Love and Letting Go

It's hot in Portland, sun like it's meaning to shine. My wedding rings rest in my change purse, and I'm taking off the one on the other hand, the ring with my teacher's name inscribed in Sanskrit. I've worn that one for twenty years. It's been a golden force for my mind, something to hold me as I held onto it.

But now I just want to let go.

Listening to a song about growing up in the sixties and seventies, about having faith in so many things. So many possibilities. And now, how being a child of that history, it's all just a river.

Sing me an old song and remind me what it means...

Earlier today River and I see a truck full of trees on the highway. She says, "Mama, what are the trees doing in that truck?" I pause. "Well, trees are made of wood and people will cut that wood with a saw and use it to build houses and buildings."

"Do the trees want that?" She's puzzled.

"I'm not sure, Riv. I don't think so, but maybe they don't mind helping out."

Silence in the back seat. "Then I won't be able to hug those trees..... I wuv them."

With her visionary heart, for the next half mile, we follow behind the truck. "Let's send those trees some love, babe, for their journey."

"Yeah, mama, let's do that for them."

The Mindful Bridge

Down hwy 5, 5 hours, 5 days, Hakomi Therapy retreat. It's been twelve years since my training and before River since I've been able to sit in it's circle of community. It took more than three days for me to land, to feel into the one in me who holds vision and the willingness to go as deep as deep leads. Three days of shedding marriage and motherhood, aging and coping, habits and attitudes. And finally, softly, I felt the way I take my 'seat', the way simple presence presides and shines and holds another in illuminated faith. From that place, confusion becomes just another wave on the water, equal and welcome. Not knowing, almost delightful. In that way, engaged curiosity, defenses down, supported, we set off, we sail, we become pilgrims in the most basic way.

Now I'm back and struggling with what happens to that openness in the midst of all the other roles, and how very painful it can be to remain simple and open.

Crossing that mindful bridge...

Cell Phones Make Popcorn

In case you wondered about the merits of a head set......

Forgiving Progression

Listening to a track titled Forgiveness. It's instrumental, thank god. I'm on the earth, flat out, in my mind, and these chords become the touch, a soft blanket over my body, no words. As if something could touch where I am, possibly eye to eye with understanding. That some element might be just the shade of sensation that I cannot even name for myself, that the fabric would become a mother for a moment in my world and hold me.

There's not enough air in my lungs even as I inhale dirt, mineral spirits for revival. Time to close my eyes and dig deeper. Tears held behind sinewy jaw, and I recall how my closest friend says at midnight last night how hardened I have become, how that's difficult to watch. Yeah, damn right. Except I could have used that twenty years ago before all the bad decisions, dominos tip back year by year.

Acoustic reams of forgiveness stroke the regret as I step into the next morning hour. Preschool pick up, and my girl flying free in the wind as I push from behind.

Finish Line

Another grey day in between intermittent days of sun. I lift my sunglasses every few blocks but I can't tolerate the silver sky. I drive around in a darker day.

I'm not pregnant. And my husband has stated clearly that he doesn't want the burden. I know what he means is that he doesn't want to have another child with me, the burden of this particular marriage.

Before I hit forty no one could have told me what I would learn about being a woman and a mother. I never would have understood the sometimes deep calling to bring forth a child, despite circumstance. And how it can have little to do with fulfilling a purpose of marriage. Some beings have their own purpose. We can have all the pat answers for why conditions must be this way and that....but isn't it the way of nature to grow in the limbs of adversity?

That's how I have grown. I have given up most of my truest callings for relationship with a man. And that's my fault. Here I go again and this time I can't figure my way around it. Except to let go. Or force my will to get what I want and go that path alone. Worse, go that path alone while married.

My parents were older parents and they both died young. Though I have much older siblings, I lived most of my life alone, without home or guidance, safety or grounding. I don't want my daughter to be alone, and no matter what anyone says, I know that she will be alone. So that's the hardest part of letting go and moving on. I should be grateful that I have my daughter but right now I feel like I am turning my back on something else, something present and pulling on me, something calling me the way every real thing in my life has called me.

No one teaches us how to fulfill our purpose. No one can do that for us. And yet....those closest to us can say no, and that definitive shapes our destiny.

I asked for two more rounds of insemination, knowing that the odds of conception are so slim that I was simply showing up to complete a process. These last few days I carry the image of running a marathon, seeing the finish line, understanding there won't be another race and making peace with that -- and, wanting the feeling of crossing that line myself, from my own actions and my own will. Proper completion. But I'm on the ground breathing pavement, kicked in the knees at the home stretch.

It would be so easy to take the low road, and for some kind of sad comfort, I'm taking it here and there. The high road is around the corner and a million steps from here.