Hoʻoponopono (ho-o-pono-pono) is an ancient Hawaiian practice of reconciliation and forgiveness. Similar forgiveness practices were performed on islands throughout the South Pacific, including Samoa, Tahiti and New Zealand. Traditionally hoʻoponopono is practiced by healing priests or kahuna lapaʻau among family members of a person who is physically ill. Modern versions are performed within the family by a family elder, or by the individual alone.
I am sorry,
I forgive you,
I love you,
I thank you.
These are the four small but massive tenements of change.
I realize, “I love you”, just isn’t something I think or feel, until I do. It is such a rare thing. But when I finally feel it; it feels intentional, yet somehow, also distant.
I will say “I love you” to those I adore, but our geographical distance keeps us removed. I pass the sentiment through telephone lines and satellite feeds.
Meanwhile, my grandma, a few rooms away; and who I truly and deeply love, sits alone. Why is it, I say “I love you”, to her, begrudgingly; almost with bitterness?
What have they done to deserve this? If it is only my discontent, and we are all the same person, only separated by meat sleeves like sausages; am I spoiling those around me?
I am reminded by old adages; “Treat yourself as you would have others treat you.”
The Chorus Of My Answers-
I am mean to myself.
Some lost Golden Truth, imposed and impressed-
” Treat others as you would have them treat you.”
The reality of my actions-
“Treat me like disturbing trash in the wind. Be swift with your disgust and disregard immediately.”
So, I lay in bed.
I recite, “I am sorry.”
My next thought is “What am I sorry for?” Deep down I know the list is endless.
“I forgive you…”
But why? I can’t even forgive myself.
“I love you.”
For what? I hate love. I hate the word “love.”
What did I do? No need to thank me. How can we live in thankfulness with feelings like this?
I start adding things. Improvising.
” I am sorry I have been so harsh with you. I mean it.”
“I forgive you for allowing Truth.”
“I love you for your resilience.”
“I thank you for sticking around.”
“We might be crazy.”
“I am sorry I’ve tried to kill you.”
“I forgive you for pushing me.”
“I love you for your perseverance .”
“I thank you for accepting my apologies.
Things start flowing from my heart and my eyes. I am knee deep in a love/hate moment.
“I am sorry I haven’t believed in you! ( I really, really am!)”
“I forgive you for not believing in me. ( I don’t blame you, I haven’t believed in me, either.)
“I love you because you are lovable. (Even when you don’t feel love or lovable.)”
“I thank you for being, me. (We are One, and that is why it hurts.)”
By this time I feel the familiar choke in my throat; a solitary tear creeps between the slits in my closed eyes. Again I feel that Love/Hate resurface… what have I gotten myself into?
“I am sorry I dehydrate you, every day.” (What a dick I am. I know better.)
“I forgive you for enabling me.” (Why am I my biggest enabler?)
“I love you for the limits you set.” ( How can you even say that? My limits seem nonexistent to myself, these days.)
“I thank you for understanding.” ( I think you might be mistaken… for now I am more confused.)
I go further. I focus on my grandmother.
“I am sorry you are getting old.” ( I wish I had more patience and kindness.)
“I forgive you for your failing body.” ( If only we could turn back time.)
“I love you so, so much!” ( Why am I crap, at showing it?)
“I thank you for your continued support.” ( I suppose that is the least I could do, right?)
“I am sorry I am a bitch to you.”
“I forgive you for not stopping me.”
“I love you because you exist as 100% love, in my mind and heart.”
“I thank you, for being just the way you are.”
The grey matter in my brain feels extra mushy.
“I am sorry I can’t figure out how to make life easier for the both of us.”
“I forgive you and your past.”
“I love you because, I do and always have.”
“I thank you, for your silent strength.”
Most days, it’s just me, and her. And the only people I have to feed, is us. Admittedly, most days I wait until I am absolutely hangry before I choose to eat. By that point, she has already been snacking, and squashes our plans to have a shared dinner.
I have made plans for food for “us”, not “me.” Tonight I do not want to eat alone, but her disinterest is telling.
At this point, I am so hangry, that I put on some boxing gloves and punched a tree for three solid minutes. I do fifty jumping jacks. I wonder if I am killing the tree, by not hugging it enough.
I avoid eating “our” food, and have another drink.
My Lover calls me back. He tells me “Everything is great! I just had dinner with an old friend of mine that I haven’t seen in a long time.”
I tell him, “That’s all I was calling about earlier…. I gotta go.”
The call disconnects, and I am pretty sure this time it wasn’t my fault, but who knows. The hung dial tone is loud and it’s amplifying my rage. In all this dissonance I decide to take a drive behind King Soopers.
I am looking for a “For Sale” motor home I heard about over a week ago. There are several motor homes and fifth wheels in the trailer park area. Nothing is labeled “For Sale.” I am miffed; this adds to my daily defeat. I just want reinvention and newness; with out babies.
I think I am wasting all my good karma on free drinks.
A week ago I wondered what if I treated alcohol and tobacco, the way I treat psychedelics; I never buy them, they are only received once in a blue moon by gifting, and they must be blessed before consuming.
Today that idea seems a void. The small destructive pleasure of escapism are at times, the little lights of living. The little social resurrections, despite how volatile. Obviously, I don’t ask for much. Maybe, I don’t ask for enough. I can’t bare to ask for more, but why?
This Universe is supposedly infinite; most of us really don’t need much. Many ask for more than they need, and receive more than they asked for.
I don’t mean to sound humble… my ego isn’t very humble; however my needs are few, and therefore I would say my needs, are humble.
“You get what you ask for.”
“You get just what you need.”
“You get what is coming to you.”
“You don’t know how to appreciate it now.”
Maybe not, but I think I do. Every moment is “Now.” Science says time does not exist. Spirituality says we are all infinite. Astrology says I will find abundance in my 50’s. Fuck, that is another 20 years.
“To some, 20 years IS a lifetime.”
I tell my inner guru to shut the fuck up. It is annoying the present place, now, me. Fuck.
I make my way four miles home from the pub. I grab a sammie on the way. I Hoʻoponopono along the way, trying to reconcile some people in my life that I feel have the same emotional lack that I feel in the present moment. I believe the motion of walking will solidify my meditation.
“I am sorry I’ve allowed you to lie.”
“I forgive you of your past lies.”
“I love you for your brazen attitude.”
“I thank you for teaching me.”
Despite my outward expressions, I am just talking to myself, out loud.
“I am sorry you haven’t been honest.”
“I forgive you for your misuse of imagination.”
“I love you for your creative spirit.”
“I thank you for your unabashed-ness.”
Home is quiet. The loves in my life are both asleep. I am happy to sleep alone while battling the reality of falling asleep alone.
Those two don’t realize how different but the same they are. My loves.
One sleeps in the basement and the other sleeps above, only separated by twenty feet, and fifty years. I lay in the middle of decades; always more distantly close to one, more than the other.
Distance. Miles. Emotions. Years.
I decided after a long while, to google what I can only say, was once “The Love Of My Life.”
His refusal to engage with social media led me to finding his baby momma, now wifey.
“What am I doing with this lurking?”
I find her comfortably taking up space on Facebook. Right there, now, in my face sits this happy little family.
There he is, still handsome. His daughter looks a lot like him. I cringe. I cry a little.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think that this should have been us… our life would have been different, most likely childless.
I have only had a handful of relationships, and this is just another one that tells me, (from the outside looking in,) that I am all wrong.
I have tested every man I have ever loved; ultimately pushing them far, far away. Not long after we are over, they move on and start families with women far more congenial; far more loving, far more responsible. I can’t help but wonder how damaged I must be, or how clueless my self dependence is.
I am, in fact, so sick of being and feeling alone. Out of love. I am sick of feeling like I have to keep my emotions at an arms length away from potential love. I am sick of not finding attraction that stirs my understanding and compassion. I just want to feel the stirrings of mutual love. Loving mutually. I want to wipe those past relationships from my broken heart.
Those who did choose to love me, loved very hard. In turn, I had a very hard time accepting it, until it was gone and over.
Hindsight is 20/20, right? It is. I know.
I am sorry we didn’t know how to love each other. I forgive the pain we cause each other. I love you, always. Thank you, for taking time to love me.
I am sorry for breaking your heart. I forgive you, for breaking mine. I love you, and I can’t stop. Thank you for teaching me.
I am sorry things didn’t work out. I forgive you for hitting me. I love you for the sweetness’ we did share. Thank you for setting me free.
There is just so much to say, and not enough words. Again, I am left with question and yearning. I would have given him everything, if he would have just, let me in.
I love a lot of people, but being ‘in love’ is rare. Mostly for me, it seems attraction is not a defining component of love, how ever it is a huge factor of ‘being in love.” I don’t just mean physical attraction; I mean multi-level attraction. Body, mind and soul searching type shit.
A burning of compassionate passion, that brings two bodies into a union. I have found the sparks of those fires quickly die off. Admittedly I hold grudges that affect my mind, actions and libido. My libido is already, very weak.
I don’t want to be touched (physically) by ‘just anyone.’ I need everything to feel ‘right.’ This rarely happens. Instead, I find myself upon some high dusty shelf in some sort of “self preservation.” I wonder, if I am wasting time?