They were tired of fighting, both of them frustrated by the endless misunderstandings and unwillingness in each to listen to the other. Both of them exhausted by the spoken and unspoken judgments, the righteous determination to make the other wrong. They found themselves hopeless in a relationship that had once danced with hope, had dazzled with life. Neither wanted to continue on like that. Neither could for much longer. So they came together one night to try a different way. They pushed the past from the room and put aside everything they thought they knew about each other. They talked freely and shared hard truths, and rather than judging and interrupting, they listened to each other. Each opened to the honesty of the moment. Each invited their own vulnerability. They laughed some and cried a lot, not sure how they'd grown so far apart when they’d both wanted nothing more than to grow together. Then they sat quietly, hands held, still uncertain of their future but clear they’d done something important, something brave, for their present.
Time for us to part.
The more I learned to love myself, the easier it became to see all the ways in which you were wrong for me. The ways we were wrong for each other. I’d wanted so desperately to make our death your fault that I failed to see the truth of our disconnection. I was blinded by history, and ease, and the convenient lies that hold too many people together long after it’s time for them to part. And so it was with us—time for us to part, to step into a life that no longer included one another. A life without a we. It hurt more than I can bring myself to remember, or maybe that’s just time softening the pain, healing as only years and distance can. As my love for myself grows, my love for you grows too, again, blooming brightly beside acceptance and forgiveness, for all that my mind needs to forgive. My heart broke but never stopped loving. And never started blaming. That was all in my mind. When I think of you now, or see your smile in the face of another, I smile too, with sadness that we are no more, and with gratitude that we ever were.
You can be the spark.
Not everyone will be able to handle your truth.
Some will condemn you, and that’s okay.
People fear what they don’t understand.
But there’s a sweet flip side. A balance.
Some will be so inspired by your courage,
by your willingness to be yourself,
that they’ll begin to open up to a truth
inside themselves they didn’t know was there.
Or did know but were too scared to acknowledge.
They will start to dance into their freedom,
groove into all that makes them unique.
And you will have been the spark to their light,
because you were brave enough to ignite your own.
Your happiness is reason enough to be yourself,
but if you need another, think of the others,
think of our world of followers needing
someone to lead. Needing to lead themselves.
Home.
Banned.
I banned someone from this page last night, and I'm having mixed feelings about it. It's something I'd been thinking about doing for a while, and when I read a comment she left on a post yesterday, I knew it was time to say goodbye.
She's commented here very regularly, and I started to notice several months ago that her comments began to feel more and more self-righteous and judgmental...of me, specifically. Though the language was veiled in love, I kept feeling nothing but condemnation. Virtually every comment she posted rubbed me the wrong way, as though she were trying to knock me down, and to prove me wrong. I kept wondering why she even liked my page and spent so much time here if she took issue with so much of what I have to say.
But I hate banning people. I haven't done it often, and it's usually a very clear choice. Those who threaten me or anyone else, or only have hateful things to offer the community get banned. Life's challenging enough without inviting nasty attitudes into your circle.
This woman is different, however. She offered more than nastiness, especially when she'd respond to comments that others left on my page. In those moments, I felt her kindness more clearly, even if it was delivered with a certain "I know the truth" kind of attitude.
I try not to do things from a reactive place. And when I'm getting provoked by someone or something, over and over again, there's always a good lesson to be learned. We usually can find a good chunk of ourselves in those who irritate us the most.
In this woman's actions, I see my own need to be heard, and to be right. I feel how much our life experiences have contributed to our views on the world, and on love. Her criticisms of me play into my criticisms of myself, her judge riles up my inner judge. That's not her fault. That's on me. I've looked at that. I've tried to approach her comments with as much openness as I can (I don't always succeed) and even within the judgment I feel from her, I've tried to hear the message beyond the delivery.
And last night I asked myself...why are you trying so hard?
Maybe because I've dismissed people from my life in ways I'm not proud of, and I've been dismissed by people in ways that still sting. I don't want to do that anymore, not without really considering the truth behind what I'm feeling.
And the truth is, I really don't feel good about this woman's energy on my page. Seeing her comments consistently pulls me out of the joy I feel in the connections here. And I think that's reason enough.
Even if everything she's ever written is absolutely clear and true, and I've distorted her words because of my own ignorance and fear, I still think it's the right choice to part ways. For whatever reason, I'm not ready to hear what she has to say, and for whatever reason, I really dislike how she says it. And that's reason enough.
I don't think this woman is a bad woman or a mean person. I don't know a thing about her, other than the opinions she chooses to share here. Something about me doesn't jive with her, and something about her doesn't jive with me. And that's okay. We can't all be each other's best friends. We can wish each other well, send each other love, and create distance if that's what's necessary.
I'm creating distance.
To be clear...I don't expect or need everyone to agree with everything (or anything) I write and say. Not at all, not even close. We're a lot of people here, with our own experiences and our own opinions about things. I've learned a lot on this page from others who've shared thoughts contradictory to mine. Or more evolved than mine. That's the beauty of community.
But there's a way to communicate with kindness, and with respect. I do expect that, here. Of all of us. And to own it as best we can when we communicate otherwise.
Okay, I've rambled on enough about this. I just feel kind of bad about the whole thing. Clear (mostly), but bad.
I hope you're all having a wonderful weekend.
Thanks for being here, and BIG LOVE.
What could possibly matter more?
It's amazing what a difference 24 hours can make. Now I'm dancing around my apartment, feeling the great wide world of possibility that exists in this life of ours. Feeling overcome by the energy of love, supported by it in a way that can't be matched or described. Feeling accepting and hopeful, even with all the pain in our world that threatens to diffuse acceptance and hope, over and over, each and every day.
Make no mistake—we are so strong in our love, we are powerful beyond measure in our hope, we are wired to create miracles simply by being present in our truth. We are brothers and sisters and we MUST recognize ourselves in one another and celebrate the hell out of our similarities AND differences.
And we cannot—CANNOT—ever stop sharing our love with the world and working toward a reality that becomes overwhelmed in the greatest way possible by compassion and peace and togetherness. THIS is our primary job as human beings.
What could possibly matter more?
In deep love and solidarity...
A hole called the past.
Yesterday I fell into a hole called the past. It was dark and deep and filled with unchangeable realities. Some of which I knew well and hurt to remember. Some of which I didn't and will never know, their secret truths lost forever to the years. And that hurts too, the not knowing. I let the past swallow me yesterday. Through anxiety and tears and disbelief, I fought against what was, against what is. As we know, that fight never ends in victory.
Today I woke up in the hole again, but it's not the tarry quicksand it was a day ago. This hole has a solid base, with steps that lead out, to the present. These steps are built with acceptance. Ya see, there's no peace in fighting unchangeable things, and the past is as unchangeable as things come.
So I decided this morning to close my eyes and breathe deeply, so deeply, into the acceptance of my past for what it is, as it is. Without judgment, without the need to know all the specifics, without shame, without control. With each breath of acceptance, I climbed another step out of the hole. With each breath, I became lighter and less committed to my anger and confusion over events that will never change.
I fell into the warmth of acceptance, total acceptance. And the hole began to close up beneath me, lifting me as it did so, to solid ground. To quiet. To the present moment.
We can choose to fight against our past, and we'll always lose the fight. We can choose to ignore our past, but it will eventually make itself known. We can choose to live in our past, though we'll deny ourselves the many gifts of the present.
Or we can choose to accept our past, so completely, that no matter what happened to us in our lives, we are able to breathe into those realities with a newfound sense of peace, and with a deep understanding that it is a part of us without becoming us, and that every single thing we've experienced contributes to the great light we have to share with our world. Now.
The pain of death can't silence years of love.
I found out my friend died this morning. Bowel cancer. She'd been battling it for the past four years. We've known for months she was nearing the end, but you always hope for a miracle. None came.
My partner and I met her and her husband last year, here in Panama, where they bought an apartment to move to from Scotland once they were ready to retire. We became fast friends. We'd only hung out four or five times, and she was in some degree of pain through them all, but we lau<span class="text_exposed_show">ghed and shared and had fun, still. Her laugh was like some beautiful, goofy bird song.</span>
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She died in the hospital, in Scotland, with her sweet husband beside her. He sent an email to all of us in Panama to let us know. It ended with these words:
"I cannot express how much I am going to miss her. I am totally devastated. I loved her so much. She was the kindest, most caring and most loving person you could ever meet.
She was my world."
She was his world. And he was hers.
You could feel it when you were with them.
At least she died with her world beside her.
When I learned about my friend today, I thought of my partner, of how completely devastated I would be if he died. How lost I would feel. Then I thought of my parents, of how much their death shut me down to the possibility of a deep and committed relationship with someone. For years, I ran, the fear of abandonment so strong that I chose to abandon instead.
It's so easy to let pain shut us down. We get hurt so badly and we do whatever it takes to keep from getting hurt again. But we can't shut out the possibility of great pain without also shutting out the possibility of great happiness. They walk hand in hand, as most contradictions do.
I ache for my friend who died, and even more for her husband, the world she left behind. The one who was with her when she took her last breath. The one who has to endure his life's greatest pain, because he was open and brave enough to love with abandon, and to say yes to the possibility of deep happiness.
But how lucky were they both to have one another. The pain of death can't silence years of love. I don't need to ask my friend to know that he would do it all over again. Even with the sadness. It's there because his love was so big.
The thing about life is that we have to work a lot harder for happiness than we do pain. Pain is a given. Happiness is a choice. My friends chose happiness. They chose love. They chose each other.
I feel so sad about her death, and so inspired by their love.
May she rest in peace, and may he find the strength to live in our world without his world.
Much love to you all.
A broken leg, just because.
I talked to my good friend today. He broke his leg doing a mud run and had to have a couple surgeries to fix it. People keep telling him that maybe it's Life's way of letting him know he needs to slow down. The old spiritual angle to things.
My friend's take: "Maybe I just broke my fuckin' leg and there's nothing more to it."
In my opinion, that's equally as wise.
I look for a sign in EVERYTHING, always searching for deeper meaning in the license plate of the car in front of me or the timing of a headache or the boomerang-shaped coffee stain on the placemat? Will I find life's answers in Australia?
Maybe there's a deeper meaning to everything, and maybe there isn't.
Sometimes shit just happens. Sucky shit, too. It doesn't necessarily mean we're not taking care of ourselves or it's karma or we could've done something to prevent it. Life comes with its share of shit, no matter what we do. How we deal with it is what makes the most difference. Can we look for the benefits with at least as much fervor as we do the negatives? Can we maintain a positive attitude through it all (or at least through some of it)?
We always have choices, even when we're getting pummeled by a shitstorm.
To be clear, when we take care of ourselves—our bodies, our minds, our attitudes, our everything—we do set ourselves up to have fewer sucky shit things happen to us. We invite more positive things into our lives. How we choose to live absolutely makes a difference in the life we attract.
But, even the zennest of the zen, the organic-est of the organic, the happiest of the happy, have shitty days. It's part of life.
My friend broke his leg. Whether he chooses to see the break as life's way of telling him to slow down or as simply a tough break (pun not intended, and then intended) doesn't really matter. Either way, he has to deal with an inconvenient and painful reality. And either way, he has the choice to approach it with as much acceptance and positivity (or resistance and negativity) as he will.
This is how we improve our lives, by improving our attitudes, by looking at the shitty stuff and moving forward anyway, with whatever positivity we can muster. Choice, choice, choice.
I'm happy to say—and perhaps it's just the pain medication after this latest surgery but I hope not—that he's okay with what's going on. It's a setback, and it's not what he'd like to be happening, but he's accepted it. He's pretty peaceful with this new reality. He's made his choice to be positive. Just like we all can, as often as we choose.
In love and solidarity...
What works for you does not have to work for me. (and vice versa)
Hey All,
I really appreciate all the comments regarding my Huffington Post article about the Ashley Madison hack. I REALLY REALLY appreciate that the great majority of them were made respectfully, even though a bunch of different opinions were expressed. Isn't that always the ideal...to be able to share our opinions without being attacked or attacking others for doing so.
A quick note about that: If you can't express your thoughts without attacking someone else who's shared <span class="text_exposed_show">theirs, please take your thoughts somewhere else. Insults and belligerence aren't welcome here. Not at all. Open dialogues, yes. Contradictory ideas, absolutely. As long as there's respect. </span>
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I knew when I posted the piece that plenty of buttons would be pushed, as sex/monogamy/non-monogamy is one of the most provocative topics there is, and one of the most difficult to talk about honestly. I also know many of us have felt burned by unfaithful partners, and that's a painful reality to deal with.
What struck me as I read through the comments here, on the Huffington Post, and in discussion forums in general about this topic, is how justified so many of us feel in claiming what is right for other peoples' relationships. Honestly, it's crazy to me. If a couple has found happiness with monogamy or non-monogamy or abstinence, who are we to judge a choice that works for them?
I believe in freedom as much as I believe in anything. We do a huge disservice to the whole idea of freedom when we try to conform ourselves to a way of being that doesn't resonate with our hearts, and when we try to conform others to our way of being. Live and let live, I guess.
I'm overjoyed when I hang out with a couple whom I feel not only loves each other but trusts each other and communicates well with one another. And works hard on their relationship. I'm lucky to know a number of such couples—straight, gay, monogamous, non-monogamous, interracial, long-distance, etc. etc. etc.
No two couples are the same. No two people have the same needs or desires. This is okay. It's human. Though we are brought up with certain beliefs about sex and relationships, the truth is we each have our individual views/desires/insecurities where sex and relationships are concerned. Why do we need to impose our ways on others?
When we make blanket statements about how two people should be when it comes to sex, or how sex should be viewed within a relationship, or what a person is like who wants a lot of sex, or blah blah blah, we are ignoring the fact that we can't apply those kinds of rules to people. Not to free people, anyway.
But I've long been a fan of celebrating the differences within us, rather than reveling in our conformity.
Thanks again for being here and for adding your thoughts and your heart to the discussion. Here's hoping we all find deeper happiness in our relationships—romantic and otherwise—and less need to control and judge others in theirs.
BIG LOVE.
Where are all the men?
Where are all the men
courageous enough to reject their conditioning
and allow themselves to be vulnerable for real?
Our world needs us.
Where are all the men
humble enough to admit they’re wrong
without needing to make themselves right?
Our world needs us.
Where are all the men
whose hunger for freedom is stronger
than their fear of being judged?
Our world needs us.
Where are all the men
patient enough to listen
without having to fix whatever’s wrong?
Our world needs us.
Where are all the men
so warmed to their sensitivity
they see no value in being cold?
Our world needs us.
Where are all the men
who love women not just as equals,
but as goddesses and teachers and friends?
Our world needs us.
Where are all the men
who don’t need to possess,
whose rule is not to rule, but to let be?
Our world needs us.
Where are all the men
who refuse to link authenticity with weakness,
and are brave enough to share what’s true?
Our world needs us.
Where are all the men
committed to forgiveness,
no matter whom, no matter what, no matter how?
Our world needs us.
Where are all the men
confident enough to be gentle, and to cry,
and to let themselves feel everything?
Our world needs us.
Where are all the men
so relaxed in the fullness of their being
they have not one thing left to prove?
Our world needs us.
Where are all the men
desperate to give a new definition
for what it means to be a man?
Where are we?
Why aren’t we making more noise?
Where are those of us
willing to be strong for humanity,
to be champions of women,
to be opponents of war,
to be warriors for love?
Our world needs us.
Let’s announce ourselves,
beyond our fears and insecurities
and the expectations of a conditioned world.
Let’s announce ourselves,
for kindness and compassion and respect
and the vital good that comes with living from love.
Let’s announce ourselves,
because we have everything to gain by doing so
and too much to lose in our silence.
Let’s announce ourselves,
because our world needs us.
Now. Right now.
Where are all the men ready to love, for real?