Tuesday, May 18, 2010
The Death of Disappointment
Don't cry over spilled milk. Awww. Why not? Once upon a time I would have vociferously defended all the emotions that are associated with disappointment. This was during a time when my prime directive was all about authenticity. If one FEELS disappointed, then masking, ignoring or turning one's back on that emotion would be wrong.
Ah the mind. Maybe I should say ahhh MY mind. I can rationalize just about anything, I can. And make it sound (at least in my own head) completely right and proper.
I'm older these days (as I am continually saying here). These days what I think is that life is short and though sometimes it's not possible to avoid petty disappointments, MOST of the time it's completely doable as well as utterly authentic, to turn away from the vortex of that set of emotions, open the heart to some other way of being.
I'm not talking about great overarching grief or terrible regret or anything serious like that. I'm referring here to spilled milk, or as they spelled it on wikidictionary, "spilt" milk. Things don't always work out as they're supposed to. So what?
When I think of all the time I've invested in small disappointments, I'm kind of amazed. For heaven's sake.