...unpredictable. Big realisation of the day.
What I thought of as love, actually came with many conditions to fulfil. It came from a selfish part of me which had certain illusions and conformed that love to fit the illusion of the time and day. It sprung from a need that I had, flowing to the people who I thought could fulfil that need. I painted it with the colours that I thought brightened it and made it pretty to look at, and fragrant to breathe in. I went with the ebb and flow of it because it kept changing course and intensity over and over, and I kept talking myself in and out of it.
And whenever I talked myself in, it was with the misguided notion that one day a higher form of love would come...the penultimate thing....just to have something to look forward to. But of course, nothing of the sort happened. And yet, everything of the sort happened. But before that was the full and complete disillusionment.
In people. In relationships. In ties. In roles. In trust. In life. In me.
So much so....that I "lost" myself. And cliched as it is....I just didn't know who I was anymore. I couldn't make up my mind about things. I was constantly in a state of mental conflict. I couldn't figure out what I really wanted....leave alone how to get there and how to get out of this place. There was very little self love, because of which I had nothing much to express to the world outside. Maybe that was why I didn't write here so much. Writing here was always about clearly connecting to the true me. When the truth of the me itself was in question, the question of writing didn't even arise. I sounded jaded and tired even to my own ears. The very simple bare bones question....of how are you...would throw me into a knot. I would spend hours agonising on how to answer it. What words to conjure up from the mystique of the air to explain what was happening. What WAS happening?
Its fanciful to think of it as awakening. But in a bare bones way, it was that. Its typical to give this problem a name and call it a mid-life crisis, but maybe it w.a.s that. And its perhaps a little sad that I did the only thing I could think of. And it was that. But it was also brave. But more than anything else, it was the only way I saw then. And I took it. In that it was simple.
I wrote to people in my life. People whom I had known in different capacities and met at different points of my own path and whom I thought had seen some reflections of me. I wrote them and asked them to tell me....about me. Anything that they could think of. The good, also the bad, and especially the ugly and all those little little things in between. I asked with tremendous trepidation and tremendous hope, somehow knowing that I would have to leave myself that open and that vulnerable, to truly break through whatever I was going through. And that's the beautiful part of it. Because when you do that.....when you really, well and truly bear your arms open and cry out....whatever you held in tight fists falls and clatters to the ground. It makes a din and takes a while to die out completely. And then it does.....and there is silence. Which s..l..o..w..l..y expands outwards....clearing the rubble. And creating space. A complete breath of a space....and openness. A cradle lying in wait for that soft little bundle of purity to come rest in it. Find its home.
I am being poetic, but this is truly what happened to me too. I found love rapidly flowing in, filling up every nook and cranny of my heart, sealing the crevices, embalming the wounds. And it was not love as love alone but in different forms. The unswerving loyalty of a childhood chum who had nothing but the best of memories ....the affection of a sibling who took the time to write, even if there was no need to. The anger of a friend who thought I should care two hoots about what the world thought of me. The patient consideration of a more distant family member, who decided this was an important enough mail to send out, on a busy day. And the complete pure love of a friend, who said to know you....is to love you.
They told me many things about myself. Many of which I knew and some of which took me pleasantly by surprise, since I did not know it had been there in me. That I could be so defensive. And mistrust. And injure myself so completely with my self critical ways. And others too. In fact that was the one consensus note. That I was my own worst enemy. It is amazing how many people wrote that. And then not everyone wrote. And not everyone did I expect a response from. But I heard what I needed to hear and got the medicine I so desperately sought. And I accepted it in both the palms of my hands, looking at it wondrously before lapping it up, hungry as I was for identity.
It can be argued that your sense of identity lies with you. And yes, that is true. It does. But we also leave behind bits and pieces of ourselves in the people we meet. It is unknowing, but certain. We are all walking legacies in that sense. Never quite knowing how we impacted and imprinted the soul of this existence. And when you ask for help...sometimes, all you're really doing is asking for that piece of you back. Or a reminder that that piece of you still lies with them. Safe. Cherished. Empowered.
I got all those pieces back. And I used it to piece myself back together. Again, its poetic to say that, but it is the truth of what happened. And as I began to accept myself....it began with rage. Acceptance, many times, begins with rage. You have a healthy sense of anger at what you've become and how you got there. You point some fingers just to subsume that emotion. To fuel it. To back some intent into it.
And then, even that dies down. You start hearing your own voice again....and rejoice in the re-introduction. You start listening to it. You make others listen to it too. With a fire in your eyes, that says you won't back down. And then, even that fire dies down. But by then it has already welded the steel of grit and determination.
Awakening has spirit. And a wave of energy which can carry you in it. But like a wave, it will ebb and you have to be ready for it, when it does. Because without your own intent to back you at that point, you could easily capsize again. Which is okay because the next wave will come by....but why wait to strike, when the iron is already hot? I am kind of at that stage right now. Where I am trying to build my intent to back up my spirit. To have my awakening mean something.
Which brings me back to love. And how unpredictable it is. And how much we love people through lenses that are custom fit to improve our own sight. With narrowed walls that close in and don't always let you breathe. With an intent to always gain something from it.
Today love means something different to me. And more than anything else, it means accepting the truth in whatever form it comes. And loving it because it is the truth, with every nature of the truth, which is to teach you about yourself. I have to accept it. It is what led me to me.