Feb 182016
 

It's not just the pressures of foreign travel, skiing, learning, and filming that have been weighing on me. I'm also feeling the terrible sadness of missing my beloved. Strangely enough, this week+ of skiing, in the atmosphere of my mentor, is all about — and helping me come to terms with — what's transpiring in my love life. As if that were something separate from (the rest of) my life… Which, until now, seems to be how I've operated.

What I'm finding about falling truly, madly, deeply in love, letting love wash over me — receiving the loving adoration of another, feeling myself open to cherishing him as deeply as I've wanted to cherish — is that opening to love means opening to feeling a lot of fear and grief.

It could easily be surmised that I'm speaking about the fear of this love disappearing, through a long or slow death of neglect, disappointment, betrayal, choose your weapon. But no. I'm speaking of a different kind of fear: The fear of letting something Be Really Good.

There is a substantial safety in putting your eggs in tomorrow's basket. It's been a way for me to know myself — that I'm holding out for something, living for a future when my real life shows up. And now, wham!! It HAS arrived, and I'm being called to board the train. Which means leaving behind my dreams of a Beautiful Tomorrow, for the fast-paced happening of a Beautiful Now. It might seem like it would be easy to jump into that new reality, but in order to do so I have to actually feel all the suppressed longing and doubts that have colored years of hopeful affirmations. I have to step from the known into the unknown: now THAT's facing a steep precipice!

For how long have I taken refuge in wistfulness, in a staged confidence that *someday* my life would turn out, someday I'd finally meet a man who loved me wholly, without reservation, a man who met me on every level of my spiritual, physical, intellectual, emotional being? There's been a whole lot of safety in yearning for someone I respected and adored, a man who was both fun and fascinating, a partner with whom I could feel assured in raising a family. I could pin my hopes on tomorrow, assert my trust in the Universe's plan for me… And in the moments when all that optimism seemed futile, resignation offered a disturbingly comforting blanket of dulled emotion.

Now that the Plan for my life seems to be coming together, I have to admit to how much grief I've been carrying for so long. I've been scared scared scared that my life wouldn't turn out, I wouldn't love and be loved, I wouldn't have a family. Am I really worthy of this?? Am I crazy, am I letting myself be caught up in a fantasy, imagining that goodness has finally descended? Can I let go of the psychotic paradox of pragmatically doubting, while romantically wishing for, True Love?

What do I have to give up in order to have the life I've wished for? I have to give up the self of the past that's been living for a future. I've known her a lot longer than I've known this delusional, love-struck me of the past two months. But facing my fears, FEELING fear the way I have in this crazy ski adventure, is part of a much larger unwinding… I am opening to feeling fear, sadness, longing as part of opening to feeling love.

One of my favorite scenes in The Sound of Music is when Maria and the Captain are in the garden, finally acknowledging their love. With surprise, they observe:

Perhaps I had a wicked childhood

Perhaps I had a miserable youth

But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past

There must have been a moment of truth

For here you are, standing there, loving me

Whether or not you should

So somewhere in my youth or childhood

I must have done something good

I offer up the same sentiments, to whatever Universal Benevolence is watching over me: Whatever I've done that was good, and true, thank you for letting it be enough — so I could welcome in this Goodness. Te amo, el amor de me vida 🙂

 

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