If you cry when you’re injured…the tears relieve all the pain in your knee. SN picked up the fact that all the lymph drainage I am enjoying with Mark-the-Massage-Therapist does not hold a candle to crying your heart out for a solid hour.
I could not believe how amazing my knee felt the next day and the next day and the next.
My eyes felt like two pee-holes in the snow.
But my knee was astoundingly spacious.
That does not mean that I will substitute grief for massage therapy. No, it does not.
I am struck by how much relief I felt when I actually felt the profound sadness I’ve been dragging around for weeks.
That grief spills over into irritability with all of those in my life. It means I’m unforgiving and cruel. It means I take my rage out on them instead of growing up and learning compassion towards others, towards myself.
I ripped a strip off of Theresa. Anger over money? That’s just stupid. It’s just money.
Love and forgiveness. Anger and spite.
I never learn.
No. I do learn. Just slower than molasses in…oh blather…you fill in the blanks.
If I’m so spiritual, why am I so thoughtless?