And ye shall receive.

Ask and you won’t get what you want is the lesson I learned and up until this evening I don’t believe I knew exactly how deep this erroneous way of thinking lived in me.

Humbly asked to have all these defects of character removed.



Take that shit.

I can and have been flippant about it.

I joke.

I jest.

I don’t take it serious.

Until there are things that just don’t serve me anymore and I grow tender and achy and rubbed my heart when I heard what was being read this evening.

It struck me hard and it struck my heart.

I don’t ask because asking is a risky business.

I learned a long time ago in a land far, far away, my childhood, that to ask was to only ask for it.

“You want something to cry about, I’ll give it to you,” my mother said to me.

“You ask too much,” my stepfather said to me, “you have too much pride, you need to be humbled.”

I wasn’t humbled, I was humiliated, shamed, shown scorn for my dreams and desires.

What, I ask you, is wrong with asking to play cello, to study privately with a French tutor, to be in advanced placement math, to take the ACT early, to have a ride home from swim practice, to have a warm room at night.

I learned.

You don’t get to ask.

Because asking always leads to heartbreak and disappointment.

Better to not ask, to not desire, to not want, to be safe, to not be hurt, to not have expectations.

Guarding my heart, I didn’t realized how much I wasn’t allowing those things to be taken away from me, root and branch that no longer served me.

I have been stubborn and holding onto so much fear, anger, loneliness, anxiety, without even realizing it.

These things they go deep.

The thing is, there is a solution and there is something I can trust and start leaning into more.

I have faith, I have had it for sometime, it serves me well, but it has become more than apparent that there is a deeper level of belief that I can strive for, that I am allowed to experience.

I am granted that permission to be tender and reveal my heart and ask for what I need and allow room for the Universe to provide it for me.

I don’t know that I knew how deep the hurt runs in me.

This time, when the revelation was revealed, though, it did not feel like layers of skin being slowly peeled off me with hooks, it felt soft and tender and weak, but not weak as in I have no strength, just that I have no power, that of myself I am unable to take away those pains and defenses, I need help.

Of my unaided will, I cannot do anything.

Welcome to being in a relationship, ladybug.

No wonder I panicked when my boyfriend asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I was already unconsciously preparing myself for disappointment.

My heart aches now for myself, for this life, for this experience, but it is a sweet ache an ache of surrender.

I give this up to.

I can ask.

I am allowed.

I am perhaps, not going to have high expectations, but I realize that there is more than one answer to a question; there is more than one way to be supplicant and to receive grace and give away the garbage of poor upbringing and sorrow.

The Universe has two answers for me when I ask, “not right now,” or “not yet, there is something better.”

I am being heard.

I always have been and when I look back I can see so clear and distinct, the patterns in the grass, the wings of a dragon-fly, translucent and fragile, thinnest skeins of crystal cells battering the air under the diamond sun, the rustle of oak tree leaves in the summer wind, the smell of lilies of the valley and thick, juicy lilacs in summer—these strivings for beauty all about me, revealing a deep, full, abiding love of the world I walk through.

Despite myself I can learn to let in the world, the love, the light, the grace, and to ask again and believe that I will be answered.

Which, funny enough, led me to realize what I want from my boyfriend for Christmas.

As much as I like stuff, I mean, who doesn’t, I want an experience.

I want to drive down the coast to Big Sur and see the monarch migration.

I have never seen it and a lady I work with just recently was in Big Sur and said it was incredible and beyond imagination.

That’s what I want for Christmas, an experience beyond my imagination, my imagination is limited and I am afraid too often to ask, to be gentle in my remonstratings to myself when I don’t get what I ask for and know that I can still ask again, perhaps a different question or a different need.

Just because I was disappointed once, or twice or a hundred times, does not mean that it is unreasonable for me to ask again.

Do I know what it is that I am asking for?


But I do know that it is time for me to start all over and make a new beginning.

This life of constant and continual change and awareness is something I am in awe of, not afraid of, not in fear of, awe.


I fled the lights of the city toward the ocean on my bicycle, the lamps dreamy and smoky yellow in the wavering fog drifting through the park and as I wheeled around a corner and heard the echo of water rushing over the falls in the park, I felt it again, that ache, that tender sweet spot in my heart, not a hole to be filled by fear, but a silken cushion of faith and love, truth, surrender.

And lest you think that my life and my God are some deep mysterious thing, I mean, I don’t fully comprehend that grace that paves the path ahead for me, nor do I want to, but it does have a sense of humor and timing that is pitch perfect.

Note the early birthday/Christmas package from my mom in the entryway to my in-law.

Things do change and gifts fall from the heavens.

Or at least the USPS truck.

When I least expect them.

Filling that achy, empty spot with light and sweetness.

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