Ever notice how after a storm, the sky is clear and everything looks so defined and the light reflects brilliantly on the surface of the sky and the mountains? There seems to be a peacefulness to it that sadly never seems to last because the pollution rises up and quickly obscures our view. Luckily the storm will eventually return to cleanse the sky again, and bring with it the fleeting clarity of vision and austere serenity.

What if that was a symbolic message to us from the universe? What if that was a message to us from our higher selves?

The emotional storms inside of us often stir things up and cloud our vision, but on occasion we cry and for a moment the confusion and overwhelm passes and we feel lighter. We sense that once again, albeit often too briefly, that everything will be ok. We feel the peacefulness and the relief in that moment. Those moments buoy us up and we continue on, through the cycle again, often clueless to the pattern.

Our teardrops nourish our souls similar to how raindrops nourish the Earth, but the tears of the Earth are purified in a way that our tears are not. The patterns are all around us. The instruction manual has been right before our eyes the entire time. What do you see?

Some say that “past is prologue”. Others say “the end is in the beginning”. Looking back at the early weeks of my past relationships, I see the clues about their future demise. I ignored the omens I suppose. The older I get, the more aware I am that I am ignoring them in the moment. The bricks to my future walls were there in all their various shapes and sizes, waiting for the excitement and the newness to pass before the time was right to begin construction on The Keep.

Most people enter new relationships with the castle walls around their heart already constructed. There are things they won’t talk about and details they refuse to share. As time goes on and comfort grows, they may begin to tear the bricks down one by one, but some never will. They’ll live in the comfortable shade behind their walls forever, never really letting anyone in and always wondering why they feel so alone.

I’m not like that. Many times in my life I wished that I was. It’d be easier to hold someone at a distance and essentially use them, without letting them get close to my heart, but that is not how I operate. I let people in, until they reveal they don’t deserve to be there and I have to come up with a plan to forcefully evict them. My eviction plan takes way too damn long, since I’m preoccupied with building The Keep around my heart one brick at a time. It takes me awhile to even notice that I have been building The Keep, and once I notice it is a foregone conclusion that I will end the relationship soon. As soon as the first brick is laid, I am withdrawing. I am speaking less because I don’t feel like they are listening, or I am doubting every word I want to say because I have been criticized for the words I’ve chosen. My desire to be around them begins to wane because it takes all the energy I have to walk the imaginary tightrope they are constructing with their criticisms. I can’t say certain things, I can’t talk about certain topics, and I can’t let myself get heated on any topic because I’m either embarrassing them or disturbing their peace. Even if I manage to walk the tight rope, it is never good enough, because they will continue to remind me of all the times I fell off of it before.

There is no grace. There is no peace. These are things I only know when I’m alone. So The Keep must be built, and I build a new one for every lover that comes along and treats me like I’m the drawbridge to some better castle.

I’ll continue to build The Keep. Once it’s constructed, I’ll build the moat and put a dragon in it too. Maybe this time it’ll keep the trolls away. If only I could learn how to stay within the walls, instead of running to the open fields of flowers where it’s so warm and beautiful, only to be seduced by yet another Knight In Good Enough Armor that makes me want to leave the open fields and trade the sun on my skin for walls, corridors, and rooms no one can go in.

Be careful with the words you choose
To think, to say, to write
Sometimes a seemingly innocuous comment
Will morph into a nasty blight

Be careful with the words you spin
Around that great big head
Weapons disguised as intellect
Can stir up some awful dread

Be careful with the words you speak
To the ones you cherish most
What may start off as a well intentioned reply
Will land a regretted riposte

Be careful with the words you write
The least ephemeral of the three
Their permanence may prove cataclysmic
With interpretations as mercurial as the sea

Do you see the sadness
That’s hiding behind my eyes?
The pain that I carry
The weight that’s heavy on my soul

Do you sense the burdens
That so many have placed on me
Do you feel how spent I am
What is it you think you see?

Every day they need me
To be strong for them
Every day they bleed me
Or do they feed me, instead

Life is so complex
And needs are an intricate mess
Where do they end and I begin?
I’m not sure I’m doing my best

Each day I press on
And do what they need from me
Each day I’m closer to death
And in that space I’ll breathe

Some burdens I embrace
My beautiful children four
Other weights I’d discharge
The ex I showed the door

The career that used to hold me up
No longer holds such sway
I will continue as long I must
Until that far off imagined day

Do I hold on just for them?
If I let go would they succumb?
I used to know these answers
But now I feel so numb

I suppose for them I’m alive
They motivate me to survive
But as I pivot to the empty nest
I hope I’ll learn to thrive

All these years and all this time
I thought I was teaching them to fly
But life is so much more sublime
Turns out they were teaching me the why

Somewhere in between
The novelty and the comfort
The feeling may arise

Before complacency arrives
Or boredom finds its root
Lies the space
Where love can grow

It’s not a guarantee
And can quickly be pushed away
Or spoiled and corrupted
Confused with something else

When novelty is present
Often mistaken for chemistry or lust
When complacency has arrived
It may feel heavy with obligation

Somewhere in between
This precious thing is found
In the space away
From the stimulation and excitement

Lies the space to breathe
The space to feel
And then the space to know
Is this person worthy of the gift I wish to give

Love is a verb
Often confused for a feeling
Love is a gift
It’s a decision made in the gap

In the space we draw breath
Where we know without doubt
The gift is one we’re ready to bestow
The feeling that arises is the desire to love

The space away from the person
We’re growing closer to
Is where we understand the depth of our emotions
And where we fall in love

Without the space, the budding relationship is buoyed up by things that don’t prevail
Passion, novelty, curiosity
Once those fade, without space, the relationship and the desire to love will diminish and over time be doomed

I’ve been looking for him for years. In the deepest corner of my heart, I believe he existed. That he was out there looking for me on some level, whether conscious or subconscious.

To allow him into my heart, my soul, I will need to let go of some things to make room. Like a dusty old attic room with sheets covering the aging furniture, there is not enough room to simply let him in. Twenty something years ago I would have gladly taken him in, letting him fill the corners of my mind and heart with his presence, his essence, and never looked back. Perhaps I would’ve lost sight of myself in so doing, but I would have been happy.

That was not meant to be. I could only hope that we are on parallel journeys, with similar outcomes, that would place us both together at the same time.

I know in time our paths will cross, a bit of chance, a bit of serendipity.

I need to make more room for him. I will clean the dusty old attic and get rid of the baggage I’ve been holding onto all these years. The baggage that both simultaneously leads me to him and keeps me from him. Am I ready to let go? Am I ready to let him fully and completely move into my soul?

My brokenness leads me to him, and for that I am strangely grateful. Without it, would I know who I am? And would he know me?