Letting what shit go though

It's important when doing subtle work with deeply rooted compulsive behaviors to be as specific as possible. Along the way, I am bound to flail. Flailing is part of learning how to land a punch, to use a violent metaphor. Do you ever read psychological/recovery type stuff like my blog posts and think it's just trite hooey? I sure do. 

I have precisely zero power to let go of her, specifically. I have tools to work on letting go of my own entanglements. There is where I have power. Those are things I can change. 

I am reminded of the eternally useful so-called serenity prayer, which could just as well be called the courage or wisdom prayer. 

I cannot change a person outside myself, or the situation that person is in. That's acceptance. 

I can change my structure of attachments and dependency. That's courage. 

I can recall that difference, and try to find some tiny little shred of wisdom. 

The older I get, the more apparent to me it is that wisdom is the rarest thing for humans. The rarest thing. Being a flashy minded fellow, I have put a lot of faith in knowledge. But all the knowledge in the world can be scant wisdom. 

Accept everything that is not me. Change whatever in myself is causing suffering. Look for whatever tiny shreds of wisdom become available. 

I was reflecting on the so-called St. Francis Prayer this morning, as I do every morning, even though I am a non-theist and know not to exactly (or even inexactly) what I am praying. Grant that I might seek to comfort rather than be comforted, to understand than to be understood, to love than to be loved. Of course there's dangerous traps all through that passage, unwise misinterpretations and self serving motives and invitations to martyrdom and ego snares galore. But, in essence, I like the goal. It reminds me of Joni: Oh I hate you some, I hate you some, I love you some
Oh I love you when I forget about me. 

I can't will myself to let go. The irony of that hope is hilarious. I think what I am really talking about is taking myself seriously enough to advocate for my own happiness, while supporting completely the happiness of others, even those who are not giving me what I want. Simple. Right? 

anyway, I'll take the long comedy over the close up tragedy any day. I bet when Julian of Norwich had her revelation, she laughed.