Today is the first Saturday in June. My insides( and Google weather) have alerted me that Summer has officially started, the sun and heat are here, demanding some sort of action, time to settle into life with the relentless and dastardly triple digits. The sun is bossy and active…and it screams, DO SOMETHING!!!!! So, I am writing while listening to Liquid Mind, the curtains are drawn, the air conditioning is humming, and my ass is planted. I’m writing. It’s Saturday morning, I skipped yoga, and I skipped beating myself up for skipping yoga. Today I skipped rushing out the door, I am listening to a quieter, yet somehow louder, less bossy and infinitely more loving voice. A voice suggesting I get down and dirty with some neglected part of myself. The part that I spent last night with is still here, still speaking to me. Asking me to Stay. The energy is active, but my work is more passive, my job is to let this mystery move me…without interfering.
This is day 2 of my four-day weekend, I worked hard to schedule time with friends, to keep myself busy, because the thought of too much time alone filled me with tightness and worry. I wasn’t ready to go into the deep grief that I knew was waiting just under the flimsy surface of my brave face. I am mostly at peace regarding my decision, it makes too much sense, even to my heart, but I know that I’m sad. I am profoundly sad. I spent Monday night crying my eyes into flesh-colored golf balls, and soothing them Tuesday morning with frozen tablespoons. Hours spent crying…that was enough, ok? …..let’s move on, I’ve got mountains of important things to do. Pretty please? My plan was to get distracted, and stay distracted…until I could no longer outrun myself. I wasn’t ready to raise the white flag of surrender.
It was to be raised for me.
When Kristin had to cancel our dinner plans last night because she forgot Sophia still needed a pirate costume for her dance recital on Saturday, I panicked. Immediately I was on my phone trying to make other plans, and as the invitations rolled in, I realized….I needed to stay home. Be alone. I graciously declined J’s offer to cancel her date, and N’s invite for cocktails. Even though I didn’t want to sink below the dark waters, I knew I had some work to do down there. I typically don’t run away from myself, but this hurts, and it’s gonna hurt some more. I’m tired of hurting. Someone, quick…Call a waaaaaaaaaambulance!!! After pumping iron, shopping, cleaning, and eating cheese pizza, the ultimate comfort food…there was nothing left to do, just get down to the grieving. So I did. I wrote and wrote…and I wrote some more. . And I cried from the bottom of my toes, great powerful sobs of loss and disappointment. Bottomlessness. The pain is bottomless, and it is has been asking me to feel it for lifetimes. I’ve felt it so often, so often…it’s never ending. The pain of the entire universe was moving through me. I used a whole roll of Trader Joe’s toilet paper to absorb the tears and snot. Exhausted and peaceful, I fell into a deep sleep at 9:00. A wild Friday nite spent falling way down deep into the core of myself. Unrivaled fun, I recommend it.
Metabolizing May kicked my ass.
The fifth month moved through me fast, demanding me to chase desire and to struggle with most everything, so I did. In May, the urges arose two by two, opposing each other, fist shaking and swinging, leaving me exhausted and burned out. Heart and head in the ring, beating the shit out of each other, again. I am obedient when it comes to internal urges. A slave to the dream, cause, I’m a dreamer, and a slave to the pragmatic, cause I’m a realist. I’m all sorts of contradictory stuff. Obviously, these two fight a lot, and eventually, after spilling lots of blood and tears, they somehow become harmonized. It’s none of my business how and when this miracle happens, but it happens. It always does, I’m just not able to predict when. May was a blog free month, oh…I have shit loads to say, butt loads of insights, but…..it’s not quite time to share the details of the adventure I’ve been on, it was a super concentrated experience, 5 years lived in 3.5 months, I was living in dog years….. I’m still digesting it, and it’s RUFF! Yet, the harmony has happened, and it seems grieving must follow this surrender. Finally, I’m resting with what would have happened anyhow……what is happening…despite the fighting. I don’t know why I fight, I just do. It’s how god made me, I’m a fighter.
While I’m not ready to share specifics, they are mine for now; I will share that I fell in love with an exotic, wonderful and…..errrr…. interesting man.
Our timing was divine….
Depending on our perspective.
I’m going with the perspective of the dreamer, the part of me that moves from the inside out. The part that sees the world with pink lenses, and refuses to consider that mistakes happen on god’s watch…and god is always watching. I don’t yet know what the lesson, the gift, or the whatever- the- hell- you- want- to- call- it is. And I don’t know that my time with this man is over. I do know, that I wouldn’t take it back, because the journey into the center of my heart with him as my guide has been one of the richest so far. But, there is a time for stepping back, for letting go. A time for dropping all agenda’s, for getting quiet. A time for pulling our energy back to our center, and allowing it to inform and re-inform us of the many truths that are always right here. This time is NOW. My heart and head are cuddling, spooning, they are resting, having finally come to an agreement they can both live with.
Everything is just as it should be.
No mistakes are ever made.
I have been on a great adventure, to be followed by many, many more.