with a full moon in my eyes ::

 With That Moon Language

Admit something: Everyone you see, you say to them, "Love me." 
Of course you do not do this out loud, otherwise someone would call the cops. 
Still though, think about this, this great pull in us to connect. 
Why not become the one who lives with a full moon in each eye that is always saying, with that sweet moon language, 
What every other eye in this world is dying to hear?

-Hafiz

i remember all the years i was dying to hear, the years i was hungry for love. and a friend saw me in my soul-emaciation; she really saw me. with tears in her eyes, and she said:

i long for the day when you come to know
just how much 
you are loved.

::
::

when we come to know this love, to live and breathe the truth of it ~ only then can we become those with full moons in our eyes, through our glances spilling love over the world.

do you need someone to see you? to really see you?
let me be one with a full moon in each eye.

i am wrong ::

i like to say that i'm a recovering perfectionist. for years i held myself to impossible standards and beat myself to an emotional pulp whenever i didn't measure up.

then i saw the title, tired of trying to measure up? by jeff vanvonderen. i bought the book and read it twice, back to back, filling my copy with dozens of notes. shackles began to fall away and i can honestly say that now i'm no longer a perfectionist ~ but a recovering one, chain-breathing sighs of relief.

one thing i found helpful in the recovery process (because in the stages of recovery, we often sneak back into the arms of our nemesis, don't we?) was to give myself permission to be imperfect.

i need permission to be imperfect.

and it's reflecting on this and on the words of a very wise friend that i face another nemesis, that i look into the eyes of another permission.

i need permission to be wrong.

'You are wrong,' he says. 'You will be wrong. I am wrong. I will be wrong. And we'll both show up before God with the 2% we might have gotten right, and we'll fully know that, regardless, we are loved and will always be loved. I think the question is moving from, "How much did you get right?" to "How much did you love?" At least it is for me.'

how much did you love?

certain strains of religion make an idol out of being right.
i made an idol out of it.
it's humbling when you learn your roots are showing, and you wonder how long they've been there, stark naked in the daylight. but my friend is right ~ i am wrong sometimes. why am i so afraid of it? there is no fear in love, however, and this is where i want to stand. when i err, i want to be on the side of love. when i'm wrong, let me be wrong on the side of grace and mercy.

how much did you love?

this
is
so
freeing.