Lent Day 5: Acknowledging That Things Just Are . . .

When our dog Kodi died about five years ago, we were heartbroken.  He had suffered from a mysterious ailment and fell over dead at the vet's office.  I wanted to get another dog immediately.  I couldn't stand the pain and the emptiness.  E didn't agree, feeling that some time should pass.  He was about to leave on a trip and I think I told him that if we didn't get a dog right away, he'd come home to two.  Well, we did end up getting two, one of which we still have.  The other was a pit bull that was roaming the street.  He was super friendly and exuberant.  We named him Snoop.  He took to sleeping in our son's bed and he helped to fill the hole in our hearts.  About a week after acquiring him, some neighbors told us that they suspected he had been part of a duo of dogs who had gone into their garage and savagely killed their cat.  They had already reported him to animal control and we didn't want to have to worry about that happening on our watch so we let him go.  When I heard the news about the cat-killing, I was driving home from work.  After hanging up the phone, I cried.  Loud and hard.  (There's nothing like the privacy of one's car for singing or crying or yelling; insular, even as one is zooming along with thousands of others at high rates of speed.)  The pain of losing this sweet dog who had brought short-lived happiness combined with the still-fresh grief of losing Kodi was so very strong.

I very recently ended a romantic relationship with a special and loving person.  We had gotten together shortly after E and I had broken up.  Without letting enough space to breathe into my new situation, I jumped into another.  It eventually became apparent that I was in no condition to give of myself what was needed to make it a success.  I asked for the space and he let me go. Unequivocally.
All day I've been monitoring my emotions and I've been thinking about the correlation between my feelings at losing Snoop and losing my lover.  It hurts like hell and is mixed and blended with my grief over ending my marriage, which I have just barely started to process.  Most days I think I'm "just fine", but probably I'm still in shock.  The reason I know this is because my emotions are all over the place.  (I'm obviously not comparing my relationship to a person to my relationships to my animals.  You know what I'm saying, right?  However, I do have to say that dog relationships are WAY less complicated.)

This morning I got frustrated right before performing on stage at church with the band.  We had very little time to work out a song before playing it live and feeling unprepared taps into my need to "look good" in public.  My frustration and panic quickly turned to tears, which brought in more elements of embarrassment and anger.  I felt like throwing stuff and canning the whole song.  Neither happened.  I escaped to the restroom, holding tightly to the hand of a friend who saw my need to talk/vent/cry/be hugged, which she did with her usual spirit of Grace.  She spoke words of reassurance, I breathed, put on my lipstick and got back onstage.  The song went well, by the way, as it was going to do, in spite of my fears and panic.  I was again humbled by Grace and the fact that I am often wrong (which is quite often a relief!).

I don't like that when I start to cry, it seems to pull up from a very deep well.  I feel very little control, which I dislike even more.  I know, I know, control is an illusion.  This evening I watched "A Fault in Our Stars", which I had been avoiding as I cried more while reading the book than any other, (with the exception of My Sister's Keeper, which scarred me and I REFUSE to see the movie rendition, even though I know that they changed the ending).  I wept during pretty much the whole viewing of TFIOS.  I used up a lot of tissues.  I was with my girlfriend, however, and I am very good at crying silently. This discreet "control" comes in handy, as I take to weeping quite easily and don't necessarily want people to know.  I just figure all this crying stuff is letting me know that more truths need to come to light. Good.  When I need to get something out of my stomach, I stick my finger down my throat.  When I need to cry, I watch a sad movie.  (Anyone have a copy of "The Piano" I can borrow?  Easy trigger.) Even with my eyes still puffy I know there's more to come out.

 Last night I had the privilege of seeing Wah! in concert for the first time.  She's a Kirtan singer who plays bass.  Kirtan music is repetitive chanting, with the audience singing the responses.  The songs are quite long and one can go into a meditative space quite naturally over time.  It was held at a venue that I had recently visited with my lover.  Being in that space, both inside and out, was a time to breathe into the discomfort and feelings of grief.  I wept a bit, sang a bit and eventually, stopped thinking for a bit.  What a relief.  I have been practicing meditation for a few years now and the moments of "non-thought" are coming more naturally and often for me.  It' feels so wonderful to be separate from the worry and inner-dialogue that I had thought was "normal".  To know that I am a part of the Whole and that the Mystery of the Whole is so much bigger than me is a comfort.  It's my connection to God.  In-between songs, sometimes Wah! spoke a bit.  There were flower petals on the stage and she talked about how the flowers are beautiful in their own right, whether they are alive and growing, plucked and scattered, or dead and decomposing.  (I am paraphrasing.)  It's all the same. We can look upon the flowers as just being.  We don't need to hold judgement over their status.  They just are.  We can't fight the tide.  It goes in and out.

After connecting with another friend this morning she offered this bit of insight.  Soul-mates are beautiful connections we have in this life.  Soul-mates don't always stay together for life.  We may have more than one Soul-mate experience.  They are gifts from the Universe.  We learn to give and receive love.  We bow at the feet of the experiences and keep on breathing and living in gratitude.

I will close this rambling session with a picture of some pictures of flowers I took today.  I am especially in awe of the tiny flowers.  They're mysterious and magical.  Flowers bloom for their own sake, not needing acknowledgement.  It is a comfort to be in the presence of nature, reminding me that things are unfolding all around me, despite how I choose to feel or what I choose to think about.

Thanks for listening.