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The last week left me feeling like I had swallowed ground glass. It began with D. delaying his move to accomodate the fact that he's decided to repaint his apartment and put in new floors before he moves back in. It's hard not to feel like I'm being traded for a newly redecorated space. I know that's not the case, and I don't even care if it actually is now, but the idea of it did bother me for several days. Two more weeks or so and he'll be gone. It's funny how things work themselves out...every day I feel those tiny breakers that routed so much feeling to him being thrown into the OFF position. It will come out of nowhere. He'll say or do something and I'll think to myself, yep...there goes another one. The love is still there, just not the desire to be with him. In fact, I'm chafing at his presence in my life to some extent. I don't think I'm going to be so sad as I will be relieved when he finally goes.
I have been thinking today about how many lessons I have learned from this and how they are all so very much related to a friend who taught me over time about love. Pema Chodron has written much about what it means to have a noble heart. She says that when we feel the pain of others or even our own pain, and we do not shy away from it but look it full in the face and embrace it, that we find our “noble heart.” This is the true beginning of finding our spiritual inner self, of understanding that we are connected to something bigger than ourselves. And I think of my friend and his noble heart. I know he would chuckle at the idea of his being an example of this sort of enlightenment, since he seems to be such a staunch champion of chaos theory in all things. I am proud of how I have behaved through all of this, and I owe it in great part to the one who taught me by his own example the lessons of loving kindness and compassion.
So I continue to mark the days on my calendar with a big X. I allow myself to cry if I need to, to be mad as a hornet, to be desolate, or to be joyful. I wait for my return home. I relish the idea of going back to my own newly decorated life...no new colors on the walls and still the same floors, but a new appreciation for who I became through this and a deep, abiding love for the arms of my tribe that will celebrate and welcome me upon my return.
My parents called yesterday and I still laugh at how our conversations both fascinate and horrify David. My dad calls to tell me that he's going to give me a new laptop to help me get started with my practice when I get home. He tells me that he's installing Linux. This is no surprise, as my dad hates (with a capital H) Microsoft. So our conversation from my end sounds like this:
Yeah, they're cocksuckers, aren't they?
Alright. So it's openoffice.org?
Sure thing. I'll get used to it. Just as long as I can get my files.
Gates. Bah! Yeah, he's a fucker. Fuck him. In his ass.
Cool. Fight the power. Viva la revolución, Daddy. Love you too. Bye.
Now it is no secret that I'm a horrible pottymouth in general, but I have to explain to D. that in my family it's perfectly normal and acceptable to refer to Microsoft and Bill Gates in this way. In fact, any conversation where this didn't happen would probably leave my dad eyeing me suspiciously and wondering if I'd become one of them. I love my computer geek Microsoft-hating dad. He cracks me up. And he always fixes my computers, even as he grouses about the Hellspawn Bill Gates.
I have been thinking today about how many lessons I have learned from this and how they are all so very much related to a friend who taught me over time about love. Pema Chodron has written much about what it means to have a noble heart. She says that when we feel the pain of others or even our own pain, and we do not shy away from it but look it full in the face and embrace it, that we find our “noble heart.” This is the true beginning of finding our spiritual inner self, of understanding that we are connected to something bigger than ourselves. And I think of my friend and his noble heart. I know he would chuckle at the idea of his being an example of this sort of enlightenment, since he seems to be such a staunch champion of chaos theory in all things. I am proud of how I have behaved through all of this, and I owe it in great part to the one who taught me by his own example the lessons of loving kindness and compassion.
So I continue to mark the days on my calendar with a big X. I allow myself to cry if I need to, to be mad as a hornet, to be desolate, or to be joyful. I wait for my return home. I relish the idea of going back to my own newly decorated life...no new colors on the walls and still the same floors, but a new appreciation for who I became through this and a deep, abiding love for the arms of my tribe that will celebrate and welcome me upon my return.
My parents called yesterday and I still laugh at how our conversations both fascinate and horrify David. My dad calls to tell me that he's going to give me a new laptop to help me get started with my practice when I get home. He tells me that he's installing Linux. This is no surprise, as my dad hates (with a capital H) Microsoft. So our conversation from my end sounds like this:
Yeah, they're cocksuckers, aren't they?
Alright. So it's openoffice.org?
Sure thing. I'll get used to it. Just as long as I can get my files.
Gates. Bah! Yeah, he's a fucker. Fuck him. In his ass.
Cool. Fight the power. Viva la revolución, Daddy. Love you too. Bye.
Now it is no secret that I'm a horrible pottymouth in general, but I have to explain to D. that in my family it's perfectly normal and acceptable to refer to Microsoft and Bill Gates in this way. In fact, any conversation where this didn't happen would probably leave my dad eyeing me suspiciously and wondering if I'd become one of them. I love my computer geek Microsoft-hating dad. He cracks me up. And he always fixes my computers, even as he grouses about the Hellspawn Bill Gates.