I just got back from a nice long tenure in California, soaking up the light along the sunny coast. It was the first time I traveled and saw old friends since my dad passing away and while I don’t want this place to become one where I continually dissect the intricacies of mourning, I do think grief has enriched my heart in the most unexpected and vital ways. Death is the witness, the watcher that gives value to space and time. And that’s all love really is, isn’t it?. The blessing of space and time together. Without Death, Love cannot be holy.
I could not consecrate space and time very well when I was younger and so a profound feeling of love was not one I had easy access to. Not for myself and not for many others. Anxiety, loathing, judgement… these are eternal, formless entities that blind us to where love lives, in the here and now. Space and time weighed on me, pressed in on me creating a panic around being loved I think many of us humans carry around. What if they leave me? What if the love fades? What if I lose them? What if I drive them away? I was a particularly isolated person for a very long time with the exception of a handful of divinely feminine relationships. These were the only love ties in which space and time did not scare me, where I did not fear being left or being seen. Among the many lessons I’ve learned in the road back from isolation is that no matter what, love seems to find a way. As closed off as I was, love found an in road.
I feel very blessed that I’ve come out of that time in my life with old friends, as I imagine old friends are one the few precious commodities we’ll actually want to hold at the end of it all. I have been separated by a significant amount of space and time from the friends I was visiting in California, more-so than ever before in my relationships. Not only do I have regrets about how much my pain prevented our closeness when we had the benefit of proximity but was not sure if we could still share in a space of love. Do our ties really bind?
My favorite part about aging (and I haven’t gotten to do very much of it yet) is how often you get to be surprised. Each ring on our trunks makes the breeze feel different, even if the roots don’t move. The depth and warmth of my interactions with my friends on my trip was such an enlivening discovery, such a comfort. The space and time I once feared as a reaper had only given us the opportunity to become people who are more capable of closeness. And it was lovely.
I wish I could say my anxious questioning was misguided but unfortunately they’ve proven to be valid questions. People have left me. I have watched loves fade. I have lost people who felt like my gravity. I have driven some of them away. What happens when you are separated from friend and lover by oceans? This is a worthwhile question to ask ourselves because the answer will give us our very reason to love.
I am now separated from my father by the ultimate ocean, the one we can only cross twice in a lifetime. But somehow even without the space and time we once shared, the aura of love remains, a sea of a different kind that exists beyond constraint.
The idea that we have no control over space and time prevents us from taking steps towards so much of what we desire. The fear that a vengeful god might one day decide to take away what we love slams the doors to our heart closed. Luckily, Love has a mysterious omniscience, a constant knowing of what people need if we’re willing to listen. Sometimes we find closeness in the distance. You lose people but they don’t feel gone. Time passes rough but you arrive healed. Tides turn unexpectedly and wash the perfect surprise to shore. All are cleansed in the sea of love.
The Prompts
Who do you miss right now? What does that feel like in your body? In your mind? Is it a bad feeling or a good one?
When is a time you did not listen to your intuition in love?
What does your intuition say about your love right now?