For the last few months, my followers on Twitter have known something my blog followers do not:
I’m in love. Profoundly. Deeply.
And given how frequently I tweet about the joys of building our partnership, it is difficult for me to articulate why I haven’t blogged about us.
Partly, it’s because Twitter feels more like a protected space — indeed, my tweets are “protected”, meaning that they are “only” visible to the 900+ strangers I’ve allowed to follow me.
The other reason I haven’t blogged about her is that I’m really fucking happy. I find that I’ve mostly used my blog to write about relationships in the past when I was terribly unhappy or unfulfilled. What I learned from over-sharing about those experiences is that if a relationship is so bad that I feel compelled to blog about the drama, then it probably means I should not be with that person. It may feel cathartic, but at the end of the day, a blog post is not going to turn a bad relationship into a good one. If my soul is telling me that someone is not a good fit, then it’s probably just time to move on.
And so I’ve moved on . . and on . . and on . . over the years, leaving situations as I outgrew them. Fumbling. Wandering. Wanting to find a partner. Being in denial that I wanted a partner. Feeling bad about wanting — then finally allowing myself to want, shamelessly.
* * *
It’s breathtaking how quickly life evolves. I didn’t think I would find anyone compatible this side of 2035, but decided against all logic to try anyway. I was jaded and cynical, but by some miracle, a seed of hope survived. I had a plan to date slowly, but broke just about all of the rules I so carefully outlined. And that’s just the way it is. You meet someone and you’re pulled together. You flow into this love, knowing that you can’t control the outcome. You cherish what you have, knowing you cannot keep it. You hold her, knowing that you must let go. Again and again.
What is clear to me is that I can only love this woman so deeply because I love this woman so deeply. All love is Self-love. The only question is whether, when and how we relax into this realization.
* * *
It seems impossible that we have not been together for years. I’ve lost track of what time even means anymore. She’s already traveled with me to places I used to live, walking through old memories, healing my past with every step — my human sage stick. We’ve celebrated our respective birthdays with friends and loved ones. We’ve had cocktails with my colleagues. I’ve spent more time in New York city with her than I have in my entire life. She’s become a seasoned veteran of the LIRR and a de facto second momma to Zora. My Twitter timeline is over-full with snapshots of our courtship. There she is, sitting on my lap at a diner in New England. There we are, huddled up on a cold Long Island beach.
So why haven’t I blogged all this loveliness until now?
Maybe it’s because every romance I’ve ever written about has imploded shortly thereafter. Maybe I worried that somehow, breaking my silence here would jinx us. But then I remember that this can’t be “jinxed” . . . that those past relationships came to rest as they were meant to. I remember that it all really is just God unfolding. I remember that this Universe is abundant in love . . . and abundantly in love. I remember that I’m not afraid. Even when I am.
There is something deeper than my fear, something that smiles in the face of my trembling heart and whispers:
Be still and know that I am God.
* * *
What could I say about this woman I love, in this space, that would not sound incredibly corny? What could I say that would not breach the sanctity of us? What could I tell you about the synchronicities? The spiritual, emotional, energetic – even psychic – connection we cultivate? What could I say about our chemistry that would not make her blush?
* * *
“I love you because the Universe wills it.”
* * *
In the space of this love, there is so much laughter, so much respect and understanding, such intimate communication, so much intuitive knowing, so much fun, so much exploration and adventure and self-awareness and compassion and…and all those things that are too personal, too beautiful to write about. Things I’ve already told her. Things that are only for us.