Monday, September 7, 2009

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Pulled down by the undertoe



Engaged. He's Engaged.

At first, I wasn't sure what my response was... I felt immediately split in two, as if one half of me was on the other end of a phone line unable to speak, jaw dropped, and the other half of me was calling into the phone "hello? hello? are you there? what's happening?" Now, on day two, it is devistation coming through. Devistation, though? Shouldn't I just not care? Why does it hurt? I don't understand why it hurts. Not even a passionate hurt, either. It's just a 'stopped dead in your tracks' kind of hurt. Nothing is moving.

The funny thing is, I knew it would happen. I knew it would happen with her and in this exact way. I knew that after me, it would happen fast. When I first heard her name, I knew it would be her. And not more than a month ago we met at a cafe for lunch for a kind hello, my brother was there, and I could see the love still there in his eyes, and I could see the way he bitterly fought it and chose to hate me instead, because it made his love easier to despise me. I remember seeing that twisted look in his face, I remember taking it all in, and responding in my heart that 'yes, I have seen you for all that you are, and my love requires more.'

I remember him telling me he didn't, couldn't, love her the way he knows he is capable of loving, but that he liked the relationship because it was easy. I told him there was something to that ease, and that if he looked more closely, he'd see that love has the capacity for growth much more in the ease than in the tension, which is where our love existed. Love gets stuck in tension. Love grows slow and gentle with ease, but never ceases. It is a constant unwrapping. Perhaps he found that. I hope he found that.

So many thoughts went through my head yesterday. I want to write him to congratulate him. I want to say only good things. When I peer beyond the sea of my own emotions, there is happiness for him, and compassionate joy. I want to express these things. At the same time, I want to express my own terrible emotions... the more self-centered ones. And I don't even want to express them for the purposes of recognition, or spite -- nothing along those lines at all. I'd simply want to know how, how to understand the pain I feel, and what to do with it. An instantaneous death and birth. How can one feel such incredibly mixed feelings?

Anyway, wouldn't it ultimately just be selfish of me to write him any kind of letter right now? This is his time, this is his happiness. But wasn't he my best friend? Yes. Yes he was. But if I were to write him now, even if it were genuinely from the heart, congratulatory, and embracing, it would bring up the past for him and take away from this precious moment for them. I can't do it.

So I must leap out of my skin? I want to run, run so badly... for miles and miles. But I am sick. I've got to work this out of me. Before it begins to show. How can I get it up to the surface and out, without it showing? There is no where for me to go, no way for me to work it out. Cleaning projects, I suppose. Or painting. Meditation. I certainly can't mope about listening to depressive music, as I have been doing. And what about love-making with my lover? My heart is on the floor right now. God, and even that doesn't make any sense. I have the most amazing, incredible man. I love him so very, very much. He's beautiful. And this ache is every bit natural, I know. But I don't want it here. I don't want this interference.

Let go, let go, let go.