How Divine is Forgiving? It’s a nice concept but what’s under the sculptured draperies? We forgive when we don’t really care because what was done to us brought unexpected harvest, as I always try to explain to the peach trees as I prune them hard, to the cats when I shove pills against the Gothic vaults of their mouths We forgive those who betrayed us years later because memory has rotted through like something left out in the weather battered clean then littered dirty in the rain, chewed by mice and beetles, frozen and baked and stripped by the wind til it is unrecognizable, corpse or broken machine, something long useless. We forgive those whom their own machinations have sufficiently tangled, enshrouded, the fly who bit us to draw blood and who hangs now a gutted trophy in a spider’s airy larder; more exactly, the friend whose habit of lying has immobilized him at last like a dog trapped in a cocoon of fishing line and barbed hooks. We forgive those we firmly love because anger ...
Come for a dose of inspiration from some of the greatest (and at times oddest) minds of history. The table is set. Come eat.