For Today - My Own Right of Recovery

Competitions are for horses, not artists.  - Bela Bartok

The reading For Today is wonderful this morning:

The art of living is probably the highest form of personal expression:  one is not concerned with who is behind or ahead, but rather with the enjoyment of now.  There is no waiting for a payoff, for that day when certain things are settled or when that ship comes in.  The art of living requires that I like myself, accept what I am and stop wishing I were otherwise.  There is no room for pretense.  People who have develop the art of living are sweetly loving and deeply sensitive while maintaining their independence.  They are as respectful of their own values and opinions as those of others.

For today:  In looking to others in the program for help, I am careful not to deny my own right of recovery.

My feelings were hurt yesterday.  B. forgot my birthday.  I knew he wouldn't forget on purpose; it had to just be a mistake.  But it hurt.  I sent him a little note checking in, seeing how he was, and expressing my surprise and that my feelings were a bit hurt that he didn't wish me a happy birthday.  He sent me a note this morning apologizing profusely - I was right, it just slipped his mind.  That's ok.  Not great, but ok.  I can live with that. 

What I am pleased with is that I told him how I felt.  Rather than just let the hurt sit there, I communicated.  That is progress.  It is progress too that I didn't let myself go down the rabbit hole of thinking I'm not important to him, that's why he forgot my birthday, he doesn't really like me, our friendship is not strong, I'm wrong about him, etc, etc.  Instead, I assumed the best -- he simply forgot -- and then said how I felt.  And he responded to me with affection and apologies.  That takes some of the sting out the hurt.

The reading this morning starts with a quote from Bela Bartok, the composer.  He was a bit of a nemesis when I studied piano -- his modern (20th century) interpretations of Hungarian folk songs were challenging, often discordant, and hard to love.  He was definitely true to his art:  original, bold, raw.  May I be the same.