“I just feel like a big, fat liar,” I told her. I used silly words on purpose. They disguised the lump in my throat.
My friend beheld me lovingly. We sat on the grass with no blanket beneath us. Her high wooden fence provided an imaginary privacy. Our voices carried and so any nosy neighbour could hear us. “What is it you lied about?” she asked.
I leaned back and stretched my legs out in front of me, my body turned slightly away from her. I didn’t like feeling like this: guilty. “I told everyone he was my soulmate. I thought that he was. Even after we decided to part ways, I thought that was it for me.”
“It’s a seductive term, isn’t it? Soulmate. It sounds so final, so romantic, so special.” My friend picked a blade of grass and took a deep breath. “You will have countless people cross your path in this lifetime. Some your soul will recognize, others will seem completely unknown to you, but really, honey, it’s all an illusion. There is no separation between us at all.”
“You mean like some of them I may have met in past lives?” I asked, shielding my eyes from the sunbeams and turning to face her.
“Yes, if reincarnation is a helpful concept to you, you can think of it that way. Each person in your life has one shared purpose: to help you remember who you really are. That’s it. It’s not sexy, but it’s true. Your job is simply to release your relationship with them…to be willing to see its higher purpose.”
I considered her words and swallowed the now-smaller lump in my throat. “So it’s as if I trivialize my former relationship by applying such labels?”
“Well, the label doesn’t matter so much, but how you feel about it does. It’s upsetting you. Let it go.” She smiled, as she does, with kindness…without judgment. “We all want romantic love to be special, but the truth is romance has nothing to do with Love. Soulmate or not, your best bet is to be truthful and kind in any relationship.”
I lowered my head. My mind was still on my marriage. “It’s as if I made a big, huge deal about something that I have now proven didn’t matter as much as I thought. I feel guilty for not suffering as much as I once did. I am ashamed of how quickly I have moved on, and yet I wouldn’t change it.”
“It mattered more when you were in the thick of it. You’ve healed some of your wounds.” I didn’t miss her emphasis on the word ‘some’. She shifted her legs and tucked them beneath her. “It’s disorienting. Your life looks so different than you thought it would, and yet there is a part of you that recognizes its divine perfection.”
“Yes,” I uttered with a mixture of sadness and relief. She understood and that was comforting, but she saw through me, which was disconcerting. I was vulnerable.
“Honesty keeps the ego in its place,” she said softly. “You’ve got this. You’re facing the rough stuff. And when you’re ready, you’ll surrender all.”
I sighed and looked skyward. A cloud obscured the sun just then. “If you say so.”
My heart hurt. It was heavy. I heard her words, but I wasn’t there yet. I would be willing to see this all differently, but not just yet. Spirit would have to wait.
“Those who are certain of the outcome can afford to wait, and wait without anxiety.” ~A Course in Miracles
So yesterday I did an interview with one of my dearest friends in the world, Macha Einbender for herfuture.com. It’s raw and honest and, hopefully, helpful.
The truth of my marriage ending is that my former husband is a gay man. A conclusion we both came to in July of last year after over two years of agonizing, beautiful and committed soul-searching.
Chances are you know someone who has gone through, or is going through what myself and my former husband did. And while I don’t dwell on the sexuality (although for 2 years it was hard not to), I do emphasize the intense spiritual work it took to leave that marriage with our love completely intact.
You can listen here: http://machaeinbender.byoaudio.com/files/media/09d90b36-69f0-151d-c37a-398fb790cbda.mp3
Two nights ago I took a detour into Crazy Town. You know, one of those nights where one fearful thought is allowed to fester and grow until you’re ranting and raving about things and people you cannot control, seeking out reasons to get upset, looking at things on the internet that are anything but helpful etc etc etc
I hadn’t done that in a good, long while. Fueled by fear and too much wine, I spun out. I did things I wouldn’t normally do, said things I would not normally say.
The triggers, I believe, were two-fold. Firstly, earlier that day I ran into an old neighbour who had no idea that I had separated from my husband. Reliving that is never fun and it affected me more than I thought it would.
And secondly, I was by myself.
I have had two little human beings literally hanging off of me for eight years. And yes, I did have periods of time where I would be away from them, but since the separation the way I view time away from them is different. When they are with their father, especially overnight, I feel afraid, anxious and guilty. He is more than capable of caring for them. This is all me. And I have to laugh.
I have to laugh because if I take this too seriously I’ll get stuck on the things that don’t really matter. I’m transitioning out of one life and into another. It’s scary sometimes, but I’m okay. And I have to remember that when I do get stuck in the fear I may do some stupid shit. I may say some really ridiculous things. But I can reel all that nothingness back in and let it go with laughter…a gentle laughter.
A laughter that says: this is not where my safety is, this is not the Truth of who I am, this is just filling time with silly things until you’re ready to remember.
There is a better way.
So with a gentle laughter and a willingness to see the better way, I bring my Crazy Town night to the Light. I will pray those evenings where my babies are with their Daddy to be truly helpful. I will surrender where I think I should be in order to embrace where I belong.
Crazy Town will be there if I want to visit again, but I know the Light feels better.
For a minute there, I got lost…
I trust so easily sometimes. I slip and slide into that which I do not want and it’s days gone by before I realize I am somewhere else, somewhere I never desired to be.
I open up without a care. I invite those from hither and yon into my yard before I finally see the crowd has grown too large and I have no more to give.
For a minute there, I lost my way…
There used to be a gatekeeper between my brow and my crown. Where has she flown off to? I used to keep a compassionate distance between my heart and theirs. It narrowed until it disappeared.
And now I’m here in the midst of a life I do not care to live.
But I will let it go.
Because the distance is imagined just as all boundaries are. And the only thing I require is kindness. Kindness to direct me, connect and protect me.
So when I get lost I ask, “What is the kindest thing to do here?”
And then I can trust. I can open up. Kindness is my gatekeeper and my reminder that I am enough, exactly as I am.
Here and now. Just as I am: The whole, the we, the everafter.
No separation, no suffering, no shit.