Anniversary of a Beginning

A year ago at this time I was a week into severing my life with Jan and Moro. I had been skidding above the surface of my hurt; disappointment, anger and chaos in our relationship for too long and finally recognized that if I didn’t make the leap out of there I was doomed. My health would have started complaining as loudly as my empty, hurting heart. So I awoke and made the decision to leave. Grateful to my friends in Portland, I gave myself two weeks to sort out my entire life. . as accumulated in the stuff I owned. . both with Jan and alone. . .and then moved out and in with my friends for a month.

I feel sadness as I remember packing and forcing myself to move through the two weeks of getting ready to leave. I had to ignore the bleeding from within lest I simply fall over on my face and cry. As I steeled myself and set my jaw, it felt like I was walking through sinking mud. There was a vast sense of emptiness. Sadness. Disappointment. Failure. I had been unable to make it work with this friend of mine whom I had loved for so long. Who had morphed into such a sad, angry and helpless kind of person. Who blamed me, as far as I could decipher in our useless attempts at communication, for everything wrong in our relationship for god knows how long.

Now I sit in my sweet studio, watching the myriad of boats and folks scattered throughout the river and along the river’s edge through my window. The temperature is in the 90s and hot enough to fry my white skin to a crisp red, were I to be outside. Instead I watch with the fan in my face from inside. I especially enjoy watching the dogs race with a stick on our river bank and the neighbor’s daughters strolling along the shoreline to find a place to lay their towels and sunscreen while they swim.

My little home resembles me. An artsy-fartsy studio. A fringed silken scarf adorns an entire wall and my various dolls sprawl lazily on each of the window ledges. Long, white netting drapes the inside of my balcony door, acting as a screen to keep mosquitoes and flies outside. Quite exotic and romantic. . . and all me.

my own sweet self. A couple weeks ago I

I’ve concentrated on deliberately romancing purchased a plain silver ring at Saturday Market to wear on the ring finger of my right hand, and pledged to love myself and be true to her. As I sink more deeply into the essence of this Being that I am, I feel a delicious expansiveness from within my heart. A softening. A healing. Each day I gift myself generously with all the time I want to meditate, read, sew, watch reruns of old romantic movies or simply sit on the balcony to daydream while I watch the boaters and wildlife. All gifts to myself. A living out of my promise and dedication to me. To me from me with unconditional love.

I appreciate and applaud this beautiful self that I am for having had the courage to take the difficult step a year ago. For summoning the strength to make the break. Leap into the Void and launch new beginnings. All of it has been so very blessedly good.

For all of this new life I am deeply grateful.

For the blessing of all the people, all the pain and joy of all my past lives,

I made it this far.

I am good and life is exquisitely, deliciously worth living after all.