It's days like this where the excitement of work and the madness of the world could not capture my attention for anything. Taking a walk into the wetlands near my home this morning, I sat down next to the waters for a few hours. Cried deeply and hugged myself. Stared at the waters and the majestic birds soaring around me. The simple gratitude of being alive meeting the emptiness I feel inside. I've gotten to the point in my healing journey where I'm trusting the empty moments more, where all I can do is stare off into the distance and bring breath to the forefront of my awareness. Slow it way down. Close my eyes and feel. Get out of the analyzing mind. The empty moments feel more trustworthy than the attempts to fill up the space with positive spins or reactionary, negative ones.
Things happening in my home have been tough. And I need to feel all of it fully, let the raw emotions move through my system, and not tell myself I'm being too much for feeling them, or even crying about it. As I sat with the waters and the birds, I asked myself: what is most important to you in this moment? What is most alive in you?
What's most alive in me is fear. Fear from my heart and body opening up so deeply to someone new in ways that I've never felt so intensely before. Insecurity and self-doubt taking over, wondering if I'm lovable enough. Sexy enough. Smart enough. Communicative and honest enough. I care so deeply about this person, he's so beautiful to me. It takes my breath away and my body sends all sorts of signals.
On the other hand, living with someone I had committed years of my life to is getting complicated. I want to honor our connection and the years we had, yet I'm starting to feel disillusioned by my own idealism that living together after separating would work out great. Unresolved heavy stuff is coming up. Hurt and sadness is in the air. Sobering realizations on my part that our time together wasn't very romantic at all to me, despite how deep our friendship and partnership is. And yet our relationship has a complexity to it that I'm still trying to process and fully understand. But I'm also so grateful for these years too, I'm grateful for the wonderful human that he is and all the time we spent together. The incredible work we've done together in the world, to serve the public good. So this separation has its own sad truth that I'm reconciling with. And the least I can do is give him the respect and space to be messy that he has given me all these years we've been together.
So what's important to me right now? Compassion for myself. Willingness to experience new things, like the powerful connection I feel with this striking soul. Groundedness. Integrity. Transparent communication, yet also taking responsibility for what's mine to process and not someone else's to burden them with. What is the right alchemy of thoughts and actions that can hold space for all of this? Right now, I'm not so sure.
Staring at the Bones by Danna Faulds
Sooner or later, life in its variety
And wisdom, chews the meat from
The bones of my illusions. It sucks
The marrow from inside, and throws
The dry bones to bleach in a pile.
Expectations are treated with equal
Disdain. Stripped of their finery, they
Are revealed as nothing more than
Future plans, easy way to stay safe,
Roadmaps drawn a blind cartographer
Trying to imagine distant destinations.
This is the present moment's boot camp.
Life's lack of rules will be obeyed or I'll
Spend my time peeling potatoes in the
Past. I can choose to leave behind the
Skeletons of what I thought I knew and
Raise the flag of truth on the front porch.
I can take a single step and wait for the
Next one to be revealed. I can only
Know where I am in this moment.
Anything else is a desperate attempt
To clothe the bones and set them walking.
