This appeared in my Instagram feed at a pertinent time, a time when rage was rightfully mine. You probably caught my post about choosing love over rightness, though. And can see it’s a theme for me right now. My moral and spiritual challenge.
I’ve written before how silence is beautiful and effective when a troll rages. It stops the venom in its tracks.
I ask, however, is silence appropriate for loved ones? Is it not a tactic? A game? And thus contributing to the bad behaviour we’d rather rise above, in love? I discussed this with my meditation teacher. “Love is a game,” he said. “It’s a dance. It can be artful.”
I guess it can be. Silence can provide a surprising vacuum into which the other can choose to expand beyond the hurt and venom. And that’s truly beautiful.
I highlighted on Instagram, though, that I’m shithouse at such an artful game. I think I’m too attached to “right”. Is this a female thing? A cerebral thing?