What is the one thing I could say to you to show you the most respect?
Prior to penning this question, thoughts of a "you" paraded across my mind. The you waxed to me and the real question came to light. So, before soliciting an answer from out there, I must first ask what is the only thing I could say to my self to show me the most respect?
Words shape. Molding the landscape of the world in me, destroying, creating, building and sculpting, condemning and accepting - words are my love affair. The intimate meeting in the dark recesses of mind, shaping an identity so fragile breath dissolves it. Respect defines as re - to do again, ; and spect - to see
Respect is the combination of two words: re - meaning again, back, into, backwards; and spect - to observe, internalize, watch, see without judgment. Giving or receiving respect is an experience of looking back into the self and to show respect an individual must observe its self from a distance close enough to see with indifference.
After decades of dialogue sometimes abusive and other times merely tolerant, I embarked on a complete upheavel of my mind's lexicon. Throwing out in furious bouts the ideologies adopted without scrutiny. Now, my dialogue resembles mantras, "nice" words that I used to denigrate or scoff, often imagining myself "above that nonsense" - fearing the very bullying I was dishing out...to me.
Now, my mornings start with: Thank you pineal gland for the seratonin; thank you body for working; thank you stomach and back muscles for strength in getting the body up and out; thank oyu Howard for choosing to share your life with me...and my days continue in the same vein.
I dropped a tea mug and shattered clay flew across the floor. Thank you nervous system for your quick reflexes to keep from getting cut, thank you knees for bending; thank you hands and and arms and back for your ability to clean up the shards; thank you life for the experience to use this tool and revel in its simplicity to bring wholeness and meaning full circle.
Every moment of my day is filled with the excitement of this experience of body and spirit. How far can "it" bend? Where will it go? What will it find? For now, I marvel at these fingers, typing ferociously fast then comically slow; all in the flow of spirited conversation between the body and mind, creating a world of infinite potentials. This I understand as respect; to observe without judgment the insignificance of this being in the realm of the ordinary finding the laundry a magical endeavor filled with, Dawni Cunnington say, "gratitude." Thank you.
