Every Moment Creates Beauty

A friend shared something on Facebook today about honoring how interconnected everything is, how one small event can impact a huge blessing.  It got me thinking.

I’ve been living in old wounds lately.  The last 6 months have been painful.  6 months ago I let go of someone I loved because he just wasn’t in a place to return the feelings or give me anything like what I was longing for and needing.  I stood in my power and was able to let it go but it hurt. My heart took a beating and a bunch of old fear resurfaced.

All the old tapes about not being enough, not being good enough, not being lovable resurfaced.  So of course, my inner demons latched on to those, amplified them, and created more painful stories out of old wounds.  I’ve been living there for 6 months.  Feeling like I wasn’t worthy or lovable. Feeling like he didn’t want me because I was flawed, she left because I couldn’t measure up.  I started thinking everything I touched just disintegrated.  The voice got louder and pretty soon it was drowning out the more truthful stories about who I am.


Reading my friends post today I remembered how my life has unfolded in the last 2 years. A break up coupled with my best friend moving far away led me to my career in religious education ministry and a move of my own a thousand miles from the only place I had known.  With that came a lot of hard work but also freedom, the joy of knowing my work was impactful and fulfilling, and a life and relationship with my daughter I did not have before.  From heartache I spun the fabric of a new journey, an adventure in finding what made my soul resound with joy.

What has been unfolding since letting go of any hopes for something deeper with B.? I’m not sure.  I feel like the past few months have just been me barely making it.  My practice has suffered.  My compulsive eating habits have increased and I’ve been living in the illness of that addiction. I’ve stopped writing outside of a professional capacity.  I haven’t been making any art. My relationship with my daughter has felt more like a shadow of what it was when we first arrived.  Things have been … dark.

Among the dark there has been some light.  I founded Agape House, a living collective withcandle 3 other adults.  Though admittedly, I find myself wishing for more space lately.  I will be getting more space in January when a collective member will be leaving and I may yet create that art and writing studio I longed for when I first discovered this house.

Samhain is approaching and I am considering what it is time to let go of.  I want to let go of this story and move through the pain of rejection and heartache.  I want to call back in my practice, my intention and presence with my daughter, writing and art, and healthier habits.

I call back in my ability to be moved by the interconnectedness and celebrate that every action leads to some unfolding, some choice or path that wasn’t there before.  It swirls around us, sometimes beautiful and sometimes so sharp and bright we ache all over, but it paints a beautiful canvass when it plays out.  I need to remember to pause and pray, as Anne Lammot says, “help, thanks, wow.”


Teaching My Soul to Sing

Last August, in Georgia, I sat under the bright full moon and surrendered my heart to never lightknowing the answers to questions I never asked.  Under the watch of towering pines, I gazed through a fire into the eyes of the person I loved beyond all reason and let go.  I wrote a little about that experience here.  What I remember from it now, this full moon, is how much ease I felt when forgiveness finally rooted in my heart, for myself and everyone else involved in the breaking that led to my becoming.

Occasionally I get caught up in wondering about the becoming of my Self.  What started it?  Was it the breaking of my heart?  I feel, at times, it was most certainly that moment when my becoming started.  But no, by then I had already become a person who could lean in, love beyond reason, forgive, and let my heart break open again and again while love transformed me.  Maybe the unfolding started when I felt loved for the first time, really feeling it root in my bones and become something I was sure of the way I am sure my lungs are working – I don’t have to worry about them, or force them, I just relax and breathe and they work.  I could keep going back in time trying to find the moment of my becoming but the truth is there are a thousand moments that shape who we are, who we will be.

What I do know is somewhere along the way I became someone who loved fiercely and fully.  I became the sappy romantic I used to secretly roll my eyes at.  I realized love is a synonym for God.

I never thought I would become someone who held love as their highest priority.  Much of my life, love was just a word. I had made it to my Saturn return without a lot of fanfare for it.  Then I unraveled and in doing so took down the walls around my heart, destroyed the stories about how love was for suckers, and just let myself be crazy in love.  When it all fell apart, I just kept unraveling.  I found love was something deeper than a relationship.  Love was bigger than a particular set of expressions.  Love could take something away from you and break your heart while, at the same time, giving you something precious and break you open.  I wrote about this for just over a year so I will save you from rehashing the details.

Then I fell in love again – with someone who wasn’t in love with me.  More heartbreak.  This time the unraveling really did feel like I was being undone.  I’ve spent the last few months questioning everything I had come to know about love, myself, my worth, and the goodness of life.

A boy undid me?  Pathetic.  This was ringing in my head for months.  How could a whirlwind romance with a man who was upfront about his lack of emotional availability or interest be strong enough to undo all those powerful lessons from before?  I will tell you how, childhood trauma.  All the old stories of not being good enough, not being worthy, not being lovable came back full force. So I came apart for the past few months.

Sifting through the pieces of this most recent heart break and the spiritual crisis that seemed to accompany it, I saw all the shinning edges again.  I saw another sign post on the journey of becoming.  This beautiful man made my soul sing.  There is no other way to put it.  His voice, his words, his writing, his music, the thought of him, his lips, everything… my soul would just sing.  It was like the song of the Universe lighting me up inside.  A musician, a poet, a preacher, a friend, a lover, a spiritual being – yes, my soul was SINGING.  Sometimes when I think of him, it still does.

Being undone completely, feeling 8 years of personal work slipping away, watching my spiritual practice just stop, watching my depression take over, realizing old patterns of escape were whispering to me all the time was all very terrifying.  All I could see was how far away I am from realizing some other important goals.

Then there was Nahko & Medicine for the People and the medicine of this song.

Suddenly I remembered the power I felt in leaving Arkansas last year, in visualizing a new life for myself by loading everything up and just going.  If I can change huge parts of my life by visualizing, and manifesting, leaving… surely I can visualize and manifest healing.

It’s beginning now… the healing.  I listen to Medicine for the People and sing and dance in my car. I’m finding new ways to set my soul to singing.  I’m still struggling with some darkness but mostly the light is breaking through those jagged edges again.

The Great Unfolding of Our Lives

The great unfolding of our lives is steeped in mystery, often comes with pain, and can be the beautiful blossom of our own becoming.

She was a great unfolding of my life.  The Universe worked through her to reach my heart in a way no one else had been able to.  She was a catalyst in many ways, helping me to untwine myself from an unhappy life.   I unraveled the tapestry of a 12 year marriage, moved out on my own for the first time, and gave up my impulse to try and control everything.  I look back and now and see the Universe teaching me how to trust God by learning to trust this one person so whole heartedly. Even with all the change brought into my life through her love, the great unfolding of my life didn’t happen, not really, until she said goodbye.


Goodbye hurt like hell. Those of you have been reading this blog for any length of time are familiar with the story.  You’ve witnessed the unfolding of my life. It’s taken me from despair to creating a new life, complete with a new city and new career. It hasn’t been an easy road.  My decision to lean in to love, to the concept of transcendental love, changed the way I processed her leaving. I drew strength from the, sometimes painful, lessons and examples of the power of love.  In our situation I found the power to endure heartache and continuing caring for each other in a new way, saw the power in love changing your life to commit to someone, felt the depth of a love born of compassion and grace when someone is willing to witness your pain, walk with you through it, while knowing their happiness is linked to your heart break.  Love got me through.

It doesn’t make any difference that the moment of great loss is a big unfolding taking you exactly where you need to go.  There is no way to cushion heartbreak so it won’t hurt. There is no good way to say goodbye.  My lover couldn’t have made it any easier.  My heart was going to break, as it did, no matter what.  She was leaving. The Universe had this planned all along.  Any doubts I’ve ever had about that are resolved when I look to their happiness or how far I’ve come on my own.  I needed this stage of my life to be completely on my own, without the influence or even the comfort of a lover or partner.  I’m stronger in this place because I know I got here by myself.  This new life I am working on is my doing.  Yet, I am still cradled by the love of friends and family, especially my chosen family.

I didn’t have the phrasing at the time, but when I think about this idea of a great unfolding I am reminded of an intense vision I had shortly after the break up.  I was standing in the center of a crystal lotus.  I intuitively knew the lotus had broken open from a solid block.  The petals held fractures and were a little rough on the edges in some places.  There was a bright light shining in and reflecting off of each piece of the crystal and through me, standing in the center. In the moment of this vision, I felt the warmth of that light reflecting through me and realized it was just as easy for me to be the source of this light as it was for me to be its recipient.

A great unfolding is the hand of God scooping us up and putting us on another path. These big life altering moments are rare, though our lives unfold continuously if we allow it. My life has unfolded, and will continue to unfold, into something completely new and beautiful.

“We live our lives from then until now,
By the mercy received and the marks on our brow
To my heart I’ll collect what the four winds will scatter
And frame my life into before and after.”

-Carrie Newcomer

One Year

On the anniversary of heart break, I sit watching the sunset over the gulf, the waters quietly lapping at the rocks along the coast line. A perfect picture of my heart today – slowly, gently, moving in and out from those jagged lines where it was broken apart last year.  New eyes watching the light fade behind the blue, the golden hues stretching across the water as if to pull tight one last memory.

I no longer need the overwhelming crash of the Atlantic waves to quench this pain and bring ease to this heart.  The remaining lessons for me linger in the moment when the sun will finally kiss the water goodnight.  I don’t yet know its mysteries, only that there is richness in the quiet, lingering, way they kiss.

As I sat facing the endlessness of water, a pelican held space for me like a temple guard.  Her powers of reflection and ease giving me room to sort through the archives of my heart.  This last year I have learned to lean in deep, as the Pelican must at times to retrieve food from the water.  I have also learned to rise up into the realm of possibility. I’ve flown a thousand miles to heal, a thousand miles to begin, a thousand miles just to fly. Anything is possible.

There was a moment today when my heart was so full of love, I thought it would burst.  I could feel how we are all connected.  In that moment I knew the truth of love – it’s everywhere, limitless, and boundless.  These simple moments drift in to my consciousness more and more lately.  The willingness to let love change has changed me.  I am more open, more willing to risk, more willing to give love away.  Who knew heart break could lead to such expansion?

Her voice on the line this afternoon felt reassuring.  We are all exactly where we are supposed to be.  There is a sweetness between us, a kindness, a friendship that will always be there.  There is a piece of me that may always respond to her, after all she helped name that piece -this inner little girl who so desperately needed to feel the love and approval of a Daddy.  Our unconventional relationship now laid to rest, it remains still that in my heart, when I think of “daddy,” I think of her.

Watching the sun sink lower, I thought about my new crush and the way his music and words stir my soul.  I wonder if she will approve. I don’t need her to, but a little girl always, deep down, wants her Daddy to like the boys she brings home.

My thoughts drift back to the sunset and my future.  I don’t know when I will find the person I will share my life with, but as I look out across the water I know someday someone is going to be next to me watching sunsets.  Someone who will leave their energy, like sunlight, on my skin as we kiss goodnight, resting in each others arms until we wake and face the day, together, again.

For now – wow.

Allowed to Love

“Unconditional love is not so much about how we receive and endure each other, as it is about the deep vow to never, under any condition, stop bringing the flawed truth of who we are to each other.” – Mark Nepo

It’s an amazing gift to be loved.  It’s even more powerful to be allowed to love someone.  For years I was resistant, unable to receive, love.  I felt it, but it went through my hands like water.  Once the immediate feeling faded, I denied it was real.  I couldn’t believe anyone could possible love me.  When I finally felt the love of someone, truly felt it in my bones through good times and bad, I thought it couldn’t get any better.  Then it dissolved and I felt terrible, but somehow the feeling remained.  I still believed in love, in her love, and in my ability to be loved.

Having been someone who was unable to truly accept love from another, I know the gift of someone accepting love into their heart and their life.  When someone allows you to love them, to see them, it’s sacred.  You are now part of this person’s journey.  It doesn’t matter if they are only in a relationship with you for a short while.  It doesn’t matter if next month they don’t want to speak to you anymore.  In the moments where they let you in, in the times when you saw the soul of your love, you’ve been given something precious and fragile.

I’ve recently been gifted something even more incredible.  When someone allows you to love the one they love.  No, I don’t mean polyamory- that’s a different post for another time.  I mean when someone sees the love you hold for their love and they are able to set aside fear and allow you to love.

Through the last year in my break up process I’ve been praised for being able to stay in relationship with my ex, for forging a deep sisterhood with the woman she left me to be with, for being able to lean in, forgive, and to allow love to transform.  None of this would have been possible had my ex’s love not allowed me to love.

My “unlikely sister” recognizes the divine spark in love.  She recognizes the power of love to transform and heal.  She allowed my friendship where other women might have been too insecure.  She allowed my love to continue to flow and a deep friendship with my ex to continue forward.  We all rose up above fear and feelings of loss and heartache and reached for love as the ultimate boundary.

I love them and they love me.  It is a deep kind of love that has nothing to do with sex or romance but everything to do with intimacy.  There is an authenticity between us, a deep knowing of each other’s heart, and a trust and willingness to walk together.  I gained the most precious chosen family in my loss of my lover.  While that loss hurt, this family is one of the most important things in my life.

Being allowed to love so freely, to express so honestly, to be so completely raw with both of them has been a huge piece of the spiritual work I’ve done in this last year.  I’m not sure I can articulate it yet, but this allowance to love has led me to finally being allowed to love myself, to love my job, to love my life.

I am nearing a year since the breakup.  There are still moments of pain.  There are still times I wonder if I could have done something differently and if that would have somehow led to the three of us happily together.  Mostly though, I do spiritual work with my unlikely sister and share my fears and dreams with her.  I send love on the air to them both daily.  I treasure my ex’s advice, soothing voice, and complete faith in me.  I celebrate the love the three of us have, the way we’ve chosen to not simply “be friends” but to be connected at a deep spiritual level, to be chosen family, to be raw and authentic.  We continue to bring “the flawed truth of who we are to each other.”

This kind of love is unconditional.

Prayer of Desperation

The truth is, I am not dead, not literally or spiritually and this is a miracle.  It is one part luck, one part skill, and one part grace.  My saving graces were many.  The helpers were ready, moving like ninjas in my life.  I didn’t recognize them for years.  So many times they were protecting me from myself.  Even tonight part of me wants to stop, just stop.  Every breath feels like an attack and the weight of it is pressing on me in a way few people can ever understand.  Logic doesn’t matter when this happens.  When the cracks in your heart are ripping open, it doesn’t matter whether you can see God in the openings, it still hurts.  A passing thought – can you survive this pain?

I always knew somehow that I could survive the pain.  I just didn’t want to.  All I could see was pain, heartache, and loneliness.  My heart is cracking open; I feel the void next to my skin where another should be resting against me as we drift to sleep, a vacancy in my heart where someone’s name should be carved on the door, a desperation I want to cut short by reaching for a hand that is not there.  This isn’t about missing anyone.  It’s just fear.  I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life.  I don’t want to make my peace with single living.  I don’t want to rely only on transcendental love, beautiful and holy though it is.  I want the mud and muck of daily living.  I want to argue with someone about the best route to the movies.  I want the steady rhythm of the way the pages turn when she reads next to me in bed.  I want forever, promises, wedding rings, late mornings, early nights.  I want the best sex and love and friend of my life.  I want crazy, head over heels, strong, sticking with it, challenged and supported, love, love, love.  I want…. Something I don’t believe exists, at least not for me.

This is where the voice starts.  The one I try not to write with here because I want this blog to inspire people so they will risk and break open and have a life filled with Light –as mine is.  But the voice is nagging in the background.  She is unsure anyone will want us.  After all, the love of my life discarded me for something better.  This is the voice of pain, and she is a filthy liar-except when she’s right.

That’s the rub of fear and the nagging voice.  Discernment can be so difficult to achieve when we are breaking wide apart, when the world’s pain feels deeply personal, when we are connected to it all.  And that voice, which lies so often, is sometimes dead on.

I tell myself again: I am not dead.

I should be.   The life I have survived could well have ended me –fistfuls of strange pills, alcoholism, bad decisions, and two direct attempts.  Why am I here?  How is it my soul is still intact?  I dive deep.  I lean in.  I write and write and write.

I’ve learned a lot about letting it all break open and usually I write about the beauty and power in leaning in to pain and breaking wide open to let more love flow.  Tonight, I just can’t seem to find my footing and I just have to keep saying “I’m not dead,” like it’s all I have to hang on to.

I am leaning in, learning to bend and break –reshape.  I am bumbling, imperfect and frightened, but brave enough to venture out on my own, to risk failure, to learn something more about myself.  I am not dead, but for the grace of God, English teachers, poets, mystics, and musicians.  I am just up too late, imperfect, writing and risking showing you a darker side of my process of breaking.  Tomorrow I will start restorying my life.  Tomorrow I will wake up and re-member who I am.

Fire Ceremony: A Release on Lughnasadh & the Full Moon

“You have made me cross the good road and road of difficulties, and where they cross, the place is holy.” – Black Elk

We circled in the backyard, each one of us on the edge of a life changing moment in our lives. We laid the fire with intention, gratitude, and faith. Praying over the sticks that would begin the fire, we spoke invocations and prayers as we set our intentions and grounded in our work. I looked across the circle at the woman who broke my heart last fall and felt the last thread of bitterness I had been holding start to loosen.

It was no coincidence I was standing here with these women, for this particular ceremony, in this particular moment in my life.  As I looked at her across the flames I thought of all the roles she has filled for me; lover, protector, guide, teacher, and friend.  On my left sat her girlfriend, my unlikely sister, who has extended to me trust, love, and sisterhood.   The woman on my right is a stranger to me, but has opened her heart in front of me in this sacred ceremony.   I rolled in to town just hours ago, a stopping point on my way to my new life in Florida.

We took our time with this fire.  We called on our ancestors and teachers here and beyond.  We called our best, highest, most sacred selves to the present.  We needed to be fully on board for this release.  Standing in this circle we were together, but separate as well, engaged in our own deep working as we wove together this ceremony.  We were here to release what has been standing in our way.  We were here to release that which doesn’t serve us anymore or causes us harm.  We were there to clear the way for the new lives we were all walking into.

One by one we threw things on the fire and called out what we needed to burn away and release.  At times, we called out what we needed brought in as well.  We piled logs on the fire and sacred herbs were burned.  We sang, and cried, and screamed at times into those flames.

I untangled so much at the fire.  Things I have been carrying for months, even years- my need to be perfect, my need to know the future, my attachment to outcome, and my desires to have the relationships in my past be differently than they were.  When I began that piece of releasing internally, silent, the woman I had just met shared about why she could have never done this before tonight.  She said she had needed the fire release for so long but wasn’t ready.  She would have come in anger.  I looked across the flames to my ex and let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding.  It felt as though I had been holding that breath since our break up.  Yes, release the anger, the bitterness, the resentment, the fear that I won’t be loved like that again.  As I let those things go I found my heart getting bigger, capable of holding more love.

Susan Piver says crying is simply love running freely with no attachment.  The longer I sat in the circle the more love ran down my face.  I felt so much love in that circle both pouring out of my heart and being received as well.

The next morning I had a slow and easy morning with my ex and her girlfriend.  We had breakfast, sang songs, played music and just let our new way of being together as chosen family and friends unfold.  It was hard to leave.  Finally we rolled away at 2pm loaded down with snacks for the road my unlikely sister put together for us, a mug of coffee, and some cash to make sure we arrived safely.  We shared a three person hug on the porch and I drove away feeling the space we had cleared and the power of connection and love flowing all around and within me.  I am living a Life Uncommon and I thank Spirit every day that I have found the holy place where the good road and the road of difficulty meet.

Choosing to Break Open

I thought of my last girlfriend as the love of my life, my one great love. The relationship ended and I was devastated. I am still working to get over the deep wounds inflicted there. Life goes on whether my heart aches or not. Truly just living can break your heart. The beauty of a robin on the park bench is enough to bring a fracture to the fragile heart that has been busy trying to build walls.

I leaned so deep into the breaking, mining it for spiritual evolution. A little over a month ago I stopped leaning in and the walls started going up. I was TIRED of being broken open. I was TIRED of loving my ex-girlfriend, praying for her, and wishing her well even while wondering if she was in fact ever going to speak to me again. I didn’t stop caring; I just grew tired of how bad it hurt to lean in to a deep working such as making heartbreak your ally.

So the walls came up, all at once and out of nowhere. I built them through alcohol, food, and a sudden lack of any kind of spiritual practice. Meditation became history. I stopped doing my soul alignment. I stopped praying. I stopped reading the Big Book. I just stopped being the spiritual person I typically am and reverted back to the pattern of addiction.

I wanted the walls to stay up so my heart wouldn’t be broken anymore. The thing is, my heart IS still broken and I had just hidden it behind thick walls. There are no walls thick enough to stop the heart from hurting.

This new ache I have in my heart over my best friend moving away is teaching me something new about love. I am in absolute awe at the love I feel for this woman and the heart’s ability to be both full and in pieces all at once. My heart is so full with happiness for my friend. Her family, her partner and children, are truly my chosen family and the best family I have ever had. I feel like everything I thought before about love and what it felt like to feel that “love of your life” feeling, is changing with the realization of how much love I feel for them. The love of my life isn’t someone who would ever leave me in heart or spirit. The love of my life is this family, this chosen family I’ve been blessed with.

A phone call yesterday with my brother while he sat in the airport after flying to their new city for job interviews moved me to tears when I said, “We have to work really hard to stay in touch,” and he responded, “Just try to stop us lady.” I hung up feeling my heart so full that I had his friendship and love in my life and simultaneously broken with the idea of them being so far away. This man probably doesn’t realize the influence he’s really had on me, especially in the last year. His has become a life line, the person I reach out to when I need support with my step work and when I need to be told I can get back on track. He constantly talks about how much he loves his partner, my best friend. I call him my brother because he is the brother I wish I had. He is the kind of man I wish more men could be. The kind of man I respect and admire. He is the most gentle father I have ever seen, so giving and loving, and so fully present with his kids.

I’ll miss those kids too. I have never felt this close to anyone else’s children before. I will miss R. calling me Aunt Starr and giving me the best hugs ever. I will miss her fiery energy and spirited drive for justice. I’ll miss sword fighting with S. and hearing about the monster he is slaying in whatever game it is this week. I’ll write to them and hope that it keeps some of the bond I feel with them alive for all of us.

So yes my heart is still broken and keeps breaking, such is life. I am so proud of my friends for taking these bold steps into a new life for themselves. They inspire me and I’ve been taking some bold steps toward creating a new future for myself as well. Meanwhile, I will be present with my heart; so full of happiness for them and the times when I realize what loss I am facing with their move and my heart feels like it’s in pieces. And I’ll keep healing the pain of my break up. I’ll keep letting the sight of a robin move me to tears. I will keep leaning in to love, all the way in, even when it breaks my heart open. Because when the heart breaks open it doesn’t just let light in, it can let some of the light you didn’t know you had inside you shine out.

Broken on the Altar

I lay it broken and decaying on the altar. She looks at it and sees the beauty in the design. She weaves a story for its creation and its breaking. She picks it up, gently, as if the breaks it came with are holy and it needs read like poetry. She places it down on the altar and smiles in that way she does when she knows things aren’t pretty, aren’t easy, but are exactly as they should be. The mirror behind it reflects her eyes looking into mine and I think she sees right to the core of me. Sometimes I see the weight of my burden reflected in her eyes. She reaches out with them and sees and takes it from me, just for a moment, so I can breathe deep again-then returns it, never daring to take the power of my ability to heal this myself away from me.

She is a priestess, but she isn’t here to priestess me. Her calling is larger than that and we stand facing this mirror together-equal, warriors in the work of healing, lovers of poetry and mystery.

She represents life, birth, the green and fertile earth. When I first met her she was nursing a babe, nearly constant nursing providing life quite literally and then sustaining it. She is a bringer of life in all she does. In relationships, friendships, community, and work she births and creates something living and vibrant. She stands at the door of creation.

I cut the threads at the end. I cull, I say goodbye, I teach people to let things die and go to seed again. I work with the mysteries of death. I bring finality to much of what I do. I work with what is buried, hidden, so taboo it is 6 feet under our subconscious. I stand at the door of death.

We are there together, the door of birth and death being the same door, like divine twins ushering in and out life force. We share a little magick. I learn to weave light and life into my tapestry and she midwifes a dying parishioner.

My sister, my love, she’s leaving now. Miles away she will birth a new life for her and her family. She will plant seeds in the ground and in hearts and minds. She will do what she does best, she will cultivate health, life, and value in all she touches. And I will cut my threads here and leave this place. Having tasted the bursting juice of life and creation, I am able to see the ways in which I’ve been blind to what I’ve needed to cut away and let die. I sow the seeds for a new life. I get to work.

I also grieve. She and I may be going in different directions for a while. I fear the lonely darkness of my heart without her there shedding her light and life on it. My heart has been broken for some time and with her leaving it breaks again. Who knew a friendship could be so ripe with love? Someone recently said to me that when we think we are in love, that feeling we get when our beloved looks at us and shines love on us, is only a reflection of our Godsoul in this person’s eyes. We are really loving ourselves. I am so in love with Joy and I see all that reflected back, my Godsoul shining in her eyes. This love is something unique and separate from romantic love or sexual desire. This is soul connection, this is bringing each other to a higher standard and a higher self, and this is catching the other when she falls. This love is the twins at the door of life and death teaching each other the mysteries.

I’m not quite sure what I will do without her physical presence. I fear I am losing her and we can’t keep this deep connection across 1300 miles. I grieve and my heart breaks. I will do what I must. I will “do what has to be done, again and again.”  I will submerge myself in the task and I will soak up the light. I will write in my poetry books love letters to myself. I will dance in my kitchen. I will stare out at the same stars my sister sees so many miles from me.

I am building an altar of broken things to continue her teachings. I am starting with myself. I am broken. I am holy. That object, that brokenness I placed on the altar, it was me all along.

Freedom is something you assume

The Gift of Love

The heart rips less when you give to it.

 When we hold on to what we must let go of, clutching it in our grasp until our hands bleed against the pressure, we know pain.  When we lean in and let go, we experience ease.  Maybe this is what is meant on pg. 417 in the big book (excerpt below)?

I held on so tight to my idea that we were supposed to be together, after all we had fit together so well.  My heart was ripped out.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe for a second that any amount of acceptance work is going to change the fact that when someone breaks your heart – well, it’s broken.  It hurts like hell.  Every breath felt like it was suffocating me, there are moments that still feel this way.  It takes time to come back from pain like this.

There is also this twisted desire to hold on to that pain like a precious gem.  As if holding on to that pain was all that was left of my time with her.  I realized that part of me was afraid of healing, of letting go of all that pain because I was afraid not hurting so much meant it wasn’t real.  Terrified to not feel how deeply in love and connected we were, I kept holding on.

Now I feel a loosening in my heart in those moments when it’s every beat isn’t sounding her name.  It’s more than just healing when I hear her song playing and I smile, remembering her sitting in our friend’s living room writing it. It’s beyond “getting over” her, because I don’t think I will ever “get over” her, whatever that means.  It’s leaning in and giving her away.

I look at their pictures and see their happiness and I cannot help but smile and feel good for them.  Does it hurt?  Of course, but when I lean in and give her to this other woman whole heartedly then I feel ease.

Why would I keep someone I love from experiencing love?  I wouldn’t.  So I lean in and give.  It’s not free though.  I am giving with expectations.  I give expecting this other woman to take care of her.  I am giving knowing this doesn’t mean the pain goes away or the love stops.   I am giving knowing there will be times when the small wounded parts of me protest and kick and scream and grab at the pain again.

It’s probably easier because I feel genuine love and care for the woman she is with.  This other woman is a light in the world, she radiates goodness, she loves much like I do – she leans all the way in.

“Leaning into love” has taught me so much.  I lean into love as a force all its own and I am able to see it between them and give.  The gift of love is giving it away.

 Excerpt from the Big Book:

“Acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing, or situation—some fact of my life—unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment. Nothing, absolutely nothing happens in God’s world by mistake.”