Queering the Triathlete (and Other Discomforts)

A Melancholy Zebra determined to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Meddling with Metta

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First, let me acknowledge the cheesiness of the alliteration in this particular title. Second, I’ve stared at this post screen for a good half an hour so far trying to figure out what I can offer that is both sarcastic and mindful.

I’m not there today. I’m feeling neither sarcastic nor mindful, though L begged me to return to a sitting (or even walking practice) earlier today, even for just ten minutes if that’s all I can manage. Well, technically speaking, I am carrying out a sitting practice, one that lasts for at least 8 hours a day… sitting on my ass at my desk working and trying to piece things together. (There– I managed a bit of snark. You’re welcome.)

It’s hard to fight grief. It’s hard to sit with it. Accept it. Let it go. Let it be. Any of it. It just clamps on to your foot like a bear trap. How the hell do you get out of a bear trap? Pry-bar, endorphin-fed superhuman strength, friendly hikers passing by… but sitting still and accepting the moment does not remove a blasted bear trap. This particular bear trap has been on my leg for nearly ten months now.

Abstract of the abridged version: the husband of someone who was a friend/aunt/mother/mentor type to me, someone whom I loved dearly, broke enough laws and policies to make a lawyer drool over settlement prospects. It nearly ruined my future, ruined my solvency, and my mental health crashed. Alas, she’s in the blast radius for the fallout bomb. I don’t know if she was eagerly or begrudgingly involved or simply had to watch in disbelief. But all I’ve been able to do for the past day or so is sit here in horror of what might happen over the next month or so.

However snarky I can be, I try to adhere to the principles and philosophies of metta as much as possible (possibly to the point of recklessness. The amount of fast-moving vehicles I’ve thrown myself under to cover someone else’s ass could transport the archives of the LoC across the country, or at least it feels that way.)


So, what is kindness? Is it kind to forgive transgressions? Duh. I’ll forgive someone nearly anything. But is it also kind to remain silent to protect their future? Or is it kind to speak out so this doesn’t happen to someone else? And can’t? (Policy is not stringent on some of the aspects, though laws cover what the policies don’t.) I’m usually all for second chances. I’m working to create mine. But then again… there’s something to be said for protecting someone else’s right for a second chance, too. Perhaps it’s a good thing that I’ll have little control over what happens to an institutions’ employees when those employees fuck up.

Where does metta fall on the line between Second Chances and Never Again? Or does metta not even touch that line at all?

Does anyone else have any thoughts? 


For the Love of Metta,


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