I’m through with the grieving; through with the anger; have passed the point of forgiveness to the person who sprayed blue paint on that rock. Up to the time the rock was clean, I pretended I owned it. It was my spiritual place. I concluded that it is no longer my spiritual place. The rock has been violated. I have been violated. That’s all over now. However, I would not lament if a forest fire burned past this sacred boulder and burned off the paint.
I forgive the rock and the glacier and the Connecticut hillside from which the rock was plucked. And lastly, I forgive myself for acting way over the top like a crying baby. It is time for me to return to the rock and get on with it and to reestablish my connection with the rock as my spiritual place.
It is nonsense to continue carrying on this complaint. It has become a burden. In one sense, the rock invited the vandel as defenseless inorganic matter.
I will visit the rock and pray. Pray for the vandel; pray for myself; pray for all those who come past this rock. I will use the rock as my teacher. It has taught me that even rocks change very slowly, sometimes change happens quickly. The rock also teaches me that it is still sacred no matter what happens to it.
I apologize to myself for such an impulsive response to this defacement. It was childish. My tantrum is over and I’m ready to move on to the next one.
He has published two books; THE NISSEQUOGUE RIVER: A JOURNEY and HIDDEN AGENDA; A POETRY JOURNEY.He has also published many essays and poems in such journals as the Long Island Forum and The Long Islander.
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