A Breeze of Space

I know I am a little late for spring cleaning but hey, our summer has been procrastinating and so have I.  Or at least that’s what I told myself. Truly the task simply seemed too daunting.  This weekend, with Buns leading the charge, we tackled my guest room.

Frightening, overwhelming and I never could have done it on my own. I know I would have slumped to the floor, covered my face with my hands and shaking my head whined in a melodramatic impression of Camille, I can’t, I simply can’t.

With Buns taking charge, encouraging me to take focused baby steps and only look at one thing at a time, we began. The piles grew and spread down the stairs, into my living room and finally out the front door. I met my inner hoarder. I think we all have one it’s just the flavor of what we hold onto that varies from person to person.

For me it was all about the spoken word…books to be precise. Unless I am giving the book away to someone who will love it, I feel duty bound to give it lodging until such time as this person appears. That’s a lot of waiting. That’s a lot of books.  And my need to preserve learning extends to every paper I have ever written, every light bulb moment scribbled on a napkin when inspiration struck while at some late night bistro, any information that I have collected that I just knew would be helpful for someone… someday.

 In the explosion of chaotic dismantling I find a huge file of correspondence from my ex love. It was behind my dresser right beside my bed!!! Oh my! Just a little contradictory I would say. Feng Shui love altar in one corner to invite a new amour into my life and a trove of love laden words from the past nestled by my pillow.

 I told myself that I was keeping it in case I wanted to write a novel one day. Mmm…maybe …but it was the good in goodbye that really had me hooked. He shared his heart on paper and I was still holding it. His words spoke of a love so rich and sweet that in retrospect I realize I have never allowed a man to touch me so deeply.

Was I loved well?   No. It was volatile and at times painful.  

Deeply…ahhh yes!  I recognized his soul and it felt like he knew mine.

Memories can be tricky.  I do very well letting go of the bad ones, it’s the stellar extraordinary moments that I hold onto. And yet love doesn’t want to be confined, not in a picture frame or a box, no matter how pretty the ribbon that dresses it up.  Holding on to the past leaves no space for the universe to enter and surprise you in the present.  It seems only logical that we need to empty in order to fill and my nurturing these memories only limited my opening to the future.

I really let it land inside me…holding onto to something, even if it was good may be the reason I don’t have something better.

The calling to let go translates on many levels. Trusting that the books will find new homes on their own. Trusting that I can accept the love in my past story and still live in the love of today.  It is what I cultivate in this moment that will invite future connection.

I give myself a time line and a promise to create a ritual of letting go. When Buns and I have talked of travel to Italy, to the Amalfi Coast I shared how covering ourselves with words, then diving into the sea, letting the water wash us free and clean could be a perfect ritual for the shedding of the old and embracing the new. 

Perhaps I will cover myself in his name, mixing the salt of tears with the intention to dissolve. Dramatic, yes I know. What can I say? One must be true to one’s nature.

For now I will bask in the current feeling of being loved. Not because of the sentiments of a glorious past love affair but because it is true. And the proof that we are loved is evident every day if one is open to seeing it.

My proof today is having a friend who offers to give up her Saturday to help me clear out debris, lift heavy boxes and champion living unfettered.

Love IS in the air, I just needed to make space to feel it.

Branded by freshness.

Authentically Yours,

Marty