The Unforgiven

It's not that I don't forgive my parents, or that I couldn't, it's that they haven't asked for forgiveness. They haven't acknowledged the role that each of them played, or the ways in which they couldn't see me or protect me as a child. Then again, they still can't see me, which is I'm sure part and parcel of why they haven't asked for forgiveness.

I heard this song on the radio this morning on the way home from practice:

New blood joins this earth,
And quickly he's subdued.
Through constant pained disgrace
The young boy learns their rules.

Yep, and so did this young girl...

With time the child draws in.
This whipping boy done wrong.
Deprived of all his thoughts
The young man struggles on and on he's known
A vow unto his own,
That never from this day
His will they'll take away.

It's true. I see this in myself and I see this in my boyfriend. This part of us that our parents couldn't destroy:

What I've felt,
What I've known
Never shined through in what I've shown.
Never be.
Never see.
Won't see what might have been.

I went through a long stage where I wished it was otherwise -- all of it -- but now I'm not concerned with what might have been. I'm concerned with what was, and what is:

What I've felt,
What I've known
Never shined through in what I've shown.
Never free.
Never me.
So I dub thee unforgiven.

It took a lot -- a whole hell of a lot -- for me to find the freedom in my body that I enjoy today. I didn't have that freedom as a child, or as a young woman. It's a lot to forgive, but I know I'm good for it. If they would only ask...

All Apologies

This song has been on repeat for me in the past week or so:

What else should I be
All apologies
What else could I say
Everyone is gay
What else could I write
I don't have the right
What else should I be
All apologies

In the sun
In the sun I feel as one
In the sun
In the sun
Married
Buried

I love this song, and it's appropriate to mark this day for a couple of reasons:

1) I taught yoga in the jail today, and although one guard told us we couldn't open up the doors in the gym and let the sun shine in, another guard opened them for us. The women were so excited to see the sun and the sky and the fall colors. Sensory deprivation is no joke, but it sure does enhance the experience once the senses are allowed to take it all in again. I feel so lucky to bear witness to these women and feel this incredible sense of oneness. There by the grace of God go I and all that...

2) Yesterday was my Mom's birthday. I reckon I did some more healing in California from my relationship with my Mom. I realized while riding my bike yesterday that, at least in part, what I loathe in her, I loathe in myself. If I can find a way to embrace her, I will also be embracing me. And I know that to a large extent, this is true. There is still the part of me that thinks "But she was the parent! She was supposed to know! She was supposed to protect me!" But I know that holding on to what was supposed to happen serves no one. So I have to let myself feel it and move on:

I wish I was like you
Easily amused
Find my nest of salt
Everything's my fault
I take all the blame
Aqua seafoam shame
Sunburn, freezer burn
Choking on the ashes of her enemy

Everything is not my fault, but everything is not her fault, either. And riding my bike in the Fall sunshine, I can feel that this is true, and I can let go of more of the pain I've been hauling around for so long:

In the sun
In the sun I feel as one
In the sun
In the sun
Married
Married
Married
Buried

Brave

"If you want to see the brave," says the Bhagavad Gita, "look at those who can forgive."

This quote has helped propel me through the long process (probably still in process in some ways) of forgiving my parents, and I thought of it this evening when my friend told me I was brave as I sat in the car with her crying over the events of the last couple of months.

I wouldn't have been so brave if it weren't for my children and my dedication to giving them the best life I can, with my own experience as a child to help guide me. My father hated his father, but I was devoted to my Grandpa. We played the organ together, we meditated together, we walked his dogs, we went swimming at his neighborhood pool. I adored him.

So I knew, when I had my own kids, that despite the difficult relationship I have with my parents, I wanted my kids to have a relationship with their grandparents. And so I've worked extremely hard to heal from and forgive the traumatic nature of my childhood and the ongoing difficulties and disappointments in my relationship with them. Extremely. Hard.

And in some ways we are reaping the benefits: In the car on the way to my nephew's graduation where we would see the whole family, my daughter was so excited about seeing everyone and it was wonderful to witness such an important rite of passage for my nephew.

It was also hard. The stilted conversations, watching many members of my family put away the wine, listening to my Dad's comments during graduation which just struck me as really dark.

One of the things I missed the most after I got divorced was having someone on my team when I am around my family. I am strong enough to wade into the quagmire alone, and I am proud of that, but it isn't easy and it sometimes results in tears a day later and feelings such as those Josh Groban describes in the song for today:

You wanna run away, run away
And you say that it can't be so
You wanna look away, look away
But you stay 'cause it's all so close
When you stand up and hold out your hand
In the face what I don't understand
My reason to be brave

But I'm clear on my reason to be brave. It's for my kids. It's also better for me, I think, but it's definitely not the easier path:

Hold on, hold on so strong, time just carries on
All that you thought was wrong is pure again
You can't hide forever from the thunder
Look into the storm and feel the rain

You wanna run away, run away
And you say that it can't be so
You wanna look away, look away
But you stay 'cause it's all so close
When you stand up and hold out your hand
In the face what I don't understand
My reason to be brave

Go on, go on

That I will Josh, that I will. I don't know if it will ever get easier to be with my family, but I know that I will go on.

I also know that when I am done preparing, I will have a partner with whom to navigate these difficulties and I am very much looking forward to that...

You Can't Lose Me

Today I had a pretty profound experience. After two 14 hour Breathe for Change days, I needed a rest, and luckily it was a new moon, so no practice for me this morning.

No sleep, either, or at least, not as much as I would like, but I'm used to that happening with new moons. While up early, I decided to do a guided meditation, and settled on gratitude meditation, which I hadn't done in a long time.

One aspect of the meditation asks you to picture a benefactor, someone who has guided you, and today, my mother came to mind. I must've listened to this 50 times before but never have I ever had my mother come to mind.

I'm thinking this indicates that there has been some healing, and to celebrate that, I'm choosing a country song about Moms (my Mom often played country music when I was growing up):

A little girl, a little small for her age
A little too slow for the field day race
Momma's waiting at the finish line
And wipes the teardrops from her eyes
She says, "You did just fine honey, that's okay
"Sometimes life's just that way
"You're gonna lose the race from time to time
"But you're always gonna find

"You can't lose me
"Bet your life
"I am here and I will always be
"Just a wish away
"Wherever you go
"No matter how far
"My love is where you are
"You won't be lost if you believe
"You can't lose me"

Momma use to say "Girl it won't be long
'"Til it's time to go out on your own
"Chase your dreams find your place in life
"I know you'll do just fine"
When that day finally came
There were things she needed to but could not say
So I whispered softly as I wiped
The tears from Momma's eyes

"You can't lose me
"Bet your life
"I am here and I will always be
"Just a wish away
"Wherever I go
"No matter how far
"My love is where you are
"You won't be lost if you believe
"You can't lose me"

There was a time when I wanted to lose her, both when I was a teenager and as an adult when I was first grappling with my truth about what took place in my childhood home. But that time has passed. I know that one day I will lose her, but I'm glad I haven't had to face that just yet...

One Way Street

This morning I awoke with a heavy heart. I told my favorite New Englander before I left that I was going to need to cut the cord and not have contact with him, but I haven't been ready to do that just yet. There were still things I wanted to say. Saying my piece is important, and it's part of the process. But so is dealing with the fact that the person on the other end isn't really hearing it, or if he is, he isn't responding. Maybe even can't respond right now. I had the sense when I was out there that he was really protecting himself. My therapist used to show me the ways in which he was holding me at arm's length, even when I didn't see that. I didn't want to see that.

The East Coaster and I were talking on this trip about when we fell in love. I explained how huge it was for me to have someone listen to me for so many hours, really see who I am as a human being, and fall in love with me as I was falling in love with him. That hadn't happened before, in large part because I hadn't known who I was and wasn't out in the world as my true self until around the time I met him. Remembering this, he said "That was such a big time for me." And I thought yeah, it was. Because for whatever reason -- be it the glow of new love or the timing or maybe we'll never know -- it was a time when he didn't feel the need to protect himself. When he could let himself be vulnerable. When he was opening to possibility rather than closing inward. We used to talk about crawling into our space together -- it felt so good to do that -- even over the phone. And it's just not possible now, with him so far inside his own head, his own heart, his own body. The way those parts of us combined was absolutely magical.

Once you know that magic, it's very difficult not to feel robbed when it becomes out of reach. Just out of reach, though, not miles. It's like losing by the smallest possible margin. You're losing, but you can taste victory, it was yours, you thought it was yours, and then it wasn't.

I've tried to both explain to him and understand myself what I felt was happening to us but it doesn't seem to be something I can really influence. So this morning I turned on some guided meditations to see if that would help me get some clarity. I started with Buddha Transforms Difficulties, where Jack Kornfield encourages you to conjure up a tough situation and then visualize a spiritual leader like Buddha helping you see another way to be with the problem. At the beginning I was yelling the word "No!" and by the end, I was breathing more calmly. It didn't feel like a big epiphany, but it was a shift.

The next one I did was Forgiveness meditation. That one was juicier. The meditation takes you through three different aspects of forgiveness. Asking others for forgiveness, forgiving yourself, and forgiving others. The first one didn't really resonate today, but the second one, forgiving yourself, really did.

That aspect of the guided meditation goes like this:

"Feel your own sorrows and regret, and sense that finally, you can release this burden and ask and extend forgiveness.

In the many ways that I have hurt and harmed myself, betrayed or abandoned myself, knowingly or unknowingly, out of my pain and fear, out of confusion and anger and hurt. I remember these now, and I offer myself forgiveness.

I forgive myself.
I hold myself in mercy and kind forgiveness.
I offer myself forgiveness in all that I've done. I forgive myself. I forgive myself.

And I do. I know that I only betrayed and abandoned myself because I thought I needed to do that to be loved. I know better now.

And then the third direction began -- forgiving others -- and I got in touch with something sort of unexpected and big -- I'm not ready to forgive my former lover yet. I thought I was. I said I was. But I'm not ready to forgive him for walking away from our love, and in doing so, walking away from himself. I understand he did it to walk back to another part of him, but the only way to do that without abandoning me was to let me in on the decision. He didn't do that. And to this day, he seems to be willing to throw away something that feels to me like it is worth more than that.

But, as the Boss reminds us in the song that came on iTunes right after my guided meditation, love cannot be sustained as a one way street, and I'm afraid -- though it didn't start out that way -- that's what ours became:

Well, if the sun should fall from the sky tomorrow
If the rain brings a tear to your eye I would share your sorrow
If you must go then take your leave
Our love was strong, our love was sweet

But we were walking on the wild side
Running down a one way street

In the night, I see only the fire in your eyes
The morning light brings the shadows of your lies
And so the change has come today
And for our wrongs, well, we must pay

We were walking on the wild side
Running down a one way street

Oh, my darling, I must, I must confess
This can't be love, no, I am just a man possessed
And so the tide has turned today
We can turn and walk away

'Cause we were walking on the wild side
Running down a one way street, yes, we are
Girl, we're walking on the wild side
Running down a one way street

Were we? It didn't feel that way for a long time. It felt like the safest, most mutually beneficial arrangement imaginable. Until it didn't...

Be Careful of My Heart

I got a sweet email from an old friend and reader of my blog who suggested that this song would be apropos right now, and I reckon she's right:

You and your sweet smile
You and all your tantalizing ways
You and your honey lips
You and all the sweet things that they say
You and your wild wild ways
One day you just up and walked away
Oh you left me hurting

Yeah he did.

But I can forgive you for that now
You taught me something
Something took me half my life to learn
When you give all yourself away
Just tell them to be careful of your heart

I can forgive him, especially since I feel we both gained something from him leaving, but I am gonna need him to listen up to Tracy's wise words:

Be careful of my heart, heart
Be careful of this heart of mine
Be careful of my heart, heart
It just might break and send some splinters flying
Be careful of my heart, heart
Be careful

Please...

Human

This song is working for me today on so many levels. First you have my internal ipod, which dialed up this song especially for these lyrics (which I reprint now even though they're not the beginning of the song):

I forgive you, now I ask the same of you

Why, you ask? Because the book I mentioned yesterday, "How to Survive the Loss of a Love" has a section on forgiveness. Now I'm no stranger to forgiveness. I work hard at it. I regularly do the forgiveness guided meditation with Jack Kornfield. But this book added a new dimension that was really helpful to me. It said that not only do you need to forgive for whatever transgression your loved one has committed, but you need to forgive yourself for your judgement of it, because, the book says, that's where you do yourself harm. Fascinating! And I had to admit, I did judge him for leaving me, which is what I deemed the transgression. Why? Because it hurt, because it wasn't what I wanted, because it didn't feel right. Those seem like pretty good reasons, and they may be perfectly good reasons why I didn't like it, but they aren't reasons to judge. Nothing gives us that right.

But it's ok that I did, because:

I'm only human
Of flesh and blood I'm made
Human
Born to make mistakes

It's also working for me because I've really begun to realize the universality of the loss I'm experiencing. So many people love and lose. It's true that some never love in the all-out vulnerable way that I did, and it's true that others do and don't have to confront losing it in the same way I am. But many more people do. And there's a certain comfort in that. It's a human experience.

As I opened a bottle of Chianti tonight, thinking how much less sweet that is without my beloved by my side, I thought of all the people around the world experiencing something similar, and that made it hurt a little less.

That, and through all of it, I can still very strongly feel my beloved's humanity. I can imagine him singing right along with The Human League to this verse:

Come on baby, dry your eyes
Wipe your tears
Never like to see you cry
Won't you please forgive me

And that helps a little bit too. I know eventually, I'll need to replace the feeling I have waking up in the morning, the memories of him being there with me:

So many nights I longed to hold you
So many times I looked and saw your face
Nothing could change the way I feel
No one else could ever take your place

But they are taking their sweet time leaving, and I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in that, either:

(Human
Human)

I'm only human
Of flesh and blood I'm made
(I am just a man)
Human
Born to make mistakes

(Human
Human).