Life changes, and we with it, so although the URL remains the same, you'll find the content very different. This is me just looking to figure stuff out and maybe at some point find a softer place to land. For now though, things are a bit hard and unpredictable, making it an uncertain journey. I will use this space to share thoughts, ideas, insights, and probably even pain. Depending on how my day is going, the posts will vary accordingly, so, if you want to look away, I get that.

Oh, I don't mind if you share or use, but please do the right thing and credit me for any written word you take from this page.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

The beauty of Anais Nin

“The obstacle became his alibi for weakness.” 
― Anaïs Nin

“Coming near him like a ballet dancer she took a leap towards him, and he, frightened by her vehemence, and fearing that she would crash against him, instinctively became absolutely rigid, and she felt herself embracing a statue.” 
― Anaïs Nin

“The man who was once starved may revenge himself upon the world not by stealing just once, or by stealing only what he needs, but by taking from the world an endless toll in payment of something irreplaceable, which is the lost faith.” 
― Anaïs Nin

“We do not escape into philosophy, psychology, and art--we go there to restore our shattered selves into whole ones.” 
― Anaïs NinIn Favor of the Sensitive Man and Other Essays

“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.” 
― Anaïs Nin

“I hate men who are afraid of women's strength.” 
― Anaïs NinHenry and June: From "A Journal of Love"--The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

A sunset in the rear view mirror

You know those moments when you see or hear something that suddenly takes you into the past, delivering an emotion with such force that you are left bare and raw in the remembering? That's what it was like, seeing that particular sunset on that particular night -  a reminder of all those beautiful sunsets on those perfectly lovely nights where the only thing that mattered was sitting on the balcony drinking wine, laughing and enjoying each other's company while the sun played its proud new sonata to the earth's rapt audience. There it was looming large in my rearview mirror, demanding my attention with as much determination as the emotions and feelings I had been trying to ignore. A metaphoric message if ever one existed.

And now what I know is that those sunsets, like that relationship, are forever in the rearview mirror. A wise friend said that my time with those sunsets - my three years of his version of forever - has changed me forever, and no one will ever know how different I am because of this loss. She was right, and even I don't yet know what that means. I have to face so many truths, one being that his truth was different than mine - the fact that we were in two different relationships and seeing two different outcomes.  He knew that what we had carried a specific end date, while he let me believe that I could trust his declarations of love and forever  How do I forgive him for that?  How do you not change when betrayal and lies smudge the view in the mirror? Is it larger than it appears, or is that just the pain from the deception enhancing the view, and how do you not let that change everything that lies in front of you? How do you not wish the worst on the person you trusted and loved more deeply than even you thought possible, a person whose "I'm sorry" declarations fall flat and useless, like trying to superglue a Ming vase back together after your carelessness landed it in shattered bits on the tile floor. When the person who was your soft place to land is suddenly the hard surface that causes you to break upon landing, what then?

My smart daughter told me I needed a good cry, and when I asked her how many she prescribed twice a day for two weeks and then switch to ice cream. I guess that's as good a starting point as any. My lesson learned will either be at the bottom of an ice cream bowl or on the necessary yoga mat, but I'm pretty sure it won't be found in my rearview mirror or a sunset any time soon.