It's only as real as the scars on my heart

Written January 2024

It wasn’t real.

What an idiot.

Pathetic.

Foolish.

All words that flash through my mind in the background as I listen to him share about how much love he still has for his ex and how inspired he is to become the man he couldn’t be for her when they were together.

These little gremlins coming in to try and snuff out the incredible, heart opening, consciousness expanding experience we had. I feel them gnawing at me, trying to take over.

And yes, I know, it is a painful thing to hear from someone you’ve shared a really intimate connection with. No way around that.

But the story these little gremlins are telling isn’t true. They’re trying to take the love away by convincing me I never experienced it in the first place.

At the same time, I’m hearing a man come to major realizations that I deeply wished for him. He is growing up. He is feeling the very things he needs to feel in order to be who he really is.

All parts of me are activated as I listen.

I breathe.

I let the tears come.

And I stay with myself.

What a sneaky way of trying to snuff it out. To make it about something that it isn’t.

My mind was doing that the next day too. Telling me I should really be focusing on all the unhealthy parts of the dynamic. Telling me I had dark energy around me. The demonization in its beginning stages.

“You weren’t sober in it.”

“He never really cared that much.”

“You gave so much to a man who couldn’t give anything to you.”

All of these lies coming in to clamp down and snuff it out.

I can notice them nowadays, sometimes with a little help from loved ones (thanks Dad). I don’t let them get too close.

And as I was able to redirect them, I could see so clearly how the only purpose of those thoughts was to protect me, because losing something beautiful is painful. They wanted to close me back up quickly and tightly so I didn’t have to feel it.

If it wasn’t real, there is nothing to grieve.

Except that it was.

To see and feel Love in its purest form is an absolute mindfuck. Love is the most real and yet intangible thing we ever get to experience as humans. And to make it as real as the keyboard I am touching with my bare hands, I must touch the truth in my cells. Because that is where the experience lives on.

And that is why I write. To bring the memory, the truth, alive in front of me. In a way that I can see and feel and taste.

I am here to serve Love. Unconditionally.

Not in the bypassing of our humanity, but in the integration of it all.

What a fuckin mission.

Because it is the greatest challenge of the human ego.

How do I hold both? Love and Ego? Human and Divine?

Heaven on Earth.

I cannot swap one out for the other when it’s convenient.

I am the map for a new way. And that requires letting Love etch itself deeply into my being. And it is not without pain or discomfort to allow something new to create an everlasting groove in who we are.

Love doesn’t only live in a perfect story, filled with declarations and commitments.

It lives in moments.

A look, a touch, an eruption of laughter.

It lives in the moments I was reminded of who I was.

It lives in the moments of pure honesty.

Truth.

Care.

Humility.

It’s all in there if I let it be.

No matter what is true now.

No matter what else was present and operating in the dynamic.

No matter what else was alive inside either of us separately.

No matter how much love we give or feel for other people.

It is all there.

I will not claim all Love as mine. Or try and hold it in the form of my preference.

I will see and feel Love in it all.

In the goodbyes as much as the hellos.

In the Nos as much as the Yeses.

Because that is what it is.

Ever changing.

Each experience leaving a groove that can always be touched.