p-p-p-perspective

annie lamott once described grief as a lazy susan. i'd say the same about perspective. one day it stops at wounded keening, the next at squinty-eyed observation. it takes strength to face personal fears. and the toughest part to grasp, the craziest part, if you ask me, is that it doesn't have to be hard. it just has to be. you know, real. open. it's the being receptive to it that bypasses the glitch. and, aha, it's the being receptive to it that also is the hitch. it's like...when someone is telling me something ostensibly about me (but deep, unawarely [i'm usin it], about him/herself) (you tailgate!) i just can't grasp the interior message when the finger is wagging in my face. but, say, he lets it slip as i wake up, sleep still clinging on the edges... (baby, i worry about my future without you...stay safe on the road for me)... well, that's something else now idn't it? dudn't change the fact i'm a loser-ass tailgater, but it does put a new, easier-to-swallow spin on that pill, yessirree.

the silly sticky tricky part of the silly sticky tricky self-awareness for me is remembering that i wag fingers at myself in disgust and write little mental post-it pickmeup notes to myself in praise. just gotta let the guard down to recognize that other people, just cuz they ain't me, can and do in fact (1) behave irratically and (2) love me anyway. really! once i forgive myself for not being perfect, then maybe i can forgive them... and maybe too i'll hear em... i mean, sh!t, they've woven themselves into the fabric of my life...what makes me think one kerunch is gonna pull the seems apart entirely?what -- what's that i hear me saying from behind my wagging phalanges, knitted eyebrows and fragile aggression...?

huh!? -- oh, yeah, i'm having personal epiphany. yeah, like that...easy. open. basic. real. ain't that just somethin?