Deep, wide and LOUD

I've had this post stirring in my heart for a while now. At first thought, I want to say it's been waiting for a few weeks. But really this has been with me since the beginning. Since the moment some miracle happened, the stardust collected just right, and I was gifted with a figure with which to walk the earth. In that moment, my small piece of humanity's love story began.

As a disclaimer I should say that there's still a part of me that feels embarrassed to even speak about love. Like how dare I be so honest about the pain of misunderstanding my loveability. But since I've come to understand how common my mistake is for so many people, I finally feel brave enough to just say what I feel and what I've learned, in hope that it inspires the same realizations in others.

I've never been able to grasp the possibility that a man could love me so much that he'd actually get down on one knee and ask me to spend the rest of my life with him. Since I was little I fantasized about it, I wanted it, but I couldn't truly fathom that someone would think I was worthy of that kind of love and commitment. (And even as I type that, there's a rebel ogre in my mind that's scolding me for admitting to such a "pathetic idea.") I was taught, in some ways, that I should expect other people to enjoy the rewards of love, but that I would always be on the sidelines. I mistakenly learned that there were things about me that were simply unloveable. And not just small things like my feet are constantly clammy and cold in the winter, but big things, like almost everything about my personality isn't suited for another person to put up with.

But after 28 years of experiences on this planet, I'm finally ready to be done with the ridiculous idea that I can't have loud, whole-hearted love in my life. That I can't have a large group of strong, mutually supportive friends. That I can't be considered beautiful just as I am. That I can't love as strongly as other people can. Or that there are no more "good men" left.

(By the way, everyone left is good. As long as you know that, you'll see it everyone, no matter where they are on their journey.)

The problem is not that I'm unworthy or incapable of love, the problem is that I have only ever accepted what I thought I deserved. I took it as personal truth when the men I fell for chose not to love me back. I didn't realize that I was falling for emotionally unavailable, commitment-phobic and hurting men because they're behavior reflected what I expected to be true about myself. I desperately wanted the validation of their love, but I couldn't have it.

So here's a snapshot of what I know: I want to come home everyday to someone I deeply love. I want us to know mutual safety, stability and fun in each other's company. I want to burn dinners because we're too caught up making out in the kitchen. I want to go on spontaneous trips, joke about getting married in Vegas, and then maybe do it for real. I want to grow unique, beautiful babies who know their worth in the world. I want to fight about who gets less sleep and then laugh when we realize we keep each other up more than the babies do. I want granite counter tops... covered in chocolate chip pancake batter cause we let the kids cook. I want to tear down old walls, both physical and figurative, and build new enterprises together. I want to share in the ecstatic heartache of allowing all our love to manifest outside ourselves with a will of its own. I want to inspire others to trust in the goodness of love just because of the example we set.

I know now that I can have all of this because I am all of this. It's not something intangible and out of reach that I can pity myself for never having. It's something that has always been mine since the day I unceremoniously graced the planet. And if it's mine, it must belong to others too. I don't need to be ashamed or embarrassed that I want this deep, wide and loud love because that's exactly what I was put on the earth to provide.

Cliff's Edge: The Transition from Fear to Truth

I don't know about you, but this year has been putting me through the wringer. Every demon that has comfortably taken up residence in my mind (most of whom have been dancing around in there since early childhood) have been challenged to a death match. And thankfully, they're losing! But it's incredibly painful to live through. All those inner demons have lovingly convinced me throughout my life that if they die, I'm gonna go right with them. So I find myself standing at cliff's edge, overwhelmed and looking into an unknown abyss. Behind me are the demons that know me so well. The devilish goons who "took care of me" and "protected me" as I struggled to find my place in the world are now tied to trees, arrows pointed at their hearts, and they're pleading with me to turn back. They say they'll keep me safe if I just stop this crazy thing. And sometimes, it feels so easy to turn back.

The unknown abyss before me is beautiful and endless. It beckons me to trust God, to let go of fear and false control, and to soak up the love that has always been available to me but was hidden away by the demons who convinced a vulnerable, young girl that she'd only be good enough if she heeded their advice. The right choice, to step into that beautiful abyss, is obvious. But, and pardon my French, letting go is really fucking hard! Even though I have the clarity to see that many things I used to believe about myself and the world I've put myself in are just plain wrong, those lies are still all I've ever known. Those demons tell stories, and sometimes those stories are damn convincing. What will I cloak myself with in a unknown territory? What if I'm not strong enough to fly? What if the demons were right all along?

This is the fear that keeps me pacing along the edge. Not willing to stop looking at the truth, but still too clutched in fear to jump into it. So I remind myself, and you who has fatefully stumbled upon this post, to think smaller. The Truth (capital "T" TRUTH!) can be overwhelming, and even confrontational, when you've spent so long taking on the identity of lies. Don't pressure yourself to stop being scared of who you know you really are. It's only natural to fear the unknown, and scolding yourself for not being brave enough is just another demon trying a hitch a ride into your Light. Instead, trust the process by inviting small digestible pieces of truth to come join you on your cliff's edge. Before you know it, you'll realize you never even felt the jump and have been flying this whole time.

Stumbling over ruins along the way

Lately, I've been feeling a bit like a flame in the wind. Furious and turning against the forces that push me in every direction. It's so hard for me to focus on an intention when I find myself in this place. So I've continually tried to bring myself back to my foundation by reminding myself how far I've come... Though I find myself in a storm, I'm not a fire that can easily be put out. I can only grow stronger by taking on the strength of the very forces that seem to work against me.

Since the day I got my driver's license I've had a habit of driving around aimlessly with the radio cranked up to relieve stress. In Colorado, this was wonderfully easy to do as there was never a lack of scenic roads that meandered into a beautiful wilderness. Here, in the concrete wasteland that is DC, I've found it much harder to get the same pleasure out of driving. But when I'm called to drive, I drive, and today I was definitely called to drive!

I got on a random highway and decided to point myself in a direction I'd never gone before. I found myself in Maryland, and felt at ease just taking left and right turns as I felt them come to me. I'm so glad I trusted my intuition on all those turns because they led me straight to Fort Washington, a fort that was originally built over 200 years ago to defend DC from enemies approaching on the Potomac river.

I pulled up to the entrance and prepared to pull out my wallet to pay the national park fee, but as I approached I saw that the gates were lifted and a small sign hung saying that the park was free in the off-season. So I pulled through, and as my eyes scanned the fort and numerous shuttered, crumbling colonial buildings I felt exhilarated to discover that I was the only soul in sight. In fact, I was so exhilarated that I decided to park my car in the middle of the road. Right in front a beautifully dilapidated mansion.

Well, a modest mansion. But I was completely enchanted. I felt like I was in wonderland having this whole park of historic buildings to myself. I was practically skipping around this building as I greedily took pictures from every cool angle I could manage.

As I came around the back of the house I saw an odd little tree that had completely engulfed an old cement block. As I traipsed on over to snap some clever shots I had absolutely no idea that I was being closely watched. I was most definitely not the only soul amongst the overgrown ruins. And when I turned to face the house again my heart lept into my throat as I found myself staring into two pairs of black shiny eyes. Two giant buzzards, so black they melted with the shadows of the house behind them, were curiously guarding me as I snapped my photos. I grasped my chest as if to keep myself from breathing. I had been incredibly close to them without realizing it -- so distracted by own excitement to even notice the two open windows in the mansion where the birds were housing themselves.

I must have stood stock-still, staring into those eyes for about 5 minutes, before I finally became disenchanted by their spell. There was something about them that seemed incredibly familiar, almost friendly to me. It was one of those moments that pulled up so many mixed emotions at once that it's difficult now to even describe the scene properly. I had never seen buzzards before. Only from old cartoons had I gained any impression of them. (That being that they usually hung around in mean gangs and made fun of poor elephants like Dumbo...) But these birds seemed oddly calm, majestic and quiet against what looked like a horror scene. As the wind picked up and pulled my hair towards the sky I felt awakened, seen, and profound loneliness all at the same time.

I shook my own feathers as I realized how long I'd just left my car stranded in the middle of a road while I'd been making eyes with buzzards. (How often do you get to write a sentence like that?) So I ran back and was relieved to discover that, as far as I could tell, I was still the only human life in this place.

I made my way through the other abandoned places. One of which had clearly been a popular spot for debauchery as beer cans, condoms and freshly broken glass littered the once upstanding Army institution. It made me think about abandonment. About how those who feel abandoned are always the ones most drawn to these kinds of ruins. As if being inside these broken places were a physical manifestation of their inner world.

It wasn't until I made it to the fort itself that I encountered another human. A park ranger, a smiley little woman, who stood outside the gate as the fort's lone protector. (A far cry from the staff in centuries past.) I asked if it was okay to go inside and she encouraged me with exuberance. The fort was amazingly cool. But as usual, I had the most fun exploring the little nooks where people had actually been living.

Ruins are the greatest physical reminder of far we've come, of the powers of time, and of the resilience of the human heart. The perspective I gain from every encounter with abandoned places reminds me that there are parts of me, almost like scars, that are a lot like this old fortress. Still there yet no longer necessary for historic battles of the past. But useful in a new way, ready to be integrated into a wise foundation for future lessons.

Sometimes I have no idea if I'm doing the right thing or just holding onto a beautiful, yet irrelevant, beacon of the past. For now I'm just going to keep being that flame in the wind... Seeing it more as a dance and not a struggle.

Honey, there is no right way...

It was only about 7 months ago that I found myself sitting cross-legged on a bamboo floor, wearing what looked like a karate uniform, listening intently to a small, animated woman tell me about my energy. DC got to you, didn't it?! Her words have continually echoed in my memory. DC got to me. This city got to me with a swift ease that was so sly it went almost completely unnoticed until it was entirely too late. Then I was so desperate for a release that I had found myself paying hundreds of dollars to a yogic energy worker to retrain me on how to function in society without feeling so... Lost.

By that point I had only been living in Washington, DC for a few months. At the time, I chalked my feelings up to extreme homesickness and the residual stress from adapting to not only a new job but a new city. Since that time of sitting bare-footed and robed on a bamboo floor, I've been through much harder struggles than simply adapting to a new work environment, and through it all I've chosen to remain.

Now, I've lived in this city for almost a year. In that short (or long?) time I've met some incredible people, many of whom have served as not only friends but mentors. I've had some amazing experiences that I wouldn't trade for the world. I've grown attached to this city (that still gets to me) for that reason. And not only that, but I'm continually seduced by the power and education that this city wields... So what's the problem?

Something has always been missing from my life in DC and I'm getting tired of searching for that puzzle piece. My heart is aching, and even through all the wisdom I've gained I don't know how to comfort myself anymore. So is it time to move on? My mind thinks up a new answer to this question almost everyday. So for once I don't have any advice to offer. I'm the one who needs it.

Don't Define Yourself by People's Reactions, They Can't See Much More than Themselves

People are disappointing. I find myself being reminded of that frequently, and up until now I've let it sour my heart with resentment. On the surface I blame others for being inadequate, but with each pang of disappointment, what I really feel is the scar of my own insecurity being rubbed raw. It's a hallmark of the millennial generation. We have such high standards for ourselves to be the heroes that we deeply want to become, and yet the height of those standards leaves so little room for compassion that we end up blaming ourselves and others for things no one person could possibly control. So we turn on ourselves and our backs to world as we, ironically, move even farther away from being the true brave hearts we want to be.

So when I find myself in the throes of disappointment, I eat peanut butter M&Ms until I forget the pain. No. I mean, yes, sometimes. But what I really try to do is remember that everyone is doing the best they can with what they have in each moment. Myself included! And a lot of the time, people aren't equipped to be selfless, pious, accommodating, attractive or even nice all the time. There are things going on in their own special experiences that could be overwhelming them, and most of those things can't be seen with the naked eye.

When you hold your reality to such a high standard that you guilt yourself and everybody else for not being good enough, nice enough, etc all you're doing is adding to the problem. That girl didn't smile back at you not because you're an unclean fledgling, but because she has a zillion stressors buzzing around her head and one of them is probably the feeling that she might also fear herself to be an unclean fledgling. Your resentment towards her does nothing but keep you both on that downward spiral.

When I feel most alone because of the decisions others have made I remind myself that I have a choice about my reaction to them. I can further isolate myself and perpetuate the problem or I can try to compassionately offer the best I can to those around me. Sometimes that's not very much, but that really is okay. If we keep reminding ourselves that not everyone's best is pleasing all the time, magic can flow through us with even the smallest crumb of compassion that we spare. Allow yourself that subtle softness... And peanut butter M&Ms. Seriously.