Rough Seas & Man-o-war
Yesterday when I arrived at the beach for my morning swim I didn't hesitate to go in despite a slight swell, the waves near nil, and the space between them long.
The first 30-minutes was magical. Watching the sunrise, its rays filled the cowl and illumined the folds of La Concha's shawl as the pink skies turned to gold.
But on the return to shore, within the span of a single stroke and one kick, three invisible remnants of a Portuguese Man-o-War found me. Even though they were no longer connected to a living medusa phase, each inflicted a small but ridiculously painful sting. Thankfully, a small spray bottle with the remedy, vinegar, was in my beach bag, and within an hour all that remained was the memory and the welts.
Waking up this morning it was disappointed to see a repeat of yesterday's conditions. No way was I going to swim today. Making coffee I began to reflect on this...
How often do we forget and repeat painful experiences?
Does auditing such 'lessons' increase our intelligence?
How often does our action reveal ignorance, the habit of ignoring?
Self-forgiveness is the soap that cleans forgetfulness, understanding what lets us look at the emotional scars without any need to reopen them.