It's My Life

I'm now on day 3 of not making contact with my ex. I know. It doesn't seem like a long time. Especially for a girl who left Portland over a month ago saying she wanted no more contact.

Turns out, although a part of me knew that was what was best for me, another part, the part that was driving, couldn't abide it. So I overrode it. I called, I emailed, I texted.

Not surprisingly, I heard only the bare minimum back from him.

Then finally, this week, I realized that I could keep giving all my love and my energy away to him, but only at great personal cost and pretty big cost to my kids, too.

I realized this not in my mind or my heart, but experientially. Yesterday after savasana (final relaxation pose at the end of my yoga practice), I was having all these realizations about love, and my first instinct was to share them with the New Englander. Call him up, as I had done last week when the same thing happened. But the result of me leaving him that voicemail was for him to tell me that he hadn't finished listening to it because it made him emotional at work, but he would. And that's it. That's all I've heard about it.

This time I didn't call or text or email, mainly because I got busy with other things, and then, as I wrote about yesterday, I poured my energy into an email reaching out to someone about the next phase of my career.

Then yesterday afternoon, I tried to take my daughter mountain biking at CamRock. I really thought she'd love it, but she was pretty miserable. Super frustrated. But instead of getting frustrated myself, I stayed open and kind, and it made a HUGE difference to both of us.

Aha! I thought, late last night. If I don't give all my love away to someone who doesn't reciprocate, I will have more to give to my children. Hooray for that!

It will also please you to know that these realizations had a soundtrack, and that soundtrack featured a song by none other than Bon Jovi:

This ain't a song for the broken-hearted
No silent prayer for the faith-departed
I ain't gonna be just a face in the crowd
You're gonna hear my voice
When I shout it out loud

It's my life
It's now or never
I ain't gonna live forever
I just want to live while I'm alive
(It's my life)
My heart is like an open highway
Like Frankie said
I did it my way
I just wanna live while I'm alive
It's my life

That it is. And today I'm feeling a renewed commitment to live it for me, for my kids, and eventually, with someone capable of reciprocating my love...

Have a Little Faith in Me

This morning after my yoga practice, I got in my car and this song was playing:

When the road gets dark
And you can no longer see
Just let my love throw a spark
And have a little faith in me

And when the tears you cry
Are all you can believe
Just give these loving arms a try
And have a little faith in me
And

Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me

When your secret heart
Cannot speak so easily
Come here darlin'
From a whisper start
To have a little faith in me

And when your back's against the wall
Just turn around and you will see
I will catch, i will catch your fall baby
Just have a little faith in me

Well, I've been loving you for such a long time girl
Expecting nothing in return
Just for you to have a little faith in me
You see time, time is our friend
'Cause for us there is no end
And all you gotta do is have a little faith in me
I said I will hold you up, i will hold you up
Your love gives me strength enough
So have a little faith in me

Instead of feeling sad that having faith in my last partner didn't turn out so well, I considered it an invitation to have a little more faith in myself. Instead of investing time and energy in the past, I decided to take steps today toward my future. I sent another email out in hopes that as I become more able to articulate my vision, I will find the people in a position to help me realize it.

And it felt pretty darn good...

Below My Feet

It's Sunday today, and I'm up early to head to a group yoga practice that starts at 7am.

Actually, I'm up earlier than I need to be for that, and when I awoke this morning, my feet were calling out for attention. At about 5:45am, I decided to listen to my what my body was asking for, and grabbed my foot cream off my dresser and gave them a good rub down.

As I rubbed, this song entered my still-sleepy consciousness:

You were cold as the blood through your bones
And the light which led us from our chosen homes
Well I was lost

And now I sleep
Sleep the hours and that I can't weep
When all I knew was steeped in blackened holes
I was lost

Keep the earth below my feet
For all my sweat, my blood runs weak
Let me learn from where I have been
Keep my eyes to serve and my hands to learn
Keep my eyes to serve and my hands to learn

I feel like this is a good song for a Sunday. The closest I come to organized religion is a led group yoga practice, but the lyrics of this song really resemble a prayer:

And I was still
I was under your spell
When I was told by Jesus all was well
So all must be well

Just give me time
You know your desires and mine
Wrap my flesh in ivy and in twine
For I must be well

I find them comforting, too. I've been having this thing with my feet on and off since I got back from Maine. I'm not sure exactly what the message is, but I have a pretty good idea.

Here's some background:

Before I went to Maine, I was super excited to give the New Englander a foot rub. He loves it when I do that, and I love doing things that make him feel good. But -- and I think I wrote about this before -- I found out right before we got there that he'd slept with someone else since the last time we saw each other. We hadn't been exclusively dating, but still. Here I was putting my life on hold for him -- by my own choice, mind you -- but I felt betrayed when I heard this news.

So we got there, and on night number two, in the tent in Acadia, when I woke up in the middle of the night, I had these lurid fantasies unlike anything I've ever had before. In some of them, instead of giving him a foot rub, I was twisting his toes as if they were silly putty. Making them long and twisty and then pulling them off. It was a really strange experience. One I've never had before or since.

I did not, of course, act on these fantasies. Instead, after we got up, I told him I wanted to talk and as we sat by the ocean, I told him how I felt.

Flash forward a couple of days: We're back in Portland. We're connecting again, both as a twosome and as a foursome. I decide to give him a foot rub, but I only get through one foot before I need to help the kids with something. By the time I got back to him to do the second foot, said foot was screaming for my loving touch.

That's exactly how both of my feet were feeling when I woke up this morning. Not only did I not get a foot rub in Portland, but it's been a very, very long time since anyone has touched me in that "come here, let me love you up" kind of way that is more about nurture than sex.

I think one of the reasons why I'm having such a hard time right now is that I'm finally feeling a lot of the feelings I denied in service of convincing myself that my relationship with the New Englander was working or could work. And that includes being touched -- and I don't mean sexually -- without having to ask for it.

This afternoon I got to spend a little bit of time alone in the woods -- this time sans bike -- and when I found myself going down the familiar road of thinking about what was or what could be, I stopped myself, and instead tried to release him.

Speaking of prayer, I realized in that moment that I don't feel ready to release the New Englander. I wish I did, I'm sure most people in my life wish I did, but I don't. It's not like saying over and over again that I'm doing something means it happens.

So instead, I asked for the willingness to release him, and that felt a lot more productive:

Keep the earth below my feet
For all my sweat, my blood runs weak
Let me learn from where I have been
So keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn
Well keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn

Yes, please. Help me learn from where I have been...

Postscript: Speaking of learning, I saw a friend and fellow yoga teacher the morning after I wrote this. She was teaching a class that involved footrubs, so I told her about my experience of waking up with my feet crying out for some love. She said "Yep, this is the time of year for Vata. Lots of air. Lots of trouble staying grounded on the Earth."

Fascinating!

Do I Wanna Know?

I heard this song for the first time yesterday in the car:

Have you got color in your cheeks?
Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift
The type that sticks around like something in your teeth?
Are there some aces up your sleeve?
Have you no idea that you're in deep?
I dreamt about you nearly every night this week
How many secrets can you keep?
'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat
Until I fall asleep
Spilling drinks on my settee

And it was just one of those songs I loved the first time I heard it -- the British sound, the oh-so-relatable lyrics:

(Do I wanna know)
If this feeling flows both ways?
(Sad to see you go)
Was sort of hoping that you'd stay
(Baby we both know)
That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day

Crawling back to you

Ever thought of calling when you've had a few?
'Cause I always do
Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new
Now I've thought it through

I wonder about that concept in the second to last line of the last verse. I really do. I'm finding it tricky to find the sweet spot between not resisting my love for the New Englander and not being mired in it:

Crawling back to you

I really love the next two lines -- and part of me wonders that about both of us:

So have you got the guts?
Been wondering if your heart's still open and if so I wanna know what time it shuts
Simmer down and pucker up
I'm sorry to interrupt. It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you
I don't know if you feel the same as I do
But we could be together if you wanted to

Actually, I don't wonder if I have the guts. 'Cause I know I do. I do wonder if he does. I sure thought he did. But I'm with the Arctic Monkeys: We could be together if he wanted to. But I need to remember that he doesn't want to, not badly enough, anyway. And while it is hard for me to understand and/or believe that, when I look at the evidence, it's pretty dang clear...

Follow Me

I'm not sure if it's the beautiful weather, the passage of a month since I left my love in Portland, the increased time I've spent playing in the woods (on my mountain bike), or some combination of all of these and more, but I've been feeling more upbeat this week than I have in quite some time.

So when I heard this song the other day:

You don't know how you met me
You don't know why
You can't turn around and say goodbye
All you know is when I'm with you
I make you free
And swim through your veins like a fish in the sea
I'm singin'

Follow me everything is alright
I'll be the one to tuck you in at night
And if you
Want to leave I can guarantee
You won't find nobody else like me

I felt the truth of the lyrics in what I like to believe is a self-possessed but not self-righteous way. And every day since I heard it, I keep hearing these particular lyrics over and over again:

And if you
Want to leave I can guarantee
You won't find nobody else like me

It helps (but is also part of what is so heartbreaking) that my New Englander feels the same way. It also helps that I am still learning so much about love through the processing of this loss. Paradoxically, the more I allow myself to feel the love I have for him -- or maybe just the more I allow myself to feel the love I have -- the freer I feel:

You don't know how you met me
You don't know why
You can't turn around and say goodbye
All you know is when I'm with you
I make you free
And swim through your veins like a fish in the sea
I'm singin'

I don't know if I make him free, but I know that leaning into the love makes me free, and that, my friends, is the goal...

Strawberry Fields Forever

All in all, today was a pretty amazing day. First of all, it started at 2:30am. That's right. That's what time I woke up. I didn't actually give in and get out of bed until 3am, but I woke up at 2:30am. Mind you, I went to bed at 8:30 last night. You see, I knew I was going to be getting up at 4:30am for an early East-side yoga practice, so the only way to get 8 hours in was to go to sleep at 8:30pm.

I like to get 8 hours, but I haven't been able to lately with all those 4am wake-ups. So I thought I'd try to trick my body into more sleep, but alas, it did not work.

After yoga, I was supposed to meet a friend to go running, but she bailed. Predicting this might happen, I'd stashed my mountain bike in my Volvo so that if I weren't going running, I could go riding.

So out to CamRock I went, arriving around quarter past seven, just in time to see my friend the Great Blue Heron take off as I got onto the first patch of singletrack. The park was once again empty, and I was having a grand old time ripping around corners when I hit Raspberry Fields -- a trail that leads to my very favorite CamRock has to offer: Rip n ride.

It won't surprise you to learn, I bet, that as soon as I saw the Raspberry Fields sign, this song started to play in my mind:

Let me take you down
Cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry Fields forever

But it might surprise you that the first line -- Let me take you down -- foreshadowed a pretty crazy tumble that I took on one of Rip n Ride's rocky downhills. I literally flew off the left side of the trail, landing in bramble with my bike on top of me. It was nutty, and it shook me up a bit, but it didn't really hurt, so I got up and rode on:

Living is easy with eyes closed
Misunderstanding all you see
It's getting hard to be someone
But it all works out
It doesn't matter much to me

But then it happened AGAIN, this time on an easier patch of trail, and this time I fell onto my other hip. I have no idea what caused me to go over -- it was like Mother Nature was trying to give me a chiropractic adjustment and she didn't quite get the job done the first time she took me down:

Let me take you down
Cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry Fields forever

Falls and all, it really was a great way to start my day. And then, miracle of miracles, my daughter finally agreed to go mountain biking with me this afternoon, so we headed out to Quarry Ridge. It was a bit of a debacle -- tons of mosquitoes, a jammed brake on her bike, a wrong turn that lead us to the wrong trail -- but it was also triumphant in many ways. Not the least of which was me managing to make it up one of the climbs I've been working on -- such a good feeling -- but I've got much more work to do in that department.

And thankfully, I didn't get taken down on the evening ride, at least not in the same way:

Let me take you down
Cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry Fields forever
Strawberry Fields forever
Strawberry Fields forever

Speaking of forever, I wish this amazing weather we've had all week would last forever!

Fidelity

Now that I've seen all 10 seasons (!) of Grey's Anatomy, I don't have an automatic go-to when I want to watch a little something on my computer. Lately I've been venturing back over to Netflix, where they now have some pretty awesome flicks on Watch Instantly. This includes one of my real faves from the last few years, Silver Linings Playbook.

What a beautiful movie, and it was so good for me to watch it again and see the difference in where I am from a couple of years ago (see my post after I watched it back in January of 2013). In the movie, the main character is still in love with his wife even after she cheated on him and wanted out of their marriage. The movie is about his heartbreak but also about how he rebuilds himself and falls in love with someone else (someone who it would not be hard to fall in love with, my fave, Jennifer Lawrence). When I saw it the first time, I cried and cried. Watching it again, I remember the sheer agony I felt the winter before last. I also remember the friend I watched it with asking me if I knew why it struck me so hard. As I recall, the best I could come up with was that to see them -- the new lovers -- in a position to embrace their love and not be in that position with my own lover felt so unfair.

Now I understand on a deeper level what those tears were about. Some part of me probably knew then what I can see clearly now -- my boyfriend and I were not the new lovers who found each other at a time in both of their lives where they were open to starting something together that could go on and on -- we were -- or should I say I was -- more like the main character at the start of the movie, still desperately in love with someone who, by his actions, had shown that he wasn't able to embrace a life with me. I didn't want to admit it for so long, that though we had been those lovers in the position to take on the world together, we actually only inhabited that place for a fraction of the time we spent together. Much of the rest of it was me holding on for dear life, clinging to what I believed could be.

That belief was enough for a long time, until I started to heal, and want more for myself. And even then, it took me a few more months to recognize that I couldn't force someone to give me what I wanted, not even by identifying it and mapping out a brilliant plan to bring us to fruition. That didn't work. It didn't work because I can only control myself. I can't control him. Even if he, on some level, wants to do the work. Even if he does love me, and want to be with me. Those things just aren't enough. He would have had to be able to take action, and continue to take action, to move himself and us back in that direction, and he either couldn't or wouldn't.

Sigh. But at least the picture is getting clearer for me. I don't love him any less, but I do love myself more, and that means expecting more out of life than to mire myself in a cycle of ecstasy and frustration from trying to change the man I happen to be crazy about who can't or won't deliver on my basic needs in a romantic partnership.

Pondering all of this, I heard Regina Spektor's song about letting go of a love, and it seemed to be expressing what I was feeling pretty darn perfectly:

I never loved nobody fully
Always one foot on the ground
And by protecting my heart truly
I got lost in the sounds
I hear in my mind
All these voices
I hear in my mind all these words
I hear in my mind all this music

And it breaks my heart
And it breaks my heart
And it breaks my heart
It breaks my heart

And suppose I never ever met you
Suppose we never fell in love
Suppose I never ever let you kiss me so sweet and so soft
Suppose I never ever saw you
Suppose we never ever called
Suppose I kept on singing love songs just to break my own fall
Just to break my fall
Just to break my fall
Break my fall
Break my fall

All my friends say that of course its gonna get better
Gonna get better
Better better better better
Better better better

Yes, my friends, you are right. It's gonna get better. It's already starting to...

Don't Fall in Love With a Dreamer

There are a lot of qualities about myself that I appreciate, but right up there at the top of the list is that my inner voice uses songs to communicate with me and tell me what I need to know.

Over the last few days, the inner jukebox has been relentless with this heartbreaking song from one of my childhood faves. I keep having the urge to hear this song and belt out the words, (which I did today while riding my bike to work -- the co-eds I rode past didn't know what hit them!) but I don't have a recording, so instead I've been using the youtube recording on my phone, even while driving in the car:

Just look at you sitting there
You never looked better than tonight
And it'd be so easy to tell ya I'd stay
Like I've done so many times

I think I get why it's here right now: I did fall in love with a dreamer. And to make matters worse, I was a dreamer falling in love with a dreamer, and the more I let my dreamer take over, the less grounded I became in the reality of the situation.

Which is unfortunate, because the reality of the situation is very clear. While I have glimpsed the fullness of who the man from New England is, and fell in love with him, he unfortunately (for me) hasn't been operating in that fullness for a long time. And further, as a friend reminded me yesterday, he's been operating in neediness and indecision, both of which have caused me pain, and would probably continue to cause me pain as long as I let them.

Last summer and fall, I spent nearly six months trying to get over him. I was doing pretty well, too. I'd made a lot of headway. And then he called me up at Christmastime, saying he wanted me back, saying he wanted a family, our family. Now I could have told him he was offering too little, too late. If I had been really grounded as I listened to him, I probably would have known better. Part of me did know better. But I didn't let her make the decision. I let my heart -- and the dreamer in me -- the one who wanted nothing more than for his words to really be true -- make the decision for the rest of me.

Just in case you don't know what happens when you fall in love with a dreamer, Kenny Rogers and Kim Carnes will be happy to tell you. This next verse really encapsulates the feeling I had -- just swap out the word "night" with the word "time" and they could very well be singing about my experience when he came back into my life over the holidays last year:

I was so sure this would be the night
You'd close the door and want to stay with me
And it'd be so easy to tell ya I'll stay
Like I've done so many times

Don't fall in love with a dreamer
'Cause he'll always take you in
Just when you think you've really changed him
He'll leave you again
Don't fall in love with a dreamer
'Cause he'll break you every time
Oh, put out the light
Just hold on
Before we say goodbye

Oh, I wanted to hold on. I really, really did. Right up through my last visit with him. I didn't want to say goodbye. My heart wasn't ready to say goodbye. But I am choosing to do things differently now. I am no longer trying to change him, and when I allow myself to stay in where he is, and not run off in my head to where I can help him get to, I feel solid about the fact that he is not the one to be my partner. My heart may not like this fact, but she can at least accept that it's the reality right now.

This is my work -- staying grounded in myself and what I know -- so that I don't let the dreamer (either his dreamer or my dreamer) take over my life. I love both of those dreamers dearly -- mine got me through a really tough childhood -- and his got me through a whole lot of healing from my childhood -- but those dreamers simply can't take me where I want to go today.

Because I want to go to a space where the partner I choose for myself knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that living his life with me is exactly what he wants to do. And the beauty of that, of the relationship that is coming for me, is I won't have to ask him to stay even once, let alone repeatedly, he just will:

Now it's mornin' and the phone rings
And you say you've gotta get your things together
You just gotta leave before ya change your mind
And if ya knew what I was thinkin', girl
I'd turn around if you'd just ask me one more time

Don't fall in love with a dreamer
'Cause he'll always take you in
Just when you think you've really changed him
He'll leave you again
Don't fall in love with a dreamer
'Cause he'll break you every time
Ooooooh, put out the light
Just hold ooon
Before we say goodbye
Before we say goodbye
Goodbye

I'm not sure how old I was when I first heard that you can't change people, but I can tell you I didn't believe it then. I believe it now, and I've officially stopped trying to change the man I fell in love with, which feels like progress and could very well be one of the things I needed to learn in that relationship...

The Brokenhearted

Just me chillin' at CamRock post-ride

After visiting my friend and her new baby on Saturday, I went mountain biking at CamRock. I had the trails all to myself -- except for the snakes, chipmunks, grasshoppers, toads, bunnies and woodchucks -- I guess all my fellow shredders were busy cheering on the Badgers. I LOVED having the woods to myself, and I had an excellent time.

When my thoughts traveled to my old mountain biking pal, I tried to remind myself to have my own experience, you know, be here now. And I mostly managed to do that.

I try to make sure the Universe knows, though, in no uncertain terms, that I am open to an encounter with a new mountain biking hottie whenever it's ready to put that in motion. Just in case this was my weekend, I packed not one but two Hopalicious in my cooler for after-ride refreshment.

Alas, it will not surprise you to learn that the fact that I enjoyed having the trails to myself also meant that there was no hot man to drink my other beer.

Which is ok. It really is. I know that this time is about being the one I love. I keep getting those reminders. And I'm mostly doing a pretty damn good job of doing just that.

So this morning when the Boss started playing after my meditation, this time this tune:

Well darling, oh won't you come a little closer
I promise pretty darling, I didn't know what I was saying
And now I'm praying that you won't say it's over
Come here pretty baby and rest your head upon my shoulder
Just one kiss and we started
Now don't leave me to the brokenhearted, the brokenhearted, the brokenhearted
And tell me that you need me

Well now baby, the lonely nights keep growing longer
And my love for you just keeps growing stronger
Like a wheel of chance so endlessly turning
My fate lay in your hands, my heart forever burning
In a sweet fire your kiss started
Now don't leave me to the brokenhearted, the brokenhearted, the brokenhearted
And tell me that you love me
Tell me that you want me, girl

The cruel mistakes I've made, the hard price that I've paid
For the good times and for laughter
Girl, I should've known for the indifference that I've shown
I'd pay forever after

And darling, now all I'm trying to say is passion
And love, they have a way of slipping into blackness
Uncared for of slipping away
The deck is cut, the cards turned, the hand is played
And all we ever hope for burns to ashes and drifts away
Now don't let our love slip into this darkness
Don't leave me to the brokenhearted, the brokenhearted, the brokenhearted
And tell me that you love me
Tell me that you need me
Tell me that you love me
Tell me that you want me
Tell me that you need me
Tell me that you want me
Tell me that you love me
Yeah tell me that you love me
Tell me that you love me
Tell me that you want me
And come on now daring
Say it right now baby
Say it right now darling
Tell me that you love me

I felt, for the moment at least, free from the grip of the loneliness that I can hear and feel in his voice. I can and I am telling myself that I love me, and I'm getting the message that I am loved from the Universe in myriad ways.

Not, mind you, in the super delicious way that is being wrapped up in the strong arms of someone like The Boss or The New Englander or the yummy, available, considerate, open, generous, warm, smart, fun, lovely man I'm gonna date next.

But I've been working out. I practice yoga six times a week. My arms are pretty buff. They'll do for the time being, during which I seem to still have work that I need to do on my own...

Darkness Between the Fireflies

This little beauty was my first thought this am

When I woke up early this morning, for the first time since, hmmm, a long time, my first thought/image was not of my New Englander.

It was, instead, of my friend's beautiful newborn, whom I had the pleasure of holding for nearly three hours yesterday. What a lovely image, and I had no trouble going back to sleep, which was a welcome change.

I did dream about him though, when I went back to sleep. I dreamt that he wouldn't kiss me, and didn't want to have sex. I can count on one hand the number of times that actually happened in the time we were together -- mostly the physical part of our relationship was really satisfying. I keep having dreams with a similar theme, though, where for one reason or another, the sex isn't working. I know there is a message for me in this, I'm just not sure what it is yet.

When my alarm went off later in the morning, rousing me for my yoga practice, it is was this song that came through my ipod:

I woke up before you in the total darkness
Early morning
I could hear the wind in the trees
I was looking for the light to bring you out
From the shadows
Redefine you now for only me

Wow. That's powerful. And it gets better:

And honey i'm sure
That you've been in love before
Plenty of men have held high places in your eyes
And jealousy has got no use for me
The past is beautiful
Like the darkness between the fireflies

I think I might make this my theme song for the moment. I love the image of the past being like the darkness between the fireflies. I tend to both think about and feel darkness as negative, but this is a great reframing.

I think I might be moving into a space where I'm more willing to see my last relationship as a place for learning. This morning in savasana I was able to clearly see my part in our parting, and recognize that the fear of abandonment, the fear of unworthiness, the fear of not being loved -- that's my work. I wanted to find a way for him not to abandon me so I wouldn't have to feel the other hard stuff, when all the time, what I didn't realize is that I need to bring worthiness and knowledge that I am love and am loved to the relationship, not use the relationship to get it. That's powerful learning.

I was driving faster through the appalachians
I could see the world go out below me in the sun
You should know by now
That someone's always been there
Long before you
You're never going to be the only one

And honey i'm sure
That you've been in love before
Plenty of men have held high places in your eyes
But jealousy has got no use for me
The past is beautiful
Like the darkness between the fireflies
Beautiful like the darkness between the fireflies

I'm working on seeing the past as beautiful. All of it. Even the part that didn't work out like I wanted it too. And that makes the present a whole lot more pleasant too...

Burning Gold

I heard this song yesterday in the gym locker room. I know, I know. Two Christina Perri songs in one week. What's this blog coming to? But I see this blog the way I see life. Both are much less about being cool and much more about being real about the things that move you. Coolness has its upsides, no doubt. But it's no substitute for really showing up and taking it all in, and I gotta be honest, this song spoke to me:

Looking for an exit in this world of fear
I can see the path that leads the way
Mama never left, and daddy needs me here
I wish the wind would carry a change
Looking through the window to a world of dreams
I can see my future slip away
Honey you won’t get there if you don’t believe
I wish the wind would carry a change

I've had enough
I’m standing up
I need, I need a change
I've had enough of chasing luck
I need, I need a change

I’m setting fire to the life that I know
Let's start a fire everywhere that we go
We starting fires, we starting fires
'Til our lives are burning gold
'Til our lives are burning gold

I do indeed need a change, and I can feel that one, or maybe more than one, major change is in process. But I don't know if the way to get there is to start fires. I mean that's one way, but I'm not sure it is the best way if one wants to live wholeheartedly.

Yesterday I went to see the woman I see for spiritual guidance and Reiki. She often asks me to state my spiritual intention before I get on the table, and I'd written a couple of things down before I came. I read the first one to her:

I want to let go of the hurt

And she said she'd change that a little bit, to: "I want to finish learning what I need to know from the hurt."

Ooof. Do I? I guess I do. Setting fires -- asking for my hurt to go away when I want it to go away rather than it's ready -- might be more expedient in some ways, but not in the long run. And since I'm all about moving into the full embodiment of myself, I'm not gonna take the easy road this time:

Looking back I see I had the flame in me
I’m the wind that’s carrying change

Damn right I am!

Problem

This morning I wasn't feeling too pumped about my practice, and I could tell it was more emotional than physical. When it came time for backbends, I really didn't want to do them, but I heard my teacher's voice in my head telling me that doing them on days like this was when they'd matter most. As I came up into the first one, the tears started to roll, but by number three, I started to feel liberated. After all six, I felt like I'd done what I needed for today so I did the last three poses, the closing chant, and hit savasana.

As I biked away from the studio, a song popped into my head that made me feel a little bit guilty and a whole lot lighter:

One less problem without ya!
I got!
One less problem without ya!
I got!
One less problem without ya!

I got one less, one less problem

And it's true. Without worrying about how it could work with my New Englander, I do have one less problem. And it's a big problem that has been taking up a lot of energy for a long time. Of course, there's a reason for that:

I know you're never gonna wake up
I gotta give up
But it's you!
I know I shouldn't ever call back
Or let you come back
But it's you!
Every time you touch me
And say you love me
I get a little bit breathless
I shouldn't want it
But it's you!

Head in the clouds
Got no weight on my shoulders
I should be wiser
And realize that I've got

Yeah, sometimes I've got my head in the clouds and no weight on my shoulders. Often, even. But not when I'm doing my backbends. Those babies make me wiser every single day by asking me to let go of the past and step forward into my future:

One less problem without ya!
I got!
One less problem without ya!
I got!
One less problem without ya!

I got one less, one less problem

Turn It Around

A friend sent me this song a week or so ago, and it came back to me on my bikeride to work today, riding as I did with my new perspective about love:

She felt comatose waiting for this thing to grow
She's impatient 'cause she wants it now and so it shows
She can't be bothered by the ties that bind her
She's seen ivy when it strangles everything it holds

She's looking through the wrong end
She's looking through the wrong end
She's looking through the wrong end of her telescope
Turn it around, turn it around

It does feel like I'm turning it around, but it comes in fits and starts. It's not a linear process, as much as I wish it were:

She closed the door with the intention of not looking back
But missed her step because she didn't have a steady track
She can't be bothered by the mistakes she's made
But she's forgetting that's what guides you to the rightful path

A friend asked me in an email this week if it feels good to see my time with my New Englander as a place to learn. Nope. At least, that's my initial answer. I just don't think I'm there yet. I'll get there. I know I will. But my heart and another part of me that was especially fond of him are still too busy feeling like they got a raw deal to muster up any gratitude about what I learned. Perhaps that's the wrong end of my telescope? I'm telling you, I'm dong my best to turn it around, but I can't force it to happen any faster than it happens:

She's looking through the wrong end
She's looking through the wrong end
She's looking through the wrong end of her telescope
Turn it around, turn it around

Love Me Forever

Ahhhhhhh Autumnal Sunshine

Today I traveled to Milwaukee to go to a luncheon for an organization that is working hard to improve schools in Milwaukee. They work across all sectors -- choice, charter, public -- and they're extremely passionate about their work. I got to see some of my Milwaukee friends, be in the city, celebrate the success of this organization's first four years, and be re-energized about the work ahead.

When the luncheon finished, before getting back in my car, I took the liberty of taking a walk in the sunshine. Today was an absolutely gorgeous day, and while out on my walk, I came across some couches outside a hotel and decided to just sit a bit and bask in the sunshine. The music wafting out of the hotel was this song:

Love me (love me)
Love me forever (love me forever)
Take me (take me)
Make me your own

Promise (promise)
Promise you'll never (promise you'll never)
Leave me (leave me)
Lost and alone

Well y'all know he left me, and I've been feeling lost and alone, but something else happened today (later in the day) that was pretty great. I went to see my acupuncturist, and told her how I was feeling and what was going on with me. She listened, as usual, and then helped me reframe in a way that was super helpful. She said I don't have to stop loving my New Englander in order to "move on." This was a huge relief in and of itself, because I've tried, and I'm here to tell you, I cannot do it. I love him. I can't change that.

But she went even further, suggesting that staying in that love will help me connect with someone else. Now that kinda blows my mind, but tonight, as I imagine my lover, he is an amalgam of my New Englander and some other strong-armed man who can love me without reservation, the way I was able to love the man who, it seems, decided he loved mountains as much as he loved me:

Kiss me (kiss me)
Strongly and sweetly (strongly and sweetly)
Tell me (tell me)
You will be true

Love me (love me)
Love me completely (love me completely)
Now and forever
As I love you

(Love me)
(Love me forever)
(Take me)
(Make me your own)

Promise (promise)
Promise you'll never (promise you'll never)
Le-ee-eave me (leave me)
Lost and alone

I hope I can believe the next man who promises me that. I didn't think the last one would ever leave me lost and alone, and yet that is, in part, where I find myself...

Rendezvous

I woke up early again this morning, too early. I was stressing about kid-related stuff, which I seem to be doing a lot lately, and this morning my worry was also laced with guilt. Last night my daughter and I had gotten into an absolute screaming match that my son attempted to break up. It wasn't pretty. I wasn't proud of it. But I felt absolutely powerless to stop it. Today when I talked it over with a friend, she said that's one reason why it helps to have two parents. Because usually both parents aren't in that space at the same time, so the other can intervene. I can see how that would be helpful, but I'm on my own for the moment with this parenting gig.

So I sent my son's guidance counselor an email, hoping for some guidance. And then I turned on a guided meditation -- for a little more guidance. When the meditation finished, another one started right after it - usually a song comes on -- so I felt like I was supposed to do that one too. I was less familiar with the second one, but I think it was Jack Kornfield's voice, and he was guiding me through a body scan. I had big tears during the first part, starting at the crown, and then he got to the heart. He said to try to hold whatever pain I might find there as I would a small child, tenderly. And then I had a horrible experience, in which I could see in my mind's eye a cowering, crying child in a corner, but I could not go pick her up. Which made me feel like my mother, who often wasn't there for me when I needed her as a child, and that felt awful.

Lucky for me, the meditation ended with this lovely poem by Lynn Park:

Take the time to meditate, to pray

It is the sweet oil that eases the hinge into the garden

So the doorway can swing open easily

You can always go there

Consider yourself blessed

Those stones that break your bones will build an altar of your love

Give everything away except your garden

Your worry, your fear, your small-mindedness

And remember your garden can never be taken from you

Take the time to meditate, to pray

It is the sweet oil that eases the hinge into the garden

I really like that poem. Especially the part about the stones that break your bones building an altar of your love. That's beautiful.

Speaking of beautiful, after the two meditations, iTunes decided to bring out the Boss:

I had a dream
My love would last forever
I had a dream
Last night she had a dream too
She'll be there tonight
If I'm down then she'll make me feel right
Oohh, rendez-vous

Oh yes Bruce, I had that same dream, and now, instead of that dream, I'm plagued with dreams about trying to have sex with the New Englander but it's always fraught -- there's another woman there, or there's talk about another woman -- it's awful. I wish I could just speed past this stage and not have to feel all this. It makes me really raw, and that doesn't always lead to the best sleep or the best parenting.

Haven't I told you, girl,
How much I liked you
I got a feeling that you liked me too
And if you'll hold me tight
We'll be riders, girl, on the night
Oohh, rendez-vous, I want a rendez-vous

I got a feeling that we should stay together
'cause I think our love could be forever
Because I had a dream
My love would last forever
I had a dream
Tonight my dream come true
And if you'll hold me tight
We'll be riders, girl, on the night
Oohh, rendez-vous, I want a rendez-vous

Yeah, I feel you, I want a rendezvous too. It's been more than four years since I've been with anyone other than my ex-boyfriend:

You deserve so much more than this, girl
'cause I'm running on the power
And living on the promise
In your last kiss
Because I had a dream
My love would last forever
I had a dream
Tonight my dream come true
And if you'll hold me tight
We'll be riders, girl, on the night
Oohh, rendez-vous, I want a rendez-vous

Come on, Universe, isn't it time for a rendezvous for yours truly?

You've Got The Love

I've been relying a lot on guided meditations to get me through these tough past few weeks. Sometimes (but unfortunately not always) it really seems to have the effect of softening me. Lately I've been particularly fond of Jack Kornfield's mind like sky meditation, which has a lovely part at the end that really comforts me:

And now before you open your eyes, let this vast space of awareness be filled with the spirit of compassion for all those who get caught, for all those who forget the vast and free space of mind that is their own true nature. Forgetting, they get caught and entangled and create the sorrows of the world. Let this great, open mind of awareness be filled with compassion for all beings that forget their true nature. And bless them, that they too may remember who they really are.

This comforts me to repeat because it feels to me that this is what happened to my New Englander. Through his love for me and mine for him, he got in touch with his own true nature, which is so beautiful and vast and hopeful and open and glorious, and spending the time I did with him in it was right up there with having my babies in terms of the greatest miracles of my life. But he couldn't stay there. He got caught. He forgot. He became entangled, and in doing so he created a lot of sorrow for us both. But he didn't do it out of malice, or because he made a decision that he didn't really love me, or really for any conscious reason. He did it because it's what he knows. He didn't know what else to do. He couldn't lean into our love, and I had my own fears, which at times exacerbated the situation.

Now I realize guided meditations aren't exactly like the Lord that the foxy Florence is singing about here, but I use them, I reckon, in a similar way:

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air
I know I can count on you
Sometimes I feel like saying, "Lord, I just don't care."
But you've got the love I need To see me through

Time after time I think, "Oh, Lord, what's the use?"
Time after time I think it's just no good
'Cause sooner or later in life, the things you love you lose
But you got the love I need to see me through

Meditating allows for space around the pain of losing my love, and it reminds me that:

You got the love
You got the love
You got the love
You got the love
You got the love
You got the love

Yes I do. I've got the love I need to see me through. It may not be the love I want in the physical form, at least not for today, but I've got the love I need...

Human

I love this happy couple!

Yesterday I went to the wedding of some dear friends of mine. It was an outdoor ceremony, in which the groom's 4-year old son was an integral part, and it was super sweet.

Normally I cry at weddings, but at this one I didn't. I don't know if it was the presence of a little kid, or the fact that I was with coworkers rather than loved ones, but no tears.

Although I was super glad to witness the union of two people I care about, it wasn't exactly easy. Being there alone, rather than in a couple. And being there knowing that my dreams of marrying the man from New England were all but dead wasn't easy either.

From the moment I woke up yesterday, I was dealing with anger about those dreams dying. I had a dream in which I was so angry I was looking for something to break that wouldn't make too big of a mess. Strange, I know. You'd think in a dream I could smash whatever I wanted, but I was pretty careful. Afterward, (but still in the dream), I was trying to calm down, and I started walking down a path when I ran into my 11-year old daughter, who took one look at me and cursed, as if she knew exactly what I was upset about and thought it sucked too. I went to scold her for it, but then stopped myself. Seemed pretty appropriate to be feeling that way about it.

The reception turned out to be fun, but at one point I found myself passing judgement on a guy who lived with a woman for 5 years and then recently started dating someone whom he already wants to marry. He took it in good humor, but today when I was riding my bike I realized that I had projected my anger and sadness about my own relationship ending rather than resulting in marriage onto him, so I decided to send him an email and apologize for my behavior.

My bike ride didn't turn out as planned, either. I'd hoped to revisit some single track along the river that I rode a couple of summers ago with my now departed (from my life anyway) mountain biking pal, but I couldn't find it, so I ended up riding along a different section of the river on a wider gravel trail. It was still in the woods, and I got to see a great blue heron take off, so it wasn't a total loss. But it did get me in touch with the tears that hadn't flowed at the wedding. "I don't know where I'm going without my mountain biking pal," I sobbed. "On my mountain bike or in my life." Which sounds a little melodramatic, but it also happens to be true. And although it feels uncertain and scary, it also feels pregnant with possibility, and I haven't been carrying that baby for quite some time now.

I decided to jump in the car after my ride and head back to Madison in time to make it to Alanon, and I'm sure glad I did. I suggested the topic of letting go, and I got all kinds of good advice from the folks around the table. One guy said "pound the gratitude" which I thought was pretty darn cute, and an old man said to me on his way out: "We all want our way, Sarah, we just don't always get it."

Nope, we don't. But it's only human for us to want our way. Just ask Christina Perri:

(But) I'm only human
And I bleed when I fall down
I'm only human
And I crash and I break down
Your words in my head, knives in my heart
You build me up and then I fall apart
'Cause I'm only human

I can hold my breath
I can bite my tongue
I can stay awake for days
If that's what you want
Be your number one

I can fake a smile
I can force a laugh
I can dance and play the part
If that's what you ask
Give you all I am

Another piece of advice I got at the meeting was to act as if. Act as if I'm over him. Act as if I'm letting go. And it makes sense. Because if I'm acting as if I'm over him, I'm not still sending him emails, which I did as recently as three days ago. "Forgiveness isn't necessarily forgetting, it's letting go of the hurt," another man said. Yes. I need to work on forgiveness. I need to work on letting go of the hurt.

And:

I can do it
I can do it
I can do it

I know I can. I just need to give myself time and space to work through it, and remember that:

(But) I'm only human
And I bleed when I fall down
I'm only human
And I crash and I break down
Your words in my head, knives in my heart
You build me up and then I fall apart
'Cause I'm only human

I can do it
I can do it
I'll get through it

Yes I will...

I Wanna Get Better

I don't think I'd be doing nearly as well in this life without the support of friends. Especially at a time like this -- although with my last relationship, the time like this comes and goes and comes back again. Hopefully I've learned now what I needed to learn here, because in the words of a song a friend sent me this week:

I wanna get better

That I do. I'm tired of being stuck in a frustrated place:

While my friends were getting high and chasing girls down parkway lines
I was losing my mind 'cause the love, the love, the love, the love, the love
That I gave wasted on a nice face
In a blaze of fear I put a helmet on a helmet
Counting seconds through the night and got carried away
So now I'm standing on the overpass screaming at the cars,

"Hey, I wanna get better!"

Ok, so I'm screaming inside my car, but the effect is roughly similar.

Today I'm going to a wedding. I'm going solo, and I'm kinda hoping some lovely man will be going solo too. A man with whom I can move forward, into my future:

I didn’t know I was lonely 'til I saw your face
I wanna get better, better, better, better,
I wanna get better
I didn't know I was broken 'til I wanted to change
I wanna get better, better, better, better,
I wanna get better

Yes I do! And there's no time like the present for living the life I want to be living...

You Give Good Love

Either my internal jukebox is a masochist or, if I dig deep enough, I can find something uplifting about the song that came into my head and demanded to be sung tonight:

I found out what I've been missing
Always on the run
I've been looking for someone

Now you're here like you've been before
And you know just what I need
It took some time for me to see
That you give good love to me baby
So good, take this heart mine into your hands
You give good love to me
Never too much
Baby you give good love

It's hard for a literal girl like me not to hear the lines "now you're here like you've been before and you know just what I need" and think about my ex coming back and being everything I thought he was, everything I dreamed he could be. But maybe the message is more about oneness. Maybe the man who is about to give me good love has learned his lessons about love. Maybe, just maybe, he knows just what I need because it's what he needs too, massively simplifying what was a very difficult process of discernment and bewilderment with the man from the East who didn't really know what he needed.

Never stopping, I was always searching
For that perfect love
The kind that girls like me dream of

I didn't feel like I was searching for it when I found it, but that's because I didn't know what I was looking for. But now I do, or at least, I have a much better idea than I did before my last relationship:

Now you're here like you've been before
And you know just what I need
It took some time for me to see
That you give good love to me baby
So good, take this heart of mine into your hands
You give good love to me
Never too much
Baby you give good love

Yes, please, take this heart of mine into your hands, Universe. Only this time, bring me a man to love who can not only love me right back but who will revel in the force of that love rather than run from it...

Don't Carry It All

I crawled in bed tonight at 9:30pm, excited to get to bed early after rising at 4:30am to go to practice. Alas, I didn't fall asleep as quickly as I hoped. When I'd been lying in bed for about 20 minutes trying to fall asleep, my ipod alarm clock spontaneously came on, as if to say: "Wait. Don't go to bed yet. You haven't written your blog. Here's a song to mark your day:"

Don't carry it all
Don't carry it all
Don't carry it all
Don't carry it --

Wake up like giants, so tall
With open eyes like Judas and Paul
And John

After all you done
Don't carry it all

Don't carry it all
Don't carry it all
Don't carry it all

I like it. Not the fact that the ipod's bright light shone and it started to play this song when I wanted to be asleep, mind you, but I like the message. I do tend to carry a lot. Probably more than is healthy. I was talking to a friend the other night about my breakup and she said something very telling. She said: "You tried to have this relationship for both of you and now you're trying to have the breakup for both of you."

Harsh? Nah. Honest. And I needed to hear it.

As I work toward putting down this relationship -- its successes and its failures -- sometimes it can be hard to be gentle with myself. Why did I tolerate something that so many others saw the fatal flaw -- my ex's lack of presence much of the time -- long before I was willing to acknowledge it? I can answer that. Because I was merely repeating a pattern I learned in childhood (since both my mother and my father are like that), and so: 1) I thought maybe it was enough, 2) I thought maybe it would change, and 3) I thought I could be the one to help change it. Alas: 1) It wasn't, 2) It didn't, 3) I couldn't.

Don't carry it all

Don't carry it all
Don't carry it all
Don't carry it all

Thanks for the reminder, Low. But as someone who carried secrets for the first 35 years of her life, carrying it all is what comes naturally to me. Putting it down I have to work at.

But I do work at it. Every day. There is a moment at the tail end of my yoga practice -- when I do the closing chant -- where I always feel the possibility of the perfect peace of sheer being. Without all the attachments. Without all the cravings. Without all the anger, worry or frustration. It comes when I repeat the words: Om Shanti Shanti Shantihi, which means peace peace perfect peace. I glimpse that perfect peace every day. And it's enough to get me out of bed the next morning to practice, even when I don't get to bed as early as I'd like sometimes...

Fight Test

I really, really like The Flaming Lips, but sometimes I forget about them. Luckily, ipod shuffle pulled this one out for me today:

I thought I was smart, I thought I was right
I thought it better not to fight
I thought there was a virtue in always being cool

So it came time to fight, I thought I'll just step aside
And that the time would prove you wrong
And that you would be the fool

I don't know where the sunbeams end
And that the starlights begin
It's all a mystery

Oh, to fight is to defend
If it's not now then tell me when would be the time
That you would stand up and be a man

For to lose I could accept
But to surrender I just wept
And regretted this moment, oh that I, I was the fool

I don't know where the sunbeams end
And that the starlights begin
It's all a mystery

And I don't know how a man decides
What's right for his own life
It's all a mystery

Cause I'm a man, not a boy
And there are things you can't avoid
You have to face them when you're not prepared to face them

Yes. This is what I need, Universe. A man who understands that last verse. And lives it:

If I could, I would
But you're with him, I'd do no good
I should have fought him but instead I let him, I let him take you

I was with him. But I'm not anymore. It's not easy, but it is freeing to come to a place of acceptance about what is:

And I don't know how a man decides
What's right for his own life
It's all a mystery

...and leave my ex alone to live his own life. Decide what's right for himself. That's not my job.

The test is over now

It's true. No more fighting it. Time to instead focus on unraveling the mystery of my own life...

Come On Up To The House

Yesterday I was feeling really upbeat, but today feels harder. Lucky for me, Tom Waits gets that:

Well the moon is broken
And the sky is cracked
Come on up to the house
The only things that you can see
Is all that you lack
Come on up to the house

All your cryin don't do no good
Come on up to the house
Come down off the cross
We can use the wood
Come on up to the house

I think that's Tom's very poetic way of telling me that the pity party is officially over. That it's getting to be time to dry my eyes and move on from a man who, it appears now, was just passin' through:

Come on up to the house
Come on up to the house
The world is not my home
I'm just a passin' through
Come on up to the house

Does life seem nasty, brutish and short
Come on up to the house
The seas are stormy
And you can't find no port
Come on up to the house
There's nothin' in the world

There's nothin in the world
that you can do
you gotta come on up to the house
and you been whipped by the forces
that are inside you
come on up to the house
well you're high on top
of your mountain of woe
come on up to the house
well you know you should surrender
but you can't let go
you gotta come on up to the house

Surrendering is hard, as is letting go, but I can do it. I know I can. I just have to come on up to the house...

New Moon on Monday

Not  just a full moon, but a super moon!

Ok, so I'm two weeks late with this Duran Duran song -- the moon was new two weeks ago today -- and now it's full. But I can't help it. It's the one my internal ipod played this morning:

Shake up the picture the lizard mixture
With your dance on the eventide
You got me coming up with answers
All of which I deny
I said it again
Could I please rephrase it
Maybe I can catch a ride
I couldn't really put it much plainer
But I'll wait till you decide
Send me your warning siren
As if I could ever hide
Last time La Luna

I light my torch and wave it for the
New moon on Monday
And a firedance through the night
I stayed the cold day with a lonely satellite

I think I've written before about the fact that Ashtanga practitioners don't practice yoga when the moon is new or when it's full. Today this meant that I had a little extra time between dropping my daughter off and going to the Dentist, so I decided to head out to Quarry Ridge for a little mountain biking.

What a great way to start the day! It was so beautiful. As I made my way from the parking lot to the trails, I spotted a heron. Bunnies bolted across the path in front of me. I had the entire park (ok so it's not that big, but still) to myself. It was so much fun -- and set a great tone for my day.

I'm not going to pretend, however, that there weren't moments that were difficult. Moments when I missed my mountain biking pal a whole helluva lot:

Breaking away with the best of both worlds
A smile that you can't disguise
Every minute I keep finding
Clues that you leave behind
Save me from these reminders
As if I'd forget tonight
This time La Luna

But luckily, this super moon is all about healing. And the tears I shed as I sang/screamed this song on the way to the park and this one as I was leaving, well, they're watering my soul. Which must've been pretty freakin' dry before this breakup. I gotta trust that they are going to stop when it's just wet enough to seed new life, even if it feels sometimes like that's taking longer than I'd like it to...

I Believe I Can Fly

Unlike the other nine million people who have viewed this video, this isn't one of my favorite songs. But I post it here to mark this day because I keep hearing these words on repeat in my head:

If I can see it, then I can do it

You see, an integral part of my regular yoga practice is padmasana, or lotus pose. Except that only one side of my body -- my left -- seems to want to be in (half) lotus. The other side -- my right -- does not. It's an ongoing source of frustration for me, but I realized recently that I need to change my thinking and my language around it. If I keep saying I can't do it, I'll probably never be able to do it. If I remove that expectation, maybe, just maybe, I will be able to do it.

And I think I will. Before too long. Because last week I had a dream that I was able to easily get into the pose -- my right femur externally rotated beautifully just as my teacher told me it needs to in order to get into the pose -- and there I sat. I woke up feeling hopeful that even dreaming about doing it means that things have begun to shift for me:

If I just believe it, there's nothing to it

I'm not sure it'll be quite that easy, but I am sure it'll be easier than if I keep believing I can't  do it.

As for the rest of the song, it's insipid, I know:

I believe I can fly
I believe I can touch the sky
I think about it every night and day
Spread my wings and fly away
I believe I can soar
I see me running through that open door
I believe I can fly
I believe I can fly
I believe I can fly

See I was on the verge of breaking down
Sometimes silence can seem so loud
There are miracles in life I must achieve
But first I know it starts inside of me, oh

But he's right. It does start inside of me. Which is exactly why I'm working so hard to release what I no longer need and integrate what remains:

If I can see it, then I can be it
If I just believe it, there's nothing to it

Hey, cause I believe in me, oh

Yes. I. Do.

And speaking of believing you can do it -- cheers to all the athletes competing in today's Ironman Wisconsin. What a feat!

Carry That Weight

Ever since June 2013, I've been having issues with my left lower leg. It was really bad that summer -- it would throb intensely when I ran, and I was doing a lot of running between the two half marathons that bookended my summer last year.

This year, it started acting up again when I went to Maine, and it just doesn't want to settle down. I was telling a friend about it the other day, and she said: "Oh yes! That's your emotional crap-catcher!" I begged her to empty it but she said it didn't work like that. She said I could do self-massage, and keep processing, and eventually it would get better.

When I talked with someone else about it, she asked if I was holding onto something, maybe even something for someone else. I couldn't really answer that, but it gives me something to think about. So when the Beatles came surging out of my ipod today, I thought of my friend on the East Coast, so weighed down by his past, and seemingly unwilling or unable to put the weight down:

Boy, you're going to carry that weight,
Carry that weight a long time
Boy, you're going to carry that weight
Carry that weight a long time

I never give you my pillow
I only send you my invitations
And in the middle of the celebrations
I break down

Boy, you're going to carry that weight
Carry that weight a long time
Boy, you're going to carry that weight
Carry that weight a long time

He already has carried it for a long time. I hope he won't carry it much longer. But there really isn't much I can do about it...

Long Way Down

Yesterday was a rough day, a roller coaster of emotion, but I'm happy to report it ended with a peace I didn't have when the day began.

After my practice, I was feeling a jumble of emotions, so I decided that as I went about my day, I'd just give voice to them. Working from home, I was free to swear and scream when that was what I wanted to communicate and the manner in which it felt the most natural.

By the afternoon, I felt spent. I talked to a woman who often helps me through these times: she calls herself a spiritual guide. That really helped. She reminded me that I can still love this person, even now, and said that resisting that seemed to be requiring a lot of my energy. "But I'm so angry at him!" I told her. "I know," she said. "But I don't think it's an either/or. I think it's a both/and."

As usual, she was right. In the evening, I went to see The Fault in Our Stars, a weepy, teens-dying-of-cancer movie that really touched me. Watching the teens fall in love opened something in me. Yes! I thought. This was my experience. To love and be loved so deeply. So purely. How magical! And it was.

In the movie, the girl has to write a eulogy for her dying boyfriend, and she talks about how some infinities are longer than others. "You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and l'm grateful."

As the tears rolled down my face I realized that we too, found that forever space. I think I've mentioned before that we used to call it crawling into our space whenever we talked. And it felt so good. We knew what we had, too, and as if to insure ourselves from the loss of it, we wrote a letter to each other reminding ourselves that this love we had for each other was the thing most worth fighting for in our lives.

But our forever didn't end because one of us died. It ended because he walked away from it. Closed himself off from it. Told himself and me that it didn't mean all the things that we'd known it meant. Realizing this, I knew why I've been so wrecked by this loss. Because we lost our forever long before we needed to -- long before one of us died -- and that may very well be a bigger tragedy than star-crossed teen lovers who lose theirs when one of their lives gets cut short. The last time I saw him, I cried in his arms, telling him I remembered the time when we didn't know that we would ever end. It sure didn't feel like we would.

There's a lot of great music in the film, but this song speaks most to what I'm feeling today about having loved so deeply only to lose it so prematurely:

Walking on the rooftops
Talking of times
With our eyes a glowing
Like the city lights
She stands on the ledge,
She says, 'it looks so high'

You know it's a...

Long way down
Feels like a long way down
Feels like a long way down
Like a long way down
So honey don't leave, don't leave,
Please don't leave me now

Cuz I can feel the rivers
Winding through the lands
Two lines, and a poet
Like a kind old rye
You know we could talk in that language
Only we understand

But you know..

It's a long way down
You know it's a long way down
Feels like a long way down
Love it feels like a long way down
So honey don't leave, don't leave,
Please don't leave me now

But he's already gone. He was gone a long time ago. And I can't explain exactly why, but I feel a greater sense of acceptance and peace about that than I have previously...

Last Love Song

Heard this sweet little song on the radio today after a very early morning practice:

We were never the marrying type, oh no,
We won't buy dishes or stained glass lights, oh no,
For a table we'll never sit at,
In the house that we won't ever get,

I won't wake up and pick out your tie, oh no,
You won't come home and kiss me at night, oh no,
We won't lie in this king bed for two,
Say goodbye to us saying "I dos,"

No more white picket fences,
No more lace veils or vows,
No more "You're the only one" 'cause that's all done with now,
This is the last love song I'll ever write for you,
This is the last love song I'll ever write for you,

Take these roses and this Jameson, oh no,
Find a subway that I can sit in, oh no,
Buy a one-way out of this city,
Everything that I need, got it with me,

No more white picket fences,
No more lace veils or vows,
No more "You're the only one" 'cause that's all done with now,
This is the last love song I'll ever write for you,
This is the last love song I'll ever write for you,

All these notes and all these words,
Are all that's left in me,
Bend these pages, count my woes,
One last song to set me free,

No more white picket fences,
No more lace veils or vows,
No more "You're the only one" 'cause that's all done with now,
This is the last love song I'll ever write for you,
This is the last love song I'll ever write for you,
This is the last love song I'll ever write for you,
This is the last love song I'll ever write for you, oh.

That's a tearjerker, isn't it? Sure wish we human beings could figure out how to love each other better so there wasn't so much heartbreak in this world. But then again, maybe, as some suggest, we need to be broken open to create the world we want to live in and leave for our children and grandchildren...

Better Be Good to Me

Today one of my friends sent me a link to a blog post about heartbreak. The basic gist of it was that there are two ways to have your heart broken. One is to have it broken open into new life and the other is to have it fracture into a million pieces. Last summer, my heartbreak felt like the million little pieces variety, but now, it definitely feels broken open. I can feel things starting to shift, and unlike last summer and fall, when all I wanted to do was isolate myself, I'm now feeling social and full of life.

Case in point: After work today I hopped in my car and drove out to the Trek headquarters to meet my new friend (who both works at Trek and is a mountain biker) to ride Trek's private trails. It was a gorgeous day and the trails and the company were really fun, but I'd be lying if I didn't say that the ghost of my former boyfriend and mountain biking pal wasn't riding right along with me. He was. And there was an element to that that felt good -- imagining how he'd have chosen to do all the optional crazy shit (of which I only tackled a small amount) -- and how much he would've enjoyed it, especially in the context of his Wisconsin mountain biking life, which he found so wanting. But there was also -- especially after my hostess's fiance and stepson showed up -- an element of profound sadness.

When we finished riding, a big group of guys were gathering around a fire pit, getting ready for their Wednesday night ride, and I had the sense that I wanted to be more connected to that group than I am. Which I guess is a good thing, because I think ongoing connection is available there, and I'm excited to see the shape that it takes.

On the drive back to Madison, I heard this Tina Turner number:

A prisoner of your love entangled in your web
Hot whispers in the night
I'm captured by your spell
Captured
Oh yes, I'm touched by this show of emotion
Should I be fractured by your lack of devotion
Should I? Should I?

Part of me does feel fractured by his lack of devotion, but not nearly as fractured as I felt last summer. Now I feel more resolute about demanding what I deserve and moving on if he can't provide it:

Oh, you better be good to me
That's how it's gotta be now
'Cause I don't have no use
For what you loosely call the truth
And you better be good to me
Yeah, you better be good

Come on, come on
Be good to me

I think it's also right that we don't need to fight
We stand face to face and you present your case
Yes, I know, you keep telling me that you love me
And I really do wanna believe
But did you think I'd just accept you in blind faith
Oh, sure baby, anything to please you

But you better be good to me
That's how it's gotta be now
'Cause I don't have the time
For your overloaded lies
And you better be good to me
Yeah, you better be good, good to me

Be good to me

And I really don't see
Why it's so hard to be good to me
And you know, I don't understand
What's your plan that you can't be good to me

What I can't feel I surely cannot see
Why can't you be good to me
And if it's not real I do not wish to see
Why don't you be good to me

Why can't you be good to me?
Why can't you be good to me?
Why can't you be good to me?
Why can't you be good to me?
Why can't you be good to me?

I don't know. Seems like his wounds are just too in his way right now, and for as long as he chooses to let them be...

Lost Cause

My kids were at their Dad's for a week after we got home from Maine. They got back to my house yesterday, just in time to get ready for the first day of school. About an hour after they returned, I found my daughter in her room, sitting at her desk, writing a letter to our friend in New England. It just about broke my heart. I tried to talk to her about it -- asked if she missed him -- but she said no. She said she was just writing because she told him she would. My daughter doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve quite like her Mama, so maybe that's why she didn't admit to missing him. Or it could be because she was worried it would upset me. I don't know. I do know that when we were eating dinner at Pasqual's tonight, he came up in conversation, and she said, almost under her breath: "I don't get it. If you love each other you should be together."

I didn't say anything in response (other than "I know, honey") because I didn't trust myself, in this moment, to say anything useful to her. I will return to the topic with her when I feel like I can impart something of value, because I want my kids to learn that it is possible to love someone so hugely you can't stand the thought of living your life without them and then have to do just that. I didn't know that was possible before I met him, and had I known that, maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have spent quite so many years in a relationship that was alternately wildly satisfying and wildly unsatisfying.

Then again, I reckon there's a reason for that too -- a reason why that felt perfectly natural. At therapy this morning, my therapist drew a parallel between the kind of love my parents offered me -- inconsistent, often neglecting my best interests, saying one thing and doing another -- and the love offered by my last boyfriend.

Part of the problem was that I always saw the best parts of him, even when not seeing the damaged parts meant accepting behavior that wasn't acceptable to me. I always saw who he was on the inside -- which was pure goodness and love -- often failing to really take in what his actions that were not in line with those qualities meant for me or for our relationship. I always hated it when people said I could do better, because I knew he was just as good as everyone else, but it turns out, he didn't know that. And without the ability to feel worthy of continuously giving and receiving love, we were ultimately doomed, because I have that ability -- I've worked so hard to get it -- and I want to be with someone who can be right there with me.

And while I will never stop believing he is capable of dealing with his past trauma, of conquering his nearly lifelong habit of numbing by using various substances, and of claiming love and belonging as his birthright, he hasn't gotten serious about doing any of that. So at the moment it feels more like this Beck song speaks the truth as it stands today. Not that he can't change, because he can, I believe he can. But he hasn't. And if facing up to walking away from a love like ours doesn't do the trick, it's hard to believe anything else will, either:

Your sorry eyes cut through the bone
They make it hard to leave you alone
Leave you here wearing your wounds
Waving your guns at somebody new

Baby you're lost
Baby you're lost
Baby you're a lost cause

There's too many people you used to know
They see you coming they see you go
They know your secrets and you know theirs
This town is crazy; nobody cares

Baby you're lost
Baby you're lost
Baby you're a lost cause

I'm tired of fighting
I'm tired of fighting
Fighting for a lost cause

There's a place where you are going
You ain't never been before
No one left to watch your back now
No one standing at your door
That's what you thought love was for

Baby you're lost
Baby you're lost
Baby you're a lost cause

I'm tired of fighting
I'm tired of fighting
Fighting for a lost cause

I am, in fact, tired of fighting for a lost cause. I didn't believe -- didn't want to believe -- that we were a lost cause. But when I look at the evidence in front of me, I don't know what else you'd call it...

I Am What I Am

Yesterday I went to an Alanon meeting, which is a good place to share the pain of this breakup with a group of people who know all-too-well about pain. The topic was focusing on ourselves rather than trying to change others, which was a pretty perfect topic for me. I particularly liked the quote from the reading from Courage to Change that someone shared:

"The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves and not to twist them to fit our own image." (Thomas Merton)

The thing is, I love who my favorite New Englander is. I loved who he was when we first met and I loved who he was last week when we were with him. I wanted to spend my life celebrating who he is and who we are together. But did I twist him to fit my own image? I don't know. If I did, I didn't do it knowingly. But I did take his actions -- like moving across the country to be with me -- as a yes to the person I wanted him to be -- i.e., someone who wants to get married, share a home with their partner, and have kids and a dog. In retrospect, I guess he wasn't sure he wanted to be that person. He didn't want any of those responsibilities. I thought that meant that he was scared, and I think he was, but I also don't think he was clear, and really still isn't, on what he wants. When he left town last June, he said he didn't want them. When he called up at Christmas, he said he did. When I was out there last week, he said he hoped I'd find someone who wanted to have a family. I thought YOU wanted a family, I wanted to scream. I thought we WERE a family. That's why I put you on our fricking Christmas card two years in a row.

But even if he had been or became clear on that at some point, there's another part of him I tried to change. And that was the part that hasn't yet fully dealt with the trauma of his painful childhood, or his divorce for that matter. In my opinion he has ongoing mental health issues that haven't been fully addressed, and he continues to choose to address them the way he always has: By doing what he loves. I never wanted to take away what he loves. I wanted to see him revel in those activities, and I wanted to work on getting better at them myself. But I also wanted him to become more functional in the world. To keep appointments that he makes, understanding that it is disrespectful of other people's time to say you will be somewhere and not show up. To understand that it's just irresponsible to behave that way, even if you're doing it because you got caught up doing something you love. And to choose for himself to live differently. More consciously. More wholeheartedly. I admit it. I wanted to change him in that way. It felt justified, too, because I think we both knew he'd be better off if he could. But he wasn't invested in that change, and me wanting to do it for him made me feel more like his mother than his partner, and that wasn't satisfying for either one of us.

I found this song, which seems to be right in line with what I'm wrasslin' with here:

I know you've read
So many books
You keep a breast of all the things you think you should
You've got your own home grown philosophy
And it works for you
But please don't try to make it work for me

You have nothing to prove
But you're trying much too hard
Stop trying to change me (Stop trying to change me...)
I am what I am (I am what I am...)
No I don't need you to save me (I don't need you to save me...)
I am what I am (I am what I am...)

I don't want you to show me (I don't need you to show me...)
Because I stand where I stand (I stand where I stand...)
I just need you to know me (just need you to know me)
Just know who I am (Just know who I am...)

Just know who I am...
Just know who I am...

I know you feel
You need to prove
That you are good at something
Everything you try to do
And people have on your every word
That you deliver
With conviction
Though they may just be absurd

Leave your armor behind
Free your vulnerable mind

Stop trying to change me (Stop trying to change me...)
I am what I am (I am what I am...)
No I don't need you to save me (I don't need you to save me...)

I am what I am (I am what I am...)
I don't want you to show me (I don't need you to show me...)
Because I stand where I stand (I stand where I stand...)
I just need you to know me (just need you to know me)
Just know who I am (Just know who I am...)

Just know who I am...
Just know who I am...

I tried. I really did. And I thought I knew who he was. But the man I fell in love with wouldn't have turned his back on this love. He would've instead taken steps to nurture and cherish it. Unfortunately, I'm not sure where that man went. He hasn't consistently shown up for me or with me since 2012.

That's right, more than two years ago. I know. It is time for me to move on. Time for me to put this one behind me. And I will. I know I will. It's just really, really hard to do...