We’re so often oversold on grand expressions of romantic love. As if the only kind of true love that exists is defined by shiny engagement rings picture perfect smiles and interactions dreamy sweep-you-off-your-feet expressions of emotion and happily-ever-after endings.
But what about the subtle expressions of love?
What about the fact that love is patient. Patient enough to weather the storms that inevitably come and go over time – defined by moments of loss boredom complication confusion and occasionally not-so-loving feelings. And what about the feeling of finding your way home to love when you think you’ve lost yourself in the mundane and the routine – only to find yourself again in the eyes of someone who loves you despite it all?
But real life doesn’t sell well does it? It’s not shiny and new forever and eventually the novelty wears off and we have to remind ourselves that while they may not be perfect our real versions of love are perfect enough for us.
Do things need to be difficult to be worth it?
Do we have to claim our greatest achievements by their corresponding weight and struggle?
Do blood, sweat, and tears have to be the elements by which we define the importance of our actions?
And does pain have to equal gain?
What ever happened to ease?
To focusing on the moments, people, places, and things that make us feel connected, inspired, and whole?
What happened to flow?
To working, living, and breathing in spaces where we feel in sync, settled, understood, seen, and heard?
To finding gratitude for the souls who get us and support our movement in this world?
What happened to being real and not competing with each other about who’s busier, more tired, most drained and most anxious?
Gratitude for the good that falls into our laps without us having to control things.
Cheers to the people who find their way into our lives to lift us up and drag us out of routine, the hustle, and the grind.
Knowing that the more we appreciate the good, simplicity, and a natural unfolding of events – we invite more of the same. The more we grow. The more we settle into a solid sense of self and a sense of calm that can only lead to more ease. Oh. And more love.
Sadness breezed in the other day.
In the muddle of the morning hours
she hindered my otherwise tranquil routine
by listlessly dumping the contents of her baggage
on my living room floor.
Knowing that ignoring her
would only mean
that she’d return another time
I offered her a seat as
she languidly took me on a journey through the past –
of moments lost
of unrealized possibilities.
And when the dark felt too deep
the chasm between myself and reality – too vast
I asked her to pack up her things and leave.
As she sulked away
I knew she would be back
and so I let her go with love.
Anger showed up on my doorstep
He parked his car
haphazardly in my shared driveway
with no regard for the neighbours
and proceeded to follow me persistently up the stairs.
As we made our way to the landing
he stood resolute
while fear cowered quietly in his shadow.
One hardly traveled without the other, I noticed.
Each made stronger through their bond.
And when I knew our conversation
was leading nowhere
as we ran circles around each other’s thoughts
with no resolution in sight
I asked them to go.
After much protest
they left muttering under their breath.
I knew they would be back
and so I let them go with love.
It’s been a month since I sat down at my laptop to write and two weeks since you passed.
My journal is full of handwritten scribbles and reflections, punctuated with the roller coaster of emotions I’ve been experiencing as I sort through my thoughts.
I faced every day knowing this wouldn’t be easy. I faced every moment knowing it could all end without notice. I faced every minute hoping it would all move through me.
And somehow, I feel like I should be over it all. That the thought of seeing you slowly slip away before us would be healed quickly because ‘it was time’. It was like I gave myself the permission to grieve for, like, a week. Because, you know – as they say – life goes on.
But I’ve dreamt of you for the past two nights and I struggle with the contrasting feelings that come along with losing a parent – someone tied to me by blood – and at the same time, someone I barely knew. Someone I only became reacquainted with at the end.
Because it was only at the end that I was able to see you again for what we all are – souls traveling in human bodies craving connection, acceptance, worthiness, purpose, and love.
I asked you at one point if you were scared and I could tell you meant it when you said you weren’t. I could tell you knew it was time. I could tell you were ready to go.
And so for now, I live with the slowly receding memories of the smell of your hospital room, of us listening to The Beatles while I feed you vanilla pudding, of you leaning in to ask me when you would be leaving, and your face the morning you took your last breaths. Knowing that time heals. Knowing that time is all we have. Knowing that time flies. Knowing that it’s our job to make the most of this life.