Inky,

Huh? I do those things consistently already, and never flung mud intentionally, and certainly not for fun. This is more about boundaries, such as saying I am feeling this or that. Its uninvited, unwelcome, and inaccurate. If you’re sore from our rocky beginning, sheesh, I meant no harm. Rather, I was trying to help steer the brainstorm away from manipulation, which I explained, and why. And apologized for any sting.

As far as “lighten up”, I’m pretty light. I laugh a lot, play wholeheartedly with my kids, wife, friends, etc. On TB, yeah, I stay more serious, to bring better light. I take what we do seriously… these are real people, on a beautiful, epic, and too often painful and hopeless journey, and their lives matter to me, so I consider, breathe, rest, open, and pour. Perfect? No. Do I think I deserve better than to be poked at? Yep. I’m trying my best, ya know? Helping folks turn manure into fertilizer into flowers, wherever they are, as best I can. Do you feel I sing off-key, am missing?

Did my face turn blue? Not on my side. On my side, it was more like… you put a clown nose on me. Haha, funny enough, my daughter does the same. But then, you say “haha, look he gets so mad when I do this to him”. The clown nose didn’t do that, I’m waaaay more humble than you think. The appearance of an invasive false description did/does feel shitty, like a poke. But I also was the recipient of a significant amount of criminal sexual abuse, so when a boundary is ignored like that, yeah I still canker. Sorry, not fully healed. Still, like I said, you poke onto my side unprovoked, thinly hidden in a poem, I offered a hug, said “punching a teddy bear is bad for your soul”, and let go.

But you just couldn’t stay on your side, had to toss back that “hammer of light” as though you did nothing unskillful. Do you know what happened next? I turned away from hammering back, became entangled, felt invalidated, cried, meditated, offered the exchange to the sangha for help, found forgiveness, blossomed with peace, moved on. You may think you’re a loving being, but you don’t seem to be being loving. At least not in a package digested easily by me. Which is fine, sister, I trust your dance. But do you want to know if it hurts? Yep, I’m sensitive, and I don’t wear armor or run. Will I come back again, tomorrow, try again with whatever you toss back at me? Yep, my roots are thick, resilient in most areas, and my lips, stubbornly, authentically, smiling… confidence in impermanence strong. Even if its just another slap onto my side, as though I’m a jerk? Yep. Why? You’re worth it, seem to want my attention, and what have we got to lose?

You know what would be even more awesome? “Hey, Matt, sorry… yeah, perhaps its good to stay on my side unless invited, I won’t do that again, I can feel how it wasn’t funny for you.” But whatevs, sis, you sing in your language, I’ll sing in mine, and as we seek so shall we find.

With light,
Matt