Keep the earth below my feet

For all my sweat, my blood runs weak

Let me learn from where I have been

Keep my eyes to serve, my hands to learn.

~ Mumford & Sons

Recently I shot out of bed in the darkness of the morning.

Mercury was in retro, an eclipse was coming and I had just spent a night with my shaman clearing out months’ worth of energy. To say that I was open and fully vibrating with the Universe would be an understatement.

I had dreamt about my ex.

He kept randomly appearing, and after moments of strained, awkward conversation, we finally were able to get to a place of comfort and familiarity. To communicate about our lives in a way that had left me when I woke with a sort of wistful sadness, gratitude to have seen him, and an incessant need to “check in” and make sure that he was okay.

Driving to work, every song that shuffled through the mix played like a backdrop to some intense montage of memory. I laughed. I cried. I thought. I was. It was a release and a reminder; however far we travel, however time evolves, there we are. Memories are threads intricately woven into our being, to at times be pulled upon and unraveled again.

I shot him an email letting him know that I had been happy to see him in my dream, and that I hoped all was right and well in his world. He quickly responded, and we exchanged friendly casualties about our lives, my now husband and step daughter. His now fiancé. It was platonic, easy and slowed the vibration of my spirit.

On his last message to me he signed it, I love you still.

The simple beauty of it. Yes, I love you still.

I paused and stared and thought to myself, as do I, my dear, as do I.

His intent, and my reaction, were pure. Because it was true. And maybe finally, after all of this time, hiding safely behind the joy of our new lives, we could admit that to one another. It was not said to produce an outcome or have an impact. It was said only out of truth. Perhaps in some ways, an acknowledgement to all that we had been, and all that we were now without one another.

I have silently whispered that phrase to myself a thousand times since. It relates to so many things. So many threads within me.

I can release, but I can love. I can love these things, these people, these moments, because they are a part of me, regardless of whether they are a constant or immediate presence. The blanket that covers my unconscious mind when I sleep, and the quiet moments when I drift into daydreams, they are the stillness of my being. All that I have loved and that I do love. I love them still.

There is such peace in letting go in love.

In finding kindness and humanity within the tragedy of loss, in whatever form. For all of the years that I ripped my spirit into shreds and spirals, if I had only known there was such an easier way. I think we believe that the only way to progress is to remove, but it’s just not possible. For all that has hurt us has likely helped us more than we could ever come to comprehend.

What is it they say? Flowers cannot grow without rain.

So why is it that we only choose to embrace the sunlight?

For all that has made me, and broken me, and filled the cracks in between, I love you still.

 

Relephant Bonus: 

When I say I love you, This is What I mean

 

 

 

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Apprentice Editor: Chrissy Tustison / Editor: Renee Picard 

Photo: Courtesy of the author.