I’m (Not) Offended

I do my best to avoid being offended. Like, ever. For anything.

That doesn’t mean nothing is offensive. I mean, c’mon. There is plenty to be offended about. (There’s also plenty to be joyful about, but that’s a different conversation.)

Counting myself out of the ranks of offended is also not out of some glowing-holy kindness to all the asshats of the world.

I don’t like being offended. It feels like a loss of control to me.

If I find myself bothered by what someone else is doing, if a feeling of offense grows, then I’m enslaved to the notion the situation must be altered for me to be happy and whole. Eek! Because how often does that end well, hmm?

If you require outside cooperation to be happy, you’re screwed.  Freedom comes from being grounded to who YOU are, no matter what sort of asshattery is going down. Freedom is knowing one’s worth so clearly, outside confirmation would be superfluous.

I won’t say I never find myself uttering a gasp or getting a little hot flash. I just don’t roll in it. I move on as soon as I possibly can. Because really, who wants to pay attention to that sort of crap? I can stand around sniffing the trash or I can look for the flowers to smell. There’s plenty of both in the world.

If I don’t worry so much about what other people are doing. I’ve found my life goes a lot smoother. Offense by its nature puts you in a place of being tied to how other people are doing. I’ve got a limited amount of time to frolic upon this Earth. You can be damn sure I’m going to spend it having the best time I can conjure.

Offended or not, be well, friends.

Signed Dix “I’m Not Challenging You to Offend Me Now” Zen Goddess

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