Tuesday, November 24, 2009

A Letter to My Ex

I recently had a conversation in my mind with a former boyfriend of long ago. Fifteen years had passed since I last saw him and in my pretend conversation I was realizing how different I was from the person I was in those days when we were together. My first reaction was to jokingly make light of the patterns we chose to maintain for three years. This was something I always did, fought off something serious with humor. Why face up to something when you can laugh? Don’t get me wrong, laughter is the best medicine, but only when it is not used to suppress hurtful or painful emotions. I then decided it was a better course of action to take responsibility for my share of the bad stuff. So, that’s what I did, if only to myself.

I spent three years, off and on, with a man who on the one hand I trusted implicitly. If he told me the sky was pink, I would actually consider that it might indeed be pink. On the other hand, I spent many sleepless nights because this man would never commit to me. When years later, I read the book, He’s Just Not That Into You, I could have sworn this book was about me.

I decided in my faux-conversation, that it really wasn’t his fault. First of all I clearly was not the love of his life. That’s fine. Well, he was not mine either. Touché. Secondly, how on Earth could this otherwise wonderful man respect me, when I myself didn’t respect me? Wow, that woke me up! He was simply mirroring who I was at the time. True love can only be attracted when you love yourself and I wasn't there yet.

At the time, I thought it best to hide behind a great big wall and bury myself deeply in the proverbial closet. Not the gay closet, but the closet built just for those who don’t share anything important about themselves.

For example, I had always been fascinated with women who wore lots of rings, especially those women who were daring enough to wear then on their thumbs! I wanted to be one of these women, but I was too conservative in those days. I wore my suits and my fingers remained bare. I was a woman in a man’s world, and while I clearly looked like a woman, I was trying desperately to emulate a man. Instead of revealing my emotional side, I used my intellectual-critical mind more predominantly than my creative-intuitive side, thinking that somehow this made me a better person. In other words, I denied my True Nature.

Both the masculine and the feminine are Divine. We are all part of God. We are all worthy. The Universe is filled with polarities and all aspects of the Divine Whole have value.

Amidst my Spiritual Awakening, I found the most beautiful gold ring with seven gold flowers on it. It is large and it sounds ostentatious…and it is! However, I get more compliments on this ring than any other. When I slipped it on my finger for the first time, I felt like a goddess. So, to pay homage to the feminine goddess form, I named it my goddess ring.

The naming of my ring had deeper roots for me. Metaphorically, it represents honoring myself as a part of the Sacred Feminine. Where I once lived in fear, I now honor my intuitive, empathic, healing nature. Scientifically-minded people may question the allure I have with this side of myself and that is fine. While a few years ago being so open would have terrified me, now I know that I am in my power and it doesn’t matter what others think. As long as I am creating my perfect world, that is what is important.

When I look around it seems that most Western women have allowed their inner goddess to slip through their fingers. It is more important to fit in than to be expressive. One woman actually told me that she wished she could wear all the rings that I wear, but she was afraid she would look foolish. I thankfully broke free of this fear. “Hail to my inner goddess. Hail to the Sacred Feminine!”

Jewelry was just one symbol I was not using to express my true nature. I never shared with anyone my dreams, my aspirations, my goals. Perhaps, it was because I was not sure what they were myself. I was simply on a conveyer belt, moving along doing what I was told; until one day when I began taking the path less taken. I took the plunge and jumped off into a new direction. Listening to my inner wisdom I figured out why I was set on this planet.

My ex from long ago once asked me once where I saw myself in ten years. I answered that I wanted to be running a fortune 500 company. I didn’t know any better. My feeling then was, "Isn’t that what everyone wants?" If he were to ask me now where I want to be in ten years I would say that my goal is to be of service. I wish to write about my experiences and if others benefit from my honest outpouring then I am happy. I wish to be a guide helping others find true happiness by exploring their own Inner Wisdom. By my writings, by teaching shamanism, reiki, intuition development and meditation, I choose to be of service. That is what I would say now. I think that almost every single man I ever dated would fall off their rocker if they looked at my website now and saw what I was up to. At the very least they would certainly be surprised and that is okay.  They are on their path and I am on mine.

So, what is the meaning of life anyway? It certainly is not about being miserable for several decades and then kicking the old bucket. No, of course not. It is about finding beauty in the miracles surrounding us every day. An autumnal leaf falling from the tree, a butterfly prancing in our view, a flower springing to life, a baby being born; these miracles are everywhere.

Life is about finding pleasure; IMMENSE pleasure, not a little tiny bit of pleasure here and there when we can fit it into our deeply mounting schedules. Pleasure comes in all forms, from finding deep meaning from our work, to cooking a wonderful meal, to digging in the garden, to fixing a car, to making love. It can be anything and should be everything. It can even be doing the dishes, if you want it to be.

In its highest most sacred form, immense pleasure is of course found during sexual intimacy. Unfortunately, while I practiced sexual diversions on a regular basis in the past, I lacked the intimacy needed for heightened awareness. In the old days, I was the type of woman who swerved in and then quickly out of relationships. During the 'in-between times' (which was most of the time) I had plenty of men swarming their way towards me. It was not unheard of for me to date up to five men at a time while meeting others in bars. My parents’ friends admired my bravado. My friends nicknamed me Samantha taken from the character on Sex in the City. I took pride in being a female version of 'The Fonz'.

As time went on, I discovered that the casualness of my affairs was not about being free and open about sex, instead it was quite the opposite. I was actually a quintessential cover-up artist. Sex was an out of body experience for me. Even when I actually liked the guy, I was not living in the moment. I found myself thinking about the laundry list of other things, or maybe my next conquest. I didn’t want anyone to know the real me and I hid behind an illusion of being a temptress. I was the powerful one. I held all the cards of the deck in my hands. They had to play by my rules. But I didn't have real power, and rules were never meant to be in the story of love. I just didn't bother to feel love deeply enough to understand that.

It is now my goal to be open and honest with who ever my future partner will be. I am determined for him to “see” me as I will “see” him. I choose to not hide behind fear of what he may find. I choose to be an open book. If he decides to read it, he can make the decision for himself if this is a book he will give away, put on the shelf or prize me as no other, and I will do the same for him. I will honor him as I honor myself and I know he will do the same for me. This person will mirror the me of today.

So, does it matter which ex this letter is being written to? Not particularly. In fact, I can cluster all of my ex-boyfriends, including my ex-husband, into an amalgamation of one man. The ubiquitous sea of one night stands are a part of my past and most of their faces I have forgotten. For all of them, however, I thank for each of them unknowingly helped me to recognize that my name is not Samantha after all—that was simply a character I was playing for a time. For those who made it past a night or two, I am sorry I wasn’t able to open up when we were together. I am sorry for any complaints I made. I thank you all for the many lessons I have learned since our departure. Without all of you, I could not be the person I am in this moment. You were a gift to me and I send many blessings to you on your journey and wish you only happiness.

Thank you for reading and Namaste! (The Light in me recognizes the Light in you!)