Nescience may be sweet, as in its relief from responsibility or involvement, and yet innocence may still subject one to suffering the consequences of events without being their originator. Its way is of the easiest: If chosen, it feels or appears peaceful, free of mental disturbance or any urge to act upon the unknown or unpercieved; if unwanted, it will cause disquiet while leading understanding to its dead-end. Truth-seeking is not for gentle spirits: It leads beneath the surface, through it all, right, to the core and takes courage to meet with a possibility of dreams getting frustrated, since what was once discovered and revealed can hardly escape your notice any more. The most fundamental part of any discovery is its acceptance, for without it, nought more than a shadow of enlightenment is percievable, this only deepening confusion and illusion for that matter. The bare factual reality, without sugar-coating or demonization, the distinct moment of looking truth right in the eyes is of essence here. While one's perception of reality is accurate in the sense of getting impressed by the external world internally, it is bound to be subjective as seen through specific eyes and filtered through a certain level of awareness and life experience and riverie, decievable by a mere semblance of actuality. It is as if all in the outside was the embodiment of either love or fear in one's mind's eye, enlivened and transformed depending on the energy thus emanated and recieved, thus forming a distinct image of the world. One may feel hopeless when swallowed by the dark or find solace in anticipating the light of another dawn. All that I fear will keep haunting me and all that I dream of will be constantly slipping away, but if I stand still and refrain from forcing anything into being according to my wishes, not in the sense of passivity or defeatism, for I shall put my heart into the realization of my dreams giving it my all, getting prepared for sure, but in the sense of letting it go eventually, surrendering the result to a higher power that exceeds me and all in existence, for the Universe favors vaillant hearts, being the energy of creation and loving-kindness, then even if armed with visions only, imagining myself in the midst of my destination, it is granted that I shall get there one day.. 🌞
This blog is dedicated to my original, authorial poesy, poetry in prose, musings, construals, and translations. My heart is aflame with passion for both dance and writing as channels for my creative self-expression. Both constitute a language of its kind and to my liking that metamorphizes, alchemizes and reveals the inner world. Here arises a soundless voice that yearns to be heard; here thumbs a wild heart in a dervishesque whirl. The I is poetry in motion, mine is a dance of words.
27 January, 2026
The Dazzle of Sunrise
25 July, 2024
The Eternal Now
On the claim of the "eternal now" as the only existing time, as opposed to the past or the future, I opine:
True: The past is gone and the future is yet to be, so the only living‒and malleable‒time is contained within the present. And yet, what was, is; what is, will be. The present is (was) built upon the past and the future is (being) built upon the present. What was has led here and here is whence what follows stems. Each moment, however alive, passes quickly, merging with the past, a time that once was and used to be the "now". What is now is a remnant of what was and a vision of what will be. Yesterday is a now in retrospect, tomorrow is a now in prospect. Thus, the now is not only now ‒ spanning over past and future times in constant parallels, the only time known to man to be alive, it lies in eternity.
18 April, 2022
Continuum
Water, which wells up from the springs of life, is a continuum: It flows on and into the eternal ocean of time. It continuously ebbs and flows, its foamy waves washing ashore, thus influenced by the cool silvery moon, which it elementarily constitutes, just as it forms the essence of our physical Self as we are born of a watery womb and out of our heart gushes a carmine intravenous stream circulating within us and flowing out of us in sync with a lunar cycle. As if the inner was symbiotic with the outer: Both is of identical nature.
The flow of water is wavy like locks of hair as you caress them and they slip through your fingers; it undulates like mountain tops, femininely curvaceous; it spins in a whirl of chaos, voraciously devouring everything in the deeps of her eyes; efervescent, it bubbles in a velvety foam as you float in her arms; it burbles softly like a stream or rages widly like a torrent... Water is a life-giving force, water is a lady, water is life in all of Creation.
As it cleanses and washes away, water is a cathartic transformation: both on the physical plane and in the psychical sphere, it banishes evil and gifts good. As if along with monthly blood sorrow and all doom flowed out while room was given to a new seed of joy in life. Relieve yourself of that old, useless attire, immerse your body in the waters of a lake, washing off dirt and gloom; throw Morana, the winter of woe, into the river flow so as it carries it away and revives sunshine and sunheat within you; may bitter wails be washed away by the sacredness of your tears, mightfully gushing out as the heart speaks its truth through them; dance in between drops of rain, which will flush the dust away, erase footsteps, quench your thirst and cool the burning heat down.
Water is the embodiment of the adage that "what is soft is strong": with its gentleness, fluidity and pliability, it will – despite appearances – overcome rigid hardness.... or, in Keith Richard's words, "The strong guys are gentle, always. It's only weak guys that come on strong.", or, using Bruce Lee's simile, "the bamboo or willow survives by bending with the wind", whereas "the stiffest [immobile] tree is most easily cracked". Its strength lies not in aggression, but in a certain kind of a flexible persistance with which it will pulverize stone eventually. Water is stronger than ice: That "water hears and understands' renders it shapeable, welcoming and open, whereas by freezing it stiffens, becoming inflexible and unyielding, thus "ice does not forgive'. May ice melt, becoming water, as we need more humaneness, and tenderness in this world, we need to open ourselves to love.
Bruce Lee speaks of water "making its way through the cracks" that is "not assertive, but adjust[s] to the object and [thus] shall find a way around or through it'. As if our surroundings as well as ourselves were water:. "We are always in the process of becoming and nothing is fixed," and so only if devoid of inner ossification, with an empty mind, "formless [and] shapeless, like water," can we "change with the ever-changing" and "outward things will disclose themselves." His wisdom says: "Flow in the total openness of the living moment. Moving, be like water. Still, be like a mirror. Respond like an echo."
Water is one of the fundamental substances of the universe without which there is no life – birth, flow, change, catharsis, good, eternity. My relationship with her is multilayered; I love her; she is both without and within me..
22 November, 2021
The Essence of Art
What seems to be a sad paradox of the present time is the fact that despite the quickening and simplification of mutual contact and communication people appear to be growing apart, as if their communal time has shrunk into a couple of fleeting moments, as if the space they perceive by their path, around themselves, was just a few meters distant from them. It saddens me at times ‒ which may be why I am so drawn to art, which defies indifference, as it builds bridges that arch over such distances, as, through it, the creative relates self-expressively to the world, with which (s)he so connects as the creative energy comes out from within, from the spiritual into the material, as if it was within him or her wherein, unconsciously and spontaneously perhaps, lay the pure power of co-existence, which expands, and a certain connectivity of a world suddenly complete.
Art is strong. It is a world in and by itself, a sphere of distinctiveness the form of which is dependent on its creator, for it is the creator who says: This is how I see the world! Thus we can look at the world through different eyes, from a unique perspective. Art is a light that transcends itself and its partakers in a life-giving force in the embodiment of our earnest longing for spiritual deliverance ‒ such art is London's Star Rover in the undying poetry of life, since, even if restricted, it will throw off its hurtful shackles and slip out of darkness. It springs from the soul that knows no physical boundaries. In this, it is larger than life ‒ at least the ephemeral physical one.
The notional realm has no end, being chiaroscuro, clair-obscur, fumbling, and reveals itself in an impalpable artistic message personified by people themselves. May my inner world be the heart and soul, may anything be my kingdom, it is the outside world that represents contact ‒ albeit not only with beautiful materialized dreams, but also with empty and needless cruelty ‒ and it is life, rhythm, motion, direction, growth. And I cannot get arrested, or I will die ‒ but now that the faraway is unfolding before my eyes and thoughts are whizzing past in the crazy of world of ephemerality, I am falling to the hard ground; now I am getting lost but without going astray as I notice a fixed point while dancing in a musical embrace.
We fear that whatever we create will be taken by time ‒ that said, as though during our life we each drew our own picture that will speak on of what we were like, thus leaving our mark on the map of the world. There exists no world ‒ we are the creators. We are footprints in the dust of roads, writings engraved in stone, echoes among mounts, ships at a stormy sea, trees reaching up to the sky, raindrops in sun heat ‒ we are life. We create, recreate ourselves, our own essence through our artistic creation. Art ‒ whether it be a paint, a sound, or a motion ‒ is a dream build upon thoughts, our mark of a gone life in infinity; art is a way toward us.
It is through art that passing moments endure, being captured, transmuted, immortalized. Not everyone will understand them, but the perceptive will try to grasp them. One must be open to get the message. Understanding dwells in the acceptance of distinctness. There is wealth and beauty to be found even in the unseen, unheard, and unnoticed. The secret lies in the art of feeling ‒ feeling art. In that, art teaches us how to live.
It is my conviction that the essense of true art inheres within its spiritual outreach. Despite working with palpable tools to self-express in the outer world, it is not only to play with superficial forms but to stem from inner wealth, shaping an immaterial energy, thus allowing the select of us create something that will exceed themselves in space and time. Something of this kind must not be marginalized or suppressed because where there is art, there is the heart ‒ and the heart is life. The artist cannot but make art, he or she must hallmark it by distinctness, put the heart into it and let it sing and weep, look for its essence. Even the best technically created harmony feels empty unless it is a living story and dream.
Uniformity is not of art's own, it is not monolithic, neither does it obey the principle of fixed delimitation ‒ the only limitations lie in our fear and humanity itself. Just as the piano has a certain number of keyboards but the music it makes is infinite, the body as a tool is delimited in space but the creative soul knows no boundaries. Thus, each of its pieces can be differently colored, like a mozaic, and into each of them another human fate or experience in many a rendition and intensity can be projected. It is such freedom of expression that endows it with expanse and development, although it has its "buts": If art is limited or, God forbid, banned, the mere miserable existence of a more or less dead form or even its demise is imminent; if it is absolutely limitless in its freedom, it can be enriched or degraded by it. In this, art reflects its creator.
Therein arises the question of authenticity. Can authenticity be referred to all that is original, an artistic act as unique as a newborn child, which is not yet another blind carbon copy of whoever or whatever? Or, does authenticity spring only from the source of a tradition that sees to the preservation of certain features to make a given creative act what it is proclaimed to be? Even if your life is intertwined with that of others, the uniqueness of your human experience is beyond doubt; thus, if you tell your story in your own words and put yourself, your true Self, into it, you, as an artist, remain genuine.
Art is my pillar. It is "the little something" that is all that suffices to make my whole world shine. As if, out of a sudden, my nameless life and faceless existence gained content and meaning. It is to me what water is to a river. It is the breath that sustains my beating heart. Music speaks to me and I do not know what it says, but I can feel it and understand, so I cannot remain motionless, with it moving my body on an emotional wave, I feel like dancing, perhaps because my inner world has never been blind to beauty or to pain either, and this world within me wants to live, open its arms to freedom and never be silenced.
Art is liberating, cathartic and healing. It is abstract in its dancing poetry, soulful and divinely inspired. With its self-expression stemming from inner imagery, divergent from any externally given or reality-based form, you, as a creative, free from any dictate, are given total freedom in authenticating and materializing your own unique percepts. The interrelationship of us and God is not necessarily religious, and I feel it on a spiritual plane as an omnipresent, all-embracing and all-permeating energy that infuses wisdom and inner guidance, animation and creative inspiration into our soul, as if the Universe was re-creating and expressing itself through us. You draw from within that which is sourced from without all there is.
To the one whose views are earthbound and conservative, whose focus is on the material and pecuniary, the world of art(ists') is "peculiar" while I am the embodiment of an impractical nefelibata who places art upon a pedestal as I weave my long-winded emotive stories. If only I could, I would devote my life to art solely but for being a soul trapped in the material world, faced with the need for a means of subsistance, not by choice but of necessity, and art is my life but not (yet) living, even in need of investment itself, so I will struggle on the material front while nurturing the dream of an artistic breakthrough. The more the one who measures any endeavor against profitability (seeing it as an end, not a means to an end) equates my creative dreams to "pointless" pursuits, the longer I dilly-dally, literally dancing around it, in fear, so, with my external and inner critic united, there you go....
The more so, amid predominant materialism, capitalism and underappreciation of art as something "dispensable", one's genuine love of art that exceeds business is applaudable. What if, to some, it is a reason to live, this making it a must? Dance is everything to me and permeates my life to the point of being synonymous with it. What would a society be without culture? It would become but soulless, empty, dead.
And yet, mine is a rebellious heart that will scream, "The critics must be silenced!" and "Carpe diem!," and go on dancing this ever-lasting dream and will not let me rest until I go and fulfill it in reality, as this calling toward artistic creation I feel so strongly drawn to is a purpose to live for that stems from undying passion and, as I would like to believe, indomitable spirit. What I see as an inevitable part of success is the cessation of living in my head and the adoption of a can-do attitude with courage, faith and trust in myself and my odyssey.
16 November, 2021
The Infinite "I"
I observe four fundamental levels of so-called "multividuality", which is an existential question of a personal identity (Who am I?), uniqueness (but of heterogeneity too) and correlativity of oneself and the surroundings.
💞 Level One💞
The so-called "I" is but an ego-made mental construct designed for self-identification and identity, but it is also the delimitation of Self in relation to others. The "I" has built up walls, in fear of losing itself, the "I" fears "You", the "I" cannot be "Us" then.
💞 Level Two 💞
We are each a miniscule fraction of the all-embracing universe, a piece of a giant mozaic, and, as such, we are part of a bigger whole that exceeds us. Therefore, we may feel tiny and insignificant. Small things become big ones though; a whole is composed of all its parts, so even a single missing part, even the tiniest of all, will cause such a whole cease being whole, as it no longer is complete. We are thus an integral part of entirety, without us, there is not what surrounds us either.
💞 Level Three 💞
We are alike rather than unalike. We are born of the identical source, we come from the same environment, we are of the selfsame essence. We are all interrelated, all in the cosmos is interconnected. Another person is a variation to me myself, in which sense I observe myself in You and You observe yourself in Me, thus You are Me and I am You: We are each unique and yet one. There is no "I", neither is there any "You" ‒ there is only "Us", and only "Us" means a loving harmony. In this regard, the answer to the question, "Where do You end and I begin?", is: Nowhere. There are no boundaries in the sphere of the infinity of our soul.
💞 Level Four 💞
The world is neither black nor white, it is multicolored, and the truth lies in one of the shades of gray ‒ like Yin and Yang: there is a bit of black in white and there is a bit of white in black. A human being is such too: being not monolithic but multicolored, multilayered, and, yes, "multividual"... There is duality within him or her, ligh and dark, joy and pain... People play different roles in life, go through various phases, some hide behind their masks... There is a certain kind of ambiguity. And so does an "individual" exist at all, or is there but a "multividual"?
The Infinite "I" © Ladanseuse
Transl. "NesmÃrnost ‘Já’", written on 4. 10. 2021
An inspiration to this loose reflection essay of mine, through which I offer my own insight into the main motif, was the beautiful brainchild named "Mnohodinec" (whence the neological "Multividual") of Lucia Kašiarová & coll., who has presented it in the frame of her "performative non-solo" in Studio ALTA (seen on 19. 6., 5. 10. , 23. 11., 15. 12. 2021; 2.. 3., and 22. 9. 2022).
→ Mnohodinec (site in Czech)
→ Lucia KaÅ¡iarová & Ufftenživot: Mnohodinec (English)
16 October, 2021
Phoenix Rising
We floated like water
unknowingly in our sweet reverie,
but we were tinder
that caught fire,
which plunged us into misery.
🔥
We fondly wish it had not happened, for the flood of pain was, and still may be, maddening. Even if we heal, we remain scarred forever; even in the brightest shine, there is a flitting shadow here and there. We rightfully feel that it is “not right”
But... it is the deepest pain that can lead us to become our highest Self should we possess enough strength to undergo such an inner transformation.. Pain can be alchemized into power, the greatness of the former being directly proportional to that of the latter. There is a Sufi prayer that says, "Break my heart into thousands of pieces so that it can be filled with endless love." We wish to be safe, despite which we cannot remain closed to the world, as only with the open heart can we be loving.
This too is part of our becoming whom we are now; such is the path we have taken; such is our destination: Here we come as such and we cannot "unbe" so. We would be different if it had not happened the way it did, not necessarily better off ‒ temporarily happier perhaps, but likely poorer in spirit too. We would not have reached as far as here ‒ where we are predestined to be.
It is not about the negation of reality ‒ it is about re-focus on inner growth and wisdom; about the finding of some meaning even in dark places as we shine our inner light upon them. It is baptism by fire, but one through which we will be reborn.
🔥
Inner trials are immeasurable and individual, thus futile are efforts to measure them objectively. My heartbreak or trauma may be devalued in uncompassionate eyes that regard it as "no big deal", but still it is my reality that reserves, with due empathy and understanding, such recognition.
Therefore, rest assured, I say so with utmost respect and compassion for people and that which they must have gone through. I know what suffering is and so do I know that no-one wants to suffer, thus I deeply feel for all sufferers. I, being but a humble one, do not imagine triumphing over all ‒ I just refuse the victim mentality that would only render my hands tied.
The mythical Phoenix rose from its own ashes as a transformed, new being, which, to me, is a great symbol of a sufferance that has lead to greatness. Alas, not all rise... But can we rise? Yes, we can! Whatever exists or happens is what it is, but it is our perception of it that predetermines how we perceive it, and thus it will appear to us. Who or what determines what is or is not beyond us? We ourselves do! Let us stay strong!
🔥
Should you rise, like I have risen, from the ashes of your own life, you will discover that...
not even annihilation is the very end, as from the incinerated a new life shall spring;
there exist no irretrievable losses, for any loss is followed by renewal;
neither do bad events last for eternity but strengthen one for self-advancement.
Änd so find in yourself the faith in continuation, courage and resolve to go on;
find in yourself the strength to live and you will soar like a Phoenix high above!
That is, yours is a brave heart!
Phoenix Rising © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Fenixův vzlet", written 2020 - 2021
30 May, 2021
A Fateful Choice
Without faith―faith in any sense―, what does one have? Doubts, uncertainty, fear? Pretty wretched equipment... Faith is a beacon in the hopelessness of rough seas, a light that will lead one out of darkness. One must not lose the faith only because of being told not to believe.
A fatalist, who is it? Maybe just a puppet in the hands of fate, a shipwrecked soul thrown upon the shores of existence, a mere observer of the course of events, a motionless figure in the madness of running time? When we say, "It is or was supposed to be thus," not only do we humbly see that we are part of a bigger whole, exceeded by a higher power, but we also find a deeper meaning in the given event, seeing its transcendence, perceiving the end turn into a new beginning with a light that has started to shine in the dark, as we have finally found the good in all the bad. If something or someone enters my life, it is not by coincidence for sure, and yet I choose whether I open myself up to them at that point, how I respond, which predetermines what follows.
Much is a question of choice: What has befallen me or is happening to me may be my destiny, still... I can but do not have to stay, face it, resist it, fight it, withdraw into myself, shy it away from me, flee, hide... What happens if I stay, and what if I go? If I am open to it, what will I be willing to sacrifice? What will my sacrifices, loaylty, devotion hold for me? What if it breaks my heart? What will my arrival at peace and surrender bring to me or take away from me, and what about my resistance? One is a creator by choice. Our power lies in freely electing our response to any situation we have found ourselves in.
Destiny cannot be a predetermined answer to the question of my choice, not in absolute terms, as my choice is a question of unpredictability, a faith in boundless horizons. Here and now I stand at the crossroads of life and elect one of the possibble paths ― yes, each path has a destination, which may be predestined; however, I have taken the path, albeit without knowing where it will lead me eventually. The step I take gives impetus to a chain reaction. My choice co-writes the story of my life, it co-paints the map of fate. Destiny is an inner landscape in which I dwell answering myself to the question of whether I let it perish, go wild, or turn it into a blooming orchard.
We are rovers in time, but how much time have we been given? How quickly should we go, and where to? What path should we tread, and why? Shall we set off for the journey at all? Have the cards been dealt and the die is cast ― and even if so, has it not been me who has drawn these cards from the deck so as to play with them? (...) Unless I ask, there are no answers to be found, but even if I do, there may still be no answers to come. Then, it may not be a matter of questions and answers, neither may there be an answer to some questions ― and even if there is, it is not the one and only unshakeable truth, as it is, rather, one of the possible points of view.
Therefore, in this time and place, in the labyrinth of a thousand roads, I make my choice, whereupon comes my surrender to the hands of Providence.
25 May, 2021
The Inner Way
When it comes to sense and sensibility, what unwittingly pops up in my mind is a cartoon featuring an achy-breaky heart above which looms a reproachful brain with a caption, "I told you so," which is to suggest that the heart was "foolish" once again and came to harm because of not listening to the "wise" mind.. While some would swear by pragmatism, it just presents itself not as a way to deliverance;, but, rather, as a blank and unbreakable wall in front of which I stand as a street artist; while some put their faith in rationality, I dare ask doubtfully whether it is what truly drives most of human behavior...
I do not know why the mind tends to be so glorified when it causes us--or me--so much trouble! Engulfed with myriads of constant thoughts, producing masses of mental constructs oftentimes inconsistent with reality but still capable of hurting and spooking you! The mind can become an impediment when trying to intellectualize the impalpable, as it creates boundaries out of fear of infinity -- and your soul IS infinite. Nah, without controlling it and attaining inner peace, it is going to do you disservice. 'And you, as a thinker, ought to ask yourself whether you identify yourself with the mind, or whether the mind is part of you and yet an entity apart, which, in a broader sense, will lead you to the question of who you are...
The heart sees clearly what the mind is blind to. I believe in following my heart, for it always tells me the truth it is a bearer of. Ask your heart what your true longings are; it knows beyond all doubt, as, deep down, your heart and you have an understanding. Feelings--much as disturbing or overwhelming they can be--are messengers and should be received as such, as they come with a meaning and a reason behind it to be sought out.
We must do things from the heart to be truthful. Father Jaroslav M. Kašparů once observed that, we are to forgive from the heart, saying that the mind will always keep a record of grievances, whereas, a heartfelt forgiveness will make them weigh less heavily upon us, for "all life springs from the heart" - indeed, "when your mind stops, you live on; when your heart stops, you die". We must not look back though, as, to use a parable, "once you start plowing, you must not turn around", lest you destroy the field instead of plowing it up.
The heart will fix itself. It is your mind you need to worry about. Your heart already knows how to heal." said Nikita Gill. I find this very accurate, having felt for long the need to get out of my head, or, better put, to prevent my mind from controlling me, given all its obstructive clutter. To be fair, the mind still offers some answers on the mental plane, but there are things that cannot be tackled intellectually, especially the deeply emotive ones, not to the full, and it is the heart that is the emotional master worth following.
At times, it is better just to feel, to perceive, becoming a peaceful observer, embracing the situation, giving things and people space and freedom, sending the energy out into the universe while beseeching it to grant your wishes and yet giving in with all the faith you can muster in its all-embracing wisdom and innate goodness.. As if the answer lay in acceptance; as if letting go meant attracting. As the universe speaks, listen, go with its flow, if it is a free flow, as there is no gain in violence.
The mind is a control freak; it keeps knocking on the closed door. But it is the heart that holds the key. Look within it: The heart is a temple wherein all love dwells and whence love radiates into the world,. Open your heart! Love is the answer to all there is., says the starry-eyed romantic in me. And it is the soul that is said to resolve this unending dissonance between the two--the mind and the heart--, so let us embark on the soulful journey. Listen to your inner voice, not to the voice of others, as deep inside of you dwells the truth of your innermost desires. What makes you happy that you are alive? The answer lies within you, not in the outside world. Others cannot tell you, as they are not in your skin,. Divine guidance is not a thing apart - the universe permeates all.
I believe that, the Divinity speaks to us through the soul, which sheds light on the why the soul possesses wisdom that transcends us, providing you with inner guidance. The soul intuits things, knowing that cannot be known at a given point of time, even fortelling the destiny of your chosen path. It is reliable in that it knows even if there is no way of telling: no past experience, no outlook into the future. Thereupon, there is no better proof than seeing it happen, is there? And I have! The soul is a sage and a seer. Given that we are endowed with it, we may as well carry within us the answers we so desperately seek only if we gain access to this inner weatlh. Deep in my heart I know the way..
The Inner Way © Ladanseuse
22 May, 2021
Magnanimity
The only way of stopping the perpetuity of pain and suffering is to stop it with you: to be magnanimous and take the blow(s), swallow the bitter pill, and forgive lest the hurt magnify. Only if peace is made within can peace be enjoyed without. One can transmute dark into light, bringing in more hope and love. Therein lies liberation for all concerned. Whence stems alchemical healing. This is the way of the cycle breaker; this is the path I wish to tread.,
The thing is that, many opt for an easy way out, or for personal comfort, if you will, but I believe that we should disregard the level of difficultness when choosing among options. What is easy is not always right but what is right is not always easy.. Personally, I have always headed down the road that I consider as right, even if it was hard—the one of thorns. and roses, as it were—, the one to be walked if I wish to get where I need to be on a spiritual plane: Whence things can be sublimed.
Nursing of grievances, whether they be real or imagined, and bearing of grudges will likely become the entrance into a dead end, particularly when the other party is impenitent and unresponsive, whereupon, ultimately, one will likely poison oneself with the negativity nurtured within (and even the righteousness of one's indignation does nothing to change that] rather than ever live to any kind of redress. There is an apposite Buddhist quotation that says something to the effect that, holding onto anger is like a foolish act of drinking poison with the expectation that the other person will be affected by it. In refraining from it, one peacifies oneself in what constitutes an act of self-love, a self-transcendent love that is like an outpouring of underground pellucid spring of water transformed into a life-giving lake..
Some believe in "an eye for an eye", mistaking it for justice when it is, quite frankly, but a revenge, and no matter how justified it may be or feel, it only perpetuates misery and lowers one to the level of those who hurt one. The bad cannot be banished by the bad – the good is to be given more space instead. The strong forgive, freeing both sides from the shackles of shame, and will not compromise their principles,, such as decency and loving kindness. This is not about morality, albeit nobility is contained within it – it is just that, the low road will not lead anyone to heaven. There is no good war and neither is there any bad peace, as the wise know indeed.