June 14, 2012

Surviving the Storm: When Expectations Clash with Reality In Love. ~ Dawn Cartwright

It was a rare moment of sanity.

I loved his raw sexuality. And how he fathered me in simple ways. He was recently separated and busy getting his life rebooted; moments together were unreliable and rare—which added to the intensity of our attraction.

I began to fall in love with him—and, soon after, hit my edge. I feared losing him. I began to argue about time. How little he had for me. His habit of being late. I separated myself from him with my fears. Where we had been one, I made us two.

It was Saturday afternoon, he was hours late. He arrived and I was livid. So angry, I could not speak. We sat face to face in silence.

My eyes opened.

I saw his tiredness. The weight on his shoulders. I saw him. Something broke in me. And tears began to flow.

From his eyes.

 I climbed into his lap and wrapped myself around him. The sun and the moon became one. I saw, at last, that his circumstances and my fears had nothing to do with what was real.

I had a choice. I could give in to hurt and accusation; making myself love’s widow—he doesn’t listen to me, or understand me, or show up on time, or talk to me, or care about me, or consider me, or get a different job, or make more time to make love, or work less, or call more—


I could give myself to the only thing that was constant. In spite of myself, and all the anger I felt, I knew a great love existed between us. I could choose love or I could choose pain.

I chose love.

We sat together like this for hours. Day turned into night. Still we sat. Existence sang its melody in us. A light glowed in our hearts that was visible in our bodies. We didn’t move. We had reached the center.

The way we grew that day, the seeds that were planted, are still blossoming in my heart. Even now, writing this, I received much more of what I couldn’t then, six years ago. And though he’s no longer in my life, the awareness of love that was activated in our meeting continues to gift me in extraordinary ways.

In the bindu at the center of the most sacred Tantric symbol, the Sri Yantra, there are three bindus. The red, the sun, which is male. The white, the moon, which is female. And the seed, the one that is both, the potential for all of existence.  This is how we create our reality, how we evolve, how we grow.

Love does this; maybe this is why we love love so much. Love reveals to us that the sun and the moon one—and when that happens, the seed is activated. We are transported beyond fear and struggle.

Evolution occurs. And love lives as us. 


Editor: Lori Lothian

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