I am in St. Louis, Missouri, for a dear friend, and previous roommate from long ago, who is getting married. I am so very happy for her. Her partner and fiancé is a truly kind and wonderful human being.
I am such a cynic in the realm of romance, and at the same time, I am such a hopeless romantic. It seems that in this area, like in pretty much every aspect of my life, I am a walking contradiction, dancing in the never-ending dance of duality, of which I constantly comment on—to the point where it seems redundant and passé.
Gods and Goddesses save me from the monotony of me… and yet, here still I am. Imagine that.
I am not sure if maybe the grown up in me is the cynic and the little girl in me still believes in fairytales. Or maybe it is the little girl in me who is both… that is probably more the case.
The little girl in me witnessed one screwed up “relationship” after another—parent to parent, parent to me, others to others, and others to me (recognizing on my path now, that there is truly no such thing as “other” but you know what I mean.) The little girl in me grew up and grew old very quickly. Too quickly. And at the same time, I think and feel that she never gave up hope that there is something worth falling completely in love for. I know that is what has fueled my activism and service. I fell in love with the Redwoods, and through that experience, fell in love with this Sacred Earth and our World.
Somehow, I have been very challenged in this experience of giving myself completely to loving another human being and having that experienced in return. Growing up, and in some of my pitiful attempts at adult relationships, my experience taught me that loving people is a minefield that explodes all too frequently, causing very real physical harm as well as emotional and mental trauma.
I have spent years, hours, minutia of minutes, and multiple amounts of money looking into, undoing, and transforming all the baggage I carried around for so long from my experiences growing up. Ah, all that luggage I was carrying around, I could have started my own package transportation business. Watch out UPS! I have since unpacked much of that musty, mildewed, so out of fashion and out of usefulness trunks and boxes, but it seems I still have more, if I am to be perfectly honest with myself… and now all of you.
The more I write, the more I am clear that it is indeed my inner little girl who is the angry, hurt cynic and the ever-so-pathetic hopeless romantic. Maybe, I, the present, here and now Julia, am neither end of the spectrum, but somehow precariously balanced somewhere in the middle—without being “middle of the road” UGH!
I want to “lose” myself to Love in order to experience whole new awareness and experience of “self” while at the same time remaining true to my path and with an awareness that there is no Prince or Princess Charming. I long for and love the feeling and experience of adoration, both when I adore someone and am adored in return. According to the dictionary, “adore” means to “love someone deeply” and to “worship God.” Maybe that is why I so deeply long to adore—to experience God/dess in that space of connection and mirroring with another human being. I have tasted the Divine in the early-morning dewdrops on blades of grass in fields and in the fog-filled canopy of the Redwoods. I have lost my sense of “self” in the Sea and Ocean and at the tops of mountains and on the precipice of canyons and in looking eye to eye and soul to soul with a wild wolf. So many experiences in the other-than-human life, I have lost all sense of “self” as separate or other than. With people, I “know” I am never separate from, but I have never experienced that complete melting with and immersion of God/dess in the human experience. There is something mystical for me in the feeling of experiencing mutual adoration with another human being.
So here is to my friends and to all who are courageous and crazy enough to fall into and rise up in love. Here is to losing one’s sense of “self” in the journey of love and adoration that grows and expands what “self” can mean and hold and share and serve. Here is to all those who choose to dance across the high-wire of love and adoration knowing that sometimes that wire is attached to explosives and yet the possibility is so beautiful that they dance anyway.
Enjoy the dance.
Love, and the ever-expanding experience of what that can mean,