Permission to Shatter

rebuilding doesn't take as long as you'd think

I am astounded by what has grown up around me in the 8 months since I started building a new life.

I was in a life I was continually recovering from, but I had the love, the man I thought I had always wanted. So much was better than it had ever been. I healed and expanded and entered new templates of love, respect, admiration, devotion.

Yet I knew it couldn't be enough. When I felt my sources narrowed down to that one point of nourishment, I spoke up. "I need trees. I need water. I need community around me that loves how I love."

He moved swiftly, on a sure path to the demise of our love, the revelation of my hollow projections.

My life as I'd visioned it was obliterated within a week of receiving what was pretending to be the life of my dreams. I have a very high threshold for what I will label as insanity, and the events that transpired far exceed it.

I'd become dependent on one source of nourishment that was brutally ripped away from me, turned against me to cause me injury, and I was utterly shattered.

I crawled across the country, scraped and bleeding for the next two months, trying to want anything in the world, trying to figure out where to live or who to be around when I couldn't even access myself.

The decision was, as usual, made by my tears, choosing this little town for how my broken heart still managed to love it.

Somehow, I allowed the dear ones here to love me.

My love, and my need for love were bursting out of me inappropriately, humiliatingly. I forgive myself for this, there is no one else I could have been, given everything. And they have loved me anyway, and learned me while I relearned myself.

Patience, care, recognition, understanding that withered in ground I'd sown with two years of devotion, I found instead growing wild for the taking, in the foothills of steep mountains.

My life here fits me, it is the right size, it is filled with people who are exquisitely aligned for me, and the core of it is devotional love. The intimacy of cherishing all this moment has to offer us.

I notice that I no longer have social overwhelm. In every situation, I am welcome to be all of myself. No part of me needs to hide or fear, and my social battery doesn't run out. People are in my house at all hours and it's music to my ears, soothing to my soul.

I do not arrive in need, in any way. Resources surround me, clamoring at the door; I only need to receive them. My resources flow with graceful ease to the ones I love and trust, serving the play and prosperity that frolics in the light of truth.

Sometimes you get to turn the wheel and drive down another road. Other times you try to turn the wheel and hit a tree you never saw coming.

Either way, you're on a different path after that.

Faith in the universe means believing through the haze of pain that the path you find yourself on IS the one you were aiming for, even when it doesn't look or feel how you imagined.

I have what I was desiring—community based in prosperity and abundance, a home in the woods near the water, supportive humans all around me who exclusively play and enjoy each other.

I hate so much about how I got here, but how else would it have come to me? I know, now, that it was not to be found anywhere in the prior situation; me holding it alone can never sustain, no matter how strong I fancy myself.

I worked hard to find processes of gentle alignment and tuning, but my path has prepared me for the cruelest adjustments.

To bloom after the ravage of the wildfire. What's a little heat, after all?