. On my sleeve. On my tongue. Anywhere the heart can travel.
This was a Minimalist Week Production. Day 4.
A series in which I prove how clever, right or the genuine article I am in short and topical writings.
*The tree you may have recognised already as the General Sherman, a middle-aged sequoia of around 2000 years old, in Giant Forest Grove, Sequoia National Park, photographed in 2007 and in the public domain as such.