For You

I love you.

Not because of the way you do things or don't do things.

Not because I want to get or take anything from you.

Not because I need to control you or wish to change you.

Not because you give me something I can't get elsewhere.

Not because I'd die without you, or fall apart if we never cross paths again.

Not because you're perfect, and yet you are...perfectly you in every way.

I love you

Because I see you.

I recognize you.

I value who you are in both the goods and the uglies.

I feel your struggle and identify with it.

Maybe you make me laugh, make me smile, entertain me.

Maybe you break my heart, pull me to pieces, shatter my world.

Maybe you sit beside me, talking or listening as we share time and space. 

Maybe we hang out and fill the night air with levity and elation.

Maybe you reach for me when you are in tears.

Maybe we go on adventures or walks or do things only you and I can or will.

Maybe the only time we share is in passing now and then with a smile and spark of recognition.

I love you.

Because you fill me. 

You complete me. 

You bring me wholeness.

You connect me to the fabric of humanity and the experiences of this reality.

You give me something that only you can, it's unique quality a treasured gift.

I love you.

Because for so long I couldn't. 

I didn't know how.

I didn't know what it was or meant.

It hurt too much, I hurt too much.

I didn't want to because hate and anger was so much simpler.

I love you.

Because I can.

Because loving is freedom, and flows in a most natural way from the very wells of all that creates life.

And life....life is only that much richer, grander, fantastically beautiful, when observed through eyes of love.

Picket fence

My heart stopped....

When I saw you.

Torrents of ice and heat sparking through every cell causing my skin to tingle and breath to catch.

All the surprise I didn't expect, and face to face my knees water long enough to notice, not long enough to fall.

Because I brace myself,

A prepared barrier of what I know I shouldn't feel,

Every time.

I lock it down.

I shut it out.

Those things I can't let show, won't let show,

Since I know....

But out of nowhere,

There you were.

Standing right in front of me.

For that second, a stretch of eternity on the ear of a passing ant...

I fell apart.

My yield sign disappeared and I just loved you, without question or reason....

Just a puddle of pure elation to see your beautiful face.

Picking up the pieces.

Place them back where they belong.

A smile, a hug, a "been a while..."

And then you're gone.

I'm pretending not to notice, 

I pretend that it's all good. 

that's the only way for me to do the things I should.

Behind a wall of reason with all logic and all sense....

A shiny yellow yield sign tucked behind my picket fence.

Contracts

Every relationship is a contract.

We enter into an agreement with each other, understanding the rules and terms of our relationship. You provide thus and I will provide that…and it works, right up until one of us creates a breach in contract and we have a choice- break it or re-negotiate the terms, establishing a new contract.

We don’t often read the fine print, and most breaches come from the simple fact that our contract is so full of fine print due to the baggage we carry.

Intimate or partnership relationships I consider leases or rent agreements.

We are so excited, we sign the lease and put down our deposit with glee, happy to move in and take possession of our new home…the place we belong. Everything is shiny and new and fresh, and we spread out our belongings and settle in for the long haul.

One day, a note comes under the door. Rent increase. So we consider the pros and cons, but will most likely simply pay because it really isn’t that much after all. We love our home, our things are here, and it’s a small price to pay in order to remain comfortable.

After a little while, we notice cracks in the walls and ceilings- things we hadn’t seen before. We notice cobwebs and stains….but, we accept this. It is a comfortable home after all, and we realize we were not the first to live here. We love our home, our things are here, and it’s a small price to pay to not be homeless.

Our neighbors become noisy. They disturb our sleep and annoy us. We get cranky, and the price we pay for our comfortable home seems a little too high, with a rent increase, cracks in the walls, cobwebs and dust and noisy neighbors…but, we accept this. It is our home after all, and we wouldn’t want to have to start looking for a new one, and it’s a small price to pay to not be homeless.

Suddenly, the landlord decides we may not have a dog. But we love our dog, and the contract didn’t say we couldn’t have one! We are hurt, frustrated and angry. Why should we have to give up our dog when we pay our rent, put up with noisy neighbors, tolerate cracks in the walls and cobwebs and they are breaking the deal, not us! But, we love our home, even though we are no longer comfortable. We don’t want to look for another one, though we probably are starting to surf the “For Rent” column in the paper every week. And the price of not being homeless is starting to feel very steep.

A complaint is lodged against us by our noisy neighbors. We feel this is unjust! Who do they think they are? We put up with their crap all of the time. We have ridiculously high rent for a shit-hole of a house with cobwebs and rust and dust and cracks. We can’t have our dog, the place stinks and why are we even here anymore? We are now looking for a new home with renewed vigor because we can’t handle the thought of being homeless, but putting up with the asshole neighbors without our dog in this dung hole place with its’ cracks and dirt and filthy backed up sewage pipes is more than we can afford.

Then we see the rent is far too high elsewhere….and we wonder…is it worth it? Really, it could be worse……………….

So we either settle on the contract and suck it up, sometimes even cleaning and patching and fixing and being kind to the neighbor and trying our very best…..

Or we move. 

It Just ... Doesn't .... Matter

There is no shortage of people who will notice our mistakes, who will judge us and place negative meaning to our actions and words. 
They will not see the good we have done, but instead wait for us to stumble so they can say “See- you are a terrible person.” 
They will not look in our windows to see how we play with our children or sing them to sleep. They will not peer over our shrubbery to see us gardening in peace or petting our dog.
Yet, you may rely on it that the moment we raise our voice, or make our child cry or neglect our lawn, they are there ready to hiss at us and tell as many others as will listen how we suck at being human.

They need this to sustain their own stories and scripts. They can pat themselves on the back and say "Yes, I say mean things, but at least I take out my garbage."

 We understand this, we call it hypocrisy or "drama" or ... as I prefer... fear.
Fear?
Yes, fear.

I have come to understand that the nasty little voice that was forever nattering at me in my head; telling me I'm useless, ugly, unlovable, lazy and so on- actually resides in every single head of every single person we meet. Sometimes, the only way to drown out that voice is to justify.....
"I might be lazy but at least I don't scream at my kids."
"I might be fat but at least I mow my lawn."
"I might be mean now and then but at least I have friends who understand me."
You get the picture.
It has to be justified by outside sources, since we become so terribly blind to the merit of simply being.

I am no great pillar of wisdom on this matter- I've actually chosen not to blog about it a few times, simply because I don't think I have all the answers...or even some of them.
Today, however, I changed my mind. I am not going to remain silent about this any longer.

The end of this doesn't happen over night. You don't get up one morning and stop comparing yourself to others, or stop recognizing the negative actions, "drama" and so on. It is a long and tedious process...but one well worth it....because what does begin to happen when you choose to STOP THE INSANITY....is baby steps. Then one day you are sitting there, listening to someone talk, and you have a sudden and irreversible moment of clarity. 

It just doesn't matter.
"So she was like ranaranarana and I was all blahblah and it's like so not fair....I mean she does da-da-da and then is all up in my face when I blerk..... you know?"

And you do know. You know exactly............
But it just....doesn't......matter.

Why?
Because it doesn't.
Because you've taken time to learn that no matter what you do- no matter how you do it or why you do it- you've got a rapt audience for your f***k-ups...and no one notices or cares how long it's taken or what you've been through to get you there....that makes no difference in the world to them......but it's not even about you- 
and that is what the difference is.
It's not your mess up they notice.
Nope.
It's only a simple distraction to add to their collection of "other people's mess ups" so that they don't have to focus on that little voice that is SCREAMING at them about how useless, pointless, waste-of-space THEY are.
They were watching and hoping and literally praying for it, because the thought that you might be better than them in any way for any reason is practically crippling.

So how does it stop?
I don't really know how it stops for others...or even if it does. But I will tell you how I began the process of trying to stop it within myself.
I argued with my voice.

"You're useless"
"No, I'm not. I'm valuable and worthy of forgiveness."
"You're fat"
"No, my vessel is beautiful in all forms it takes."
"No one loves you"
"I love me."
"You're a terrible person"
"I am as perfect as I need to be at any given moment."

....and so on.....

I STOPPED arguing with those outside of me.
There is the door, you're welcome to use it.
That is your reality, not mine.
That sounds like a personal problem.
I understand what you are saying, but choose not to engage that thought.
(personal favorite) "Oh Yea......"

The hardest learned lesson for me has been and is:

"It's not your business what others think of you. If they think negative about you or your motivations, that is their problem, not yours." -Victoria Marcotte

Eventually, the voice is just a listless babble that pops by from time to time to check in on me. 

Why then...do I say this is fear?
Because the fear lies in the idea that the voice might be right!!
What if it is?
What if they all find out that I'm just this broken sham?
What if I AM unlovable?
What if I'm a fraud, and they ALL FIND OUT?!?!

So-
to face off with this fear directly, I stared it down.
I was blessed with someone who came into my life at the perfect time that I completely surrendered to. I exposed my ugliness, my doubt, my fear, my inadequacies..... and what they reflected back to me was understanding and acceptance. Perhaps, in a perfect world, I could tell you they loved me unconditionally, but that's a bit too happily ever after for my taste. Instead, I learned to love me unconditionally. I learned to truly forgive myself, and recognize that each and every day I am given the option to succumb to my fears and doubts or to stand up to them.
I also learned that it isn't selfish....not at all.
Why?

Because the simple truth is, once you stop listening to your own little voice, you discover another voice. This one can become the voice for others. 
When you stop focusing so hard on finding negativity outside of yourself to "prove" to self how "wonderful" you are.....
You begin to notice how wonderful others are.
You can tell them.
The way they get all "serious" when they try to explain something to you.
The way the light hits the side of their face.
How they try and try and try again.
Their laughter.
Their tears.
So much perfection that you can't help yourself but say...."you are beautiful" and mean it. 
Because they are.
Maybe they don't see it, maybe they can't hear it over the babbling in their own head, maybe they are lost and alone in a world so set on telling them how awful they are.
But you can.
You can, once you stop the insanity within yourself.
You don't notice who forgot to cut their lawn, or who kicked their dog, or who came stumbling home trashed from the bar with some nameless wierdo they just picked up. 
You don't notice because it just.....doesn't.....matter.........not any more.

You notice who stopped to get you a coffee, and you say thank you.
You notice that text message that came out of the blue that said "thinking of you", and you rejoice.
You notice the kind tenderness in someones' eyes and you say, "you will be okay."
You tell people they are awesome, because they are, and maybe you were the first person to say it that day.

The biggest thing that happens bit by bit, is you realize that all of this, every last bit; doesn't make you one teeny tiny itty bitty better than any one else. 
All it does is stop the crazy making and bring you peace.
Because if it's genuine, you no longer wish to compare yourself with anyone.
You just want to be you, and be the very best you that you know how to be.
And when someone calls you a snob or bitch, or tells people that you are a fake, or "betrays you"....you smile....because you know that is their reality, and it just......doesn't......matter.

Choice By Chaos

I once stood in the shackled darkness of mysterious place and sound. The smell, like the rancid aftermath of too many days lost in a bottle.

We christened each morning with ugly thoughts of yesterday, clinging to the hope that the bed might rot out beneath us and plunge us into some happy place. Cobwebs wove themselves while spiders lay in wait.

With only one, there are many. For the sides of that which we choose, and that which we do not, fragment like the shattered glass in an antique house.

 I don’t forget, but forgetting seems easier than trying to hold on.

We like to say we had no choice, but the truth is we did and do and will. 

Choices are like clouds that skate in the sky…once focused on, they form shapes and movements with ease. But if they are left up there with no notice, they simply float by, one after the other with no direction, eventually to dissipate.

I married chaos. With an “I do” to shame the angels on either shoulder, together we adopted faces and names and recorded our drama on the big screen in the sky. What he said she said they said, we did. Because, what we did they said he was, they should. But they didn’t, see, who did? If we don’t know, we fill in the blanks with supposition, propositioning the probabilities and potentialities of what she said they would, he might have. The rot becomes our four walls, and toes dance on the edges of our falling floors. I do.

What I don’t know, is when the picture became quite as clear as it is. Perhaps it was the day that the period ended not a sentence, not a paragraph; but a chapter at the closing of a novel. The period, only a dot, and maybe not even noticed more than a hair out of place, was actually the snapping slam of an entire story made from doubt.

Before that, who I was only dangled on the cobweb of defining moments. I transformed from the trapped fly to the nimble spider. I chose to weave my reality instead of tremble in wait to be consumed by it. 

But that was just a rain drop, and perhaps not even a big one.

Spiders are still brutally tiny in this great big universe. The construction of reality is very reliant on where she chooses to hang it and how she chooses to weave the webs that sustains her. If she could tell you just one thing, it would be that there are so many places in this world with teeth, some choices are like picking the best rotten apple.

Yet the process of divorcing bad decisions is a long and tedious one. I could say battles are won, but like those won in a courtroom they end with a clunk of a gavel and an all-rise. Perhaps the debate to settle without prejudice is chewed on by lawyers, with briefcases and twitchy-stressed out eyes. The starch of their tailored suits leaking into the very pores they sweat from and smearing it across the contract you’re trying to read. Their sighs are deafening and logic crippling.

And you want to just let it all go. Climb into the ocean and discover Atlantis….because down there you might be able to breathe so much better. 

But I didn’t, I didn’t let go…not right away any way. I stayed married to the fringes, trying to convince myself that I could not only change my reality, but maybe those around me as well. Couldn’t they see the rotting mire of what we were creating? Couldn’t they feel the presence of the stalking carnivore, ready to devour the whipped flesh of all we were trying to make? It doesn’t get any better.

Until the water.

As a Pisces, my sign being only the stars that chose to hang on the day of my arrival, is two fish chasing their tales. Forever dancing in a cosmic joke of balance and imbalance. Locked, perpetually in indecision and confusion. Seeing both the good and the bad as a juggling act, put on by yours truly. Out of water, we die. The air is just too much to take in sometimes. Yet in water, we flourish and grow.

I chose to stop denying what is. I chose to sign the paper and divorce that ridiculous story. I chose to find Atlantis. I chose to weave my web in a concrete corner, fending off bats with a barbed-wire heart. What’s more, I realized that I didn’t have to leave behind my loved ones…but I also couldn’t choose for them. Not letting them go, but letting them be.....

I see life as a series of metaphors, painted on the walls of rotting houses while the vibrant, thriving weeds choke it out. We don’t have to see it to know it’s there. What we create, crumbles like a sand-castle under the will of what we cannot control. Leaves, upon the surface of a mirror lake.

It can be beautiful, this thing called life. It can be joyful and peaceful and exquisite….. if we choose.