A Pine Cone Night

Some days are more peaceful than others . . . sometimes I can find a good space from my heart to live from. And other days I cannot.

Last night before I fell asleep I wrote in my journal. I was very angry with 8. Per my request, we are not speaking and we no longer cross paths anywhere, even in the cyberworld. I was respectful in my request. I chose to leave her with a message of love and support rather than anger and grief, stating that she would be welcome to open the door to my life again when she loved herself, when she was capable of being honest with herself and others, when she was willing and able to have an equal and balanced friendship . . . and I told her that I have faith in her ability to achieve those things, and to make healthy choices for herself and her family.

Stepping aside like this has been no easy task for me.

One of my closest friends shared this quote with me, 'This is what is hardest, to close the open hand because one loves.' ~ Nietzsche

There is truth in that.

For the most part, I have been able to let go through breathing, biking, mantras, and visits to the ocean. There are, however, moments when I fall prey to my emotions and to my head and I circle the wagons in a camp of anger, despair, sadness, frustration, etc. Of course my heart center speaks in those moments and tells me that there was a bigger purpose for all of this to happen, and that perhaps I can only see some of it right now. Grandmother Ocean says the same, and continues to ask me to let go.

But last night was one of those wagon-circling nights . . . and I was angry. Not at the loss of what could have been . . . because in all honesty, what could have been, would have been disastrous. I was angry that I had been lied to. That she had knowingly led me down this path of deception and watched me open my heart so widely and honestly to her . . . and didn't share the full reality with me. I felt like a fool. I felt like I had been played. I felt used - emotionally and physically.

Echoes of abuse . . . that made for a long night. One where my heart felt empty . . . as though all of the energy that had been nourished there recently . . . all of the intention and the repetition of mantras . . . simply vanished, leaving a hollow space and a sense of not being part of this world.

Which left space for anything and everything to come flooding in. Which made for a long night. Which caused me to sleep for most of the night with a pine cone from Mama Sequoia in my hand, pressed against my heart. And in every waking moment, repetition of my mantra. Exhausting. I had dreams of I don't know what about who knows what. I only know that I was restless and angry.

And thankfully woke up this morning feeling a bit more put together . . . a bit more whole . . . and no longer angry. She did use me, knowingly or unknowingly. And I also chose to step into her life, so I hold responsibility in that as well. I didn't have the full story. And I assumed that as a friend, there was a basic level of respect and trust present that didn't require me to have the full story. Lesson learned.

It's not an echo of the abuse I encountered as a teenager. For that, I hold no responsibility, because I was a child. I wasn't old enough, or knowledgeable enough to know what to look for, or to understand what was appropriate or inappropriate.

And too, the difference here is that I stepped away from 8 on my own accord. I set my own boundaries. I respected myself. And I still have my life, my path, and my community intact. She took nothing from me because I didn't allow for it to be that way.

I hope that next time I am wiser . . . that I watch more carefully . . . that I listen more deeply . . . that I create my boundaries more firmly from the start, and do so with an open heart. I also hope that whomever comes into my world next in this capacity, is respectful, honest, and authentic.

As for 8 . . . I hope that my words and my time in her life have served her well. I hope that she finds wholeness. If we're meant to cross paths again, we will. And if we're not, then we won't.

"I just hold on to Nothing
See how long Nothing lasts..."