Had looked forward to dancing all day. Hung out on the Hill till dance time, got there early, and stretched out while talking to my friend, a fellow recent divorcee. We talked of the mixed blessing that is divorce. How the grief overwhelms you some days and on others, the freedom of movement into territory previously off the map of what was possible is literally cause for bliss. We talked of our children. Mine are little. His are grown up. He spoke of the powerful shift in his relationship with his sons recently, the newfound openness, honesty, and intimacy. I took a deep breath and sighed when he said this. He stopped and checked in with me about my big response to this and look of sadness.
I felt sad hearing this lovely newfound connection my friend has with his sons because it causes me to call into question if we can ever make truly honest, flexible, “living” relationships that do not result in all of these stuck places where this kind of intimacy doesn’t exist because we are trying to uphold relationship structures that don’t really work. Why did it take getting divorced for him to have this with his sons? Why did it take getting divorced for me to feel like my soul is intact? There are probably lots of complicated answers to both of those questions. And maybe these are the wrong questions. Maybe it isn’t mine to ask why. Some things are a mystery. We ended the conversation with words of our mutual gratitude for the complex, messy blessings that our respective paths of divorce have bestowed on us.
I have been wondering lately why I have dated or been romantically interested in a number of people who haven’t really been available in some way or another and my conclusion is that I am actually totally terrified of getting into another committed relationship. My faith in this institution has been blasted to smithereens, my heart shattered. I used to be such a romantic! My heart ran the show to a fault. Blind leaps of faith at every major turn of my life! Now I don’t trust my heart or anyone else’s to not lead into blind alleys.
Once the music started, I made my way to the lovely altar to pray to the statue of Chinese Goddess of Mercy, Kuan Yin. Then, I chose an angel card from the array in front of me. I turned it over. “Surrender and Release” it stated, unsurprisingly. I know I need to surrender and release my grief, my bitterness, my fear of the places love can take us- the mystical misadventures that literally turn our lives upside down and crack our hearts. Open.