The Bittersweet End

It’s odd

Odd really

Old pictures resurface in places I’d thought I’d kept hidden

Was it unconscious? Perhaps intentionally

You know time beckons us to transform swiftly

I’ve sowed my seeds, watched the fruit grow

Eaten Gods blessings, adapt as seasons come and go

Made new friends, made love with new lovers

Learned new tricks to show both under and outside of the covers

Created a new self, one who knows her worth—

What does she want? Who is she?

Lets explore her joys and let go of old hurts

This ole girl approaching 30—you start thinking about life more clearly

“Let’s pool together finances, create a career that feels good and affords us stability”

There’s no love now that could ever make me forget about me

Clearer on who I am more than I’ve ever been

Peace makes me hesitant to let just any ole person in

So clear, yes that I am…until I saw your smile

Wow…That’s something I hadn’t seen in a while

It looks different than how it used to be, more genuine, more relaxed, more…free

Different than how it was when it was with me

Listen—yes I’m grateful that time has healed our wounds, made us stronger

But isn’t it odd how time has moved connections that don’t sustain themselves any longer?

And that distance; it doesn’t take away the love in my heart

It’s stays as if no time has been lost, with no end and no start

And what an odd place to be—looking at who I am compared to who we were

But love exists beyond time and truly does endure

How bittersweet to recognize change that brings both loss and movement so swiftly

Even more bittersweet to acknowledge that loss happened to be the thing that set us free

I will love you always truly, my love does soar

But space has taught inevitably to love myself more.

Thank you for the lessons and all the sweet memories

Thank you for the blessings that brought me to clarity

Love stands as a reflection of God’s eternity

Love will always be a reflection of the Divine within me

Making Sense of “Distractions”

Distractions…Distractions…

A thousand thoughts in my mind and I can’t pick one of them. If I’d just allow myself to rest, to take the time to unfurl the clenched fists that bleeds onto white sheets and stains its coat with a deep red brilliance, maybe I’d learn that my ego loves the color its left with. I wonder why at times I don’t allow myself time to rest before venturing onto a new task? My mind confounded with new ideas, different revelations, more things to learn, worlds to explore—its intoxicating, exciting, humbling, overwhelming, tiring and then finally…a distraction.

Distractions feel so beautiful sometimes. They feel like an absorption of complete attention; I’m consumed by the story of another. I wish to be consumed by that which I am distracted by. Whether than is another person, a good book, a beautiful fragrance, the songs my plants sing to me or a reflective piece of art—I’m looking to be immersed in its presence until it absolves my own.

And I wonder about that. I wonder what it is about the feeling of being absorbed, being selfless in the presence of distractions that a part of me craves? My teacher beckons me to reflect on the ways that I use some of my spiritual energy and natural intuitive processes to be absorbed into another, to merge with them completely and in the process lose myself. Maybe that’s why sex feels like a holy space of connection as opposed to release. A tension that allows for me to break free from performance and be immersed in my body, in the moment, completely merged with another as he loses himself inside of me again and again. Wondering where I end, and he begins—who knows and who cares as we crash into each other until one of us has had enough.

And in the aftermath, there’s more merging. Now we get to reflect on the experience as we hold each other in our arms. My heart longs for the ability to touch another’s, to listen to a similar rhythmic beat and create our own vibrational tune. To be in love, to be present to another yet distracted from myself.

Maybe it’s my lesson right now to learn what it means to be present in these “distractions”. Instead of losing “me” what if I claim myself in the midst of each moment. What if I witness my thoughts and observe them as they pass through? What if I watch myself choose to learn new things, listen to different music, venture through new worlds? What if I watch as I become absorbed with the “distraction”, losing track of the small “me” but opening to the me that is always deeply connected to all that is. What if I learn to use this merging as a way of merging with The One?

Distractions aren’t all bad. Sometimes they are beautiful, wonderful, exciting, thought provoking, erotic and damn-right fun. But what if I didn’t need distractions to distance myself from that egoic self? What if I could mindfully merge while observing each moment in a space of presence instead of loss of self. And what if I learned how to stand as fully present with the larger “Self”?

Does it even exist? It must..or how could I think of it? Could I even do it? I must…or why am I asking it? Is it so difficult? Perhaps…but struggle is often worth it. And I’m tired of leaving pieces of myself behind to merge with smaller ones when I know I’m in search of something bigger, something all encompassing, the Oneness I prayed to merge into.

Distractions are distractions…but distractions might be the thing that leads me back home.

Into remembrance.

Winters Blessings

The most beautiful gift of love is when it is given and when it is taken away.

I thank God for each moment I’ve had my heart broken and returned to Him because it allowed for a deeper relationship not only with Him but with myself. My most recent lesson in love has taught me not to withhold it, but to welcome its appearance with open arms and to grieve it deeply when it begins to leave. I’ve learned to listen to my deeper intuition, as they are signs from the Most High and to also not berate myself for taking my time in letting go. I’ve learned to allow myself to fail diligently and to coax my wounds to close gently. We cannot begin to possess anything or anyone, only to love in whichever season they appear and to gracefully let them go as they pass into another. The idea of loving for eternity is not only romantic but resonant, only if we allow our love to pass the gates of the ego and emerge into transcendence. With this, we begin to understand that love is never truly gained or lost—but always present. But we must be present enough to witness it.

I also have learned that love is not change. By this I mean, not expecting for another to change on our time or mold into the person that we think we need them to be. It’s allowing for the constant evolution of that individual to emerge so that they can transform into whomever God have them be. I am no more powerful than the energy that coaxes petals of hydrangea flowers to unfurl and emerge in brilliance colors. Who am I but a passive observer to the colors that God allows for each petal to paint? Much like this, I pray for God to allow me to be a passive, yet expectant observer to the movements and motions that course through everything in nature including my own self. There is little that I can do to force anything to happen and really; what need to be done when resting allows for everything to be completed fruitfully? With a bit of nurturance, grace, and prayer, all begin to emerge from its slumber into wakefulness. Love has taught me that its presence allows for tree’s winter leaves to shed and springs little buds to emerge from its confines—yet all were already present at the moment the seed was planted. All it needed was grace, time, and faith. All it needed was a bit of love.

Here’s to loving, enjoying and re-meeting myself in my winter season as I await springs arrival.

A Season of Change

Lately I’ve been feeling the energy of endings coursing through my body, racing through my veins up until it reaches my tear ducts, dripping slowly to land on the corners of my lips. I taste its bittersweet saltiness as I swallow deeply and allow for it to make its passage once again. I can’t refute the fact that change is often painful as life sucker punches us with it over and over again. Yet, somehow this current change in my life doesn’t feel quite like a sucker punch. Instead, it is the gentlest, most wistful kiss.

I’m amazed to realize that much of my endings do not have to derive from deep pain and betrayal. They can instead arrive in a package that perches itself on my doorstep, a nicely wrapped bow beckoning me to wonder what its contents is. It can be a phone call that says “yes, you got the job” or a letter that reads “Congratulations! You’ve been admitted into ___”. Or even soft lips that whisper “I’ll always love you” as they kiss you goodbye.

Endings are never easy. For me each ending requires a moment of deep surrender to what was and a trust in what will be. These days that are arriving require much faith, so I place my forehead on the ground and ask for strength. I ask for God to enlighten me with softness in moments where I’d thought I wouldn’t have any and to lead me on a path that I can’t even see clearly. Yet, I know, I feel that this is destiny.

As things end, I usually take the time to look around and take stock. What are the things that I have created with my hands; what are those things I’ve unwittingly destroyed? Were my words too harsh, too passive or timed just right? Did I extend forgiveness in moments where I was a little less than perfect and simply just human? Trying to reason my way through moments where I’ve felt too much because it felt too painful to feel. Have I run away from my own reflection in the hopes of drowning myself in anothers—only to find those eyes reflecting my image once again? And this time will I sit quietly with myself? These are questions that I ask when the ending arrives, and we are left with the fruits of the seeds we’ve sown.

Though endings can be heart-wrenching, honestly all that I witness is love. I see love in the fearful gaze of another as they attempt to hide what is on their mind and shield the fragility of their heart. “I make you feel so naked, don’t I” a question frequently repeated in my mind’s eye. Well, my love, my heart is sewn right onto my sleeve—believe me I feel naked too. Endings always make me feel naked, bringing me right back to my natural self, my child self; unsure and twisting my hands at what I’ve wrought, wondering if I could’ve been anything more than human. But even in that space of remorse, grief and longing, I turn to look in the reflection of my own gaze and still find love.

Love is the thing that makes a fool of us all. And saves us all in the same instance. Love is the thing that makes each moment of laughter, joy, pain, heartbreak worth it—love as a never-ending source of life. Its love that whispers “this door needs to close so that another can be opened”. Its love that rocks me gently as I cling to the past in the hopes that it’ll never reject or abandon me. Its love that wipes my tears, holds my face gently and gazes at me with a knowing that it remains present even when my mind is convinced that it’s going. It’s love that allows for me to pick my head up, look at that closed door and bow in complete and utter reverence. It’s the surrender that makes me revere loves presence. A divine surrender so spiritual my mind cannot conceive of it. It is only my heart that falls into a stupor, drunk with it. Love coursing so deeply within me carrying me to the new door that awaits with hope, inspiration and faith. Love that whispers, “are you ready? You got this, let’s open it together” leading me into a new energy. Love, that awaits on the other side with open arms, accepting, transformative and eternally present. Love that whispers “endings are an illusion that brings you back into presence helping you to realize; I’ve always been here. I have always been the ultimate reality. This is the ultimate truth.”

Love as a space of remembrance, continuously bringing me right back home.

So with love, I thank you for your presence. I thank you for your lessons. I thank you for bringing me back to remembrance.

A heart filled with love.

Xx Heaven

10 Years of Longing

Times passing idly

Beckoning me to make my peace

Is it that I see your face

My heart confounding itself trying to match your beat

Do we miss each other coincidentally?

Or was it that once we fit perfectly,

Like a puzzle piece

Only now to fall into the trashes debris-

Chipped and out of shape

Unable to fit fully

Has the tale of “the one that got away” stolen our stability?

Nights of longing with partners lying beside both you and me

Drawn into a hazy dream of what used to be

Has life has lost is lustre and presence?

Its golden glitter turned into a sinners heaven

Using sex as a pawn to meet in the depths

And emotional distance to shield our hearts from what comes next

There’s something about this story that makes it so difficult to complete

Even with the impossibility of finding equal ground to meet

Timings off, no wait, persons wrong

Like falling crescendo’s and flat notes in an old song

Gone are the days where we used to dance together right on beat

Stories of yesterday building the foundation where we meet

But yesterday is gone and tomorrow waits for no one

Holding the reality that this songs chorus will inevitebly be done

Can this love transform, grow and finally meet?

Or will times departure force this love train to leave?

In this space of mystery and wonder, allow our hearts to fill in the beats

And perhaps we might lead our own paths to finally make our peace..