Breathing again.

Claiming that you have got the truth wrapped up does breed violence and intolerance. Timothy Radcliffe

There is a word that keeps popping into my mind. I know I need to pay attention. I know it holds information for me. Learning. Perhaps a stretch or two.

I know this word is a trigger point for me. A hot spot. A word that grates against the bone, burrows into my skin and raises my temperature.

I know it is an important word for me.

And I don't like it.

Because, in judging others with this word, I know I am guilty. I know I am responsible for its presence in my life.

And the word is, Intolerance.

I saw it yesterday. Talked about it. Spoke of it, on it, around it, in it. Felt its presence. Felt is limitations, its grinding out of all that is beautiful and unique and graceful in the human spirit.

It was a small thing that triggered my reaction.

And in that small thing, big things rose up within me.

Anger. Jealousy. Fear.

A whole host of emotions that speak of my human condition. That open me up to my human frailty. That constrict my human being.

Intolerance limits me. Intolerance makes me the persecutor. The bully. The aggressor.

Intolerance is not what I want in my life.

And the only way to get through it, is to move through it. To live in it. To be in the emotions that sweep over me like a fog drifting in from coastal waters.

For me, recognizing my intolerance opens me up to embracing my ability to change, to grow, to learn, to move through it into that place where I accept what is, as it is, as you are, as they are, as I am, as we are.

Intolerance holds a gift.

My journey is to open up to it and be aware of the light shining behind its darkness. To embrace the shadows lurking at the edge of my humanity, calling me to shine.

Yup. Gotta let intolerance go and move into acceptance.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Gotta breathe into the darkness and shine brilliantly in the light of Love.

Nameste.