Whose Truth?

I have been exploring the idea of Truth and realizing that the more I insist upon my truth the harder it becomes for me to see the Truth.

Take, for example, my children’s father. While I am sure there is good in him, I keep being confronted by the worst in him. I know that, at his core he is filled with Light, and yet, his effect upon me is one of Darkness.

Just when I think that I am at a point where I can co-parent with him in a mutually respectful loving way, he will do something that makes me want to spit on him and scream that he is a fucking narcissistic bastard who is unworthy of breathing the same air as decent folk.

I grab my truth and wave it frantically in front of me, as though it will some how protect me, oblivious to the fact that, in reality, it is the red cloak of the matador, inciting the Darkness.

My truth wants to blame him for the difficulties in my life.
The Truth would praise him for those very same difficulties.

My truth tells me that I am love and forgiveness and he is fear and anger.
The Truth sees that, out of all the souls in the Universe, his was the one who willing to risk my hatred in order to allow me the opportunity to learn and to further my journey toward the Light. My soul weeps with gratitude at his kindness and generosity.

The world is a whole lot lovelier when I am able to step out of my truth and be in the Truth.

I know this with every ounce of my being.
Still, too often,
My truth beckons with beguiling beauty and I follow willingly into the sultry arms of Darkness.