Dreams

On my weekends without my kids, I've got my yoga, and now I've got a new consulting gig to keep me busy. And not just any consulting gig -- one that actually gives me a shot at one of the dreams I hold most dear: improving inner-city schools for poor kids. That's a big deal, and I'm happy about the opportunity, and my friends were happy for me when I told them.

But this being alone thing, it's wearing on me. And just when I think I'm really getting over my last love, I'm struck with a new wave of grief about what we had and what we lost, just like this song from Fleetwood Mac so eloquently articulates:

Now here you go again
You say you want your freedom
Well who am I to keep you down
It's only right that you should
Play the way you feel it
But listen carefully to the sound
Of your loneliness
Like a heartbeat.. drives you mad
In the stillness of remembering what you had
And what you lost...
And what you had...
And what you lost
Thunder only happens when it's raining
Players only love you when they're playing
Say... Women... they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean... you'll know

Here's how I know I'm not washed clean: lately when I get into bed, I'm reminded of how sacred the time we spent in bed together was. I've never felt so close to another human being. So safe. So loved.

I've been working hard at dealing with the lingering wounds that initially kept me from loving from my heart, and then, once I did, kept me from the truth of what I could expect from love. I know I made a lot of headway with those wounds while we were together. But knowing that just reminds me of what I had and what I lost:

Dreams of loneliness...
Like a heartbeat... drives you mad...
In the stillness of remembering what you had...
And what you lost...
And what you had...
And what you lost

I'm not saying I won't find it again, and this time with someone who is looking to fall in love all the way. And if he isn't, I'm going to be much better at recognizing that the next time around, getting out before, you know, I start sending out Christmas cards with pictures of the four of us as a family.

I know that I need to be gentle with myself. And I know that I need to be patient. It's just that sometimes, neither of those are easy to do...