Tag Archives: Living from love

Some Morning Gratitude

Posted on by learning to live like water

Yesterday, my best friend got home from a camping trip and called me in the afternoon asking if I wanted to come sit on her deck, and go for a swim inher pool.  It was over 90°.  Of course, I went had had a lovely afternoon catching up with her and her family.

Last night I got a friend request on Facebook from a woman who worked for me 30 years ago when she was in college.  We chatted for a couple of hours. Though she is 15 or so years younger than I, we had a bond then, and it was like it was never broken.  She has had a good life, and is still married to the man she got engaged to then.  It was like a gift from the universe to hear from her, and to know how fondly she remembered and thought of me.

I have such a rich full life.  I see now that I don’t need to waste it on people who have no intentions with me, except to satisfy themselves.  Older and wiser, I know that someday there will be a significant other in my life who cherishes our friendship and all I can offer him.  Until he shows up, my friends will celebrate life with me.

I am blessed.  Totally blessed. More than one lesson has been learned in the past few months, and I’m grateful for all of them.

With Love and Gratitude, Good bye.

Posted on by learning to live like water

So I broke it off with him. I spent the night with him the night before he went in the hospital. I was scared. I was allowing myself to love him, setting myself up for hurt again, at some point. But I didn’t let it stop me. I thought about how I wanted to be there for him. I wanted him to have a nice memory to think of and wake up to when he came out of the anesthesia. I wanted him to know that someone cared how he was, and whether or not he hurt, or felt alone. I wanted that. I loved him. I loved him whole heartedly, without consideration of what he had done. It was true and honest and I don’t regret it.

The two days he was at the hospital, I worried over him. He didn’t get me the patient code as he’d promised, so I had to go through roundabout ways to find out if he was ok, or spending the night, or released. People I worked with didn’t understand why I cared so much. Hell, I didn’t understand. But I did. That’s all. I did. So I talked to him that night, and the next morning. He was in so much pain. I would have liked to just be there, sitting beside him. Just so he didn’t have to open his eyes and be alone.

But that wasn’t the way it was. There was too much water under the dam. I was going to take the time off from work, but he chose to go it alone. As he always does. I was afraid, anyway, to be so close to him. Because I still loved him, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he did not feel the same.

But then, what he thinks of me is none of my business. Right? I don’t know if it’s smart to allow myself to be so vulnerable. But I did, it’s done. I don’t think I regret it, because I gave it everything. It was his to accept or deny. He chose denial in the end. Why? I have my theories. But only he knows, somewhere in his soul, why he didn’t want the woman who loved him.

But then the gong bath happened…

And the next morning I woke up and didn’t care that much. I still cared, but not the same way. It was not visceral, it was not that intense, heavy kind of caring. I think it came together for me as a result of the gong bath. Suddenly, I knew he would never love me, that if I stayed with him, I would be repeatedly hurt by him. It is not his fault…it is mine, I stayed knowing he and I were not compatible on many things. One of them is our views on sex, and monogamy. And there were other things…which are none of anyone else’s business, personal things that he and I could not come to common ground on that I kept pushing into the background, because I loved him. But eventually, they would have surfaced, you know…those things you bury don’t die….they rot and fester and make you sick. In a relationship, they make the relationship sick. They cause resentment, and anger, and feelings of rejection, and loss of self esteem. I knew that would happen.

Trouble was, he was still in a lot of pain on Friday. I didn’t want to talk to him about it. Not until he felt better. We talked, I tried to be my same loving self, but I know the difference in how I felt showed through the phone lines. The next day he asked, what exactly is going on with you.

He knew. We have always communicated on a nonverbal plane when we are apart. He knew. Thus began a long and hard conversation. It was still too early to have it, but he knew,and I couldn’t lie. Or pretend it was different. I told him, I still love you, but I don’t think I’m in love with you.

And so, now, after 36 hours of texting, questions, accusations and then an attempt to see me to say good bye, we are done. I was not ready to see him. I don’t think I’m in love with him, but there is still hurt and rejection over the betrayal. Seeing him is painful. I told him, not yet. Maybe later. He got mad. I’m sorry he got mad. I’m sorry I couldn’t just see him and wish him well. But truth is…the wound has healed enough for me to see clearly, but it still hurts. The way an incision hurts under the surface for a longtime. I know we are mis-matched, and I know neither of us would ever be happy going forward. I don’t believe I could ever quite let go of his betrayal if I stayed with him. It would come back every time I felt threatened, every time he flirted with a waitress, or the girl behind the counter at the drug store. I would have made him miserable, and I would have been too. I told him, the prison whore sunk our ship, at the end of the day.

I will miss him. I will miss his flirty, sexual innuendo’d texts. I will miss having him in my life, kind of having a “significant other” after all the years of being alone. I will miss our excursions. Sunday afternoon naps. His wild and crazy stories of his youth. His hands. His passion.

But I won’t miss that feeling in the pit of my stomach when I don’t know where he is. I won’t miss the questions, I won’t miss the distrust that is now there permanently.

Done. Gonna take some time off. Let the wound heal, so that it’s not even tender before I meet the next guy. I don’t want to bring baggage into a new relationship, just like I took off years before I started this one, to try not to bring baggage from my marriage to it. And still, the baggage was there. There is relationship baggage you don’t know about until you are in a relationship, I found out. It wasn’t easy, this first one. But it was fun. It created growth in me. And I know myself much better. I know what I want better today than before I met him.

So…I thank him, I love him. We are done. May we both continue our journey back to source.

Crack the Door, Crack the Mirror. Spread a LIttle Light.

Posted on by learning to live like water

I have heard it said, from so many great spiritual teachers, that when we rage at someone, we are only raging at ourselves. That we see in the other person, that which we dislike about ourselves. Or that which we fear in ourselves.

I have done this myself. Gotten so angry at someone, because I read into their words something they didn’t mean to say. I have answered questions that weren’t asked, and not answered the one that was, because I projected, based on my own demons or ego, what I thought they really wanted to know.

And people have done that to me. They have taken my good intentions and twisted them into something ugly. They have inserted their own guilt, or fear, into what I say to make it mean something hurtful to them. And raged at me for it

Generally speaking, when one person rages at another, I am pretty sure it usually ends up with two egos battling, and two people angry with each other. A ruptured relationship. I am guilty of this, as I have defended myself against the untrue projections. And people have defended themselves to me, against my false accusations.

Imagine, for example, you offer your help to someone who asks, but at the same time, lay down boundaries which are necessary for you to maintain your equilibrium. The person, who had other ideas about the form your help would take, becomes angry at your boundaries, and interprets them as being put there to hurt them. While in reality, they are put there for your own safety, so you can continue on with your life while helping them.

This happened to me…..which obviously I am trying to work out by writing this essay.

It got ugly….there are more details in my last blog. But the fact is, 4 or 5 days later, I am still concerned about this person. I blocked him on my phone, on my email. Because of the ugliness. But I began to worry, about the ordeal he faces, and just wanted to know he was ok, with what he had to do, with the arrangements he made. I didn’t want to start up with him again, or even have a conversation. But I could not sleep wondering if he was ok, and knowing that I’d cut off all access to reach me.

So what is that? It’s unconditional love. This person has hurt me, but I see now that he has hurt himself more, that he lost much more than me from his actions. I forgive him, and move on. Because I know that holding onto pain and anger is like taking poison and thinking the other guy is gonna die. It’s a lesson I learned well going through an ugly, contentious, 4 year divorce. In order for me to move on, I had to forgive my ex for all the ills he had attempted to do to me. Because holding on to the hate, pain and anger, gave my ex control still. I knew he didn’t know better, I knew that it was his own fear, and feelings of inadequacy that caused him to do those things. And I also learned that our thoughts become things. All the ills he wished on me, were what manifested for him. It is sad, just sad, to see this happen to someone you loved.

So it is the same now. I see that this man believes he is not worthy of unconditional love. He believes he is being punished by forces greater than himself. He lashes out, because he listens to the voice he thinks is protecting him, when in fact it is the voice that is leading him to harm. It leads him to being alone, thinking he needs no one. That he is separate from the whole. When in reality, we are all one thing, and need each other.

Now that the anger has subsided over the projections, and nastiness, and I have allowed my spirit to once again take over, and feel the unconditional love for him that I try to extend where ever I go….I feel for him. I feel for his inner child, I see his soul and the struggle it has to be heard, to be allowed to shine, to remove the layers of darkness that lie over it. Last night I could not sleep, because I knew I had shut a door that needed to be cracked open. It actually made my stomach hurt.

During my divorce, in the early days, my son was living with my abusive and controlling ex. My ex conspired with my son, all kinds of things that hurt me, one of which was to cut off my ability to communicate with my son. I used to go knock on the door of my old house, the place I’d lived for 30 years, and just beg my son to come out and hug me. Because I knew, somehow through the grace of God, that my son needed to know I was still standing no matter what he did to me. That I still loved him unconditionally just because he existed. Eventually, he understood, and walked away from his abusive and controlling father to my door, with the clothes on his back. Because he knew.

It was then, that I learned the overwhelming power of unconditional love.

So, I sent this man a text after unblocking him, and told him I just need to know if he’s ok. I think I wanted him to know that I still care…that no matter what he throws at me, I will still be standing. I don’t want to be his lover, but I want him to know that I can live what I preach, that I can walk the walk at the end of the day. I also want to know that for myself.

Unconditional love means just that…it’s unconditional. We cannot pick and choose those we love. We have to love everyone. Probably especially those our egos feel least deserve it.

So….my intention was not to be a mirror to him. But I know I was, we are all mirrors for each other, whether intentionally or not. It’s the way it works. I know he didn’t like what he saw, and that his ego took over and projected all his fear onto me, and my motives. And I know he hurts, he knows somewhere that he read me wrong. A little bit at a time, I hope he can begin to believe that he is worthy of love, and….that he doesn’t have to earn it. That it is his because he exists.

Living like water means that we find a way to get back to source. So that’s what I’ve done. I have found a way to get back to source and extend love where it is needed. I know that most people would not understand. But this morning, my soul feels free, I am satisfied that I did the right thing, cracking open that door for a little light to shine through.  A Course in Miracles says that a miracle is a change in perception from fear to love. I hope I have helped to start that process.   I hope I cracked his mirror a little too. Cracked the door, cracked the mirror. Spread a little light where it was needed.

Living Through Fear

Posted on by learning to live like water

Ok, I had a quasi-relationship with someone for a few months. It wasn’t a love relationship, and it wasn’t really a friendship. It was something else, a connection, really undefineable. It started out as one thing, then ran into a wall, morphed into something else, and then, finally, kind of blew up in a fit of ego vs. truth. It was weird.

But dang, it’s just come to me how strange it can be to see all evidence of that person’s involvement in your life disappear. Comments, “likes” on posts, pictures, texts, emails, all kinds of interactions just disappear. Now…I didn’t really do much of that. I don’t really care that much whether or not I have an interaction with this person, but he has made it a point to make sure there is no sign of me.

Blocked my phone, my email, unfriended me, unliked my FB page. Whatever. I dislike doing that stuff, if a person isn’t bothering me, I just don’t do it. It’s part of my life, why try and delete it?

Well,I suppose that if a person’s MO is to run. To hide. To retreat. To bring the walls around him in, so that no one else can get in, it seems like a good idea. He might almost be able to convince himself that I never existed in his life, that I never taught him anything, that he gained nothing from it, and that all the stuff he projected onto me, all the kindnesses I extended to a seriously messed up person, were actually done with an ulterior motive to get something from him. Even tho I have more that he has, and not just material things. I have a life that I love, a job that I like, a beautiful home, a great kid, a loving family, a warm loving circle of friends. He has a sad story, and that’s about it. He can’t drive, having lost his license for 5 years. He has a home, which is paid for lucky for him. He can’t work, because he can’t drive, he has a few friends, a function of having grown up in the town he lives in. But nothing that would be a motive for me to do kind things in the hope of getting some of it.

Fear. I gotta say, fear. I have known two men who make every decision in their lives based on fear. Never on love. I gotta feel for both of them. So, while he decides that the reason I took him to an art museum was because I wanted something from him, undefined, I really just have to feel sorry for him, that he is unable to accept human kindness, and that usually comes from a place of not believing he deserves it.  He thinks it’s his gut talking.  But any time we come from a place of fear, you know it’s the ego.  My ex also didn’t believe he deserved it. He also believed every kindness was a manipulation.  He also lives his life from that place of fear, from his ego.

Whatever. If deleting, and running, and pretending that I was never there helps him get through the day, so be it. He won’t see a sign of me. But…I gotta wonder how he’s gonna delete the memories of the truth from his mind. Because you know….That shit that you bury, doesn’t die. It just festers, and rots and makes you sick. So much easier to view the world through the eyes of love, isn’t it?

He is an artist, he paints.  He had given me a painting, on the first night we met.  I loved it.  I had pointed it out as my favorite of the dozens of paintings in his house. Yesterday, I sent it back to him.  I could not have it hanging on my walls, much as I liked it, to remind me of all the accusations he lay on me because he just couldn’t accept kindness as kindness.  Bad energy, even from something beautiful. Because he had to project onto me all the fearful thoughts he has about himself.  I put a note with it, telling him I hope he finds someone to give it to that he can trust enough to accept their kindness.

I am not angry with him.  And, I am out of his life, at least as far as anyone can see.  The electronics age is so easy, put the button and delete.  Now, if he can just find a way to delete the memories, the truth that is embedded in them, he’ll be ok……