Frozen Lake

I wasn't going to ride my bike this morning because it's so cold, but I wasn't excited about taking the bus, and as I was contemplating my options, the sun came out. That was all it took to push me over the edge -- I decided to ride after all. I made sure that virtually no skin was showing, and it wasn't so bad during the day. The trip home tonight was a different story. Brrrrr. Just checked the weather and it said 4 degrees, feels like -13!

Another reason I enjoyed my ride to work, which takes me along lakeshore path, right in front of the dorm I lived in when I was a freshman and sophomore in college, was my inner ipod's selection of this beauty from Buffalo Tom:

I'm between the lines, just one more time
Read it in a book I almost looked
In frozen lake she comes and takes
Give up my whole world, she's just a girl
In my frozen mind, I'm stuck in time
I can't get past this thing for one more spring
See, she fits to me so easily
I, I am borderline almost everytime

Give up my whole world
She's a translucent girl
In frozen mind, I'm lost in time

I take one more breath, it's worse than death
Turn on all the lights, alive with fright
See, she fits to me too easily
I, I am borderline almost everytime
Give up my whole world
She's a complicated girl
In frozen mind, I'm stuck in time

Give up my whole world
She's a complicated girl
In the frozen lake she comes and takes

Stuck in time

I'm not stuck in time, but this song sure does bring back some memories. If you don't know it, it's definitely worth a listen...

Karma Chameleon

Ah, Boy George. I think he may have been my first experience with androgyny, and when this song came on at the gym the other day, I was pleasantly surprised to hear it:

Karma karma karma karma, karma chameleon
You come and go, you come and go
Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dream
Red gold and green, red gold and green

Since then, this part in particular has been drifting in and out of my consciousness:

You come and go, you come and go

As I've blogged about the last couple of weeks, and really for the last couple of years (but there have been new developments in the past couple of weeks), I am really trying to reconcile the position in which I find myself: in love with an incredible man, who loves me right back, whom my children love and he loves them right back... this sounds promising... sounds like what I'd been dreaming of (sing it BG):

Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dream

But wait: ...who has repeatedly expressed that he isn't sure he ever wants to get remarried and definitely isn't ready for a big commitment now and who has decided he really can't be happy living in the Midwest.

Ok, not quite as promising as I thought. Sometimes I find myself feeling angry about this situation, and I quite often find myself feeling sad, and I've tried to figure out a way to deal with it that wouldn't leave me smack in the middle of such an emotional conundrum. Even before I knew he was planning to move back, when I realized he wasn't ready or willing to be my partner, I've tried breaking up with him, I've tried transitioning to a friendship, I've tried just being in the moment -- none of these have been effective at dealing with this situation in the way that alleviates the anger and the sadness for long:

Every day is like survival
You're my lover, not my rival
Every day is like survival
You're my lover, not my rival

Still, I just keep coming to the same conclusion as my boy George did in that last verse. He is my lover, maybe not forever but for today, that's what he is. And for me to try to arbitrarily tell my heart and my body otherwise just really doesn't work very well.

So how to deal with the seeming contradiction in front of me? This great love, that I believed when I found it, I'd have it all? And when I realized my boyfriend is on a different path, I got mad, believed he should be on the path that I want him to be on so he can be the one to fulfill my desires, because he was the one with whom I was first able to share that total physical, spiritual and emotional connection.

But what if it doesn't work that way, and I don't have to be mad or sad about it? What if I just chose to accept that he came into my life to teach me about that love, and to reintroduce me to the joys of wonderful outdoor adventures, and introduce my children to them, but also to learn to be ok with the fact that my life is not always going to go according to my grand plan and that my loved ones are not necessarily going to choose to walk my path with me or the path that I would choose for them in all my infinite wisdom?

And what if the most important lesson of all is that although I may have to or even choose to give up this particular man as my romantic partner -- I'm hearing it again:

You come and go, you come and go

I never, ever have to let go of the knowledge, and the beauty, and the life-affirming nature of true love.

Then it's not so maddening or sad after all, is it?

How Was It For You?

I like it when the ipod on the inside shuffles onto something kinda old and kinda obscure. This song is by a band that I loved the year I lived in England:

Well they said you are as good as you look but that
Would be impossible
For you look even better than the face of God on a sunny day
You look good enough to eat but I've had a bellyful
And now I have this bill but I don't wanna pay
How was it for you?

Of course, I'm different now than I was when I was a twenty-something. At that point I'm not so sure I'd experienced the face of God on a sunny day -- these days I get to see it in three guises: my son's, my daughter's, and my lover's.

I also have much more perspective now on the other person's experience, particularly when I feel like I've been in a position that is similar to one I'm observing in my mate:

Do you really need that drink to disarm defences
Can you ever face the flak when you're in control
Well I don't believe my luck I am defenseless
Do with me what you want but don't tell a soul
Don't tell my soul
How was it for you?
If you ain't out of your head can you ever enjoy yourself
But if you ain't in your head then who's at home?

I'm so possessed by sex I could destroy my health
We could be dancing over coals and we'd never know
We'd never know
How was it for you?
Where did you get those clothes
Are you sure they're still fashionable?
The sell by date says 68
Where did you steal those riffs and that bad attitude
You are traveling back in time to an altered state

I'm also trying my damnedest to live in today but at the same time having to listen to my boyfriend and his friends plan his return to his beloved homeland. This makes it tough for me not to be questioning what this is or was or will be, even though I am pretty sure it is, was, and will be what it has always been: a profound connection capable of heroic deeds but maybe not some of the ones on which I've most set my delicate heart:

How was it for you
Was it as good as it was for me
Well that's the best it's ever been
And you're the best I've ever seen
How was it for you
How was it for you?

Never Knew Love Like This Before

Yesterday I accompanied my boyfriend to his therapy session. I feel like we could use some help navigating this path o' love we're walking, so I suggested we go together and he agreed. It was an interesting, and good feeling, to be there at a time when we still feel solid. I remember what my last experience with couples therapy felt like, and it wasn't pretty -- and I think my man has had similar experiences with his former spouse.

We did spend some time talking about the difficulties inherent in our situation, but I also expressed the gratitude I feel to be able to experience such an amazing love on an emotional, physical and spiritual level. Indeed, like this song that's been in my head ever since, says:

I never knew love like this before
Now I'm lonely never more
Since you came into my life
You are my lovelight, this I know
And I'll never let you go
You my all, you're part of me

I'm glad that I'd been to see someone that I look to for guidance, someone who is really good at hearing me, the night before the therapy session, because she helped me figure out something which which I'd been struggling mightily. And that was the idea that having found such an amazing love, I might have to put it down (when my man moves back East). Every fiber of my being fights that idea, and for good reason. She reassured me that I wouldn't ever have to "put it down" or stop being guided by love, even though I might have to or even choose to let go of this relationship if it doesn't wind up working out to do it long distance. But if that happens, that decision, too, can be guided by love -- I don't ever have to separate from that. I'm hoping that will help me calm down and enjoy the moments we have together while we have them:

'Cause I never knew love like this before, opened my eyes
'Cause I never knew love like this before, what a surprise
'Cause I never knew love like this before

This feeling's so deep inside of me
Such a tender fantasy
You're the one I'm living for
You are my sunlight and my rain
And time could never change
What we share forever more, ooh

...especially since I don't rightly know what time can and can't change. I know it can't change the power of love, but it can certainly change the circumstances surrounding two human beings...

Poison

Yesterday at the gym the instructor (who was probably a toddler when this song came out) played a mix that included this dance fave of mine from my college years:

It's drivin' me out of my mind!
That's why it's HARD for me to find
Can't get it out of my head!
Miss her, kiss her, love her
(Wrong move you're dead!)

I was introduced to this song when I was working at a summer camp for inner-city kids from Chicago. Those kids could dance, and they tried to teach me, but they weren't entirely successful. "Girl, you ain't got no rhythm!" is what I recall them shouting at me as I tried to copy their moves.

Back at UW the following fall, fueled with booze at a frat party, this song came on and I forgot all about my observed lack of rhythm and got that dance on for all to see:

That girl is POISOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON...
Never trust a big butt and smile
That girl is POISOOOOOOOOOOOOOON...
POISON!

I sure wish I had a video I could upload for you all to see, or a friend who was there to help me recount it, but alas, I have neither to offer, so you'll just have to trust me: I was a source of some serious amusement and bemusement that night when this track came on!

Master of the House

I almost included a warning with my last post that I might be doing multiple Les Mis posts, but decided against it. Guess I didn't fully grasp the hold that music has on me once I get it into my head: it won't leave! Often I enjoy that fact, but the other night, not so much. I kept waking up in the middle of the night with any number of Les Mis songs in my head, including this one, and it isn't one of my favorites:

Master of the house, doling out the charm
Ready with a handshake and an open palm
Tells a saucy tale, makes a little stir
Customers appreciate a bon-viveur
Glad to do a friend a favor
Doesn't cost me to be nice
But nothing gets you nothing
Everything has got a little price!

Between the les mis lyrics and the stress about selling my house, sleep was in short supply. I did find a buyer, and that's positive for sure -- soon I won't be paying two mortgages and two utility bills and two home insurance policies and two property tax bills - but I didn't get as much for it as I'd hoped. That leaves me feeling less financially secure, which is undermining my sense of security in other ways too.

But I'm hoping to sleep a little bit more soundly tonight. I had some bodywork done this evening and that often helps me go with the flow a little better and trust the process more, even when it isn't going exactly as I'd planned...

On My Own

This morning I woke up belting out Les Mis lyrics -- more specifically, these:

On my own
Pretending he's beside me
All alone
I walk with him till morning
Without him
I feel his arms around me
And when I lose my way I close my eyes
And he has found me

On Friday evening, I went to see the movie version of the musical with a couple of friends. What a fantastic rendition. I was really blown away. This video explains part of how they made it and why it is so amazing, but in a word, it's the music. Here's a clip of Samantha Barks, who plays Eponine, singing a bit of this song -- such a phenomenal performance; and another of Anne Hathaway singing a spoof of it to Hugh Jackman in a previous Oscar ceremony. They were both incredible too.

I studied abroad my junior year in college, at a place called The University of Warwick, about an hour and a half from London. That year, I went to see Les Mis twice in London, and I listened to the music almost constantly.

Studying abroad was a transformative experience, but it was also quite lonely at times, so I guess it isn't surprising that of all the brilliant songs in that musical, it is this one that I woke up singing today:

And I know it's only in my mind
That I'm talking to myself and not to him
And although I know that he is blind
Still I say, there's a way for us

It was also an interesting year for me in terms of love. I experienced both heartbreaking unrequited love for one of the other American students and glorious, liberating, highly amusing love for a British dude named Tom Williams (TW). (I don't usually use people's names in this space, but in this case I feel relatively safe -- I've tried to find him on Facebook, and there are so many of them, it seems impossible to sift through them all.) I've looked for him again, decades later, because when I look back, I really wish I'd been in a different position to take full advantage of that love experience. And even though I couldn't fully embrace the man he was -- he was in a band, he was a fighter, he was a smoker and a heavy drinker (we all were), he was hilarious and naughty and deliciously masculine -- I named that sort of sensibility TW and filed it away in the form of a knowing about how exciting men like that can be.

And here I am now, twenty years out from my TW experience, and I think he'd be proud of the woman I am today, and the way I've managed to embrace both myself and my love for another deliciously masculine character, who doesn't have all of TW's crazy qualities, but definitely his sensibility and sex appeal.

I know there will be times, after my man returns to his mountains, where I'll be lamenting his absence, and this song will seem fitting:

I love him
But when the night is over
He is gone
The river's just a river
Without him
The world around me changes
The trees are bare and everywhere
The streets are full of strangers

But I'm not feeling that way today. I'm just feeling blessed to be given another shot at being fully present to a man like this, and being in a very different place, myself, to embrace it mind, body and soul.

Pain in My Heart

I love Otis Redding, and about a week ago, my ipod shuffled onto this song. It's been with me ever since:

Pain in my heart
Is treating me cold
Where can my baby be?
Lord, no one knows

Pain in my heart
Just won't let me sleep
Where can my baby be?
Lord, where can she be?

And now the days has begin to get tough
Said, I want you to come back
Come back, come back, baby
I had enough, oh

A little pain in my heart
Just won't let me be
Wake up restless nights
Lord and I can't even sleep

I'm with Otis -- this lack of sleep business is one of the worst parts of what I'm going through right now.

Ever since I heard this song the other day, I've been tasking myself: what, exactly, is this pain in my heart? I've tried to explain it, to myself, to my man, to my friends, to my children, to my mom, but none of the explanations have really been satisfactory.

Of course it's human nature to not want to hurt:

Yeah
Stop this little pain in my heart

And certainly, as I've expressed multiple times in this space, I've got this desire going on, just like Otis:

And now the days has begin to get rough
Said I want you to love me
Love me, love me, baby
Till I get enough, oh

But if what my boyfriend says is true, that he does loves me, wicked, then maybe this pain in my heart is just here to teach me something. To soften me. To make me more tolerant, more compassionate, more loving. To help me continue to learn to trust in love and goodness, rather than giving in to fear and lack. To learn that if  I am seeking to "get enough" by being loved by another human being, I'll always come up short. I'll always be disappointed.

Because the feeling that one has enough comes from a place inside -- it's not something that can be taken in from the outside. I'll be the first to admit that it can be confusing when love from the outside comes in such an amazing package, as it does with my man. You just want to hold on to it. You want to hold on really tight, to minimize the possibility that you'll lose it, and to maximize those incredible feelings that come when such a bundle of goodness loves you up. But if I learned anything in my marriage, it is that we human beings need to feel that we have some space, even or especially in love, so that we can continue to evolve into the best possible form of ourselves, because that's how we're able to best serve the world.

And so I'm working on making friends with this...

Pain in my heart
Little pain in my heart

...because I reckon it's really just the pain we all have as humans. Separation in necessary and natural sometimes, and the more we can just let it be there, and trust that the love we put out into the world always comes back, the more we can rest our weary heads and find peace.

Let's Stay Together

Last weekend wasn't an easy one for the Archico family. I had to tell the kids that my boyfriend, someone they are both quite attached to, is going to be moving back East this summer. My daughter, in particular, had a hard time with the news. I did my best to comfort her, reassuring her that he wasn't leaving yet, and even when he does, he's going to remain in our lives.

On Sunday, our beloved New Englander came over to talk more with the kids about his plans and his reasons. We made a fire, played legos, had dinner together, and listened to Pandora. When this song came on, I just let Al sing what's in my heart for me:

I, I'm so in love with you
Whatever you want to do is all right with me
'Cause you make me feel so brand new
And I want to spend my life with you

Let me say that since, alright, since we've been together
Loving you forever is what I need
Oh let me be the one you come running to
I'll never be untrue

Oh let's, let's stay together
Lovin' you whether, whether
Times are good or bad, happy or sad, alright, oh yeah
Whether times are good or bad, happy or sad

Oh tell me why, why, why, why, why, why
Why people break up, turn around and make up
I can't see, you never, never, never do that to me
You better not do, staying around you is all I
All these eyes will ever see

Why won't you say that me, everybody says
That let's, let's stay together
Lovin' you whether, whether
Times are good or bad, happy or sad

Everybody says, "Let's, let's stay together
I'll keep on lovin' you whether, whether
Times are, oh times are good or times are bad
Whether, whether good or bad, happy or sad
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah

I'm hoping we will stay together, even if we aren't geographically together for a while.

My Mom called tonight, and asked me how my man was doing. I filled her in on the news. "Does that make you really sad?" she asked. Through tears, I answered that it did, but that more than anything, I want him to be happy, and he's not happy here, particularly in the winter. And I told her how grateful I felt to be able to love someone this way. "It is a privilege, isn't it?" she said.

Yeah it is. And I think my kids and I can all feel how lucky we are to have such an amazing person in our lives. We certainly wouldn't want to limit his ability to feel amazing in his own skin. That would be a mean thing to do to him and to the world...

Stand By Me

As I know I've mentioned before on this blog, children singing really gets the tears flowing for me. Happens every single time, and my son's band concert tonight was no exception.

When the kids in the choir started belting out this number, I just about lost it:

When the night has come and the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we see
No, I won't be afraid, oh, I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

So darling, darling, stand by me, oh, stand by me
Oh, stand, stand by me, stand by me

If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall
Or the mountain should crumble to the sea
I won't cry, I won't cry, no, I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

And darling, darling, stand by me
Darling, darling, stand by me
Whenever you're in trouble
Won't you stand by me, oh, stand by me

I say just about because I know better than to really let the tears overtake me on the bleachers at a middle school concert, but damn, how they wanted to...

Asleep

Asleep I ain't. Again. These early morning wake-ups are not a good sign, but they seem to be my body's way of dealing with what's happening, or maybe my body's way of telling me I need to come to a greater level of peace about what's happening. I'm not quite sure, but having The Smiths as a soundtrack at this hour is making it a little easier to be awake:

Sing me to sleep 

Sing me to sleep 

I'm tired and I 

I want to go to bed 

Turns out, I may not just have been hearing I'm free the other day because I was happy to be on my bike. It seems I'm now free in another sense, too, because my love has decided he doesn't have what it takes to be in this relationship all the way, which is what I've been asking of him, particularly lately.

Ouch.

Yesterday morning when I was up early, I read a chapter of a book by one of my favorite teachers, Pema Chodron. The book is called The Places that Scare You, and the first chapter talks about the rawness of heartbreak, and how being cracked open as we are in heartbreak always comes with a choice: are we going to allow this experience to harden us, or let it soften us instead? And even though there's no small part of me that's angry about this circumstance, I know that I'll work through that, and let it go, and I know I'll use it to soften, but goddamn it hurts to have to give up a dream.

But I've done it before, and I landed on my feet that time; I'm sure I will this time too. It's not like I can stop loving him overnight, but it feels important to acknowledge what's before me and make some space for all that I want and need to come into my life, in whatever shape it takes.

Looking at these lyrics, I can't help but think about what it might be like to have my love move away, as he is talking about doing this summer:

Sing me to sleep 

Sing me to sleep 

And then leave me alone 

Don't try to wake me in the morning 

'Cause I will be gone 

Don't feel bad for me 

I want you to know 

Deep in the cell of my heart 

I will feel so glad to go

Will he? I've been asking him to see if he can determine what his heart really wants, but at the moment it seems to want things that are in conflict with each other. I've been there, and I know how hard it can be to deal with that. But I did deal with it, and although I can be (and have been) supportive of his process, ultimately, I need to release him and let him do what he'll do on his own.

My request to the Universe, borrowing from the lyrics of The Smiths, is for someone to:

Sing me to sleep 

Sing me to sleep 

I don't want to wake up 

On my own anymore 

Sing to me 

Sing to me 

I don't want to wake up 

On my own anymore

That's what I want.

This beautiful, sad song is appropriate for marking this day for one more reason than those I've written about above. Mostly when I hear it, I think about someone dying, and someone very dear was born five years ago today and died five years ago tomorrow. Talk about having to give up a dream; the dreams that are woven while a baby is in one's womb are some of the sweetest and most tenacious.

And although I don't know that this true of my friend's baby:

Don't feel bad for me 

I want you to know 

Deep in the cell of my heart 

I really want to go

I guess I do believe that it's hardest on those that are left behind, in this world, when those we love depart for another:

There is another world 

There is a better world

Well, there must be 

Well, there must be

Well, there must be

Well, there must be

Well ... 

Bye bye 

Bye bye 

Bye ...

Rest in peace, sweet babe.

I'm Free

One of the many adjustments that have come with moving to a new house is my morning commute. I used to be able to easily ride my bike to work, even if I drove or walked with my kids to their respective schools -- I'd just pick up my bike on my way back since my house was on the way to downtown. Not so anymore. That's meant more driving for me of late, which doesn't make me happy.

This morning I decided to just make it work to ride my bike, so I put my bike rack on my car, put my bike on it, and left it parked on a street near my daughter's school after I dropped her off.

Almost immediately after climbing aboard my Trek (and it ranks third of three in terms of the bikes in my fleet and how happy they make me), I heard this song start to play:

I'm free to do what I want any old time
I'm free to do what I want any old time

I am, of course, not free to do what I want any old time, but having the freedom to pedal myself to work greatly enhances my sense of personal freedom.

And although this wasn't the verse that went through my head, it is apropos for me today...

I'm free to choose who I see any old time
I'm free to bring who I choose any old time
Love me hold me love me hold me
I'm free any old time to get what I want

...because last night and today I was feeling a lot of anger about my lack of control over big parts of my life. Those words are a good reminder that while I may not have control, I do have choices, and recognizing that I am making choices -- though their outcome may be shy of that last line -- helps me take responsibility for my own happiness.

If I had to make one request to the Universe (with the Stones' help) to enhance my level of happiness, it'd be this:

Love me hold me love me hold me

...because I'm definitely not being held or getting as much lovin' in my life as I'd like at the moment.

I guess it's time for me to stop behaving as if I know or can control my fate, and instead ask for what I want and let go of the rest:

Love me hold me love me hold me

This is Love

Ipod shuffle selected the song with which to mark this day, and in its angry-rock kind of way, it speaks my truth just about perfectly, right down to mentioning just how much I love touching my man's gorgeous bald head:

I can't believe life's so complex
When I just wanna' sit here and watch you undress
This is love that I'm feeling
Does it have to be a life full of dread?
I wanna' chase you round the table, I wanna' touch your head
This is love that I'm feeling
I can't believe that the axis turns on suffering
When you taste so good
I can't believe that the axis turns on suffering
While my head burns
This is love that I'm feeling
Even in the summer, even in the spring
You can never get too much of a wonderful thing

You're the only story that I never told
You're my dirty little secret, wanna' keep you so
Come on out, come on over, help me forget
Keep the walls from falling on me, tumbling in
This is love that I'm feeling

I'll say.

And maybe that's enough, right there. To know that. And to celebrate it to the extent that I can. I don't need to try to predict or control the outcome.

This is love.

And that's huge. All by itself.

Harvest Moon

Last night after a late afternoon cross country ski, my boyfriend and I watched a very sad, but very lovely movie called Away From Her. The movie is about a couple coping with the devastating effects of Alzheimer's disease, but mostly, it's about love. When I saw the movie for the first time, it made me realize this was the kind of love I was seeking, and it motivated me to make finding that love one of my primary aims of the remainder of my time on this planet.

The first step was to both find and fall in love with myself. I set off on that path alone -- I was the only person who could decide to make that my work -- but I called on lots of people to support me, including friends, therapists, bodyworkers of various types, and a number of spiritual teachers whom I accessed through books, guided meditations, and in person during yoga classes and various retreats. I wanted to clear away what was blocking me from being able to fully embrace loving a man.

I was quite successful, but as I alluded to in yesterday's post, I wasn't entirely successful on my own. It took falling in love with a man whose heart I found incredibly willing -- the incredible part being his willingness to both help me continue to clear away the old wounds (wounds that were deep and wide and that triggered some of his old wounds, too) and his willingness to move halfway across the country to be with me -- to fully fall in love with myself. From the beginning of our time together, he saw my light, and continuously reflected it back at me, and I had the benefit of seeing myself through his eyes.

Now here we are, more than two years down the road, and I feel in myself both the desire and the willingness to embrace that love, to decide that we're going to be partners in this adventure we call life.

The problem is, by his own admission and as evidenced by his actions, his heart isn't feeling as willing as it was in the beginning. In my estimation, he's experienced a lot of the healing that I've experienced in this relationship, by loving and being loved, but he hasn't made the decision to do the work of clearing away the old wounds. In fact, he's specifically said that he doesn't think he needs to do that, at times choosing to hold on to both behaviors and belief patterns that don't serve his highest good or the people around him.

When I awoke this morning, I thought about what I had written about yesterday, and I realized that I am not a dwarf, I am a divorced woman with two children who has loved and lost and worked incredibly hard to reclaim her right to a great love. And as such, I need more in a partner than loyalty, honor, and a willing heart, though I do agree those are necessary.

I need someone who has decided to raise his level of consciousness beyond the old tapes that we all (or at least those of us who had difficult childhoods) go into adulthood with, tapes that are filled with messages that limit our joy, restrict our degree of safety in the world and in relationships, and teach us that the world is a place of challenge rather than opportunity.

Every single day, I have to renew my commitment to live by a different set of rules, to work to keep my body strong and my heart open, to continuously work to define my priorities for this life and live according to them. Me. I have to do that. No one else can do it for me, anymore than I can do it for anyone else.

Early on in the movie we watched last night, this beautiful song was playing in the background:

Come a little bit closer
Hear what I have to say
Just like children sleepin'
We could dream this night away.

But there's a full moon risin'
Let's go dancin' in the light
We know where the music's playin'
Let's go out and feel the night.

Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon.

When we were strangers
I watched you from afar
When we were lovers
I loved you with all my heart.

Whatever happens with us, I'm grateful to be able to say that I loved him with my whole heart. Still do.

But now it's gettin' late
And the moon is climbin' high
I want to celebrate
See it shinin' in your eye.

That's exactly what I want. I want to celebrate. I want to get married. And I want to do it joyfully. I told him so yesterday, during a pause in our skiing. But he isn't there, and I can't control whether he'll get there. And that's a very vulnerable place to be. When we were talking about this in bed last night, I was trying to articulate the challenge this presents for me, but I couldn't do it.

Now I think I can. My challenge is going to be to stay in love with myself, to continue to recognize my worthiness, to remember that loyalty, honor and a willing heart are needed, perhaps most of all, in our relationships with ourselves. After all, no one else is with us for the whole of our adventure, and those who do choose to be with us are always better off when we remember not to abandon ourselves...

Song of the Lonely Mountain

This morning I took my son to see The Hobbit. He requested that I take him, saying on the way to the theatre that he hoped it wasn't too scary, but I was the one hiding my eyes during the battle scenes. It did have its scary, hard-to-watch moments, but it was breathtakingly beautiful to behold at the same time. Kinda like life, I reckon.

On the way home, my son mentioned how much he liked the music in the movie. He was more likely referring to the instrumental soundtrack that accompanied most of the film, but with few exceptions, I'm a lyrics girl, so I'm choosing the closing song to mark this day:

Far over the Misty Mountains rise
Leave us standing upon the height
What was before, we see once more
Is our kingdom, a distant light

Fiery mountain beneath the moon
The words aren't spoken, we'll be there soon
For home a song that echoes on
And all who find us will know the tune

In addition to moving music, the movie (or perhaps I should say story?) had some pretty damn inspiring things to say about the importance of home, juxtaposed with the most important qualities one needs in a partner when embarking on an adventure.

I've heard a lot about the importance of home from my boyfriend lately, since he's been missing his so much. It's funny, but Madison doesn't really feel like a home to me in the sense that the dwarves talk (and sing) about the Lonely Mountain or the way my boyfriend talks about New Hampshire. Maybe it would if I left it?  I don't know. For now, I feel like it's my home because it's where my children are, but I've never really resonated with this geographic location the way I have in places like California and Wyoming.

One of the things I loved about the movie was Bilbo's unlikely (but ultimately beneficial for all) decision to join the adventure of taking back the dwarves' home. It's a good lesson that sometimes the best things happen when we do something other than what we've always thought we would do.

I didn't expect to fall in love with someone whose home is New Hampshire. I didn't expect him to move out here to be with me, either, but I'm sure glad he did. It's given us much more time to gel as a couple and as a family. It's also given us time to wade through more of the old wounds and learn to be driven by what we know is most important: that we love each other in ways that are supportive of each person's highest good. And if my man's highest good can't be found living in Wisconsin all year round for the next 8 1/2 years, well then, I guess this isn't a good place for him to live.

The dwarves say that what's needed in a partner for an adventure are three things:

1) Loyalty
2) Honor
3) A Willing Heart

It's funny. I've always recognized the first two qualities in my boyfriend, and I would say he's got the last one covered too, long before I did, but he's not so sure. And you can't be sure until you're sure.

As for me, I'd say I've always had honor, but loyalty and a willing heart have only really settled into my bones and gotten comfy since I've been on this adventure of loving my lonely-for-the-mountains man...

Keep on Loving You

Up in the wee hours this morning, a few things are keeping me awake. One of them is the chorus of this song, which is blaring internally:

And I'm gonna keep on lovin you 

Cause it's the only thing I wanna do 

I don't wanna sleep 

I just wanna keep on lovin you 

Now truly, I do want to sleep, and my newfound recognition of what it really means to let love drive instead of fear is only part of the reason I'm awake in the middle of the night. The other is the stress of carrying two mortgages, the buckling of the tile floor in the master bedroom, the lack of some additional money that I should have coming in but hasn't found its way to me yet... 

So I thought rather than tossing and turning, I'd get up, send some emails, write this blog, and afterward maybe, if I'm lucky, get a bit more sleep before my alarm clock goes off requesting that I get up for work. 

I was talking to a friend last night about our recent discoveries in our respective romantic relationships, both in ourselves and about our loves. And we were talking about whether it was necessary or even possible to find the stability that humans naturally seek in another human being. The buddhist teacher I was listening to the other day, Pema Chodron, would say no. But what my friend and I agreed on, which I had talked to my therapist about previously, is that the stability that is both reassuring and possible in a primary relationship is finding a way to have certainty with your person that you can be heard, and that your partner will do their best to both listen and understand.

And while I wouldn't say I've been like a snake coiled up in the grass playing dead:

You should've seen by the look in my eyes, baby
There was somethin missin
You should've known by the tone of my voice, maybe
But you didn't listen
You played dead
But you never bled
Instead you lay still in the grass
All coiled up and hissin

...I would say that I should've known by the look in my love's eyes that there was something missing; I should have known by the tone of his voice maybe, but I didn't listen. Not with my heart open. I was hearing him from an old place of wondering if it was something in me that was missing, or something in him that was missing, and not just something in the situation, which he'd been trying to tell me in big and small ways for at least a year.

About a week ago, I read something that made me realize I needed to listen more with my heart rather than my head, but I was still unable to really do it, even though I did share that with my boyfriend, saying I would really try.

So what's changed since then? A number of things, I reckon. One was reaching a point where I had a very clear message that I couldn't go on as I had been any longer; one was my boyfriend continuing to be brutally honest even when it meant cracking everything open further which I think it is safe to say was scary for both of us; one was my new year's day yoga class which helped open the back of my heart; and one was the movie I saw the night before last that made it crystal clear to me that, like REO:

And I meant every word I said
When I said that I love you I meant
That I love you forever...

My Cherie Amour

Last night I went to see Silver Linings Playbook with a friend. What a spectacular movie. Quirky, funny, poignant, well-acted, inspiring... I really loved it.

But watching the movie, I just kept wishing that my boyfriend were there with me. It came to me over and over again throughout the movie: it's him. It's his fascinating thoughts, his laughter, his keen powers of observation, his response to it that I most wanted to hear. At that moment and for as long as I'm on this earth.

As in many movies, there was a love story at the heart of it, and seeing this love story come to fruition on the screen triggered two seemingly disparate feelings in me: a profound sadness and a comforting clarity.

I felt really sad that I wasn't sharing it with him, that we weren't in a place where we could fully embrace our love as the two main characters were at the end of the movie. Walking out of the movie, I had these big, powerful tears that carried a strong message that I could tell had nothing to do with any old wounds, nothing to do with not wanting to be alone, nothing to do with anything other than the same sadness I've been struck with every time I contemplate letting him go.

So I'm not going to do that. He's my sweet love, the one my heart beats for, and that's all that really matters. The rest we can work out. Maybe it won't look like the picture I had in my head, but the prospect of getting to be with him -- his happy self -- his best self -- that's better than any picture I could've come up with in the abstract.

Speaking of sweet loves, this Steve Wonder classic played an important role in the movie -- I won't tell you exactly what role -- go see the flick and find out for yourself:

La la la la la la, La la la la la la

My cherie amour, lovely as a summer day
My cherie amour, distant as the milky way
My cherie amour, pretty little one that I adore
You're the only girl my heart beats for
How I wish that you were mine...

Band on the Run

When I woke up this morning, this song was the one in my head. Lest the selection seem completely random, it was the answer to a Trivial Pursuit question in a game we played with my folks during our Christmas visit.

But as far as I can tell, there's not much significance or relevance to the lyrics, with the possible exception of the line about rodents on the run, because I had a crazy dream last night that my daughter's guinea pig escaped:

Well, the undertaker drew a heavy sigh seeing no one else had come,
And a bell was ringing in the village square for the rabbits on the run.
Band on the run, band on the run.
And the jailer man and sailor sam, were searching every one

In the dream, the guinea pig's fur was all spiked up and she was trying her hardest to get away. I looked helplessly at my boyfriend, hoping he'd have a solution, but he just shrugged his shoulders as the beloved pet cleared the final hurdle to freedom.

Strange. The night before that, I dreamt that all of my son's fish died. They were floating on the bottom of the tank, and when I saw it, knowing how difficult it was going to be for my son, I just cried.

Why the repeated dreams about pets in peril? Not sure, but I'm guessing it reflects the lesser degree of personal safety I feel now that I live in a bigger house. My old house was sort of like a womb for myself and my kids. It held us tightly, and there wasn't much room for anyone else. And I guess there was a certain safety in that. I was a lot less vulnerable than I am right now, emotionally, physically, financially.

It's difficult not to feel sometimes like I just want to be back in that womb, and though I certainly do seek a greater amount of comfort than I feel right now, I know deep down that, despite signs to the contrary (like the tile floor buckling in the master bath, as it did yesterday), it was time for me to move, time to create more space for myself and my family to grow. I don't get to control how or when that growth happens, though, and I suppose that is the part that presents the most difficulty for me.

Last night during an emotional phone conversation with a close friend, I shared many of these feelings, and my friend suggested that I practice loving kindness meditation, invoking these powerful words:

May I be filled with loving kindness
May I be well in body and mind
May I be safe from inner and outer dangers
May I be happy, truly happy, and free

I was too exhausted to take her advice last night, so I'm off to do that now...

You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling

This afternoon I traveled to Blue Mounds, about 30 minutes outside Madison, for a special new year's yoga class. I was feeling pretty vulnerable, and the class, which was focused on opening the back of the heart, forced me to sit with that vulnerability in a way that wasn't comfortable. At the end of the class, we set our intentions for the year, and mine were much the same as last year, only clearer -- it didn't take so long to pull them out of myself and put them on paper:

1) Remain open to love
2) Continue to practice and teach yoga in ways that facilitate myself and others to remaining open to love.
3) Trust that there is enough and continue to follow divine guidance.

After class, I went to Blue Mounds State Park to cross country ski. It was about a year ago that I was there doing the same thing with my boyfriend, when we happened upon that amphitheater in the woods, and I had a vision of our wedding being held there. When I tried to share that vision with him, he bristled, and I felt hung out there, vulnerable, much like I was headed into yoga class this afternoon. Only this time, for the skiing, it was just me, and I intentionally avoided the amphitheater. A reminder that he wasn't hearing any wedding bells was the last thing I needed.

I didn't last long out there. Hungry and cold, I got back in the car and started driving home. Rather than listen to music as I had on the way out there, I decided to simply be with the experience and the feelings I had leaving Blue Mounds.

Even without playing music, I wasn't without a song for long, but I was a little surprised by the selection:

You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips.
And there's no tenderness like before in your fingertips.
You're trying hard not to show it, (baby).
But baby, baby I know it...

You've lost that lovin' feeling,
Whoa, that lovin' feeling,
You've lost that lovin' feeling,
Now it's gone...gone...gone...wooooooh.

I can't really explain what's going on with us, but I can say that we haven't consistently had that loving feeling for at least a couple of months, and I can say that we went through the same thing last winter.

But there are a couple of important ways in which our experience diverges from the song. My boyfriend hasn't been trying hard not to show it. He's been saying, as he did last year, that he just doesn't know if he can live here, and as such, he doesn't feel like it is right, and/or it confuses the issue to allow himself to have that lovin' feeling toward me while he has so much pain in his heart about where he is in his life.

And so, my experience is indeed, at least as far as the romantic connection between us is concerned:

Now there's no welcome look in your eyes
when I reach for you.
And now your're starting to critisize little things I do.
It makes me just feel like crying, (baby).
'Cause baby, something in you is dying.

He says that the thing that is in him that's dying is the part that loves the mountains, loves his home, his people. I get that it is hard, but it doesn't seem to me that any of those parts have to die. I guess this is where, at least for the moment, we diverge.

What's a girl to do? Cry, sleep, do yoga, reach out to friends, get a dog, read more, get back to work and to a regular exercise schedule... oh yeah, and keep my heart open. Because just like I don't believe that any part of his love for mountains or place or people has to die, I don't believe our love has to die, either:

Baby, baby, I get down on my knees for you.

If you would only love me like you used to do, yeah.

We had a love...a love...a love you don't find everyday.

So don't...don't...don't...don't let it slip away.

Baby (baby), baby (baby),
I beg of you please...please,
I need your love (I need your love),
I need your love (I need your love),
So bring it on back (So bring it on back),
Bring it on back (so bring it on back).

Bring back that lovin' feeling,
Whoa, that lovin' feeling
Bring back that lovin' feeling,
'Cause it's gone...gone...gone,
and I can't go on,
noooo...