Thursday, January 22, 2015

Get Lost

Getting lost is an interesting concept...lost in the woods involves not having your bearings, perhaps a sense of panic that you do not belong and cannot find your way home, perhaps a sense of adventure and trust that everything will turn out in the end. Getting lost can be fun, where you meet kind souls along the way, who will loan you a cell phone, give you a ride, or point you in the right direction. Getting lost can also be frightening, when you are faced with your own loneliness and ineptitude, certain danger, and where you realize all too quickly your limitations. Eventually, you realize your own capacities to think on your feet, your fierce instincts, your intelligence to figure it all out.
Getting lost in the woods is one thing. You know that you have your home to come to, eventually, even if your plans are derailed by your wandering. And wandering in the woods is often a welcome reprieve...on some level, you want to get lost, to meet your own self, empty of your familiar, external constructs.
But getting lost is not a welcome situation on all counts. If you are in a marriage, and through myriad subtle rejections, through countless acts of distance, through words of overt destruction, you are lost...lost to the very person you wanted to call home...lost to yourself. It is the same thing, then, when you are told to "get lost" and divorce comes: you have no bearings since nothing is as it appeared. You have a sense of panic that you won't find your way home. And you have a sickening realization that you were deliberately set up to be lost, abandoned, left alone, homeless. Someone wanted this for you out of their own lack of capacity to love.

I fought being lost, fought it with all my might, tried as hard as I could to hang on, offered up my soul. I tried to find my way but was so ill equipped to deal with the situation. And then I realized that what was trying to lose me, was not what I needed or wanted, that in trying to get someone to love me, I was losing myself anyway. I had to stop fighting, to lose illusion of control, to let the other work out their own karma, to grieve fully what was not there anyway.

Out there under the embracing blue sky, the sun shining all the same on rejection as it does on acceptance, the fear that washed over me slowly, very slowly, beautifully slowly, dissolves in the patient waters of healing. It is there I am held in the benevolent presence of friends, angels, my lover's arms. There in the open I can see clearly that I was MEANT to get lost. That all the messages I received about being a wrong person fall away in the light of the truth. And the truth is, rejection was a burden. Judgment was a burden. Criticism was a burden. They were the burdens someone else handed over, and were never mine to carry.

This is coming home of the most delicious kind. This is the journey I was meant to take, to find my own soul, to commit to greater love. It is a freedom like no other. The car is breaking down, single motherhood is a taxing, lonely place, the house needs a million repairs, there are lawyer fees to pay, a degree to finish. And my soul, my soul is free!



Thank you to the darkness, the toxic light people sometimes carry, the burdens of shame. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, a thousand times, thank you. Thank you for this gift, this rejection.
You stand in stark contrast to the light of Love. You show me that Grace is a better way.



Wash over me, life. Wash over me. Welcome me into the places I never knew while I was seeking the rejecting ones, seeking to be good enough for people who will not accept. Spit me out of the cesspool, the whirlpools of  lies and masks, and send me to the clear, loving waters! Carry me onto the bank, where I  can warm myself in the sun and find my home under all-encompassing Grace, in a steady flow of forgiveness.


(this article bears repeating. It really helps me understand how to be lost and how to be found.)

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