Why do I have the idea that hate can not be present in my world, and needs to be transmuted into something else? I even hate hating stuff, and make mental notes about how to bend it into something more constructive…. But apparently I’m not the only being here who feels like this, as was shown by the search for a suitable graphic to add to this article. Thanks to Sodahead for this, and please check him or her out if you have the chance or inclination. He or She pops up frequently on my new way of finding relevant images:

It is night, and the kids are making dinner, with Laura being dressed in her mother’s old wedding gown. The front door has been blocked by a huge spider’s web with a hole in it, to make clear to the roaming bands of kids that it will in fact be opened when they dare to ring the door bell which is being guarded by a one inch plastic spider.

The lasagna is starting to smell great, and I wonder why I’m not in love with All of It, why I must try to root out hate with all my might? Is it merely a personal preference, or does it go further? I actually will try to wipe out discord between my ex and our children, despite the fact that she usually claims my behaviour to be a contributing factor to the argument. If one of those phone calls ends up in her wanting to end the call because she feels she can’t get me to listen, I don’t just give her her way and toss it down, but instead get a cup of coffee and take the phone upstairs to calm her down, make her think about the situation again, and maybe come to the conclusion that it isn’t all as bad as she saw it just now…

Now that has nothing to do with me being particularly good, but everything with my indecent obsession to make everything agreeable, down to the point of sacrificing my preferences if they aren’t important enough to outrank my desire for peace. Now that is easy enough for the little things, like using any butter to bake the meatloaf that goes into the lasagna, something Laura never does. But at times, I feel like staying peaceful means having to sacrifice stuff that does make a difference to me! And then, it all becomes tricky real soon.

The lasagna is ready to go into the oven, and discussion about when the bechamel sauce needs to go on top ensues. Laura looks eery in her white dress and face, and the other two figure out how to fit three dishes into my oven. But the question remains: does hate belong? as a part of the All, it should have its place in our world, and apparently it does, or there wouldn’t be so much of it about. But still, I figure even I as an undivisible representation of the All, am still entitled to my preferences. Just like I prefer beautiful darkhaired ladies to the more common blonde variety, I prefer love to hate. But that combination also does imply that I would never ever hate the ones that don’t quite qualify for my circle of preference….

Actually, preference isn’t quite one circle, but rather a slow motion image of a pool of rain water, with a nice autumn rain above it: all circles made by the falling drops signify some preference or another, with the matrix falling green letters adding to the mix. You focus on one of them characters, and can immediately score it as belonging inside certain circles. But somehow, hate falls outside all circles, except the one that is called ‘Me’!

Yes, at times I can thoroughly hate myself, simply because I can’t hate anyone else. Just like I come last when it comes to treating myself, because of my obsession called ‘Others first’, it is also quite easy to hate myself and my situation when the adversity around calls for it. I guess that, most of all, is what I must change my mind about. But it is hard when everyone tells you YOU create everything outside yourself, and that it is just like what’s inside yourself. It is said to be all OK, but no real explanations are forthcoming about how it is OK. We are just asked to believe this on face value. So, since outside is all my doing, and it sucks at times, then inside must be equally rotten, there’s no arguing yourself out of that I’m afraid.

So tell me, how did you guys and gals out there tackle that particular conundrum? Dying to know here, even though I always was here, and always will be… (can’t change that!)

Don’t H8 All of You,

Dre’