The Wolf

Still reeling from the weekend, I decided to pay a visit to an extra special yoga teacher with extra special powers last night. It really helped shift the way I was experiencing everything and I was so grateful.

Then this morning, I heard this song in the car:

Wide-eyed with a heart made full of fright
Your eyes follow like tracers in the night
And the tightrope that you wander everytime
You have been weighed, you have been found wanting

Been wondering for days
How you felt me slip your mind
Leave behind your wanton ways
I want to learn to love in kind
'Cause you were all I ever longed for

And I thought how this recent traumatic event and the contact I had with the New Englander about it just really served to show me that I've never been with someone who is all I've ever longed for, but by God, I deserve nothing less:

Sheltered, you better keep the wolf back from the door
He wanders ever closer every night
And how he waits begging for blood
I promised you everything would be fine

Been wondering for days
How you felt me slip your mind
Leave behind your wanton ways
I want to learn to love in kind
'Cause you were all I ever longed for

Hold my gaze love, you know I want to let it go
We will stare down at the wonder of it all
And I-I will hold you in it and I-I will hold you in it

Been wondering for days
How you felt me slip your mind
Leave behind your wanton ways
I want to look you in the eye
'Cause you were all I ever longed for

Nope, you weren't. You were a lot of really wonderful things and then the rest of what I was looking for, well, I pretended you had that too but you really didn't.

No more pretending! Here's to being real, and staying with myself, with whatever and whoever shows up next. I know that no one man can be all things but I also know in my heart the difference between someone who is all in and someone who isn't, and having run the course with someone I knew for years was in the latter category, I won't be doing that again!

Home

Every once in a while, it feels appropriate to do a twofer, and this is one of those times. Working on my post last night, I was listening to Mumford and Sons Below My Feet on youtube.

When the song ended, this one immediately started to play:

I ran away in floods of shame
I'll never tell how close I came
As I crossed the Holland Road
Where you went left and I went right
As the moon hung proud and bright
You would have loved it here tonight

Spin me round, just to pin me down
On the cover of this strange bed
Spin me round, just to pin me down

Wrap up your questions, keep them down
Let the water lead us home
And I was sorry for what I'd done
And you were young I was not old
But our story was not told
But torn apart by greedy hands

Spin me round, just to pin me down
On the cover of this strange bed
Spin me round, just to pin me down

Spin me round, just to pin me down

I'll be home in a little while
Lover, I'll be home
And I'll be home
In a little while, lover I'll be home

The song is beautiful, but even more than that, I was struck by a comment that someone else posted. He said that it reminded him of a Welsh word, hireath, which doesn't have a direct translation but is something along the lines of: "a homesickness for a home you cannot return to, or that never was." 

Man do I ever feel that meaning. I think that's what so much of my grief is about -- the home I didn't have when I was a child -- the home with two parents who loved each other that I didn't get to give my kids -- and the home with the New Englander which I reckon I felt hireath about starting way back that first winter that he lived in Madison -- so late 2011. 

And I'll be home in a little while
Lover, I'll be home
And I'll be home in a little while
Lover, I'll be home

Yes you will, mystery man and soon-to-be lover. Yes you will.

Below the Feet

Tonight I joined a group of women for a writing group. Many of them have been getting together for 10 years once a month to write and share together. I love the concept, and really appreciated their willingness to welcome me into the group.

I told the group leader that I'm working on a memoir, and the prompts she created for the evening were meant to provoke writing about our past, present or future.

It was super interesting to me how much more poetic most of the women were than I am. It didn't even occur to me to write a poem, or write something free form. I think in general free form is hard for me -- this is one of the reasons why practicing Ashtanga works so well for me -- it's always the same container. I change how I show up for it -- mentally, physically -- but I always know what comes next.

One of the women mentioned this song in her writing:

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, my hands to learn
Keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn

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
So wrap my flesh in ivy and in twine
For I must be well

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

And it felt fitting, especially the line about learning from where I  have been. My whole desire to write a memoir is based on me learning from where I've been, and sharing those lessons with others....

Believe

Yesterday I made it up all three climbs at Quarry Ridge on my mountain bike. Partly because I've been back at it for a few days now so I'm feeling strong. Partly because I've had some advice about how to tackle climbs. But mostly because I believed I could.

On the way home, I heard this song, titled Believe, but actually about that moment when you realize the faith you had in your relationship with someone else isn't based on anything strong enough to hold it up after all:

You may call it in this evening
But you've only lost the night
Present all your pretty feelings
May they comfort you tonight
And I'm climbing over something
And I'm running through these walls

I don't even know if I believe
I don't even know if I believe
I don't even know if I believe
Everything you're trying to say to me

I had the strangest feeling
Your world's not what it seems
So tired of misconceiving
What else this could've been

I don't even know if I believe
I don't even know if I believe
I don't even know if I believe
Everything you're trying to say to me

So open up my eyes
Tell me I'm alive
This is never gonna go our way
If I'm gonna have to guess what's on your mind

Say something, say something
Something like you love me
Lest you want to move away
From the noise of this place

I don't even know if I believe
I don't even know if I believe
I don't even know if I wanna believe
Everything you're trying to say to me

So open up my eyes
Tell me I'm alive
This is never gonna go our way
If I'm gonna have to guess what's on your mind

I'm really glad I'm no longer in a relationship with someone with whom I'm left to guess what's on his mind. I'm putting out the intention that my next boyfriend not only start out a great communicator but stay committed to us talking to each other so I don't end up in the relationship virtually by myself like I did the last time around...

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!

I Will Wait

This is one of those times when a song picks me. Everywhere I turn, this song is playing, so I reckon it is time for me to see if it has a message for me:

Well, I came home
Like a stone
And I fell heavy into your arms
These days of darkness
Which we've known
Will blow away with this new sun

I'm feeling that first verse for sure -- I'm so relieved that the days are once again getting longer and the streets a bit less ice-covered...

But I'll kneel down,
Wait for now
And I'll kneel down,
Know my ground

and I have recently recommitted myself to the practices of yoga and meditation...

And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you

...and after my alone time last week, I'm just kind of settling in with my man and trying to stay in the moment rather than worry about what will happen, which I guess in a sense is me waiting for him rather than needing it to be exactly as I've choreographed it...

Now I'll be bold
As well as strong
And use my head alongside my heart
So tame my flesh
And fix my eyes
A tethered mind freed from the lies

...and I always, always try to use my head and my heart to figure out my truth and speak it...

And I'll kneel down,
Wait for now
I'll kneel down,
Know my ground

...and one of the ways I do that is through the practice of yoga and meditation...

Raise my hands
Paint my spirit gold
And bow my head
Feel my heart slow

Thanks, Mumford & Sons, for reminding me that I can take my time and let him take his, 'cause it's ok, if I wanna say:

'Cause I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you