Riding The Waves Of Relationship

I’ll come right out and say it.  I feel ashamed because last week I declared on Facebook that Ed and I were gonna take space.  Member?  And I posted those awesome pictures of us all tragically ripped and emotionally thrashed?  Well I managed to uphold the integrity of our commitment on moonday when he asked to come over and hold me and pray together. (But I gotta give the broth props for knowing my weak point~ spiritual practice and God worship… Knuckle bump, Eddie 😉 )  But then came tuesday.  He told me he wanted to see me “so bad”…and I couldn’t think of a reason why not.  I mean, by noon, I had pretty much already conquered the world.  I swam for a heavenly hour, and then gotten so much potent and satisfying work done at a rad cafe.  I was basking in a hot spring of personal fulfillment and success… so what harm would it do to have lunch and some quality time with my “estranged” lover?  Yeah, exactly.  So we did.


We met on forty ninth street.  I saw him from afar, and as we strode self-consciously toward one another, his body language was tentative like a dog who has just been scolded by his master.  It was kinda cute… and certainly awkward.  But as soon as our bodies touched, we melted into each other like some sort of indecipherable recipe for Perfection.  We got lunch at Whole Foods and sat in the sun, and everything was a soft, pretty song.  Until we dared to bring up the unbearably charged subject of my relationship with another man.  A FRIENDSHIP.  A friendship that frightens Ed, for some reason.


And then, like one slipped into a sudden coma, or a man trapped inside a massive block of ice, he was gone in fear.  And all hope of meeting in real time sunk faster than the Titanic.  I marvel how often, in relationship struggles, both parties long to be afforded the *same* gift of generosity from the other.  He wanted desperately to feel heard by me.  Guess what I wanted.  Yup.  But in the moment, I had been a staunch refusal to extend my patience and listening to what I perceived to be his voices of fear and defensiveness.  I imagined they would dribble on endlessly like a broken faucet and I could not stand the prospect, nor see the value of drowning in all of that.  So instead I struggled up the steep precipice of insistence that he must have been on crack to be perceiving any threat.


To his credit, he WAS willing to chant our mantra together, while I laid on him in the driver’s seat of “Magic Mike” (we named his truck the same day he took me to see a matinee showing of the movie.  And it is beyond pertinent that you luxuriate in the knowledge that I dared him to dress like Magic Mike (the hot male stripper).  He not only saw my dare, but he RAISED it, and did a strip tease for me before we left for the show.  This is a man who had been adamantly insisting since the day we met that he had two left feet…).  Meanwhile, back in Magic Mike, his voice came in a tortured whisper, “Om Gam Ganapatayai Namaha…Om Gam Ganapayai Namaha…”  But sometimes a tortured whisper is all a brotha at his edge has got.


Two utterly wrecked hearts, we parted ways.  And without a twist of hesitation, I walked straight to the public altar in the witchy store around the corner from my house.  With a heart rubbed so raw, it was my only option, as I saw it.  I strode into the crystal-laden fortress, intuitively scooping up two large pieces of smoky quartz, which I discovered were good for “navigating the shadow”, and finding refuge behind the beaded curtain in the back of the store.  I wrote a prayer to God on a piece of thin, decorative paper, lit FOUR tea light candles (my version of bustin out the “big guns”) and settled into the epicenter of my ache, offering everything to the Silent Presence.  Again.  And again.  And AGAIN.  For a long time.  And then I felt better.


But don’t mistake “better” for “good”.  It was a rough night.  Mostly I just lay in bed, snuggling my large rose quartz sphere, and continued to offer my life to the only thing that is real:  LOVE.  The beauty of hitting such walls in life, is that one has no choice, but to surrender.  Or go insane… So I surrendered.


And meanwhile, Ed met with the beloved Mykael.  Member HIM?  He used to be Graceland’s leading man!  My ex-boyfriend.  He was in pretty much every blog of 2008-mid 2010… Well, being a master stone-carver, he had put out a call for a metal worker to create a base for his newest piece (an aroused “bloom” of one of his favorite goddesses…), and I forwarded it to Ed, because guess what?  He’s a metal worker. Of course I had the ulterior dream that Ed and Mykee would make a powerful and real connection… because I don’t think Ed’s used to going too deep with other men… and yet I say it’s essential.


Jesus.  This blog is taking forever.  You know how I feel about linear time… wading through it often feels like wading through dark, oozy swamp.  And honestly, I didn’t even MEAN to expound so hard on this frivolous tale.  Like a neon parade of magician’s scarves, it just kept spewing out.  Honestly… why do I always feel so compelled to talk about Relationship?  I mean really!  I could dig into politics or the weather or my optimal breakfast or how much I LOVE my  mom… Well, there’s always tomorrow for that… (smirk)


In the mean time, I will tie up loose ends with this dribbling tale of relational agony and ecstasy.  I love stories with morals.  Like parables.  Cuz I AM a Jesus Freak, ya know.  Wink.  (The “good kind” of Jesus Freak, naturally…)  So the moral of the story, is that PRAYER WORKS.  I let go of all attachment to Ed’s and my relationship… I put it in God’s hands, where it belongs.  Where EVERYTHING belongs.  And then he met with Mykael and they talked for over two hours… and I dunno what sort of “Man Magic” occurred… but Ed came out on the other side a changed man.  In the best way.  Clear.  Present.  Willing.  Open.


And from there, we spent most of yesterday together.  I swear I couldn’t stop kissing him all day long.  Every time we walk through the darkness of the underworld together, we pop back out into the light, deeper in love, with strengthened trust and a clarified knowing of ourselves and one another.  Even though it feels scary and painful for a minute, I like the results.  I like letting loving transform me.  I like letting go and marveling at the mystery of my very own becoming.  I like Ed.  Usually… 😉


But I was hasty to announce on Facebook that we were “taking space”.  And I feel embarrassed about that.  And the moral of THAT story, is that I’d like to actively practice relaxing into the powerful emotional waves we ride together, so that I can have more fun riding them.  Knowing that soon enough they will break and melt and dissolve back into their own body of infinity, only to give rise to the next mysterious swell of feeling and experience.  I want to remain grounded in that deeper, sacred Something, amidst all of the tumult that deeply knowing and loving and surrendering with a man entails.




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