Walking out our forgiveness is like growing a forest from the very first seed in the dirt.
I wish I could say it is easy, and there won’t be bloody days, weeks, months–years. But there is truth in the blood. In the tears. There can even be joy in the holy depths of rejections. The people who see you, or actively deny seeing you don’t make you the monster. You must plunge down with your hands and caress the roots of each tree. You triumph on that moss before you walk on it. You prune the hedges of the bushes and pick their sweetest fruit. No apologies. This is your kingdom. Care for your bonsai, your seedlings, your tiny, unfruiting grafts. Soon and even now you will be mighty. Soon and even now you will be moss, bush, and dwarf. The life is in you, golden, holy, held open and up and down and NOW. Even now. Forgive yourself, and plant the seed of that greatness. It is going to grow whether or not you love it. Be the medicine you need. Make the love you want. Cry the prayers that lift you to God’s cheek on the morning’s climax. Forgive the nothingness of neglect, and the heaviness of malice. They are the manure of your greatest trees. Start with your own temple. Sweep out the cobwebs of dreams you put on pause because of that face someone made at your dream. Pray the prayer you need over someone else. Kill the shame with a mighty sword. And stand, royal, with your army of mighty trees.
There is therefore NOW
No condemnation
No separation
No expiation
The bill is paid
The way is laid
Bare
Go
Grow
Be
And tell the haters to take TWO seats
You’re doing this