On being in the Middle

It’s okay to be – part way there.
To cry while I make love with you.
To still use words where touch belongs.
To feel sensations of which I can not yet speak.
To melt lovingly into your embrace,
while I use one hand to hold reverence
for my own fear of abandonment,
and another to cradle my desire
to not become trapped.
We are always right
in the middle of the beginning.
Beggining to follow this thread
that weaves seamlessly in and out
of your soul and mine,
to feel how it spans between
pleasure and purpose, safety and freedom.
I allow myself the space
to stand naked
in a puddle of love
and laugh with you.

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Love note from my future partner (NOT a short story)

She’s been “leaving” me for years (it’s not really leaving, it’s more like minding the gap that is required to keep our spark moving). In the beginning, I found it heart wrenching, but now I just know it is part of how I am here to love her. It’s not my favorite part of our relationship, but I’m just resilient and persistent enough to let her go, and each time, trust a deeper knowing, that we aren’t done.

This leaving habit of hers pre-dates me. In her early relationships, she stayed in the house, but left the premises emotionally, shutting down and cutting off the pieces of herself she couldn’t figure out to bring into the particular dimensions of the puddle of light of that relationship. I can think of no worse way to love her than to enable that.

In the beginning, it was hard. A wordsmith, she can be quite convincing when she explained that she’d reached her end with me. Even as her heart and my heart spoke differently, her exit was very convincing. Sometimes loud, worse when it was cold stone silent. For a while, it seemed erratic. Over time, I came to understand the paradox that sometimes “both” can be true – that she needed to be away, and also that she was, even in her exit, permanently and inextricably inside our togetherness.

So we have a relationship that is like swiss cheese, and whether that is judged as good or bad is my choice. It is all of one connected piece, and I can focus on that, or it is full of holes and I can focus on that. I’ve learned to now hold those holy spaces with a loving caress. When she goes away, she goes to grow, to feel her own breath, to reconnect to the quiet signal that can sometimes be hard to hear in the cacophony of our robust and gregarious life of family, tribe and community (and my noise?). What I’ve learned is, that signal inside her that is so clear and discernible to me and sometimes so elusive to her is a broad and undeniable call back to community and connection. She lives in connection, and I’m blessed to be one of her chosen connections.

I keep the light on, enjoy time with my and our other beloveds, and look forward to meeting and starting anew with her again and again, each time greeted at my open door by a partner for this next patch of life that is an upgrade from the one that just left me.

Riding the Wave

Today, I’m thinking about the wave(s) of love, the balance:

between autonomy and connection,
between stability and freedom,
between effort and surrender.

This Tedtalk by Reuben Margolin inspires today’s musings on love.

A wise woman once said she expected I’d “figure it out” in relationship (whatever IT is). So, I had a sense that deep dive into relationship could offer an opportunity for growth and then I ASKED the universe for this chance to see what it is like to be all the way “off the couch” with a partner and growing constellation of beloveds willing to do the same.  Before that, I studied for my second life: meditation, workshops, books, therapy. I selected a new life for myself with care and clear intention.

So here I am, deep in it. And I was right. I belong here. And there is an ease to noticing that when I am on the right path, the universe comes up to meet me. And also, there is still struggle. Every time we reach a new level of light, shed a few unnecessary layers, what gets exposed is excruciating, beautiful, challenging.

It’s like a wave…

We ride up, exhilarated, hands clasped together, big toothy grins. We reach the peak, look around together at the horizon, amazed by the possibilities.

Deep breath, and then comes the ride down, the natural pulling back into self for integration, passing through the baseline, noticing it is a little higher than it was last time, but still feeling the contrast with the peak.

To the bottom, where each of our egos and wounds and past lives poke up, asking to be witnessed, embraced, taken “With” for the inevitable ascent. That long pause at the bottom, with the view completely obscured, is the real invitation to faith, to awe, to gratitude. I dig in. He digs in. I reach out. He reaches out. In this low light place, we offer each other insights into what we can each feel out, like the blind men and the elephant, we share what we know, begin to form a mosaic view of the wholeness.

Which kicks off the ascent. No rushing that either, it takes its sweet time pulled by the memory we share of what it is like up there, we “pass Go,” collect our sustenance, humble ourselves to the way this game is challenging, but almost impossible without a play partner, appreciate each other’s growing skills and effort.

I don’t want anything else but to be on this journey, in this life.  This isn’t needless drama or some kind of manic cycle. This is soul work. It is right effort, and effort nonetheless. So I bow my sweaty brow, deep and low, to the mystery, invite my body to be supple and steady, to maintain balance in the movement.

Wave

Revelations

I sit swimming in words, swimming INwards
wandering wondering about love
when I check for her words
and find five notes that splay themselves
out for me to touch like waiting lovers.
Will she let me be her editor?
She has
One of learning
Two of Church and Family
Three of Motherhood
Four of Discovery and Revelation
and Five of me.
She thinks this is prose, a post,
journaling a truth to send my way
to maybe send me away.
This handsome disclaimer that she is —
Does she know that she has made me poetry?

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What is the difference between
Making love, poetry, and a prayer?

Your tongue tastes like honesty
In my mouth.

I want to meet you in that spot,
Where God comes through.

This, this is a daily practice.