Tuesday, January 14, 2025
When I was married, I didn’t respect my husband’s mystique. I didn’t know. I assumed the position of omniscience, which is supposition in disguise. I had him all figured out, which is lunacy. That’s how people seem to gather power, but that sense of power is delusional. Trust is not paranoia. Trust and respect share a fine line.
To respect mystique is complete reverence and allowance of freewill, change of heart, and unpredictability. Suspicion doesn’t cover your bases. You can’t cover your bases with fear. I guess I couldn’t live with the fact that someone thought differently than I did. I couldn’t live with the fact that someone wanted something differently than I did. I couldn’t live with the fact that someone might freely walk away. But I had to. Mystique wins. It’s always got the upper leg.
If you’ve got it figured out, watch out. The ass-biter is close at hand. If you hover over another, pry into their most intimate spaces, and try to get ahead of their every move – “Whoa… here she comes! She’s a man eater! Watch out boy, she’ll chew you up!” Mystique will chew you to shreds if you don’t revere, fear, and respect it. Take the awe out of life. Go ahead, I dare you, you fool.
You can change. You can move at the drop of a hat. Then what? Did you think you knew yourself? So how can you know another? How could you know God? How could you know there is or isn’t God? The great mystery lurks intimately, especially with the wise fool. Who knows? I certainly don’t, but I respect the mystique. Close the door on mystique, and it opens on your backside and chews you up. Here she comes. As if you can cover your ass. She’s a man eater.