Southern Etiquette

I see you searching to avoid the pain. You can conquer Kilimanjaro      
but it will still be beyond you. I know you; you will continue until your      
reaching is blistered Sahara bronze and your eyes are snow blind      
from stubborn rebelliousness. You will seek the grail of relief as though      
a Papal decree to rescue the fallen and drag your martyred pride home      
for your purple heart of bravery and courage.      
     
It will all be for naught, because when it quietens and your heart      
rests it will be just as raw because you will not have learnt.      
     
Sister, listen to the age of my voice, hear me good when I tell you      
that no amount of searching can conjure the part of yourself you packed      
away in another's lot. No amount of pleading ever returns the gambler's      
loss after the dice is cast or future once the Tarot is dealt. You must      
be ready to both accept then let go of the experience when it's past.          
     
Love is an infinite eight that crosses paths in the middle constantly.      
Here, let me draw an arrow for you. See? That place in its heart      
is where you are now, and there's me beside you. Soon we will part      
and one day you will find what you are looking for at this exact spot.      
You'll discover the only thing that has ever been worth living and dying for.      
     
You will discover Love. But it won't be with someone else. It will never      
be a someone else. It will only ever be and always has been yourself.        
That sounds lonely and desolate for you right now, so let's focus      
on something else. Remember your manners.  This is the south      
and we have customs in place for such a time as this.Think of all our      
ancestors sweating in corsets and parasols under marriages      
of wealth and convenience holding up these very precepts just for us:      
     
"Ahl'ways leave a more'sel ah dinnah on yore plate and ne'vah, aye      
say nevah emp'ty thayat bottle all tha way of wine as a sign o'yore      
breedin'. Watch yore sil'vah'wa'ya fah hea'vin's sake, af'tah all, they don't      
call us Su'thun Bay'elles fa nu'thin, huh'nee. Aye do du'clayah, ayand,      
most impahtantly was yah Grayand' Moh'tha's tea'chin" (This is the one,      
sister, you must remember above all others): 'You have ta learn to get      
up from the table when love is no longah bein served, dahlin'."  
   
There's dignified grace in the letting go, girl; so much love in the farewell;      
tears will no longer be from an empty loneliness when you find yourself.        
 
Until then, remember the words of Hafiz.    
 
“Don't surrender your loneliness so quickly. Let it cut you more deep.      
Let it ferment and season you as few humans and even divine ingredients      
can. Something missing in my heart tonight has made my eyes so soft,      
my voice so tender, my need for God absolutely clear.”    
   
~    
.