Consequences of going dark.

 Everyone has a choice everyday, to go dark or to go light.  For my own health and energy, I guard myself against going dark.  It kills me inside. I guard against negative energy, anger, spitefulness.  I try pretty darn hard to keep positive and up beat.  Mostly I do.  The light saves me.


We both had a choice this morning to write light or to write dark.  I had picked Dogs. as a theme to keep it light, thinking of that scamp beneath my feet, Bonnie.

Then a memory that had been buried popped up and smacked me in the face. Oh no, do I ever have a dark piece.  The day my grand father shot my dog.

Such things do not belong on pretty blogs.  Such things do not belong in the front part of my head.  They don't deserve to be remembered.  They don't belong in a world of love and beauty and fairness.

But Sammy does.   I have a right to cherish what's inside my head.  I am too old to have to tip toe around and not look into all the rooms.  I can make myself sick, churn my stomach over, bring bile up into my throat,  hand over mouth, if I want to.  I can choose to remember with tears falling down my face, curled up in a ball clutching my knees. I can get it out, look at it, wring some wisdom and understanding out of it.  And cover the emotional swelling with compressed compassion.  A bushel basket of compassion. I can survive all over again.

It was a choice.  That poor dog never did anything wrong to anybody.  As Forest Gump would say,  That's all I care to say about it.

I forgive you Grandpa.    Grandma, you are still on the hook with me.