I love that people are washable.
There have been times that my children or I were so covered in unmentionable substances I threw
away the clothes we were wearing. But the bodies.... oh the bodies are incredibly resilient. Even the permanent marker tatoos toddlers gave themselves eroded eventually, and I might add disappeared more quickly than the unauthorized hair cuts did.
One of the healing messages I kept close from my Aunt Louise was that "I have
feelings, but I am not my feelings. I have thoughts, but I am not my thoughts."
This has been a freeing truth, when I find myself covered in grimy emotions and notions.
Once I was angry at John for some infraction. I was driving with him to get the car worked on, figuring out how to cram this annoying errand in between time sensitive obligations. Then he said that he had checked on line and there was a movie theater across from the mechanic, playing the movie I had been wanting to see, and would end just a little late for me to get to work, but he would cover for me until I got there. Would I like to go enjoy a movie?
The anger was transported to someplace in another hemisphere, and in the vacuum, came gratitude.
I am not my feelings. I may let them glom onto me, but I can banish them. Remembrance of why I love my husband is a good deterrent. I have even been known to keep a
list of anti resentment protection in my pocket.
