Posts Tagged ‘approval’

Honor That Love

December 28, 2015

He said to me on the phone.

I hold deep capacities for love.

Sometimes that feels utterly overwhelming.

I sat here, in my chair, home and felt a wave of sadness go over me and said, “self, just have the feeling.”

And.

So I did.

I can lift my face up to the love, I can grow towards it, I can bask in it, I can honor it.

I can love.

And not be loved back.

I can love and not feel that I have to be compensated for that love.

I can see.

I can be seen.

I can be authentic and lovely and lovelorn all at the same time.

I believe.

I do.

That we all have this deep capacity for love.

Not everyone allows themselves to feel it, however, or it gets buried under afraid and not getting enough, not being in control, in the need for validation, approval, acceptance.

I accept, validate, and approve myself.

And I let the love shine like a light above me, something I can grow towards and through.

Not something that I have to fall into and drown.

These are new ideas for me.

To hold love and not expect a return.

I realize too, that I have expected returns from the earliest of ages, and that it is a constant letting go of that expectation.

I am the romance of a lifetime and I get to have these intense, beautiful, full, astonishing feelings.

Sometimes.

I really don’t want them.

But I also know that I have the capacity to hold it, the heart breaks, the heart breaks open, the heart grows in its ability to hold more.

At least mine does.

As I look about my small, but so beautifully appointed space I am ever so grateful that I have this nest of love to nestle in.

I was quite grateful for the space my friend and I stayed in while we were visiting Paris, but it’s not home, and home, oh, she is a lovely place.

I got back mid/late afternoon and like a good camper, unpacked, organized, and put away all my things.

Including doing a load of laundry, going through the mail, and writing out the rent check for January.

A quick run to the grocery store to get a few supplies.

I didn’t have it in me to cook today.

In fact, it feels like I don’t have it in me to do a whole hell of a lot.

So, the feelings leak out and instead of drowning in them, I let them happen.

Such a relief to already have seen them go past and to wave to them from the opposite shore.

I am sure that they will be back, but in this moment I am, as it was suggested honoring the love I grow towards and honoring myself and my abilities to try new things and go and have experiences.

Paris.

What an experience.

It is a little mind bending to think that yesterday I wandered the Marais, and today I am in the Outer Sunset of San Francisco.

I got to have one more last fabulous meal with my dear friend at Cantine du Troquet in the 15th.

I ordered with confidence and even made substitutions.

Ha.

I have to admit my French is not the best in the world, but it felt grand to be understood and to be able to ask for what I needed.

Of course.

I can forget.

Case in point.

The meal today on the plane.

Nothing I could eat.

Like.

Nothing.

And I sighed, accepted, drank some water and adjusted myself to what was happening.

A few minutes later, while I was watching a movie, my friend plunks down next to me and hands me three clementines.

That is love.

I grow toward it.

I smiled.

That small kindness.

Three small clementines, cold from the flight, but warming to my heart, and I am full, replete, and soothed.

And here.

In my space.

Feeling that same warmth.

Surrounded by beautiful things, small reminders of my trip, of my travels, now and previous, the lights around me warm, the candles lit, the bed made.

Oh.

How I am looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight.

So very much.

I actually slept quite a lot on the plane.

I set my watch when the time was noted and moved than hands on the face forward ten hours and saw that it was early morning here, that I would be asleep if I was in San Francisco and vowed at the moment to try to let myself drift away into the sleep so that I could reset my own body clock without too harsh a contradiction.

I dozed in and out and I actually believe I got in a few good hours here and there and passed much of the time in sleep on the plane.

A good way to travel.

Then.

Home.

Customs.

Waiting for luggage.

This was my first trip in a very, very, very long time that I checked baggage.

In fact, I can’t recollect a time previous in the last ten years that I checked, so waiting at Charles de Gaulle for my bag and again at SFO was a different experience.

It took longer than I expected, but I got through and got a ride home from the airport, hugged my friend, and came inside.

To be greeted by my sweet, dear home.

Ah.

Home.

Then the feelings came as I unpacked and though I tried to hold them at bay for awhile, doing the laundry, running to the market, sorting and situating, the feelings had to get out.

And.

They did.

And I am grateful for that.

Grateful I can feel so many things.

Grateful I know love to the depth of my being and even beyond.

That I have so much to give and feel.

Yes.

I love hard.

And.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I really wouldn’t.

My life is better for it.

I am better for it.

The white velvet light of it.

The richness of it, the swelter and glow.

The sweetness of a clementine in my mouth.

And.

The capacity to dream.

Dream.

Love.

Grow.

Shine.

Let me be that beacon.

I am honored in it.

I lean into it.

I accept it.

And I forgive myself for ever looking outside of myself for it.

I have all the love I need in the world.

And.

Probably.

Quite a bit.

More.

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Time to Go

January 14, 2014

Just when you get settled in.

Time to turn around and go.

Truth be told, I am happy to be leaving for home.

Ready.

It’s been a great visit, really, better than any expectations, but I miss my space, my schedule, my friends.

Today was special and I am beyond grateful that I was able to be here for this day.

I realized that the last two times I have turned an anniversary in my recovery I have been away from my home and missed my fellows.

I picked up a little something to carry with me, aside from another day without doing anything to kill myself, given to me by mom, sitting next to my sister, in a room full of people under over bright flourescent lights, standing up and letting someone else talk.

Feels like my thunder was stolen.

It wasn’t about me.

Then I remembered, “your first year is yours, all our years thereafter are ours,” Silas Payne.

Oh.

Yes.

That’s why I stood up, let people know it works.

That’s why I let someone else tell my story, slightly uncomfortable and not at all my perspective, but also good for me to hear the other side of the coin.

There are two sides, sometimes, gasp, even more.

I have choices and today I choose to not do it my way and to step up and be an example.

It’s not really about me.

It’s about those who helped me, you know who you are, and man did you help me.

Thank you.

And now about the others I can help.

I can also help more where I live, in my home, in my realm, and my, am I glad that where ever I go I have what I need, but I like it the most in San Francisco.

“How do they do it where you’re from?” He shouted across the room.

Jesus.

I don’t know, but they don’t fucking cross talk me.

I smiled.

Said thank you.

And that’s what it is.

Smile and say thank you.

I can only do that for so long, though, I need to refresh, replenish, and rejuvenate myself and sleep in my own bed, eat my own food, and move on my own time line.

Sometimes, you do, however, have to let it all go and do it someone else’s way.

Most of my life is like that.

I did, immensely, enjoy the love that was extended to me, the well wishes and messages, the friends, whom I have that I would never have had, without doing what I have been up to for the last nine years, nope, not at all.

I don’t know where my next nine years are going, I don’t, I don’t also really want to.

Oh, sometimes, yeah, I do.

But I don’t really want to.

I know I want to continue expanding my ideas of willingness.

Willing to fail.

Willing to be a nanny.

Willing to be hurt.

Willing to open up and get messy.

I am willing to not isolate by being too busy, over booking myself, working too many hours, and not charging enough when I do.

I am willing to continue to seek.

Sometimes you have to do the exact opposite of what you want to do.

And often time that work is what pays off the most.

It was a much more difficult visit the last time I came down to Florida.

Much harder.

This was not.

There are still things to work out, to move around, to continue practising my principles, to not judge.

Oh, dear God, help me to not judge.

I do want to so much.

I do, however, want the things that work for me to continue working, and to explore those areas where it has been suggested that I let go of my separation and desire for safety and control to give it over, to let go of trying to look perfect.

To say, thank you, and accept the gift.

I could learn these things all the days of the rest of my life.

I am writing with some distraction and I am not certain that this is going to read coherent and I feel that I am editing myself a little.

I don’t want to rant.

I don’t want to preach.

I don’t want to judge.

Those things are all there.

But I am no better, nor less than anyone else.

This, then is about humility and recognizing that acceptance and approval are not the same thing.

I accept things exactly as they are.

This is not my home, not my place, not my bailiwick.

Nope.

I am however a guest that has been loved and fed and hugged and kissed and that’s pretty damn nice.

I have no complaints.

I am just out of my milieu and I miss my city by the bay and all my fellows there.

I am ready to see the ocean and the hills and be in San Francisco.

Although, excuse me, while I go hug some people for a few more minutes.

“You look exactly the same,” she said to me, “except little and tattooed.”

I am not the same though.

I have been inwardly re-arranged.

The woman I was would not have come down here.

Nope, I was too busy doing my own thing, being selfish in the only way I knew how and disdainful of how every one else was doing it.

I did not have any solutions then outside of myself and relying on a fallible human being is a way to make sure that you fail.

I relied on myself.

And look where it led.

I relied on others, this magical community of “we” and look where it has led.

I have no recourse except to continue the acceptance and the growth and to continue to let down the walls and let people in.

To be willing to be hurt and let others have their own experiences and opinions.

This is an amazing journey.

I am so lucky to have this experience.

Brave, courageous, full of faith.

Graced.

Again, that is how I have it.

Grace.

 


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