As May ends, I'm facing a quite busy June and July. I'm eager to get things done, and take names, and organize, and solve.
But I stop this morning to reflect on things I could do better, and could have done better. Rather than putting together yet another gurdondark post about my manifold sins and wickedness, which I mostly humbly do confess (the memory of them being grievous unto me), I thought I'd play with the idea of sin and forgiveness in a rather lightweight poll. I am never certain if the words in this context really capture the idea:"sin", "mistake", "error", "right", "wrong", "forgiveness". The various overlays of differing religious/non-religious perspectives and the fact that no two people seem to use the words in the same way always throw me a bit. But I think that it's a good thing to focus on how to improve, and in particular, how to forgive. I don't have any words of wisdom on this, really, but I do have a poll. I'm not after any dire revelations, here, but I think sometimes it's good to think about what happened, and how to remedy what happened.
What thing in your life are you least proud about?
Which of the following have you experienced?
Without being so specific that you invade (your own or someone else's) privacy, whom do you need to forgive that you've carried a grudge about for far too long?
What percentage of your day to day emotions derive more or less from guilt?
There are things in life that seem unforgivable. But do you have a feeling about your own power to forgive?
If there is one stranger or group of strangers whose pain I could remove with some personal miraculous gift, it would be:
What flaws do you wish you could change about yourself?
If I could communicate one thing in words to people I care about who nourish me, it would be:
What is a small act of kindness in your real life that you've neglected too long, that you can remedy now?
How much of the time do you impulsively do just the opposite of what you think you really mean to do?
Meanwhile, I've begun my 100 poems project, and share here my
Finding Metal Rungs
Kids climb a forbidden water tower,
an appealing round structure,
accessible by forbidden metal rungs.
They wander around the top, thirty feet from the ground
looking at the drainage ditch and weeds that
they see every day from ground level.
Men from the water company
summon them down eventually,
calling out “be careful on the steps”.
When he left her for his secretary,
leaving one domesticity and kids
for another domesticity,
did he feel the juvenile risk and danger
of scaling rusted metal rungs?