The Thing That Made The Difference

I've tried it all.

Praying. Meditating. Drinking lots of water. Fasting. Running. Traveling. Sitting still. Disciplining. Practicing. Eating meat. Not eating meat. Doing "one scary thing a day." Going to a psychic. Going to an astrologer. Going to a dentist. Meeting new people. Being alone. Repainting the bathroom. Planting flowers. Blogging. Keeping a Gratitude Journal. Dancing. Pottery. Wearing pretty dresses. Giving all my dresses away. Reading the Bible. Reading the Bhagavad Gita. Reading self-help books.

Yoga.

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I've tried it all, but none of it has really mattered as much as when I started forgiving.

I started forgiving EVERYONE, anyone—family and friends and strangers.

Myself.

I forgave whether it was asked for or "deserved."

I had been such an expert hanger-on to grudges and "lessons" and mistakes.

I'd been determined to be no one's fool twice.

But there came a moment when I realized how desperately I just wanted to be happy.

I wanted to be happy more than I needed to be "right."

I had to start letting go the dry, brittle bones. I had to exit the graveyard of old hurts and heartbreaks.

So I tried forgiving.

Forgiving and letting go and loving.

I tried trusting that my heart, opened and undefended, would serve me better than when calloused and closed.

And that's when everything started to change.

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This is a big chunk of words for one rambling post.

I don't care.

2018 is over and there’s a full moon in Cancer and it's got me reflecting, in awe, on all the ways healing is possible in a lifetime.

So many possibilities require so many words.