I have fallen in love. With a 13th century Sufi poet. I loved Rumi's poetry before but, for some reason, it has recently embedded itself deep beneath my skin and flows though my blood all day long. It is dark chocolate syrup for the lover's soul. Delicious.
Last fall, in my determination to not choose the neon lit road to an extremely lonely and horrifyingly bitter destination, one of the "healing my heart" rituals I adopted was to daily / nightly listen to a CD that Deepak Chopra (whom I am now convinced is a tiger in the sac) produced of Rumi - set to music and read by accomplished, contemporary actors and actresses. It seemed to be doing the trick. A couple of months and I was convinced that I was more than ready for "Him" to finally, and oh-so-magically, appear and run away with me. My heart had stopped bleeding so I naturally assumed that it was no longer broken.
I was wrong.
An amazing man has magically appeared and it is taking every ounce of energy I can muster to not run away as fast as I possibly can. I am terrified. I look around the room of my heart and am seriously pissed that I still have so much to clean up and to clear out. The giant, stinky sofa of fear surrounded by stacks upon stacks of betrayal. Piles of back issues of Lack of Trust magazine covered with spilled out and dried up faith. How can I fit new love into a place that is still crowded with so much old shit?
It's not like I'm a lost cause or that I can't get done what I need to get done, it's just that I'm so damn terrified. And tired. It's a good thing that The Man is who he is - good and kind and patient. And that he somehow seems to think I'm worth it. It is making the clean up much easier.
I know I don't need to hurry. He assures me daily that he's not going anywhere. I will just do what I need to do to make room. And in the meantime I will open all my windows and let Rumi continue to blow through me - reminding me of the kind of love that I was designed for. The kind of love that I choose. The kind of love that I am.
I will probably still hide for a while. And I will definitely need to continue spending a lot of time quiet and alone. But I promise that I won't run away. Deal?
4 comments:
Deal!
Ditto . . .All these years that I chose to not look around, I thought I'd worked through most of my STUFF. After 27 months, I'm still working through it. Does it ever end? Will we EVER be "fixed?"
I don't know if my comment came through. I couldn't agree MORE. It has been 27 months and I'm still working on my issues. I thought--since I chose not to look around for 9 years--that all my issues were done with . . . how wrong I was. I get a little more comfortable as time goes on . . . but it is a daily battle to not push him away. I still have to stop and WONDER what the h*ll he sees in me.
You are a great writer. I love how you describe your heart as a room with cluttery stuff inside it. The Man sounds wonderful if your happiness is any indication.
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