Tuesday, February 11, 2014

just beautiful

Today I've cried. Buckets.

I can't even remember the last time I've done that. Maybe when I arrived in Steamboat Springs, CO in September of 2006 after leaving a man I had been in a relationship with for 32 years. For the first time since I was 18 years old he was no longer in my life, or so I thought. Last September he came back in with his wonderful, beautiful wife who I just love dearly. I've been learning that sometimes goodbyes really mean see ya later. I didn't think there would ever be a need to see him again until he was the only one who I wanted to be there with me. It was our daughter who brought us together again, and this time he brought his Leslie with him, and our family grew by one. Now I remember the time more recently when the tears flowed so freely, and it was the moment I saw his car pull into the driveway, and he came out to talk with me. I held him and we both cried buckets. His wife joined us. There is something so powerful in the act of letting love guide. I saw love operate amongst us like a soft, kind blowtorch. It cemented a bond that has deep roots and loving kindness.

And today I am remembering that sadness, that overwhelming feeling of helplessness turn into a sweet surrender knowing that there is nothing I need do right now at this very moment but just sit in the feelings that I'm feeling and know I'm okay and so is my world.

Last night my friend and I took my daughter to the train station so she could begin the next leg of her journey. I know some of my tears have a lot to do with seeing her off and having me still be in a state I've been wanting out of for a long time. I am sitting with that feeling right now and breathing through it as I "see" another place for myself with beautiful beings that are truly my brothers and sisters. While I look out the window right now and see the massive quantities of snow, I see in my mind's eye that raised-bed garden where I pick vegetables and herbs for the evening meal shared with my soul family. I see the dresses I make for the goddesses that enter my life and dance in their garments in the moonlight. I see the smiles on faces sitting around the kitchen table, spreading butter on the homemade bread and mingling effortlessly in the communal language. I see that all so clearly, and my tears dry up. I look outside at the vegetation and see growth and abundance. I look inside my heart and feel its expansion, and know that I am loved deeply.

And I breathe. And with that, I know that everything is just beautiful.

Thursday, February 6, 2014

let it be

Sitting on the couch this morning with the fire roaring and the dog snoring, checking my Facebook page when the following video just "popped up". (I really don't know how things show up in my life, but internet seems to put things in my face like nothing else, and this is a prime example.)

magical video watching

This crazy life I reside in has been a roller coaster ride of the scariest, the most thrilling, and the greatest growing. Sometimes though I just hold my hands up, look at the ceiling, and scream upwards: "Beam me up, Scotty!"

I know there have been people who have thought committing me in some kind of mental facility would serve their purposes well, but the crazy that lingers in my thoughts is not one of the unhealthy mental diagnosis. Instead it's one of much self-reflection, one that steers me down winding and hilly paths that twists and turn by the seconds. Right when I think I have a handle on some direction in my life, poof! there goes that avenue.

So, here I sit clueless as a vagabond, no baggage, light as air, free to leap, and wondering at the moment in which direction. When I've left one place for another, I had always had that "other" place in which to go. This time is different. I thought I had a place. I could still make that my place, but I don't want to. Whatever made me think that I wanted to live in a ski resort community AGAIN? I don't ski. I am not fond of shoveling feet of snow, skidding on ice, feeling "squished" in the valley surrounded by mountains. I'm a wide-open girl. I like space around me to stretch out and sometimes to be alone, but sometimes not.

Back in 2008 I left a mountain resort town after just meeting someone that I had a relationship with. He begged me not to go. I insisted. I had to. I was on my next mission. I had my plan mapped out perfectly. I was on a time schedule. yada yada yada...

Not only did he "let" me go, but he helped pack up my studio carrying boxes down a steep flight of stairs, not once, not one time saying a harsh word, being angry, or even sad. He told me that he would do whatever he could for me because he knew this is what I was determined to do. His only request was to call him on my 1000-mile U-Haul truck driving trip through the mountains before heading south. He just wanted to know that I was okay and was making my way to my destination safely.

Every day since then I have discovered in many ways through many relationships just how brilliantly his actions have shown me genuine non-attached love. I've traveled thousands of miles since I last saw him. I have forged, developed, and ended several relationships, but his feelings for me have been a recent reminder to me that his ability to "let" me go and experience the world without him has been one of the truest forms of kindness I've ever witnessed.

How do I trust my own heart after I feel it has lead me to relationships that I just KNEW were the right ones for me, and they each became ones that needed to end, sometimes rather quickly. Follow my heart? It has lead me down some pretty tough dark alleys lately, but each time I've come through a bit shinier and wiser. That much I'm sure of. So, am I wise enough now to choose what shows up in my life that comes so easily, so effortlessly, so truly? Is it okay for me to know that he still loves me and just be with that, maybe even love him back?

I do feel love for him. I always have. He has shown up in my life over and over again at the most amazing moments. I don't take that lightly. We've had extraordinary experiences together whether we were together physically or not. And now I'm on another road looking west, watching it unfold, feeling into it, wondering just how unattached I can be with it. Maybe this time I can lead with my heart fully without getting my hopes up, without setting my mind on what it looks like, and just allowing it to be whatever it is. Maybe then we can see what happens with our love for each other.