life after the break up, and another silent retreat

earlier this week, I found out that Stephen Levine passed away.  it seemed appropriate to write a blog in my Year to Live blog at this time to honor him, as I ponder all that I gleaned from his teachings.

sigh.

when was the last time I thought about my Year to Live practice?
do I still apply those lessons and ideas to my life?
when was the last time I meditated?
what happened to squeezing every second out of a moment and relishing joy in the adventure?

answers:
a while. not really? ages ago.  it got eaten up by expectations and disappointment and heartbreak.

it feels like it has been so long since I died. I have forgotten what it is like to live as though I am dying.

the touching thing I gleaned from my year to live was my last regret.  it was, that I was alone and afraid of falling in love.  the fear of falling for someone had seized my heart. I had put up a wall after my divorce, and grew very scared of the pain and anguish that accompanies heart break.  heartbreak is always inevitable when love arrives.  it is around the corner, waiting like a child playing tricks ready to yell "BOO" loudly to surprise you and blindside you.

when I was on my deathbed on the my last day of life, I lamented the fact that I was dying alone with only the comfort of True Blood premiering later that night.  it was heart breaking to realize that my fear was keeping me from the one thing I wanted, a loving partner.  as terrified as I was, I wanted to be in love again.

it took kissing a handful of frogs, and a lot of work.  I began to date again a few years later in a way that was open hearted.  experiencing regular rejection, I continued to rely on the hope that my guy was out there in the world and when I was ready he would appear.  and he did. he was a friend, and then I fell in love with him.

was it easy to trust? to fall in love? to be open and leap without abandon? oh hell no.  for the first month I held back and scrutinized.  I looked at every second wondering where the shoe would drop and my heart would get squashed.  I anticipated what would ruin it before it barely began. sadly, there were things I was right about but what I didn't factor in was my own fear.

I spent the past two years learning to shed fear and learned to trust.  I gave in to being soft, feminine and vulnerable.  it was freeing.

in the early days, just after a month or so, I went on my first silent retreat.  I spent the nine days practicing opening, letting the goop and layers of stuff 'protecting' my heart melt way.  I imagined the non-existent armor that supposedly kept me from emotional heartache falling away, and allowed myself to be open to what can be.  I became possibility, and let go of fear.

the result, I fell in love. madly, openly and without conditions.  it was an ongoing practice learning to trust, to stay open and know that he would be there each time.  in the beginning, he tried to understand, to be supportive and help me grow out of this pain of my past that permeated every fiber of my existence.  he assured me that he would always be there. when I was truly frightened, he quelled those fears with his soothing voice and open heart.

but my practice exhausted him.  he got weary of the process.  he found my insecurity annoying.  he looked at me differently.  he stopped touching me.  as I opened myself and committed to all the love and joy that could be, he walked away.  my fear ultimately sabotaged a great deal of possibility and his magical view of me wore off when he saw me for what I really am.  freakishly damaged and loaded with too much luggage.

what is the point of this? oh, the end and the beginning.  the death and rebirth.  the fear and the love.

well, my deathbed wish was granted.  I did fall in love again.  I had the kind of love I dreamed of, a partner who found my brilliance exciting, my creativity interesting, my farts cute, my dark humor hilarious and my eyes intoxicating.  he saw the special thing that makes me amazing, and gravitated to it.  looking past my funny face and average looks, he saw the beautiful goddess within me and worshiped her.  I had all of that.  he loved me and my son as a package.  he was always ready to say 'yes' to the adventure, and would run away to wherever I wanted.  he even took me to some places unknown in this world.  the more I knew him, the more handsome and delightful he looked in my eyes.  this was it, the chance at a life with someone who complemented me so well.  I was there, I was in it. love had arrived.

but he fell out of love with me. I am too intense. I am too odd. I needed too much affirmation, and wanted validation he wasn't interested in creating.  not for me anyway.

my big heart and tremendousness pushed him away.

and he was gone.

point! get to it already.

so yeah... that Year to Live thing. the fear of heartbreak? get to it!

I almost felt as though I was gonna die on Xmas Day when he said he wasn't coming and ultimately broke up with me because I felt stood up, hurt and abandoned. I realized he was done with me.  my breaking heart was too much. he made a very undedicated attempt to give me a chance but there was nothing left, he felt closure and completeness, he had nothing to give me.  his priority wasn't me anymore.  I fell off the pedestal into a swamp and he saw the monster I am instead of the goddess.

alone.

in the universe's odd way, I am getting what I need to heal.  I booked a retreat at IMS for Jan 9 - 14 months ago.  the dharma was calling.  my practice was arising. it was time to get back on the cushion. during the retreat, I thought about my year to live practice.  my dharma Year to Live sangha sister Barbara came to mind. the other silent retreats I'd taken at IMS had all happened while I was with him. one at the beginning of our relationship. one in the middle.  this one was arriving at the end.  the dharma's lessons carrying me through.  my right view continues to be re-righted.

heartbreak is inevitable post being dumped.  it's awful and wrenching and confusing.  he thinks I don't listen, but it is quite the opposite.  I listen to him with intent and mindfulness. it all sticks to every groove of my brain, seeping in for me to chew on and analyze.  picking apart each syllable he has ever said to me, I hear him clearly.  he is not in love with me anymore.  he blames me.  he has given up.  he resents me, and does not understand or nurture my character defects anymore.  he has thrown in the towel.  he has let go.

for me, letting go takes much more practice and requires an intention I have to cultivate because I am not motivated to let go.  but it is time. we learn from lesson one, it is our attachments that cause us the most suffering.  my attachment is bringing me great pain now.  I let go.

the good news in all of it is, my fears about heartbreak and my expectation of the pain of it has not come to fruition.  everything is impermanent.  I feel the charge, the anguish and the pain very deeply. it is ok.  I can be with it and care for it and give it space to move.  in the deepest core of my understanding, it is impermanent.  it will pass.  it will morph.  it will never leave me fully.  my heart is porous and has absorbed quite a terrible blow.  microscopic remnants of this emotion will loiter, linger and stick in there forever.  I'm not pushing it away.  there's no bleach to pour on it.  I can sit with it.

what I feared was not being able to live beyond the pain.  I was wrong.  I am strong and I can live with it, surpass it and give it room to breathe and move.  suffering is always a part of life.  the more I cling the more it hurts because I'm clutching onto an impermanent essence that cannot be hoarded.

I did it Year to Live.  I fell in love, and found what I thought was going to be my person.  I loved furiously and hard.  I loved with compassion, openness and a big full heart.  the heartbreak of the end is all part of it.  perhaps my life lesson is to learn to live with heartbreak over and over until I stop fearing it. instead of regretting being alone I should embrace the loves I've manifested.

for a few moments in my life, I had the comfort of a loyal partner who said he loved me forever.

forever is impermanent.

dying alone is still my biggest fear.  at least I now know I can handle and live with the pain, and know I can still cultivate joy if I want to.

If You Knew by Ellen Bass

What if you knew you’d be the last
to touch someone?

If you were taking tickets, for example,
at the theater, tearing them,
giving back the ragged stubs,
you might take care to touch that palm,
brush your fingertips
along the life line’s crease.

When a man pulls his wheeled suitcase
too slowly through the airport, when
the car in front of me doesn’t signal,
when the clerk at the pharmacy
won’t say Thank you, I don’t remember
they’re going to die.

A friend told me she’d been with her aunt.
They’d just had lunch and the waiter,
a young gay man with plum black eyes,
joked as he served the coffee, kissed
her aunt’s powdered cheek when they left.
Then they walked half a block and her aunt
dropped dead on the sidewalk.

How close does the dragon’s spume
have to come? How wide does the crack
in heaven have to split?
What would people look like
if we could see them as they are,
soaked in honey, stung and swollen,
reckless, pinned against time?