Opening Your Heart to the World Doesn't Feel Good, at First.

I have spent the majority of my last several weeks opening my eyes. For most of my life, I have been an "out of sight, out of mind" kind of person. The world, was too much for me to take in. As much as I talked about focusing on love, and love being the only thing thing that's real, I, on some level, only saw sadness when I looked out into the world, although that realization was a slow coming to consciousness.

Being open is raw. It's sad, utterly heartbreaking at times. To finally look up from my own adversities, my own story, and those closest to me, to see the world around me, is sobering. And this is just the beginning. This is through the lens of the computer screen. I have not even seen half of these things up close. I have not seen a 3 year old girl free herself from the hand of sex traffickers, watched women get castrated, animals tortured and beaten to death, children starving, adults freezing to death, or someone beaten do death due to their skin color or sexual orientation. I've not sat next to a women in an abortion clinic as she bleeds into an open pad, where thousands have sat before. Nor have I seen modern day enslavement. But these things exist, all these things.

There are days I feel inspired and others I wish to hide. To crawl back into my hole, and put my blinders on. There are days I fill my head and my day with busy work and claim to not have enough time to read, write, to investigate and ask the hard questions. But that doesn't eradicate the knowledge that is now part of my awareness database, it does not stop the effects it has on my subconscious to do something. It only adds to the restlessness that will manifest itself irresponsibly and dramatically if I do not take a moment to listen. Listening is hard sometimes, and I don't mean that superficially or humorously. It's hard because sometimes peoples experiences invoke so much emotion, I physically and emotionally feel I cannot handle it. I can't process and absorb the words being shared. There was one particular piece about a woman's experience in an abortion clinic that took 3 breaks for me to get through. The tears poured; I sobbed. And I've never even had an abortion! She wrote her experience so well, I not only felt I was walking in her shoes, I felt as if I owned them.

So here I am.

Sitting in my favorite Biggby cafe, with four tabs open on my web browser, debating a second cinnamon spice latte and where I can be most helpful in creating positive change in our world.

"What breaks your heart about the world? Act on that." ~ Angela Maiers

With Grace & Gratitude...

To All the You's

I'm feeling slightly aphotic today. I woke up like this. Emotional, antsy, fearful. But I'm sitting here aside my abnormally large living room window staring at fresh snow and watching a kitten play with the string on the window blinds. Tears still want to well up in my eyes. It doesn't feel so much like a sadness as it does a sensitivity, a rawness. I don't know if it's my lack of sleep or the Marianne Williamson that has been playing in my ears the last couple days, talking about why we really choose to carry extra weight on our bodies.  The "writing prompt" about "what was the most difficult thing, person, idea, dream, you've ever had to let go of" probably didn't help either. But it's probably way more beautiful than all of that. I'm opening again. I can feel it. My heart is nestling in with another. There is a palpable readiness and desire to start and experience a life with her. To love her forever, at our best, at our worst. To finally be half of a whole.

This has not been able to take place without releasing all of you at various times in my life, those who have come before her. Those of you who have added to the artistic tapestry of my life. My blogs, my journals, they will hold so many names in infinitude, as each of you came through and touched my life one by one.

I wrote about you today, the hardest person I ever had to let go of. I described it as an "unrealistic devastation" and how I carried you into the first two years of my following relationship. I still remember what your heart looked like, the way I described it to you, with lights and carousels. I honestly thought I'd carry you forever, that I'd never let you go. But I did. The nights what if's, of driving, wondering, and yearning to feel your heart out there in the world, have dissipated.

And you, it's been almost six months. Six months since we ended our three and a half year relationship. My mother said to give it six months, and I would be okay. She put a time line on it. The infinite pain and fear and guilt I felt seemed to radiate without limits. But she gave me a timeline, a goal, something I could focus on and keep moving. That was the most profound and simple piece of advice anyone gave me after our separation.

So, this is to all the you's, that helped escort me here to her. Who brought me home. Those who weren't able, weren't willing, or simply didn't want it. She has been brave and steadfast in her declaration of love for me. I have looked at her with fearful trembling eyes and wondered if I could ever love her the way she loves me. The answer to that is yes, a resounding yes. She is the one. I'm not sure I've ever told her that. I write better than I speak. I can finally understand the sentiment of being grateful for all potential lovers who didn't choose me or left me.. They were simply paving the road for her to find me. For us to find each other. Every heartache was worth it. I have never met someone so much my equal, someone who is my most exciting companion, even at our quietest and most simple moments. I've never met someone who can swim with me so easily in the space of being and passion.

With Grace & Gratitude...